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 10, 2009

The Story of a New Project – Day One and Day Two

17x17 paper squares P1010005
17×17 cm paper tiles

It’s not always easy beginning a new project. There is even an expression, “All beginnings are difficult”. I know that writers face “The terror of the empty page”. Probably most creative people know this feeling.

It takes me time to warm up; I start slow. The first day it took pretty much all day to divide my large parent-size sheets of Arches (pronounced “Arsh”) etching paper (roughly 50×70 cm / 19.5×27.5 inches). But by the end of the day I had two sheets cut down to 17×17 cm squares. I know this sounds simple, but I had to think constantly if this would work out properly in the entire scheme of things.

Then on Day Two of the project I made a grid for the piano. I needed to cut the piano into four pieces and position each fourth into a corner. I have done several of these in the past and each time, despite my best efforts and calculations, they never fit together right. So, as Harry said, “once more into the breach!

Piano-sketch-and-Tile-sm
Piano sketch and decomposition onto a tile

I began by drawing a piano. A Grand Piano at the angle I like, a three-quarters view from the right. Then I photocopied the drawing and divided it into four pieces. Then I placed those four quadrants into the corners of a predrawn 17×17 cm (6.75 inch) square and photocopied that four times. I need a minimum of four tiles to make one complete image in the center. As my finished work will be 12 tiles (four across by three down) this should give me at least six whole pianos. (Did I say that I will show you pictures soon?)

All this is a bit complicated. That’s why it takes me time to do these projects. Nobody likes to make mistakes (they cost money!). And it’s the old carpenter’s rule, Measure Twice, Cut Once. In the end, I think I should have made the tiles about three millimeters larger (about 1/8 inch). But I hope that all will be well, with perhaps a few adjustments as a I go.

That is Day Two.

Next Step in the coming days…

Next I have to draw and etch the piano tile and make four test prints. I’ll probably print one and photocopy the others. Hopefully it will all fit together and be beautiful. If not, I will make adjustments. And refinements. Until it is beautiful.

Then the final printing and assembly.

That’s another post.

May 31, 2009

The Fractalic Nature of the Universe

Filed under: General Discussion — Tags: , , , , , , , — Joshua @ 11:49 am

NOTE: This is probably not for everybody. If this discussion bores you, I understand. Check back later for another post. This is just something I think about a lot, so…

About 20 years ago or so I read the book Chaos by New York Times Science writer, James Gleick. Since then I (and many other people) have been seeing many many things in terms of Fractals.

For those who don’t know what fractals are, I’ll paste a Wickipedia definition (quoting Benoit Mandlebrot):

A fractal is generally “a rough or fragmented geometric shape that can be split into parts, each of which is (at least approximately) a reduced-size copy of the whole,”

Usual examples are snowflakes and clouds. Always similar, never the same.

I like the example of families. Some of my children are like me, some are like my wife. None are exACTly like either one of us.

Nature is FULL of fractals. Ferns, forests (and the trees in them), and feathers are all fractalic.

I am working on an etching right now (and have been working on it for a while now) that is fractalic. It’s a kind of a triptych; three panels make up one long landscape. Each panel can stand on it’s own, and together they make a whole that (might be) greater than the sum of the parts. It’s a different experience (seeing the whole, rather than just each individual part), but it’s a similar experience.

I don’t know how I am going to be able to show it online. The format is just too small to be much good. But I’ll try it. The worst that can happen is that nobody will get it.

If you see a fractal, let me know. I’m collecting them.

Be well.

J.

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