Deidre Adams

Several weeks ago, I posted Part I of an assignment for my Painting V class, a written response to a particular book, in my case Art & Fear: Observations on the Perils (and Rewards) of Artmaking by David Bayles & Ted Orland. The book is divided into two sections, which was convenient for the 2-part assignment.

Response paper – Art & Fear, Part II

By the time you get to part II of the book, you’ve become familiar with the book’s rhythm of bad news, good news. It’s a comforting seesaw going back and forth, first saying here’s a problem, but then don’t despair, here’s how you can deal with it.

Chapter VI, “A View Into the Outside World,” begins with all of the other things one must worry about in addition to the relatively simple matter of just making the art. One of the biggest is the way the work will be received by the outside world. People in general are fearful of anything that goes against the status quo, and stories of moral outrage or other negative feedback often result in artists’ self-censoring out of survival instinct. Along with this, there’s the problem of getting others to be interested in and to accept your work. The so-called “art world” has its predefined standards, and gaining acceptance in this world can be tricky. Without some level of ability to play the game, an artist has little hope of success in this world.

This chapter also raises the sticky subject of competition. Human nature being what it is, artists are also instinctively inclined toward competing with other artists. This inclination, if not kept in check, can get out of control. Competition can have positive consequences; for instance, if it drives an artist  to create work at a very high level, to make one’s best work at all times. But the downfall here lies in determining what one’s best work is. We may rely on the outside world to tell us. The danger here is that you might just make work that you know will gain easy acceptance and thus avoid challenging yourself. In my own experience, I often find that the work I think is my strongest is greeted with a big yawn by others, while some that I think is less than stellar gets very positive responses. It’s a battle to keep myself true to my own vision and resist using certain combinations of colors or visual devices just because I know people have reacted positively to these things in my past work.

“Navigating the System” deals with the subject of commissions and the necessity of making art that can produce monetary returns. If you’re not fortunate enough to be completely independent of the need to make money from your art, then you probably have to make some concessions to complete freedom of self-expression. You have to figure out how to strike a balance between making work for others and making work for yourself, and which is more important to your survival. For me, making commissions has been a good and bad proposition. When I’ve been constrained to colors I’m not used to working with, it feels unfamiliar and forced. And even when there’s complete creative freedom, there’s also the anxiety of wondering whether the end product will be accepted by the client. The rewards, both financial as well as in the form of exposure, have so far been worth it. I won’t seek a commission, but if requested, I’ll give it a try if I feel I can work within the parameters given and also if I feel a good rapport with the client.

Chapter VII, “The Academic World,” discusses issues related to learning about art in school, from the viewpoint of both student and teacher. The discussion of the problems faced by an artist who decides to teach sound so formidable, I can’t imagine myself ever wanting to do it. But following the bad news–good news cycle, there’s the reminder that in spite of the soul-killing administrative requirements and lack of time artist-educators have to create their own art, there is the very fulfilling prospect of nurturing and learning from new artists and their fresh perspectives on life. For me, this has been one of the most rewarding aspects of being a student as well: mingling with other creative people and being inspired by their ingenuity and generosity.

Next, the authors discuss how books fit into the artist’s life. Besides technique and history, one of the most valuable aspects of reading about other artists is gaining “courage-by-association” (90). The more experience I have under my own belt, the more I enjoy reading about other artists and their processes, their fears and triumphs, and just simply their approaches to observation and life in general. Wisdom, insight, passion, logic, and introspection: all great things to be gained from reading the words of other artists. “Every artist could write such a book. You could write such a book” (92). Maybe I will!

Chapter VIII, “Conceptual Worlds,” is the seminal chapter of the book. Everything else rides on these three questions to be asked when viewing the work of any artist, as first proposed by Henry James: “What was the artist trying to achieve?”  “Did he/she succeed?” And “Was it worth it?” (93). These words really resonated with me.  I hadn’t thought to ask anything like this about my own work, but if I were to go back and do this with certain pieces now, I can see that these questions hold the key to understanding why I’m just not that excited about some of them. “Art that falls short often does so not because the artist failed to meet the challenge, but because there was never a challenge there in the first place.” Using the analogy of an Olympic dive, the authors stress that you get more points for degree of difficulty than for perfection. Technical perfection, while commendable and valuable, can also become a trap. Yes, you can keep doing the easy thing, that thing which resonated at the time, and seemed so fulfilling. But if you don’t challenge yourself to go beyond that, you don’t grow as an artist.

This chapter also contains the best explanation I’ve ever seen on the difference between art and craft, a question of vital interest to me. Using the Mona Lisa as an example, the authors ask: “Is this art?”  Probably supposing that no one would deny it, they next ask, “What about an undetectably perfect copy of the Mona Lisa?” (97). The point is that art vs. craft is a question that must be considered not in isolation for an individual piece, but in the context of multiple works by one person. The art aspect is achieved when there is a conceptual leap from one piece to the next. “There’s a greater conceptual jump from one work of art to the next than from one work of craft to the next” (98). To me, this means that even though the techniques might be the same, someone is making craft if the end products are the same or very similar, and it’s art if each piece is unique in a substantial way. The artist must be vigilant to keep pushing this difference as his or her career matures, to be sure the work “continually generates new and unresolved issues.”  The key difference between art and craft is not the tools but the ideas. “For the artisan, craft is an end in itself. For you, the artist, craft is the vehicle for expressing your vision” (98).

The book concludes with the assertion that in art (as in most of life), there are no reassuringly concrete answers to tell us how to get along on the journey. But you can find your way by asking the right questions. Each artist finds his or her own way through observation, working, and associations with other artists and activities, but in the end the thing that matters is making the work. If the artist doesn’t find a way to proceed, then that’s the end of his or her art-making. There is no single set of instructions that works for everyone. “The individual recipe any artist finds for proceeding belongs to that artist alone — it’s non-transferable and of little use to others” (117). If I choose to continue to make art, I face a lot of uncertainties, but as the authors conclude, “Curiously, uncertainty is the comforting choice” (118).

Machine Quilting Unlimited magazine includes a regular feature called “Art Studio.” I’m the featured artist for the November 2009 issue. I enjoyed writing the copy for it, since the subject is one with which I’m intimately familiar — and I can always use the practice talking about my work. The magazine did a fantastic job with the layout, as you can see. This is a beautiful publication, with articles of interest to both traditional and art quilters. Single copies and subscriptions are available at their web site, http://www.mqumag.com/home/.

I’m woefully behind in posting this news, but better late than never, right? This wonderful new book by Spike Gillespie profiles 20 art quilters, detailing their stories and working methods, with beautiful photography and layout. I’m honored to have been chosen to be a part of it. It was also really cool to find out that 2 of my pieces were featured on the cover, along with work by Lisa Call and Margot Lovinger.

Spike traveled around the country to meet the artists in person, and she came to Denver, along with photographer Ori Sofer, to interview me and Lisa for our respective articles. They were lots of fun, with interesting personal stories of their own. Ori took a lot of great pictures of me and my studio, and generously gave me copies of them. The photo I’m using on my About page and for my Facebook profile is one that he took. I like it because it pretty much looks like me but still looks decent, if you know what I mean!

The best part of this book is that it’s not just pages of the artists’ work, but also includes photos from their studios and little blurbs of advice from each one. I had to squirm a little when I saw mine in print, because Spike didn’t clean up my somewhat uncivilized language, but quoted me verbatim. Ahem!

But I couldn’t be more thrilled about being in this book. Here are a couple of spreads from my section:

Quilting Art is available through Amazon or directly through the publisher, Voyageur Press.

Composition IX, 48 x 46 inches, mixed media textile. ©2008

Along with artists Bruce Marion and Lisabel Filiatrault, I will have work on view at Translations Gallery from Nov. 4 through Dec. 1. There will be an artist’s reception on Nov. 6. Please stop by if you are in the area.

Translations Gallery
1743 Wazee Street
Denver, CO 80202
303.629.0713

Reception: Nov. 6, 6:00-8:30 pm

Jonathan Saiz with Queen Doña Mariana of Austria, 80 x 71 x 8 inches, ©2009

Jonathan Saiz, “widely recognized as one of Denver’s top emerging artists,”*  has a great show on view at the plus+gallery through October 17. A week ago last Friday, I went to hear his talk at the gallery.

Saiz is a friendly, unassuming guy, and his talk was of the sort I like most: informal and unrehearsed, just an artist speaking from the heart about his passion and process. This show is called Industry, and it consists of six mixed media pieces constructed of painted metal boxes and parts of machines. Each work features a miniature portrait painstakingly painted by Saiz, set into the work as a diamond is set into a piece of jewelry.

Detail from Queen Doña Mariana of Austria by Jonathan Saiz

Saiz describes the work as a dialog between painting and sculpture. It’s also about contrasts: masculine versus feminine, human versus machine, construction versus destruction. The painted miniatures reference 17th- through 19th-century portrait painting, and the industrial materials represent the “unidentifiable uneasiness and appeal of a contemporary perspective informed by the remnants of the past and the realities of the present.”* Saiz says the huge, powerful constructions function to both protect the image as well as to “kill” it.

The yellow paint color was a serendipitous choice. Known as “safety yellow,” Saiz says he bought seven gallons of the industrial grade paint on sale at a local store. Using this color was a way to create a cohesive grouping of works as well as to create the unmistakable reference to industry, as most viewers will recognize the yellow from its ubiquitous presence in heavy machinery and other industrial uses. Saiz also pays attention to surfaces, painting his boxes with multiple layers of color and then distressing them by “rubbing them on the ground in the parking lot” to reveal hints of turquoise beneath the yellow. The result is an effect of security and permanence, as though these powerful structures have existed for a long time and will continue to do so long after we are all gone.

Saiz spent some time in Paris, where he studied romantic and classical paintings and developed a deep respect for them. He also noticed that many of them were presented with elaborate, ponderous frames, which became a source of inspiration for the idea for setting his small paintings in a contemporary interpretation of the frame. He describes the effect as both humorous and vaguely menacing.

His first love is painting, but he’s looking for different ways to expand his work. The sculpture gives him a different way to approach working, as well as to keep the work from being “too pretty.”

After this talk, many of the gallery patrons continued on to Ironton studios to view the Monumental show, in which large works by five plus+gallery artists, including Saiz, are also on view through the 17th. Saiz’s work in this show is called “Grand Opening,” and it’s a related but very different work from those in the Industry show. Still constructed of multiple boxes, the portrait image in this work comes not from classical painting tradition, but from internet pornography.

Grand Opening, 95 x 142 x 17 inches, ©2009 Jonathan Saiz

Answering questions from viewers in the audience, Saiz described how he makes some of the choices in his work. He explained that he buys paint when it’s on sale, and that, as much as anything else, influenced the colors in this particular work. I found this honesty rather refreshing, as some of my choices are made in much the same way. He also goes against accepted art school methodology, experimenting with materials and finding ways of working that are right for him personally, mixing oil-based enamel with acrylics, house paint, and salt. For example, in this work, he’s layered acrylic over oil, something we’re told in school is very much against the law, violating the “fat over lean” rule. So far no adverse effects have surfaced.

Also on view in Monumental are works by Wes Magyar, Patti Hallock, Robin Schaefer (who also curated the show), and Frank T. Martinez.

*From the plus+gallery flyer for the show

Image from a self-portrait project done in 2003

As part of the curriculum for painting classes at Metro, we are required to do several writing assignments. One of them is to do a written response to a particular book. I had already read the first book on the reading list, so I went to number 2, which was Art & Fear: Observations on the Perils (and Rewards) of Artmaking by David Bayles & Ted Orland. I know, seriously — can you believe I had never read it? Anyway, when I posted on Facebook that I was reading it, a couple of people expressed interest in reading the paper, so I’m posting it here. Yes, it’s probably way too long for a blog post, but here it is anyway.

Response paper – Art & Fear, Part I

As I read this book, I found myself over and over again nodding my head in agreement. Yes, I do that…yes, that too. I make work that doesn’t feel like my own. I leave things unfinished; I repeat myself. I have things in my mind that seem more real than the finished work. Hey wait a minute! Are these guys living inside my head?

Art & Fear is a fast and enjoyable read. It’s full of things that most artists have probably already encountered in one way or another, but it’s reassuring to have them so eloquently articulated and to know that these are common feelings for others. Just the fact that this book exists gives hope to the idea that these misgivings can be overcome once they are properly understood.

The second chapter starts with a sobering fact: There are many in the world who began to make art but most of them quit at some point for whatever reason. The reason might be fear of failure or a feeling of having reached one’s destination. For students, one reason for quitting is graduation from school. (For my own circumstances, I hope I’ll be insulated against this possibility because I started making art long before I decided to go to school for it.)

The authors suggest making friends with others who make art and sharing work in progress as a way to guard against quitting. I’m fortunate in this regard, because I belong to a couple of very supportive groups of textile artists. I’ve also started getting into blogging and social media like Facebook, which have both opened up additional avenues of feedback, encouragement, and support.

Still, the doubts persist. Is my work any good? Do I really have anything to say? Even if I do, does anyone care? Is my work my own, is it authentic? I was reassured by the assertion that “Uncertainty is the essential, inevitable and all-pervasive companion to your desire to make art. And tolerance for uncertainty is the prerequisite to succeeding” (21). Well, I have plenty of uncertainty, so theoretically I should do just fine!

Chapter 3 of the book, “Fears About Yourself, has several subsections. The first is “Pretending.” This one really hit home for me. The notion that I know better than anyone else how much of my art is due to accident or owes to things I’ve seen in other peoples’ art is one of my deep, dark guilty secrets. This gives rise to, as the authors say, imagining that “real artists know what they’re doing, and that they — unlike you — are entitled to feel good about themselves and their art”  (24). If one pays attention to art-related magazines and electronic media, the continual discussion of what “art” really is goes on over and over again, and the question is never really resolved because everyone has a different idea about it. It’s comforting to know that I’m not the only one who questions whether what I’m doing is really “art.” Most of the time I don’t bother worrying about it, mostly because I get a lot of enjoyment from doing it, but also because I receive enough positive feedback to keep me from feeling it’s a total waste of time.

The next categories are “Talent,” “Perfection,”  “Annihilation,” and “Magic.”  To me, these all seem related. Worrying about one’s lack of talent, harboring impossible expectations of perfection, fearing dry spells, or wondering why your work doesn’t just magically create itself are obviously self-defeating, but the trick is figuring out how to overcome these traps. Working with textiles has some built-in advantages here, fortunately. When I’m stuck for ideas, I can work on getting materials into the pipeline. I can put small pieces of fabric together, work on stitching larger pieces, or paint on fabrics or quilts. All of these activities are great for keeping work in progress as well as generating ideas for finished pieces. Similar activities, like doodling or sketching, could work for painters, and there’s probably something similar to be found for every medium. It’s a matter of doing anything you can to keep the creative mind engaged.

Chapter IV, “Fears About Others,” provides some great insights. The expectations put on us by the outside world are numerous and contradictory: We must make art that’s original, yet familiar. We must produce work that’s challenging, yet understandable within the context of what’s gone before. In an academic environment, these expectations carry the added burden of trying to win the acceptance of one’s professors and classmates. In my own experience, this can be a two-edged sword: sometimes the feedback is helpful, but at other times it just works to force me to subvert my own vision.

Seeking approval from others seems to be a basic human need, experienced by everyone at some level. Maybe there are some artists who don’t care at all what others think about their work, but I could never honestly say I’m one of them. I’m certainly not putting myself in the same category as a Stravinsky or a Robert Frank, but if I want to do something different from what’s gone before, I’m often reluctant to show it to others for fear of disapproval or ridicule. These contradictions are something I have to try to ignore or at least work around, lest I become frozen, unable to proceed. I need to keep in mind the authors’ advice: “The only pure communication is between you and your work” (47).

Chapter V is called “Finding Your Work.” It offers interesting observations about the artist’s dual roles as both a maker and a viewer of art. We’ve all been moved or inspired by particular works of art, whether from the standpoint of its impact as a finished piece or because of a specific visual element or technique. In trying to make use of or perhaps pay homage to the feelings these works inspire, we may try to borrow some of the imagery, symbolism, or techniques of another artist. The authors caution against the attempt to “incorporate the power” of a symbol that belongs to another culture, place, or time into one’s own work “under pressure of impending irrelevance” (55). They also similarly caution against using techniques that appear in work we admire, but I disagree with them on that minor point. I believe there’s a lot to be learned by trying different techniques, and we can’t invent a new wheel every time.

We fear running out of ideas, or we may worry that where we’ve been going was down the wrong path. When regarding a finished work, we may wish that we had done certain things differently. But it’s important to keep in mind that an honest evaluation of finished work, even the disappointing aspects, provides a learning experience for all the work to come after it. My favorite quote in the book  helps me to understand that even the mediocre or just plain bad work does hold some kernels of knowledge for the future: “The undeniable fact is that your art is not some residue left after you subtract all the things you haven’t done — it is the full payoff for all the things you have done” (56).

The message this book offers is that despite all of our fears and misgivings, the important thing is just to keep doing the work. Not only does the work itself offer valuable understanding and insight for future endeavors, but the practice of doing the work helps us to develop habits and rituals that will keep us working and going forward. We develop a certain vocabulary of marks, colors, and working methods that are used in a subconscious way, “engaging unarticulated beliefs and assumptions about what artmaking is” (59). After some unspecified length of time spent in our practice, we begin to choose certain materials, adjust our environment, and proceed to work in a particular way without even thinking about it. These things give the artist the confidence to keep going, even when fear and uncertainty intrude. They are “canons,” and they are part of the life of the artist.

Heading north on I-25, near Wagon Mound, New Mexico. ©2009 Deidre Adams.

“Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.”
—John Lennon

I’ve always loved this quote. It just seems so appropriate most of the time. We like to think of life as a journey, but for me it’s really more just a lot of lurching from one thing to another, dealing with whatever seems most pressing at the moment. I’m no different from an ant or a bumblebee.

I was going along great with my France postings and had my school assignments and most things in my life under control, when a sudden family emergency meant I had to take a trip down to Albuquerque to deal with some stuff. Things there remain unresolved, so I’m back home waiting to see what happens next.

Now that I’m back, I have a lot of things to catch up on and write about, but my France trip just doesn’t seem so timely any more. I’ll get back to posting some about what I’ve been up to lately, but I just wanted to take a brief moment and try to account for the break in continuity here.

View from the top of Château de la Roche Guyon donjon. ©2009 Deidre Adams.

One of our day trips while staying with ArtStudy was to La Roche Guyon, a short ride from Giverny. It’s a charming village whose main feature is a castle, the Château, which was built in stages over many years.

In visiting the Château itself, you enter through the courtyard and find yourself in the newer part of the complex, an addition built in the 18th Century. This building includes a succession of staterooms, one of which features 4 very large and beautiful tapestries representing the biblical story of Esther. There is also a room housing a collection of curiosities, with taxidermied animals, shells, rocks, and other artifacts of nature. Beneath the castle are a series of subterranean passages, including the “casemates” dug in 1944 by the German army for field marshall Rommel and his staff.

You can go up to the top of the old 9th-Century donjon (castle keep), if you are a hardy soul who can forge on past the dire warning signs and make the climb up 250 very steep steps carved into the rock of the cliff itself. Those who do so are rewarded with magnificent views of the village with the Seine beyond.

 

I also spent some time walking through the village, with its lovely shops and residences. At one end of the village, you can find a walking path that runs next to a beautiful field (maybe it’s wheat? I’m sorry I’m not really up on the grains). The skies in the morning were beautiful with patchy clouds, before the rain moved in for good later that afternoon.

 

After a couple of days in Paris, we took a train to Vernon, whose French pronunciation was often ignored by members of our group, probably giving rise to varying reactions of amusement or perhaps consternation by the local residents. From there, it was a short ride in the van to Giverny, the home of our ArtStudy lodge. Giverny is a lovely small town in Normandy, full of picture-postcard scenery. In the image above is Chris, a local artist who is a good friend of the ArtStudy hosts, in front of one of his sand sculptures.

A few more images from Giverny (click any image for larger-format viewer):

 

While in Giverny, we were pampered each day with fabulous food both at the lodge and at the local restaurants. The lodge has a chef who came and prepared some special-occasion meals on non-restaurant days. For breakfast, we had fresh bread or croissants every day, along with a choice of fruit, Müesli, hard-boiled egg (not for me, thank you very much!), yogurt, and assorted juices. The coffee, accompanied by fresh half-and-half prepared from local milk and cream, was wonderful. Since Normandy is famous for dairy foods, we also had some great cheese selections. The thing that most stood out to me was how fresh everything was. Since I’ve been home, I’ve made a point of going to the farmer’s market every weekend to try to keep getting fruits and vegetables that are as fresh as possible.

On days when we didn’t have field trips, the day was spent painting en plein air. We had European style shopping carts that we loaded up with all of our supplies, including a TV tray for a table, and headed out to find a spot to paint. (I’ll post some of my paintings from the trip soon.) Then each day at 6:00, we journeyed down to Monet’s Garden with our supplies. The gardens were closed at that time, so the only people there were us and a few others, artists or photographers, who also had special permission to be there for two hours taking advantage of the beautiful landscaping and flowers. Here are a few of the photos I took in the gardens.

 

Wall Sketch #1, photo transfer and watercolor on artist-made paper. 9×9 inches (matted to 15×15). ©2009 Deidre Adams.

I have a couple more France posts I want to do, but I’m back in school now, already behind, and I’ve had two more short road trips since my last post. I can’t believe how fast time is screaming by.

But I wanted to post these images while the topic is still fresh. Translations Gallery is going to be featuring some smaller works by their gallery artists, so I brought these in last week. These are mixed-media works on paper, matted and backed, and inserted into Clearbags. I will also have some full-size watercolors to post as soon as I get them to the gallery.

Landmarks #1, photo transfer and watercolor on paper. 8×10 inches (matted to 11×14). ©2009 Deidre Adams.

Landmarks #2, photo transfer and watercolor on paper. 9×9 inches (matted to 15×15). ©2009 Deidre Adams.

Landmarks #3, photo transfer and watercolor on paper. 8×10 inches (matted to 11×14). ©2009 Deidre Adams.

Wall Sketch #2, photo transfer, clear gesso, watercolor, and gouache on paper. 7×7 inches (matted to 13×13). ©2009 Deidre Adams.

Wall Sketch #3, photo transfer, acrylic gel medium, and watercolor on artist-made paper. 8×10 inches (matted to 11×14). ©2009 Deidre Adams.