Untitled work by Mcbess

 - from Mcbess' website, image 11 of 47

     I'll open up by saying that I really dig comics*. It's an underappreciated and often overlooked artistic medium that combines both visual art and language to tell a story. For a while, I was going to post up a single page from Spike's excellent webcomic Templar, Arizona (without a doubt I'll bring her up again before the semester's through), but Spike posted a link on her twitter feed to the work of another artist called Mcbess (real name Matthieu Bessudo). The above image is his, and I like it because his style is so damn cool. It's like what happens when 30's cartoons a la Steamboat Willie meet tattoo art. It's not a comic, but the style is comic-like, and (in addition to thinking that it pushes the envelope regarding what we might consider aesthetically valuable work) I think it illustrates rather well how one can create a character using visual art. By gathering together an eclectic assortment of objects and symbols and positioning them around (and on!) the central figure of the woman, Mcbess suggests that the woman has a certain relation to them, that they say something about her. The pocketknife above her head, for example, and her toothy grin might indicate a certain dangerousness, certainly an air of mystery (that and "The Dark Side" written over her left shoulder... and the axe). She's a cartoon, sure, almost a pinup, but she's vastly (I think) more interesting than the stern-faced Greek nudes you see in museums and she's nowhere near being a whitewashed, objectifying Playboy spread.

     If it's truth and beauty we're looking for in artwork, then maybe this image can't help us much. But I believe very much that literature (including comics) has the strange capacity to show us something of the truth, just as we are astounded by some handful of lines we read. Intriguing characters being arguably the single most important feature of fiction, I place a lot of value in artists that can draw the viewer in before even the first word appears on the page.

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* or, if you prefer, graphic novels.

African sketches

This is a picture of rock carvings that I took while abroad this summer in Namibia. The animals are sketches of the Bushmen, an ancient tribe in western Africa who used these carvings to learn about the animals they hunted and to tell stories of drought, prosperity, and to teach young hunters what they would be up against in the field.
We discussed in class yesterday that the more something in art becomes more accurate, the less it is art, as formalism tells us. While some artistic accuracy is necessary for conveying messages to inexperienced tribe hunters to identify what animals are edible and which ones should be avoided, there is much deeper value here. The way the animals are arranged, the number and species of animals seen traveling together or apart suggests important lessons that are a large cultural part of the Bushmen lifestyle. By showing rather than by seeing, they could inform future generations of necessary precautions before venturing out into the desert for food.
I feel a certain connection to these carvings as I actually came into contact with native tribes on my trip. Though I did not speak their language, I learned through other media (these carvings, the trees in which they use to hide weapons, their bartering system, and their agricultural systems) how such a primitive tribe survives out in such an arid environment. It was the arrangement of certain images, not the level of accuracy of the objects themselves, that delivered the message to me. Furthermore, I can not understand their unique clicking language, but have experienced how they communicate through other expressions.

Felix Gonzalez-Torres' Untitled (Perfect Lovers)

        

On Tuesday, we discussed in further detail some of the aesthetic theories that Weitz highlighted in his article, "The Role of Theory in Aesthetics". While talking about EmotionaIism, I made reference to an artwork entitled Untitled (Perfect Lovers) by Felix Gonzalez-Torres, unknowing that most of you had not seen it before. The piece consists of two identical white clocks, set at unison time, that hang side-by-side on the wall. The sculpture is quiet and rather simple, utilizing both the universality and familiarity of a household object, the clock, to invite viewers and welcome spectatorship. Gonzalez-Torres created the piece in 1991 shortly after his partner Ross Laycock was diagnosed with AIDS. Time is intrinsic to the piece both contextually and formally. The clocks eventually begin to tick at differing paces, and one will stop ticking entirely before the other.  It softly and quietly confronts the saddening reality of the AIDS epidemic, where hundreds of thousands of men and women were diagnosed from its discovery in 1981 until well into the 1990s.  In 1991 alone, 45,000 cases of AIDS were reported to the U.S. Center of Disease Control and Prevention.  Men and women were losing their partners and loved ones to the disease everyday. The work embodies a political undertone in its reference to the delayed response by the U.S. Government to publicize the disease and expedite antiretroviral treatments. 

It’s interesting to dissect this artwork after our conversations on Tuesday, particularly in regards to Formalism, Emotionalism, and content.  This piece is highly formal to me and can be enjoyed without knowing the themes fueling its creation. Various works by Felix Gonzalez-Torres operate in that way, in particular his large-scale floor and corner installations consisting of sheets and piles of wrapped candies.  This website has some great images of the one such piece entitled Untitled (Placebo), 1991: http://bit.ly/PRLeos

Museum-goers are welcome to take pieces of candy from the pile, and slowly but surely the piece dwindles in scale as more and more candy is taken.  This engagement from the viewer onto the installation is profound and fantastical, and in and of itself unrelated to the content inherent to the work.  The viewer forms an intimate relationship with the piece via the act of retrieval and consumption; however, the work is routed in Torres’ perceptions of the ineffectiveness of the antiretroviral drugs administered to assist those suffering from the disease, hence the subtitle “Placebo.”  The piece is complexly emotional: the excitement and satisfaction of a viewer retrieving a piece of candy is juxtaposed with Gonzalez-Torres’ inherent sadness and anger surrounding the conception of the piece. Yet, there is an intense rendering of love that emanates throughout the entirety of his work. He has been cited for speaking of making his pieces for one audience only, and that is Ross. 

          I have never encountered one of FG-T’s pieces in person at a museum, but I have witnessed and engaged with similar artworks that work formally and conceptually as take-aways. I’m left wondering: Is it necessary to know the ideas, emotions, and experiences surrounding the creation of a piece of art in order to engage, understand, or form a relationship with it? With Torres, it certainly positions his work within a historical, cultural and conceptual framework, but by no means is it entirely necessary.

Army Troops Wade Ashore on D-day

This is a picture that has always had a large impact on me whenever I see it or similar images. This is a picture of United States Army soldiers exiting their boat on D-Day at Omaha beach.

There are many things that make this picture have a vast impact on me and my emotions, but I can't exactly pinpoint exactly what it is or why it does that. Perhaps it is knowing that almost all these men would not return home to their families or loved ones while fighting for their country, and most of them put their life on the line willingly. Perhaps it's a more historical aspect that causes my reactions, as this battle is undoubtedly one of the most important battles in all of warfare that ended up shaping the modern world. Maybe it's just the pure fact that these men are enduring a great mental and physical struggle in order to do what they feel is right and are fighting for justice, in what is an extremely "uphill" battle, metaphorically and literally. Maybe it's the picture itself, in its composition and point of view and the fact that it's in black and white. Whatever it is, I'm looking forward to exploring this picture more, as well as the philosophy around aesthetics in general.

Francis Bacon's Figure With Meat:

--Over the last few days, I have bombarded myself with images from the internet, not knowing exactly what image would be captivating enough to sustain me through the entire semester--this may not have been the best method. As I am sure many of you have noticed, looking at "art" on the internet doesn't quite cut the mustard; Thus, I laid bare one important guideline: I must have seen the work in person. Luckily, this stipulation did not limit my search too much, and I finally decided on this piece by Francis Bacon, which still hangs, I believe, in the Art Institute of Chicago's modern wing. Although I am convinced that this piece is goading in and of itself, I think it is important to note that Bacon was inspired by Valazquez's piece, called, simply, Portrait of Innocent X (this is a translation from the Spanish title). 

--The depiction of the subject is quite grotesque, and the first time I saw this piece, unknown to Bacon's work, it truly shocked me. The meat carcass, nearly effulgent, hangs like a tapestry behind the subject, sitting in a dark room. As an admirer of Goya's work, this form is pretty familiar to me, but, for some unknown reason, this particular work felt totally original. While many artists depict death, this is the first artist that I can remember displaying living death, or decomposition: It is as if the subject's cells are going through putrefaction while still alive; The joints are stiff, denoting rigor mortis; the mouth is open wide, perhaps a stray gadfly would be apropos--agony. The lack of focus seems to suggest movement, or displacement, as if the subject is not one with itself, which raises questions of identity. The viewer must assume that the subject is clerical. That being said, the meat hanging is reminiscent of the passion sequence. Does this make christ merely merely flesh and bone, no more than an animal carcass without divinity? And the figure his judge--Pilate? All of these questions are up to interpretation; regardless, the piece itself is breathtaking. It is impossible to see it from this image, but the canvas is very large. The size itself is startling, as if one could step right through it into hell. This painting awakes the viewer from her somnambulance, and demands to be acknowledged; The work intrigues me most because of this forced interpellation--one cannot soon get this image out of their head. 

James Ensor

Skeletons Fighting Over a Pickled Herring, 1891

http://www.moma.org/interactives/exhibitions/2009/ensor/#/works/95/

The version at the link has zoom. I recommend looking at it, the colors are amazing.

I first discovered James Ensor, who is now my favorite artist, early in high school when I saw his exhibition at the MOMA. I had never heard of Ensor, or seen anything quite like his paintings. Many of his paintings struck a chord with me and even though I couldn’t put my finger on why, I felt camaraderie with him. I don’t know if it was his very particular sense of humor or his lively portrayal morbid subject matter, but I was convinced, without knowing anything about him, that Ensor and I shared a very similar perspective on life. After seeing his work in person I started reading about Ensor and discovered that my gut feeling was correct, we had a lot in common. The idea that a piece of artwork can communicate so much is what I am most excited to explore this semester. 

This piece is an abstract work from the American artist Georgia O'Keefe. It is entitled "View From The Lake No.1" (1924). My reasoning for choosing this piece stems from the cognitive relationship I have of O'Keefe's work and my dream world. By dream world I mean quite literally, I have had many dreams that are structured as this piece is structured. From the movements created by O'Keefe's strokes, to the colors that make me feel as though I am diving straight into the piece, this connection is unique for me, for I have never been able to find a way to describe the sensations of my dreams to anyone else.

I was introduced to this piece this August via the Georgia O'Keefe museum in Santa Fe New Mexico, where my Mum and I visited while en route from California to Memphis. While the original View From The Lake was not to be seen at the Santa Fe museum, I was able to spend a few hours going through her multiple pieces, and was, simply put, in awe. Eventually I stumbled across a store that carried her prints, and upon finding this piece, immediately purchased the print so I could meditate some more on this piece. While I may not be able to describe the aesthetic appeal I have for her work, I can only emphasize how her work was (to me at least), literally awesome. The only thing I can conclude of this piece is that I am not one who is able to describe why I feel such a strong connection to Georgia O'Keefe's work, and I can't even explain how, but I can understand how those questions are a huge motivation for me to continue on in this Philosophy of Aesthetics course.

Swoon - Adam Smith and Marcus Lyall

The shimmering figures and leaping silhouettes in the images above come from a segment of a music video for the song "Swoon", a single by the British electronic act "The Chemical Brothers". The video itself is by directors Adam Smith and Marcus Lyall, and is a recut of a scene in a film, by the same directors, which was  scored by the album from which the single in the video originates. However, despite role of music in the formation of these images, I find that the imagery of the video has a kind resonant power all its own. It seems obvious, to my perspective, that there is a representational aspect of the work that recalls the idea of love, through the imagery of a woman and a man falling through space etc. By my view, however, the power of the work exceeds this mere representational possibility. Certain elements of the work,  the synchronization of the textures within the silhouettes, or the weightless and dream-like motion of the figures, seem to express to some aspect of the experience of love, most importantly, in a particular way in which language fails to.

Here is a link to the full video (~3:00) just in case anyone is curious and would like to see the the full production, with music. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CCp_3zw-CxA

The Scream

I must admit here that my choice is not wholly original, but my reflection on it might be. This is one form of Edvard Munch's The Scream of Nature, which apparently has strong associations with the philosophical tradition of existentialism. This past summer I spent much time getting familiar with existentialist thought for an independent project of mine, and because of this I find myself encountering the world with an existentialist frame of mind. Dr. Johnson referred me to this painting to use in a poster presentation for my work, only pointing out that there are strong associations. As of right now, I don't know what these apparently well-known associations are, so I will reflect on what this painting says to me in light of existentialism.

We see an androgynous figure as the subject. The figure is placed on a bridge (upon which there are two others) which appears to cross over a river and a barren landscape. The painting is not realistic; that is, the representations are not meant to appear as we might find their referent in the 'real world.' Vivid, contrasting colors are used, and there's no effort to mask the author's brush strokes. The figure itself is 'wavy.' There is a pained expression on the face--screaming. Being familiar with existentialism and seeing the unpleasant face, I can't help but think of the usual emotions or feelings to describe the existentialist frame of mind, like Heidegger's anxiety or Sartre's anguish. The feeling usually characterizes an individual's realization of her own utter responsibility to provide meaning for the world she encounters and the life she lives. This scream seems to capture just such a realization.

Spomenik #18 (Kadinijača), 2009

Spomenik #18 (Kadinijača), 2009 photograph by Jan Kempenaers

I found this image while stumbling around on the internet sometime in 2009 or 2010. I remember saving the image to my computer because I had never seen anything quite like it. The first thing that stands out to me is the smaller, intricate blocks that really compliment the triangular cuts. I'm not sure why, but the dirt that has collected on the monument is what seems to make the monument something more than one of the thousand "Spomenik(s)" that were commissioned by the Yugoslavian Communist government as memorials for those who died in the Second World War. Apparently the monuments have been forgotten and remain largely isolated and scattered throughout Serbia, Slovenia, Bosnia, and Croatia. Yet, the historical significance of the piece doesn't effect the "raw feel" I have when seeing it. I'm not sure if the section where the grass is missing was intentional or not but it may be my favorite part. I chose this image because I can offer no reason or criteria as to why I like it, I'm not really big on visual art in the first place. It has no memory or emotional value attached to it for me, yet I can't help but say that it is the image that exemplifies Weitz's view of art as an "open concept".

Ray Charles' Georgia On My Mind

CLICK HERE FOR VIDEO

Here is a 30 second clip of one of Ray Charles' live performances of his magnum opus "Georgia on my Mind." It was not this exact version, but an extremely similar recording that was the first song to ever make me cry. I remember distinctly riding back to Houston from San Antonio on a bus, late at night coming from a drum recital, this song came on as I had my head between my knees and was about to nod off. The song was familiar to me, at least enough to be among the music on my iPod, but when Ray hit that high note I felt like I was hearing it, and music in general really, for the first time. One thing from the video that stuck out to me was the way that Charles moves as if the song is prying its way out of his soul and directly into his hands and just how blind musicians may differ from sighted ones in terms of their ability to perform live. I would love to dive into this piece of music that still remains so tender to me, and especially this 30 second clip of it, in order to find what exactly provoked such an emotional response from me at age 15. I know that the undeniably unique, saxophone-esque timbre of Charles' voice, and his incredibly earnest phrasing will no doubt prove to mount a touchstone that warrants revisiting time and time again (at least for me). I'm looking forward to this more than I probably should, but I honestly cannot wait to begin working on this.

Vasilj Godzh Line Drawings

image found at http://www.behance.net/gallery/line/2611169

more by Vasilj Godzh at http://www.behance.net/artgoodly

Vasilj Godzh is a Russian illustrator who makes primarily line drawings.  I find that this technique of using only lines of the same width and color is fascinating because of the many number of compositions, patterns, forms and more that are possible.  Line drawings tend to take a lot more time and patience because of the limitations of the material, making Godzh's many pieces impressive.  Not only has he explored variations of this technique, Godzh has also found ways to make each composition different from the others, creating a wide range of subject matter, both representational and abstract.  This particular piece seems to have a natural or organic feel, as the shapes look very much like plants.  Godzh conveys this almost natural movement or texture by varying the direction in which the lines flow.  Though this piece could certainly be described as beautiful and even infatuating, it also seems to have a somewhat disturbing quality that is difficult to identify.  Perhaps because the texture or pattern is also reminiscent of hair and it consumes the entire image.  I am drawn to Godzh's obsessive drawings because of the precise details, the overwhelming essence, the amount of dedication and patience that goes into each piece, and more that is often difficult to describe in so many words.

Victor Pasmore's The Wave

Victor Pasmore is a British artist that my aunt introduced me to. One of his paintings that interests me his “The Wave.” As opposed to a beach scene that many would associate with a title such as this one, the artist uses a technique that focuses on the detail and opens the door for it to be interpreted as many things. For example, a glimpse of the sky. The black color really stands out to me. In a way, it draws the eye away from the blues and yellow and creates definition. The spiral pattern Pasmore uses is a simple but intricate way to mimic the motion of a wave. For me, this painting represents a calm, rhythmic feeling that can be heard through the crashing of waves on the sand. The repetition in the painting is soothing in the sense that it doesn’t seem chaotic. Pasmore isolates a snap image and recreates it in a way that encourages viewers to think about the wave as a whole and not merely as a part of the ocean. I am nowhere near an expert on any type of art and could not pick an image that represents an ideal but for me, this painting invokes an internal response.

El Anatsui's Tapestries

El Anatsui, Anonymous Creature, 2009, found aluminium and copper wire
(taken from http://www.art21.org/images/el-anatsui/anonymous-creature-2009)

El Anatsui’s bottle cap tapestries strike me as substantive work because of their compelling formal and conceptual elements. The wall pieces relate to both painting and sculpture. The intricate patchwork addresses color through constructed patterns while also addressing physicality and real space by appropriating liquor bottle caps as a singular unit with a dimensionality that, when multiplied, comprises an unexpected whole. The tapestries have a nuanced engagement with beauty. Their formal elements create a rewarding visual and tactile experience that can seduce one into reverie, as beauty often does.  Yet, the tapestries also incorporate a more cerebral content that is in tension with pure formal seduction. The liquor bottle caps—found objects in Nigeria yet ultimately a Western product—rendered in patterns evocative of traditional African kente cloth document a complex cultural exchange between Africa and the West. The liquor bottle caps recording this exchange are evidence of commoditization. The caps invite contemplation of the history of the exchange, to when liquor was first introduced to Africa by colonizers. Simultaneously, they are contemporary objects informed by current African and Western artistic conventions.

First Image

This photograph comes from http://my.opera.com/365/albums/showpic.dml?album=728137&picture=11213234 and was taken by someone known as Antonietta. 

I realized that I would not be able to find what I would call an ideal image that reflected all of my preferences that should come together to create a “perfect” scene.  Instead, I posted the image to which I had the greatest internal response; when I saw this picture, I experienced sudden awe.  What marked this sense of awe was the thrill; I felt amazement at the brewing power of the storm.  Seeing this image brings to mind the real experience of witnessing a storm; the image inspires my memories, which in turn embellish the perception of the image in my mind, such that I imagine the clouds in the picture swirling slowly.  I remember the wind blowing, I imagine its temperature and smell and apply it to the photograph.  Even the darkness brings positive feelings: I rest my eyes from the bright rays of daylight and it adds to my sense of thrill—it foretells that I am about to witness something so powerful that it blocks out the sun.  I enjoy the differing shades of blue in the clouds, their fluidity and apparent softness.  I am also glad that buildings and other structures are not clearly visible in the picture; their absence gives me a greater sense of space and openness.  The silhouette of a single tree and the mountains in the distance, dwarfed compared to the darkened clouds, contribute to my feeling of humility as I look at a force that is completely beyond my control.  The storm could result in destruction or it could simply help nourish the land.  I realize that this paragraph is filled with personal first person pronouns.  In this case, perhaps my written reaction tells more about me than about the image itself.  I don’t know how to analyze the image apart from myself unless I relate it to other images, yet at present my sense of what is beautiful comes from how an image internally affects me.  I consider this image to be beautiful because it “moves” me by inspiring both memories and imaginings, and because I use it as a springboard for uncovering more meaning from my life.  I enjoy looking at landscapes in general in person because I feel smaller; my life will pass, but the land will always remain behind.  It connects me to those who lived before me and those who will live after.  Nevertheless, the land and natural processes such as storms are ever-changing; the storm in the image is already gone and can never be seen in person again.  The same is true of any individual perception of the land in a particular moment; at present very few buildings appear in the area depicted by the image, but that too can change.  Also, depending on the day my personal reaction to the image could change; with the loss of its novelty, I may lose the sense of awe it first inspired.  Interacting with landscapes by perceiving them and thinking about them brings to light how something can both be a constant, commonly experienced by many people, while still appearing or being different each time it is experienced.  Strangely, at present I feel comfort when I see this image.  I am able to enjoy this image as much as I do, though, only because I am safe; the storm does not personally threaten me, so I’m free to appreciate it.  If this storm were to seriously threaten me, it would lose its beauty.