L. Joshua Goodman’s Art Blog

October 17, 2009

Improvising and finishing

We had a very interesting conversation over dinner dinner last night with a very interesting gentleman, a concert pianist and composer.

Finished Painting

The first interesting thing is that during the day I had been thinking about “How do you know when you’ve finished a painting“. I’m not sure anybody knows the definitive answer to this. Of course some painters have a fixed goal in mind and they paint until they reach that goal. Like paintings on black velvet of bullfighters and puppy dogs or certain seascapes. But for most artists, the exercise of seeing is never quite totally consummated. Except when it feels good. Or when it feels that there is nothing more that one can do. Or undo.

Improvisation

So during dinner the subject of musical improvisation came up. I suppose I was trying to make the point that plastic art was superior to music in that the performance may be sublime and profound, but simply lasts for only one performance and then is lost. On the other hand a great painting can be seen again and again. My pianist friend told me several very interesting things. First he said that sometimes Bach and Mozart would indeed write down later from memory what they had improvised. He further said that all the great composers were great improvisers and found it helpful in their work.

And then he said, “Painters are improvisers too. The proof is that they never finish a painting!” I was mightily impressed by this. I know that Rouault was (in)famous for never finishing a work. He even was known to ask for a painting back after it was sold for a few finishing touches only to return a completely reworked and totally different piece! In graphic design Paul Rand changed the IBM logo (adding the stripes) two years after it was originally launched. He also reworked the UPS logo and asked the client to use his finessed mark in place of the original but was refused. The old was good enough. This is the visual equivalent of improvisation.

Improvisation is the technique by which artists (plastic artists as well as musicians) sketch; improvisation becomes a search for perfection. If not perfection, then at least improvement. Can anybody really say that they’ve done the best that can be done on any particular work of the moment?

I was criticized once in Art School for overworking my paintings. I still don’t know exactly what is meant by this. I have lost clients because I have modified the design after approval (and before final printing). To do otherwise would be personally irresponsible if not professionally derelict! Good clients know this.

It’s not overworking; it’s seeing more in the light of what has already been done.

October 4, 2009

The Story of a New Project/Background

Where does an Idea begin.

I’ve tried to make it easy on myself. I have a running series that I am continually working with. It’s called “The Hammer and the Hand Series”. It gives me a framework to relate to.

Hammer-from-Hand-and-Hammer

As you can see from my website, there are several works that feature a hand (always my left hand) and a hammer. A hammer is the quintessential low tech tool. From the first time that man picked up a rock to pound a stick (perhaps a tent peg) into the ground, rather than using his bare hand, man has been using hammers.

This is, of course, an extension of the “Hand” series. This started because of two bits of information that came my way over the years. The first was when Miss Bennett (see previous post) mentioned that the best draughtsman in school has a thousand drawings of her left hand. So, since High School I have known that the way to draw well is to draw what’s close at hand. Literally.

Sketchbooks of the Old Masters

The other piece of intelligence that came my way was when I learned that the Old Masters had sketchbooks where they had drawn thousands of versions of hands in various positions. Then when they had a composition that required a right hand extended and foreshortened to the left, they just reached for their archive and pulled out the closest variant and they were good to go.

So my left hand, being close, serves as a model. And when I wanted to extend the idea, I turned to that First Tool and started the “Hand and Hammer” series.

Now it turns out that I have a plate from the old “Hand” days. Three years ago I started a new working of the old idea. Rather than print one large (it’s about 50×70 cm / 19.5×27.5 inches) print, I decided to cut the paper into tiles, each of which are about 17 cm square (6.75 inches). Then (and this is another unrealized idea from the past…like about from 1972, November) I decided to print these tiles as Ottoman or Armenian tiles where the single tile is not visually complete or even readable, but the whole coherent image comes from the joining together of multiples (and multiples is almost essentially warp and woof of printmaking).

The Hammer and the Piano

grand-piano-2021aExtending the idea of a hammer I decided that a piano had hammers and might be more visually interesting than a simple hammer. And a piano references another deep interest of mine, music.

Bartok said that the piano was a percussion instrument and the music he wrote with a piano part shows this clearly. The piano is banging and crashing. I believe he even specified that the piano should be placed in the back by the tympani. The reason the piano is so percussive of course is the hammers. Eighty-eight hammers at the tips of the fingers.

Amazing!

Like I said, this was started three years ago; I printed one printing of the “Hand” on twelve tiles each about 17 cm (6.75 inch) square. I drew, etched and printed a separate plate with a piano in the corners, but wasn’t satisfied. I put it aside to rest.

Until this week.

May 30, 2009

Ya’akov Dorchin and the Ultimate Insult

Filed under: General Discussion — Tags: , , , , , , — Joshua @ 3:52 pm

Ya’akov Dorchin has a reputation. He’s been around long enough and done enough cool stuff that he is a feature on television (which was my first sighting) and is written up in the paper every once in a while. I read one of those  articles recently.

Ya’akov Dorchin is primarily known as a sculptor in iron. I have to admit that I’m a fool for iron and no matter what I think of him and his work (I kind of like his work, but his ego puts me off a bit), the process of big iron seizes me. One of the milestones in Dorchin’s career was when he was robbed of several works by metal thieves. It’s easy to see how this could affect an artist. Anybody who has been burglarized knows what a sense of personal violation it is that somebody just walks in and carries off things dear. And an artist (I don’t care what anybody says about this) has a personal relationship with each piece. An intimate relationship. I think it’s safe to say that the love that an artist has for his work is a big part of what makes it valuable. It’s what separates good art from mere technical proficiency.

But the thieves were not interested in the value of the piece of art. Each piece was worth thousands or even tens of thousands of dollars just in Art value alone. But they weren’t stealing art. They were stealing iron. Scrap iron.

This raises a question. It’s kind of a Warholian question. If there is no assigned value, then there is no value. When Andy Warhol picked a selection of screen prints and left some as unsigned and therefore Not Art, he was confirming his thesis that Art is whatever an artist says is Art.

In the case of Ya’akov Dorchin the Art is whatever the thieves say is Art. If his stolen sculptures end up on the Art Black Market (or is that the Black Art Market), then they are art. More likely they were melted down and used to build kassam rockets or some other kind of  hardware.

See yall soon.

Be well.

Joshua

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