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Is there a right or wrong way to do art?

Bunker Hill overlook, watercolor on Yupo, approx. 24X36, $3985 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Is there a right or wrong way to do art? That’s a question that artists have debated for centuries. Just to be slippery here, there’s no right or wrong answer.

Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres would have been baffled by Tracy Emin’s My Bed, which was shortlisted for the 1999 Turner Prize. It’s just a dirty, unmade bed, surrounded by feminine detritus. (For the record, a quarter of a century later, I’m annoyed that it sold at auction for £2,546,500 when paintings by Great Britain’s greatest late-20th century painter, James Morrison, could be had for a few thousand pounds.)

For Ingres and other Neoclassical painters, My Bed would definitely be considered the wrong way to do art. To be fair, they would also have thought that Henri Matisse and Vincent van Gogh were short of art technique.

Aesthetics is a moving target. But that doesn’t mean that art operates in a value-free world, although some of the art world’s excesses might have you believe otherwise.

Clary Hill Blueberry Barrens, watercolor on Yupo, ~24X36, $3985 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

The creative side of the argument

Art is ultimately a form of expression and communication, and each of us has a specific viewpoint and our own voice. Art history is full of rule-breakers who changed the direction of the visual arts.

In terms of personal expression, the only unbreakable rule is honesty in intention. Ironically, that’s one rule I find myself breaking all the time. It’s easy to give lip service to intellectual and emotional transparency, but just when I think I’ve gotten there, I realize I’ve thrown up another wall.

The Surf is Cranking Up, 8X16, oil on linenboard, $903 includes shipping and handling in continental US.

The technical side of the question.

Within specific disciplines, there are standards of craft and technique. These include the fundamental elements of design, the practical business of getting your ideas from concept to execution, and theoretical aspects like color theory. I’ve had the occasional student who believed that learning these things limited their range of expression. In fact, not knowing art technique left them flailing around. The learning curve can be steep when you’re teaching yourself by experimenting.

Different disciplines suit different purposes, audiences and intentions. You wouldn’t play Bach’s Harpsichord Concerto in D minor at your local dive, and Proud Mary wouldn’t go over too well at the Metropolitan Opera. Likewise, it would be peculiar to do encaustic in a plein air event, or completely abstract a portrait commission.

Quebec Brook, oil on archival canvasboard, $1449 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Where does that leave you?

First, learn the rules, so that when you break them, you do so intentionally and with purpose. That means understanding why people have traditionally done things in the order they’ve done them. When you do break rules, understand the consequences.

Stay open to growth. We never want to become parodies of ourselves, and that requires accepting change.

I had an epiphany this week, which was that sometimes you have to wait a long time for epiphanies. They simply can’t be rushed. The only way through the drought is to keep thinking and working. Sometimes I just hate that.

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

What is art?

This 9X12 painting of spring blossoms in Thomaston is one of four paintings I delivered to the Red Barn Gallery in Thomaston. They’ll be there until August 6, 2023.

‘What is art?’ is a deceptively simple question. I come down hard on the argument that art is any creative impulse that is utterly useless in practical terms. Art is created primarily for aesthetic, intellectual or expressive purposes. It evokes emotions, conveys ideas and, hopefully, provokes thought.

Craft, on the other hand, is traditionally used to describe work that serves a practical purpose. Of course, the line between art and craft is hopelessly vague and jagged. There was no legitimate purpose served by the exquisite illumination of the Lindisfarne Gospels; the stories were read out to an audience who probably couldn’t read and never had a chance to look at the pictures. The illumination was just a celebration of the magnificence of the Good News. But we call those unknown artists ‘medieval craftsmen.’

Red House, Monhegan, 12X16, oil on canvas, is one of four paintings I delivered to Red Barn Gallery in Port Clyde. They’ll be there until August 6.

In late medieval Europe, tapestry was the central, most expensive figurative medium. Tapestries often showed complicated Biblical, allegorical or historical scenes. They were full of beautifully drawn figures in well-drafted settings.

These immense wall hangings were made in large workshops under the aegis of a master artist. Their production was not materially different from the painting workshops that would follow in the Renaissance. However, tapestry was based on two very practical crafts, weaving and needlework. We’ve further muddied the waters by assuming that the magnificent tapestries of our ancestors were primarily to keep drafts down. We call tapestry a craft, even though its technical demands are at least equal to those of painting.

Hans Holbein traipsed all over Europe to paint portraits of prospective brides for Henry VIII. (The king was terribly disappointed in Anne of Cleves when he saw her in the flesh, so much that the marriage was unconsummated. But he was the only person who thought her homely, so we’ll never know if Holbein flattered her or if Henry was unreasonable.)

Holbein’s paintings were made for a highly practical application, but they’re among the great paintings of the western canon. Nobody would call them craft.

Rockport Opera House, 14X18, is one of four paintings I delivered to Red Barn Gallery in Port Clyde. They’ll be there until August 6.

Consider three tiny figurines, exactly the same. The first was made as a doll for a child. It’s by our modern lights a craft object. The second was made to cast a spell upon an unlucky recipient. That’s also a craft object. The third was made for no reason other than that its maker thought it was a good idea. That’s an art object.

I may not like a Maurizio Cattelan‘s Comedian (the infamous banana taped to a wall) but it provoked a response and a lot of conversation. That’s one of the fundamental purposes of art. Could I have enraged as many people with a landscape painting? Hardly.

A large part of the game Warhammer 40,000 is painting miniatures. Is that a craft, because it’s for a game, or art, because it’s totally useless? Is building a model of Frederic Church‘s Olana in The Sims, as my daft daughter is doing, art or craft?

I’ve spent a few weeks at the Red Barn Gallery in Port Clyde contemplating a vivid and sublime Eric Jacobsen painting. It has been a true aesthetic pleasure. Beauty is something both traditional art and craft do magnificently. It’s something a banana taped to the wall (and much other modern art) fail at. To divorce aesthetics from art is as foolish as trying to draw a line between art and craft.

We’d love to have you enter this year’s 10X10 show. Details below.

Speaking of the Red Barn Gallery, intake for the annual 10X10 show starts this Thursday. It’s a juried show that runs from August 11-September 1. Artists can submit up to three works, and the fee is $15/per submission. The application form is here.

I’ll be there on Thursday, and I’d love to see you!

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025: