Painters and Visual Artists

For variety's sake, I'm going to shift to city scenes, for this post, most of which are more realistic, than where we just ended. Then I will come back to the more abstract work, in the next post.

This first one, by Adrien Faveau, genuinely captures a particular Manhattan flavor, and puts me in a mind, as if I were there, tasting it in person.

 

@DEFinning i understand when you say artists are expressing their emotions and inner reality in their paintings, but I’m not wired to fully appreciate their work. Like o pointed out earlier this thread, I’m more into the technical skill of the artist in viewing a scene and faithfully replicating it on canvas.

This is the kind of stuff I like.

 

I don't really understand your explanation; there is as much technical skill, manifest in some of the paintings in my last post, of cityscapes. So I would assume, subject matter also plays a part, in your appreciation, or lack thereof, for any given painting.

Personally, the scene you give for reference, seems far too staged, and so not real, to me. I do not feel the breeze, smell the ocean, or hear the waves, because I am sure the artist was not experiencing those, either. Are you a big fan of sailing, or of the sea? Or do you just like the romantic image, of journeying out over its vast expanse?

This is part of what gives each of us, our own, personal relationship and conversation with, any given work of art. You presumably have little experience in and/or affection for, NYC, so this painting leaves you non-plussed:




One of the things I appreciate in a painting, is the physical atmosphere, as well. When I look at this painting, I immediately can sense the damp, cool air. I almost hear the sizzling sound of tires, passing over the wet roadway. The overcast lighting, is central to both the scene, and to setting the mood, and is rendered more tangibly than would most photos, with a truthfulness from intimate acquaintance, that gives life to this visual memory of the experience.

Changing the venue, how do you feel about winter? Though I'm not especially a fan, that season does have its distinct character, which can be nice to experience, without needing to bundle up, or shovel my driveway. These 3 winter scenes, turned out to be what I randomly grabbed. Do they not each transport you to that place, depicted? I get a sharp blast of sensations from each, a flurry of feelings, shaping 3 specific and unique, states of consciousness.




















The top one is by Camille Pissarro, and the other two, by Alfred Sisley. Both of these men were of the Impressionist group and, along with Monet, were the ones who were most taken with capturing the snow effect, or effets de niege. When I read about the hours that Monet sat out in the winter weather, painting, it won my respect, for his dedication.

 

My parents had this hanging in their home for decades. I took this pic 2 years ago during my last visit. This is the kind of stuff I like. I suck at taking pics.

 

If I ask again, will you reply, this time? So, do you think your liking paintings of ships on the ocean, could be related to your growing up in a home, with a painting of a ship on the ocean? That is, could it really be some familiar sense of "home," that is now stirred, when you see these images? That doesn't seem unlikely, to me.

Or are you an avid sailor/fisherman/ex-Navy man? Or maybe just have a love of the water, as a swimmer/surfer/diver? Or, have you long romanticized the sailing life (whether identifying yourself with the explorers like Magellan, John Cabot, and Henry Hudson, or with the pirates, like Blue/Black/Red Beard)? If it is none of those things, and you do have a fondness, as your two examples suggest, for paintings of olden style sailing ships, then to what might you attribute it?




P.S.-- As an aside, I taped a movie, shown on PBS last night, because it hinted a connection to Herman Melville's classic, Moby Dick. The movie had a military theme, from back in the 1950s, which I normally find boring; worse yet, it was a submarine movie! At least it did star (an older) Clark Gable, whom I hold in high regard. And Burt Lancaster co-starred, as well.

The plot of Run Silent, Run Deep, is of a U.S. submarine captain who'd had his vessel destroyed by a Japanese admiral (much as Moby Dick had done to Capt. Ahab's ship), then getting command of another submarine, and going on a quest for vengeance, against this nemesis, whom he nicknames "Bungo Pete (after this admiral's prowling grounds, the Bungo Straits)." Just mentioning the tangential connection, because Moby Dick takes place, of course, on an old whaling vessel.

 

That those pictures had ships really doesn’t mean I a ship guy, the first pic was random and the second pic is one my father liked so we bought it for him. What I liked about them is the skill and talent the artist had to accurately paint the scene. Some of the pics (they look like water color pics) of New York you recently posted I really liked a lot. The use of colors while still portraying a scene, albeit in a unique style, takes talent.

Anyway, I’m not a ship guy, I went on a cruise once and deep sea fishing once and that it.

 

Def, this might sound odd, but I can’t figure out any other way to say it, so here it goes.

When I see a painting or something that I would hang on my wall, I want to see something soothing and not stressful. Does that make sense?

 

Sure. But that, along with a demonstration of admirable technical skill, is nowhere close to a full listing, of the conditions which determine whether or not you'll like a painting. Speaking relatively, the two ship paintings you've offered, as representing your taste, are not particularly marvelous demonstrations of technical expertise. But since I cannot get into your head, you will have to ask yourself why you like these paintings, more than others; what thoughts and feelings they evoke.

Neither looks, to me, a believably real scene-- which is fine, though that is one of the things that generally displays an artist's "technical" brilliance. The overall impression given, is the most important thing, IMO, and sometimes, less is more. This second painting, from your parent's home, is much more illustrative. That is, it is not so much the true image, caught in the mind's eye of the artist, as it is an image that says, "I am a depiction of a ship." There is something of a diagrammatic nature to it. I could kind of relate it to some of the Audubon Society drawings of birds, that seem as if the model had been stuffed, and mounted-- if you don't mind my sharing my opinion.

The first painting of ships, viewed at sunset, from the beach, has a little bit more of a fantasy element to it. It is sort of an idealization. And I don't think it would be reading into the painting, to say that it appears meant to represent a certain idea, as of "sailing into the sunset," or, perhaps, even symbolizing the idea of following the light, at the end of our day, here on Earth, into God's heavenly Kingdom (though obviously, to opine that the artist had been trying to evoke that symbolism, would be a bit more speculative, on my part).

There is, of course, also a difference between "soothing," and "boring." So I encourage you to go a step further, to ask yourself what is it, about the image, which comforts and relaxes you-- in an attempt to identify some general thematic characteristics, among those images, you find soothing.




Since I'd left Money out of the last group of Impressionist winter scenes, here are some paintings, just of his. I love this first one-- it is just so plugged into that moment.




















Just a reminder: many of Monet's paintings are meant not to be seen too close up, so benefit from allowing a greater distance between your eyes, and the screen. In fact, it is interesting with some, to watch them gain depth, as you move them further away.

As a clue, this first painting is called Train In the Snow at Argenteuil

 

I'd grabbed enough images, for a second post-- surprise, surprise!

Monet, continued:


There are numerous spots that Monet (among other artists) would revisit many times, to show it during different seasons, with the lighting of different times of day, and under differing weather conditions. In the first two, below, however, he even used differing styles of painting. Even though the second one, would not typically be my taste, it works here. You just have to remember to pull back, further away, to look at it.

 

@DEFinning
Finally located my portfolio. Some of my color pencil art from 2007. I haven't picked up a pencil to draw anything really since about 2010. I also have a lot of black and gray tattoo art that I'll post some more later.

 

Cool. I really like the vividness of your seahorse, the way it stands out against the lighter blue background, while its tail picks up the orange, and is literally tied into the greenery, of the foreground. That sandy area has very successful three-dimensionality, coming forward, to be the "closest" thing we see.

Similarly, the colors, mimicking shapes, and overall "floating," underwater effect, in the octopus scene, is nice. It was an interesting idea, the way you'd given the ground a convex curve, to create a tubular tunnel into the water, overhead, with the bright sunlight, lancing through from that end, to hold it to the foreground, crawling towards us.

This will help motivate me to dig out some old work of my own

 

Ewww - tasting Manhattan?

Just joking! - very nice paintings.

 

Both of my grandfathers were artists. I'll need to post some of their work at some point. My paternal grandfather was pretty accomplished as both a painter and as a jewelry designer/gem cutter. Before you get the wrong idea in your head -- he was a HUGE redneck and his art reflected that.

I'm a fan of the romanticists myself, my favorite painting of all time being:

 

I had not been familiar, I don't think, with the work of Friedrich. I see though, that this particular image (from 1818 ) has been influential, to a number of modern filmmakers.







Here is an uncropped view of what is being called an iconic image of the Romantic era.






I prefer this other Friedrich painting, I came across, "Chalk Cliffs on Rügen."






The tree limbs, here, put me in mind of the earlier painter, Watteau.

I, also, like painters of the Romantic era, though my tastes run more towards those of the movement of naturalism, who did at least their preliminary work outdoors, on site, before going back to the studio. These are painters such as T. H. Rousseau, Camille Corot, and Charles-François Daubigny, to name a few who I have touched on, earlier in the thread, with some of their work.

Back to Friedrich's, "Wanderer Above A Sea Of Fog," though-- I saw a site that listed it as one of the 10 most "sublime" landscape paintings, of all time. The others seem to indicate to me, only having a particular taste-- but this, I think, might be part of how they are defining "sublime." There were a couple there, however, that I thought might be defendable, as worthy of inclusion, like this early fourteenth century painting by Peter Brueghel, the Elder.





It is supposed to be the "Flight Into Egypt," though, and it does not put me in mind of any Near Eastern landscape (or have things changed, that much?).

The list had also included this Edvard Munch painting which, I find, effectively sets a mood of a "living" quietude, in a night that is as tangible, as if one was swimming in it.






A more notable painting, I feel, which was not on the "sublime" list, but which I noticed, at the site for uncropped versions of artwork, often not depicted in their full form, is the famous, and iconic "Starry Night," by Vincent Van Gogh.

 

@yardmeat

I just noticed that the construction of the scenes of several of the scenes on that list of "sublime" landscapes, are very similar, in having a central opening in the scene, encircled by the two sides, rising from the bottom, to close off and frame the opening. For example, let me start with this one, I hadn't included in the last post, by Arnold Bocklin, "Isle of the Dead:"





Now, compare the two rocks, opening to reveal a channelway, into a cove, above, with the two large trees in Munch foreground, which channel the viewer's attention, along a central path:





Also, the rocky outcroppings (& small tree), in the Brueghel the Elder painting, framing the attenuating river, which wells up, behind the central subject, of the painting:





And, though I hadn't taken it from that same list, the other Friedrich painting I'd preferred, ironically mimics that structure:

 

I owe a much longer response, but I do like that the last piece isn't quite as symmetrical as the others and that it doesn't put the human "front and center" the way my own referenced piece does. I think that's probably going to be a big difference between romanticism (focused on the human) vs naturalism (focused on, well, nature). I love both in their own respects.

And thanks for the Avatar reference. I'll try to pull in some more modern pieces as well. And I strive to become Uncle Iroh.

 

@Talon

This is pretty random, but I just ran across a piece of artwork that reminded me of the work you had so championed, earlier in the thread, by Alphonse Mucha (though this piece is not nearly so rich, in its color):





This is titled, "3 Graces," by Michael Parkes.


Here is an example of Mucha's work, you'd given:

 

One can definitely see the similarities, but other than Mucha's superior talent and drawing skills what is the most striking difference between the two?

The exquisite line work that is a prominent feature in Mucha's posters. Here's a detail from the Medea poster we looked at earlier (Post #16):



...and another nice example...



...and again, perhaps the most elegant and certainly most well known example of all:



One thing I've always liked about Mucha's prints is the contrast and interaction between the strong line work and the diffuse painterly quality of the color throughout his images. The combination of the two is very nice, and it's one any printer can appreciate.

 

Here's another somewhat famous painting by one of my favorite German Expressionists, Oskar Kokoschka:



Hans Tietze und Erica Tietze-Conrat (1909)

 

Here's something a little different, although I suspect this artist influenced Njideka Akunyili Crosby, who is mentioned/shown in posts #11 and #12. Here's a very small sample of Robert Rauschenberg's collages, of which I tend to prefer the ones that are more painterly and abstract:







One nice thing about this sampling is that it illustrates Rauschenberg's ability to work in both bright and subdued colors.

 

(cont. from above)

Rauschenberg was also into installations that usually combined three dimensional objects with two dimensional paintings, such as this:


Pilgrim, 1960

 

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More of Robert Rauschenberg's work in two and three dimensions:






Perhaps I could have posted the 2-3D pieces in the other thread but since I began with Rauschenberg's paintings I figured I'd post them all together here.

 

That piece actually has visual appeal-- though it would be more impressive, had he created the illusion of the 3-D chair, in a two dimensional painting. I have seen such really convincing tricks, down in NYC, painted by a no-name artist, but who managed this impressive effect, in a composition which added nothing to the overall artwork. IOW, it was merely a demonstration of technical skill-- like a brief burst by a pianist, which was not incorporated in any comprehensive composition. The painting that, for the life of you, was impossible to discern as not being real, was a wrinkled, white T-shirt, hanging off of something (maybe off the top of the canvas?). I was struck by his ability, to create such a convincing illusion but, at the same time, wondered what was the point.

 

By far, my favorite is the top painting:





The bottom painting also has an initial, eye-grabbing appeal, but is too uniform, IMO-- similar to a comment I'd made about the overly busy composition of one of the Macke pieces, you'd offered, earlier in the thread-- so I think this appeal would quickly fade.