Art and Everything After

schoolhouse rock is art

You heard me. It's fucking art. (and no it is NOT a rule on this blog that the word 'fucking' must preceed the word 'art', just works out that way).

Schoolhouse Rock was a series of animated shorts produced from 1972 to 1985.  They ran on Saturday mornings on ABC, and they taught us shit. They taught us grammar, arithmetic, science, politics and history.  Gen X in part will forever be defined by these cartoons, because we all have our favorites kicking around in our heads for instant recall. "I'm Just a Bill" seems to be popular, as well as "Conjunction Junction".

 

They certainly helped me - from high school pop quizzes to the SAT, and out of some tight spots in the Trivial Pursuit Game as well.  These little films had a special something that sticks with you - both in the visuals and the score.

 

But then that's kind of by design.  They are the brainchild of advertising exec Dave McCall, who watched his sons struggle with multiplication and thought maybe his ad chops could help.  That thinking led to a pilot jingle - "Three is a Magic Number".  And THAT got in front of some animators, one you may have heard of - Chuck Jones. 

 

The series grew to include a creative team that if they did nothing else ever would be aces in my book - Phil Kimmelman, Tom Yohe in their respective art shops, and Bob Dorough, Lynn Ahrens, Jack Sheldon on the music - this is not a comprehensive list - they just nailed it all.  And by "nailing it all" I mean that it is art.

Forget the full definition and discussion of what art is - short list below:

Art stands the test of time.

It influences/reflects our culture.

It is a resolved thing - needing nothing more and nothing less to be what it is.

Schoolhouse Rock does all of this. And one more thing:

Remember last post I mentioned intent in art.  I think intent is important - because an artist should ask "What am I trying to do?".  

I don't think the folks who created Schoolhouse Rock set out to make art, they set out to use TV and cartoons to educate children. But they also set out to do something special that at the time was a new idea shared by their friends across the channel on "Sesame Street" for PBS - use TV to broaden minds and build skills..  

The intent to create something special is a cornerstone of art.

My son is finishing 1st grade and can finally start to appreciate SHR. Of course I began playing him the shorts when he was 2 and just thought they were pretty moving pictures, now I see him singing along and exclaiming things like "Dad now I get it, 100 is just 20 FIVE times!!"  Fantastic.

As a creator inside and outside the commercial world I can only hope that SOMETHING I do has this kind of legacy.  Love Schoolhouse Rock straight up. Love that my kid loves it.  I leave you with a fave.

 

glen coco doesn't "get" art

I came across this post by Glen Coco. It's actually pretty funny.

In the post Glen is looking at art, he doesn't "get it", he gets angry.  

It's ok to get angry at art. In some ways that might mean it's doing it's job. And yes, some art sucks. These points I'm right with Glen.

But as for "getting" art, I have a pretty simple perspective.

And rather than get to that perspective in a straightforward way, let's try some dialectic gymnastics - because this conversation takes me to the Occupy Movement and it's criticism (you're thinking "WTF?! Left turn"), stay with me here.

People had/have a problem with Occupy because it was unfocused. The leadership, goals and message were muddy - made the whole thing tough to understand to some, made people scoff at it and dismiss it.

Know what it made me think? "Enough people are pissed at the way things are to sit outside night after night in the middle of winter - THAT is a pretty strong point."  

Here's another: Revolution is messy.

Think about it.  Let's say you went back in time to pre-revolutionary war. You pull some colonists aside and ask them individually what the whole rebellion against the British is all about - think you'd get the same answer every time? You wouldn't.

How do I know?  Because years later when the Founding Fathers drafted the Constitution they *still* hadn't sorted out their vision for the country and where it was going (hello slavery issue to name a big one).  

Revolution is organic. It rolls forward in fits and starts - almost dying out, then flaring up brightly. Revolution can have a few leaders - look at MLK, and Malcom X in the civil rights movement, Ghandi and the Muslim leaders in the emancipation of India. 

It doesn't always come in the neat little package we're used to - in our news, marketing, entertainment. In other words, it's real.

Back to art. Same deal. Messy.

Sometimes art doesn't make sense, sometimes it heads in the the wrong direction. Sometimes it reaches glorious heights in talented individuals, sometimes it just plain sucks. It's fucking art, it can do that.

All of it at least in intent, at least in theory, and sometimes in breathtaking execution - heads towards something transcendent, which is a fancy way of saying it makes the world a bit better.

All around the nation a relative handful of hapless, weary, tragic people take time out of their day, away from their facebook page, kids, jobs, lattes and American Idol episodes, and try to make art - they try to make the world more beautiful.

Did they succeed? Up for debate, but now we have something TO debate. 

And thank god for the trying right? Like Mary Cassatt tried. Or John Lennon. Or Robert Frost. 

Revolution is messy. Art is messy. Why bring up both together?

Because human beings are messy. We're messy in that we're at our best when we're growing, when we're striving to improve, when we take risks and deliver on them sometimes.

Living things grow. Dead things do not. Growth comes from exploration, failure, success, courage, vision and hard work. Art helps us grow. 

So it has value, even when it's not done well. It can teach us something, even when we hate it. It represents (some might say validates) the best in human beings. 

That's the only thing to "get" about art.  

of geeks and grapeheads

I'm a geek. I admit it. It's like I'm at the podium at some 12 step program right?

"Hello, my name is Jeff"

"HIIII JEFF!"

"And I've been a geek now for 600 years."

My teen years were filled with all the geek staples - Star Trek, Star Wars, Dungeons and Dragons, The books of JRR Tolkien, saturday morning cartoons and of course, comic books.  

Instead of playing spin-the-bottle I was spinning a 20 sided dice in Scott Lacy's basement. Oh shut up like you were cool in Jr. High?

Being a geek doesn't pack the stigma it did back when I was a kid though. Popular culture has fully embraced (assimilated?) geek culture. Think I'm wrong? Follow the money:

Just the Lord of the Rings Movie Trilogy alone made $2,917,506,956 world wide.  Think about that. Almost 3 billion dollars. The movies took $285 million to make. Not a bad profit but more to the point, you don't post dollars in the billions with an audience of just fanboys coming to the theater with their action figures and bad acne - everyone "geeked out" over those movies.  

On top of the money and popularity of the films, they were critically acclaimed - winning 17 out of the 30 academy awards they were up for. 

When these movies were in theaters, I wanted to wear a T shirt that read "I TOLD you this shit was cool!"

My recent geek fix? The Avengers movie coming out in 2 weeks.  Complete geek fest. This superhero movie is building on and bringing together characters from a bunch of other superhero movies - to tell a big story arc in a continuum.  Hulk, Captain America, Iron Man all had their own successful movies, and now these guys are in the SAME movie. Say it with me - Geek. Fest.

Of course all of this is based on comic books, and comic books were an early influence on me as an artist.  Visually I learned from the use of line and color, anatomy, composition, it was all there. The writing had plot and character development, and story structure (set-up, conflict, resolution).

I have drawings of a character I created and would draw in a sequential narrative from when I was eight years old (his name was Melvin). This character grew and developed as my story-telling skill and imagination grew and developed, until I was producing full-fledged comic books through high school and on into college. I called these guys "The Grapheads" - because if you look their heads are kind of shaped like a grape.

In art school "comic art and illustration" was poo-poo'ed by my professors, and, I think, by the art world as a whole (I'm guessing here because I'm still about as far away from the "art world" as I was then).  

That has changed too. Comic graphic novel "The Watchmen" gets heady praise as literature -  In 2008, Entertainment Weekly placed it at number 13 on its list of the best 50 novels printed in the last 25 years, describing it as "The greatest superhero story ever told and proof that comics are capable of smart, emotionally resonant narratives worthy of the label literature."

Beyond this I understand now where comics fit in with me as an artist and with art - it's all part of the same creative whole you know? 

So I still draw these guys, and I know they feed my studio work.  I have a plan to produce and self-publish a graphic novel to bring to a comic-con with the help of my friends -which can actually happen as I move through the life-death-rebirth cycle of life here. I'll post here as it develops.

 

 

 

a little daylight

Remember I mentioned building a creative life?  Here's another sign it's working.

In my house the main floor is my studio, and there is artwork is all over the walls.  This is the first time in my life that my studio has been up front and center in my house. When you walk into my place, you walk into my studio.

I'm a divorcing dad. I have my son up at my house tuesdays and thursdays.  Once my house was set up, once the studio was set up, I noticed something. My boy started drawing, every time he was at my place.  He started drawing, painting, playing with playdoh - he was creative.  This is with the xbox right downstairs.

Last night and this morning was more of the same. Over breakfast he sat with me and did some drawings - for half an hour. Unprompted.

And I've never pushed him for this stuff. I knew he had to come to it on his own. It's happening. We tell stories to each other, talk about comic books, draw and paint, and act out pretend adventures.  I love it all, and I love him, and I love that I've built a creative life where all of that can take root and grow.

I've dealt with a raft of shit over the last 2 years, and had to choke it all down as best as I could.  This is the daylight, and I'm thankful for it.

thomas kinkade died

Thomas Kinkade passed away.  Who is Thomas Kinkade? Same question I asked, I hadn't heard of him - but after reading about this artist and his popularity, it's probable I've seen his work.

Estimates are his paintings exist in some form in 1 out of every 20 american homes.  And sales for his work and related products comes in at 100 million dollars.  Annually.

You might think looking at his work I'd be all snarky about it.  I'm not.  

The guy came from nothing, turned his back on the art world and took his vision retail.  He painted his balls off and gave a LOT of folks something that really resonated - idyllic scenes of home, of comfort, of the way things should be.  

People liked his work so much, he even started designing housing developments so fans could LIVE in one of his scenes. The homes sold for close to half a million dollars.  Sick.

I can applaud him for that, blows away anything most of us have done right?

But in the ersatz definition of art I have kicking around in my head - "challenge, teach, push boundaries" are words that make it up. How does Thomas Kinkade fit into this?  What is he challenging?  What is he teaching us?

Art critics asked the same and similar questions, and largely dismissed Thomas Kinkade.  I suppose that is easy to do at first - his work could be described as visual pablum for the masses straight up. But I wouldn't describe it that way.  Kinkade's art struck a chord with millions of people. Let me write that again. Millions of people. He was onto something.

Before we get into that let me pause for station identification and a shout out to my crew up north, because unprompted by me we had this EXACT email discussion ("What is art?") in the last 2 days sparked by this sobering quick read on BuzzFeed.  Yet another reason my peeps rule - DC is full of folks knee-deep in graduate degrees from name schools, the convo never matches the intellectual gymnastics my personal geek squad can pony up on demand. Love it.

Ok we're back. Thomas Kinkade. Is it art?  Does it teach us something? Does it show give us a new perspective? I'm going to say yes and I'll tell you why. Thomas Kinkade's work delivers something very powerful and hugely important to American culture. He delivers myth.

We love our myths in this country, we build our daily life around them. Kind of like our country's operating system.

"Truth, Justice, and the American Way" to name one. (There are many who would argue capably that truth is relative, justice is bought and sold, and the American Way is out-dated in  our modern age of a global community.) George Washington chopping down the cherry tree, Abe Lincoln can't tell a lie, America charged off to the rescue in WW2, George W. Bush won Florida in a fair election, the SEC, and so on.

Myths are important. They give us an ideal that helps us get through scary and tough times, that weaves us together, that gives us a sense of security and comfort, and something to strive for.  See where I'm going?  

That's what Tom Kinkade's work does for people.  And God bless him for it.

Rest in peace Thomas Kinkade. I hope wherever you are is as beautiful as your work.

writing

What if I told you I was a writer?  You'd call bullshit on me right?  So would I. I don't think I"m much of a writer, wouldn't call myself one.

But I do a fair amount of copywriting at my job, copywriting is a different animal than the james-joyce-sitting-at-a-bar-with-a-cigarette-and-notebook writing I think of when I hear someone say "oh he's a writer".

I copywrite ad copy, taglines, slogans, the names of things.  

I backed into this as part of my job. What I mean is that I don't list it on my resume or anything, just seems to bubble up to the surface if I'm at a place for a year or more. At Ogilvy one guy called me the "best copywriter in the company".

And while that's a nice thing to stick in my back pocket, lately I've pulled it out an polished it off (I love a good metaphor and will beat it to death). Why? Because somehow, someway, I have to chronicle this journey I'm on. And short of taking of guitar and coming up with a ballad (that's more of a threat isn't it), I'll have to write it.

How's this for a deal - I'll let you know if something gets published. I'm going to send my stuff off to magazines and see what happens.

 

matthew courtney - NYC artist

Picture this. I'm walking along on a brisk day in February, in NYC, and I come across this guy set up outside a J Crew.

His work is displayed on some metal steps, and it and the artist are kind of holding court with all the shoppers that pass by in the downtown retail district.  Soon I've joined the crowd, listening to NYC artist and downtown fixture, Matthew Courtney.

Matt makes his work on recycled newspaper, cardboard and other found objects.  I liked it.  His marks have a strong line quality and his colors work well.  The texturing provided by the newsprint is something I'm going to try actually.

Matt had a lot to say, he's thoughtful.  His work is about ideas, sometimes in just the visuals, other times building off a quote from a world luminary. I could listen to him all day.

As much as I liked meeting Matt, he also represents something that makes NYC great - real live artists out in the world doing their thing.  

 

I've been asked why I live in Baltimore vs. DC or the Maryland suburbs.  This is why. I know DC and surrounding districts have their art festivals, and art community, and that is fine - but it is something different that the day-to-day, lunchpail, working artist that Matt represents in NYC.

My point - I was in New York for 30 minutes and I ran into Matt. I worked in DC for 5 years and never ran into anyone making art.  See what I'm saying? New York, and Baltimore, boast these folks, and I need them in my life.

Here's a quick video I made so you can meet Matt too.

 

 

american lust

American lust.  (new series!)

What do we lust for here in this country?  What turns us into quivering piles of sweaty, short-breathed, toungue-lolling idiots of desire?  Power? Money? Sex?

Nope.

Tasteful and enchanting home decor.

Follow me here.  

Walk to your kitchen and look at the pile of mail on your counter. You see that Pottery Barn catalog?  THAT is American Lust my friend.  Those matching curtains and bedsheet sets that have flecks of simulated sea glass in them? You want that shit. Even if you don't admit it to me, you want it.

You want to believe you'll make pasta with your pasta maker more than once, or that those colorful plastic tumblers will make your place look contemporary and modern with just a hint of thrift. Lust.

And why? Because all that stuff represents an idea - an idea of success.

For us success is usually a scene in our heads, and that scene has props.  That scene is filled with things, the things of success.  We want these things. We want to collect them like vouchers for success.  

This is how Pottery Barn, or Crate and Barrel, or Williams Sonoma make money - showing us a picture of our successful life in the pages of a catalog.

And you know what? They have me hook, line and sinker. I look at these catalogs and think how beautiful the shots are, how balanced the page composition, the typography - it's done well. In that sense I love it.  

But in another sense I know, we all know, that beauty is paper-thin right? No working kitchen looks like these shots, and nobodys home, nobodys life is that perfect. Life is messy.

And as for collecting things, I've seen where that ends up. In the last 10 years I buried 4 grandparents, and know what happens to the things we collect over our lives.  They outlive us. They sit in boxes in our empty homes to be sorted through, thrown out and given away. My grandfather's tools, some of them older than me, were part of his legacy, as was my grandmother's plastic rosary and fake gold jewelry.   

So for the series, how to capture this "fool's gold" of nesting terra cotta bowls, or glittering knife set, or caphelon non-stick pans with stainless steel handles.

How to capture this wanting to sate a hunger, using all the wrong food?  American consumerism. My consumerism. All of that.

To start with I used a new tool - projection. I have to get the composition and products right for the painting to work - because part of the series idea is to render the allure of the catalog - the painting should have the same seduction. By projecting the catalog page on the canvas, I can trace the visual bones of the page and get it right.

Then there were the letterforms. Type is a huge part of the visual in any catalog, and I couple this with messages in my head as I'm working to energize the surface. The words works as copy AND 2d marks, this is a good thing.

Finally the BIG SHARPIE on the treated canvas is well, fantastic. Love the bold, black marks it makes on the surface.

Next step is color and shading - not sure how that fits in to be honest.  But this initial piece is encouraging.  Will keep you posted.

American lust series. Sex in serving bowls. It's working I think.

everyone

Hello truebelievers 

There is another series I'm working on, let's call it the "Everyone" for lack of a better title.

Right and you see a big "everyone" in the pieces. Let's not get into a long description of the meaning of that, ya gotta fill it in yourself. The ambiguity of meaning, and it's flexibility, is part of what's working.  

I can tell you the word came to me, I can tell you it speaks to me, I can tell you it is a message, but the specifics I'll keep to myself - because I'm a BIG MYSTERY! I'm not.  But don't want to over-explain you know? 

As you can see reading this blog I'm attracted to the use of letterforms in art, so is this my new artistic jag? Well kind of and kind of not.  

In truth waaaaaay back in 1992 I did a series (my first out of school) that was basically a set of abstractions of ShopRite food labels. 

You read that right. Abstractions on food labels. Canned Peas. Cereal. Diced Carrots - I used the words off their labels, would just copy down the ingredients, cooking instructions, net weight, whatever.
And this was without the use of drugs folks.

Something about the way they designed their generic labels was visually interesting to me.  I see this as a precursor to my career in marketing and design, but I also think being broke and hungry (literally) had something to do with it. All the paintings sucked frankly. I take them out from time to time because I think I may see something new in them that is good. I don't. They all suck for real. Lesson here? You have to make the shitty work to get to the good stuff.

Here's a detail of one of the paintings - "Spaghetti" was the product I think.

 

After a while I gave up the abstraction because I wanted to ground
my work in the real a bit more, so I moved to urban landscape,
and then the landscape of the female form.

But I was still drawn to the power of words in art. Many artists have used this mix in their work throughout history. Some based the entire piece around a word or words, others in a more subtle way - 

So I'm not breaking any new ground with the concept. But I'm breaking new ground for me as an artist in a few ways. I'm using new tools and branching into a new style.  The new tools are spray paint and sharpie and stencil - these tools help explain the new style - less studio, more street.

I wanted to get the work into the now, and capture the familiarity of our everyday visual landscape in it.  I think that is where the spraypaint comes in.  Just the effect that tool alone has on the look and feel has an impact on the work - brings it right down to a baseline of a common experience.

I'm so excited about the results that I'm going to chase this down for the whole year. Now I'm thinking of good substrates for stencils, and seeing where this takes me.

draw every day redux

Right. Let's pretend people actually read my blog (other than you Andrew and Scott).

Then let's pretend because of that you remember me mentioning this series before.  

Then let's pretend my hair grows back - wait did I think or type that last part?

Ok forget it. I brough this series back for discussion because I'm back on it and it's working well.

What is Draw Every Day?  Really it's about 3 cool things.

First cool thing. Draw Every Day is an effort to do just that.

I always felt like such a fraud claiming to be an artist and yet only actually producing work on a bi-monthly basis when my schedule got nuts - and I was right.  Being a father and bread-winner for several years left little time to create.  Good excuse right? Wrong.  Look at your day planner - what you make time for is what is important to you - just that simple.

Annnnnd I fixed that after a huge detour (see last 14 years of my life), so we're better now - but still wanted to make sure in the haze of my day to day I made some art.

Now when I look back over a week or a month, I have something more to show for it than the usual lame life-admin (I went to work, did laundry, went shopping, blah blah blah) and some stellar parenting - I have ART! This is the first cool thing about the series.

Get ready for the second cool thing.  The second cool thing is the exercise. I thought to myself -

"Self, for 15 years your work has been huge and took a long time to create, made with traditional artist tools.  Think about what it would be like to work small, quickly and with common tools - good way to keep off-balance."

Sure enough, I was right.  Making these little drawings each day on a small 3" x 3" square has strengthened visual muscles I hadn't been using as much - my rendering, sense of light and contrast and composition have all improved. Also I've seen the Draw Every Day style develop along with the series. Psyched.

Third cool thing. The concept.

Art is usually seen as an elite, alien thing - made with special tools, canonized by super high selling prices or the rarefied halls of a museum or gallery - a thing apart.

The series turns that on its head. The work is made with tools found in everyone's desk drawer - a sharpie, a Post It note.  Usually the subjects of the drawings are every day objects - a coffee mug, a spoon, a banana.  And putting the final drawing in a sandwich bag completes the thought - it packages the art, hangs it out like a toothbrush or a bag of chips - recalls the consumer space we all live and breathe. Art meets the Rite Aid aisle.  That's pretty fucking cool.

But I'm not done. Two happy accidents. The first is that I found out the Post It notes are light sensitive - the yellow coloring actually fades over time, so when you look at a wall of these things you get this subtle and beautiful gradation of color. Looks amazing.

The pieces move also. I'm not kidding, the slightest breeze causes the whole wall to flutter.  That movement adds a dimension I hadn't expected, but I love it.

Now close your eyes. Picture a white wall about 20 feet high and 60 feet long. Now picture 1000 of these drawings hanging there, or 2000, or 5000. Picture the exhibition filling all your vision. You could stand there all day right?  I KNOW!

Which is all to say I'm stoked about this one. I'll get an app out this time next year so everyone can page through these easily on their big and small screens, and I'll pitch it to Post It as a sponsor for the show - damn thing works DIMENSIONALLY, ya hear me??

But even if it didn't, I'm now drawing every day. Right where I need to be.