ART TALKS at The Artistic Forum

Abstract art is not for everyone, and until a few months ago, I included myself among those who tended to shy away for the style altogether. As a collector, I prefer art that speaks to me emotionally: landscapes, marine art, still life. I favor realism and impressionism because I appreciate the effort, fine eye and skill that it takes to commit to canvas or board a scene or image captured and transformed at the moment it is being viewed, with all its nuances, and shading and variations as the artist sees it.

As most collectors of traditional realism, for example, I tend to value such art on the basis of how accurate it is. Even the slightest distortion of reality devalues the best effort and affects the price I am willing to pay to own it. When I look at impressionistic art I look to see how well the artist used both brush and color to present the subject matter.

Tom Giannino outlined my thoughts on the general subject in a past edition of Art Talks, “A collector’s perspective.” (www.artisticforum.com) And I offered a few additional personal comments on what art is and what inspires me and what, I suspect, inspires many others in an article titled: “Art & Inspiration.”

But something happened on the way to the forum, you might say, that got me thinking about my own visceral reaction to even viewing an exhibit of abstract art.

I started looking at it not to discern a “message” that we are so often told is an essential element of the style, but to enjoy its color and texture and mood for its own sake, without any pretensions. And so, I try. While to this day I cannot look at a Jackson Pollack dip and splatter work and discern anything other than chaos and sheer luck, or view a Picasso in his cubist years and see anything other than angular disorder, newer contemporary abstract artists’ works such as Ronnie Landfield’s, “For William Blake” and Larry Poon’s, “For Mike” do suggest a more sublime pleasure that can be had.

I am moving with measured sanguinity toward an appreciation of the abstract, and through this brief essay, hope to move others, but in stages. Like the White Queen in Lewis Caroll’s, Through the Looking Glass, I am resolved to believe three impossible things before breakfast. First, that I can learn to like some abstract art if I try.

Moving toward appreciation:

Some people intuitively like abstract art. Those people do not need to be persuaded. But many more of us question it and wonder whether it is even in the family tree of art, taxonomically speaking. The latter group needs to move and be moved much slower. We need the seduction, the come hither. Abstract art, in the tree of art itself, is divided into malleable categories and sublets, too numerous to mention. In general, the progression from realism to abstract, for me at least, went like this:

Impressionism was the first step, in that it is closest to realism, which I prefer. Monet’s work is impressionistic. So too, was Mary Cassatt’s and Jacob Camille Pissaro’s, and much of John Singer Sargent’s. The paintings have form and recognizable subjects and are identified usually by broad, confident brush strokes and splashes of deftly applied paint. Monet’s La Promenade, perhaps one of his most recognizable works, capturing a moment in time of his wife and son atop a small incline is characteristic of the style of impressionistic art. But so, too, is the more contemporary, George Mark’s Blue Fence, (www.masterfulart.com) If you’re even looking at impressionistic art, you have the inclination to go further, at least I did.

Expressionism follows Impressionism. It’s clearly in the family tree, moving toward abstract. I now own three works in this style and enjoy them immensely. As the apple has not fallen too far from the tree, expressionistic art may distort the image somewhat, but the subject matter usually remains discernable. It is best recognized by its brilliant colors and sometimes elongated and exaggerated images. A good site to visit and view this style is Quincy and Provincetown artist Michael Moss’s web page, found at (www.michaelmossfineart.com/). When you start buying expressionistic art, look out; it’s a slippery slope that can lead elsewhere.
Surrealism comes next and moves us much closer to the edge. I’m not quite there yet. So, I go around it. Where realism is a portrait of a finely defined face, and where impressionism might be a portrait of the same face, best discerned from afar, and where expressionistic would be an elongated face with exaggerated features, surrealism would, at the extreme, be a face with a fist in it, or bolts for eyes, or maybe just an odd juxtaposition of subject and place arranged in

space that doesn’t quite seem to fit.

Perhaps one of the most famous and recognizable examples of surrealism would be René Magritte’s, Son of Man, (www.famousartreproductions.com/sonofman.html). That’s the painting of a suited man wearing a bowler hat with an apple in front of and obscuring his face. It figured prominently in the movie: “The Thomas Crown Affair”. Cape artist Robert Roark’s, Goddess of the North Star, (www.masterfulart.com) is surreal, gentle and illusionary. Here, the artist fused subject, place and space to achieve a surreal result. Surrealism’s juxtaposition of images, figures and space can go far and astray and cause the viewer to wonder about purpose, and because of this, might take some getting use to. Obviously, I am still in the dark about the style, but inquiring.

On my abbreviated scale we now move from expressionism to abstract expressionism, or simply, abstract, where images, colors and form are joined and created not from the real world but from the imagination of the artist. Think of things like geometric art, cubist art comprised of imagery and objects, spheres, diagonal lines on circles, circles on colors, colors on canvas, paint droppings etc. What does it all mean? What message is it supposed to convey?

Carving out a small piece:

Here, in the world of the abstract, I have carved out a niche that interests me. The niche is color ─ textured, nuanced, moody colors. Think, Willem de Kooning’s 1958 work Suburb in Havana, or A Tree in Naples, (cavant-garde.com;) or Mark Rothko’s Three Triangles, (www.ArtprintCollection.com) . On a more contemporary vein, you might consider Landfield’s, For William Blake, www.abstractart.com or Mark Dahle’s, stunning, Autumn Leaves Series. (http: //markdahle.com/)

Critics can find fault with my simplistic interests, but for someone just familiarizing themselves with the style, it’s best to go with what you like and, for me, it’s the simple that attracts, keeping in mind the Chinese proverb: “The simplest things in life are often the most profound.”

I find that I actually like some abstract art, just as much as I like some and dislike other offerings in realism and impressionism.

Learning what you like:

If you never considered abstract art, consider this: maybe there is a sublet of the style that you might like. Because I have developed an eye for some abstract art, I now look at the entire field differently. I suspect those who share my views will feel the same way if they take the time.

Having said all that, the question comes: can you envision it anywhere in your home? Is there a place for it? Abstract art definitely needs a separate place, unless you decorate exclusively in the style. In my modest collection of landscapes, still life and marine art, I tend to group art by subject later in some places and mix it in others. I don’t think this would work with abstract art, however. Here, one might need a place exclusively for the style. Perhaps a wall in a separate area, like a hallway. Hanging abstract art even in the same room with anything else, I think, would clash and detract from both. It’s not that one form is better than the other, rather it’s that the styles are so unlike they might cancel each other out.

And so, like someone buying their first piece of art, I look and wonder, and think and ponder and muse, and imagine it somewhere, and debate its value. Amidst the confusion and learning, I come to know this: I like what I have pointed to in this essay, and that’s progress.