On Abstract Art, Narrative Film, and Fiction
I'm going to break my own rules tonight and write a longer mobile post than I should. The reason is that I won't have time to sit down at a computer to do it, but I do have a 100+ minute bus ride, and the photos I need are on my iPhone.
My wife and I went to an art show the other day, where the works of students and faculty from our local school district were displayed. The student art was competitive, the faculty's exhibitive only.
Of all the pieces there, the one that interested me the most was easily the most abstract. Here it is, with a photo of its name plate, both untouched.
It was the title that got me thinking about this piece more than anything. Can I just say that good titles make a big difference? Without knowing its name, I would have found this painting largely inaccessible.
As it is, let me give you my interpretation, coming from a position of supreme ignorance of behavior modification therapy, practices, and theory.
First of all, that therapy is involved at all is an assumption on my part. Also, if I had to guess what the artist teaches, I would say special ed, though I don't know. Maybe a school counselor.
I see this painting relating to what I believe to be the central issue faced by both the therapist and the patient, which is getting the patient's action - the decision - to accurately reflect both his intent and intellect. I would like to say that "patient" and "therapist" could just as easily be "student" and "teacher" or "child" and "parent," respectively. Or other things.
The centrality of the all important "act" is suggested by the red and green rectangles that dominate the piece. These are stop and go. Do and don't do. Yes and no. Good and bad. They are the binary signals that lie at the root of human behavior, most easily seen, I think, in those whose impaired mental function makes their struggle with the pair more visible.
The blue color strikes me as the emotion, deep like an ocean, that surrounds a decision. Some of the blue marks look like fingers reaching toward the red and green button, like a hand trying to push through the emotion to make a choice. Other marks look like the fingerprints that hand made when it overreached and missed the mark.
The wrinkle that cuts off the bottom half of the painting is a barrier: emotional, social, intellectual, or otherwise that further restricts the patient's access to satisfying action. It is significant that the textured lines become much deeper and more clearly defined, and therefore more stable, below this barrier. This is where the real person lies.
That the only red mark outside the rectangle is below the barrier while a few more green marks are above it says to me that it is easier for the patient to choose "yes." Acting out is easier than restraint.
I could probably go on about this but the painting is not the point of the post. The point is that of all the works in the show, the most abstract one struck me most powerfully. Many others showed impressive skill, but none other was as meaningful to me. I could say of a painting, "that's a beautiful picture of a girl. Nearly photorealistic. Impressive." But I couldn't have guessed what the artist was trying to say because the painting didn't say much to me except for, "hey look! A girl!" It was descriptive, but not insightful.
This reminds me of a conversation with my mom a little while ago in which I tried to explain why I have such a hard time reading non-fiction. I can do it, of course, and I do. But I draw much more meaning from fiction, generally speaking. I'd rather see a thing applied than hear it discussed. That's probably why I spent the first part of this post exploring the painting instead of explaining my point in doing so.
It's the same way with film. I've seen many beautiful, powerful documentaries, but on the whole I have less patience for documentary. I love narrative film, on the other hand, particularly when it makes no attempt to recreate actual events. The less connection to reality a film has, the more easily I learn things about real life from it.
In turn, this causes me to reflect on my own art, which I'm still trying to find in many ways. I like my films to be highly processed, but not just for cool looks. I do it to add meaning. I prefer to convey as much or more by the objects in the background, the color scheme, the framing, the movement, as by the dialogue or plot. I realize now that lack of confidence in my ability to do this is a major stumbling block to the progression of many of my projects.
This also may be the reason why I'm so strongly drawn to motion graphics and special effects as a favorite field to work in. They are, to me, the abstract painting of the film and video world.
- a part of the mobile blogging experiment.
My wife and I went to an art show the other day, where the works of students and faculty from our local school district were displayed. The student art was competitive, the faculty's exhibitive only.
Of all the pieces there, the one that interested me the most was easily the most abstract. Here it is, with a photo of its name plate, both untouched.
It was the title that got me thinking about this piece more than anything. Can I just say that good titles make a big difference? Without knowing its name, I would have found this painting largely inaccessible.
As it is, let me give you my interpretation, coming from a position of supreme ignorance of behavior modification therapy, practices, and theory.
First of all, that therapy is involved at all is an assumption on my part. Also, if I had to guess what the artist teaches, I would say special ed, though I don't know. Maybe a school counselor.
I see this painting relating to what I believe to be the central issue faced by both the therapist and the patient, which is getting the patient's action - the decision - to accurately reflect both his intent and intellect. I would like to say that "patient" and "therapist" could just as easily be "student" and "teacher" or "child" and "parent," respectively. Or other things.
The centrality of the all important "act" is suggested by the red and green rectangles that dominate the piece. These are stop and go. Do and don't do. Yes and no. Good and bad. They are the binary signals that lie at the root of human behavior, most easily seen, I think, in those whose impaired mental function makes their struggle with the pair more visible.
The blue color strikes me as the emotion, deep like an ocean, that surrounds a decision. Some of the blue marks look like fingers reaching toward the red and green button, like a hand trying to push through the emotion to make a choice. Other marks look like the fingerprints that hand made when it overreached and missed the mark.
The wrinkle that cuts off the bottom half of the painting is a barrier: emotional, social, intellectual, or otherwise that further restricts the patient's access to satisfying action. It is significant that the textured lines become much deeper and more clearly defined, and therefore more stable, below this barrier. This is where the real person lies.
That the only red mark outside the rectangle is below the barrier while a few more green marks are above it says to me that it is easier for the patient to choose "yes." Acting out is easier than restraint.
I could probably go on about this but the painting is not the point of the post. The point is that of all the works in the show, the most abstract one struck me most powerfully. Many others showed impressive skill, but none other was as meaningful to me. I could say of a painting, "that's a beautiful picture of a girl. Nearly photorealistic. Impressive." But I couldn't have guessed what the artist was trying to say because the painting didn't say much to me except for, "hey look! A girl!" It was descriptive, but not insightful.
This reminds me of a conversation with my mom a little while ago in which I tried to explain why I have such a hard time reading non-fiction. I can do it, of course, and I do. But I draw much more meaning from fiction, generally speaking. I'd rather see a thing applied than hear it discussed. That's probably why I spent the first part of this post exploring the painting instead of explaining my point in doing so.
It's the same way with film. I've seen many beautiful, powerful documentaries, but on the whole I have less patience for documentary. I love narrative film, on the other hand, particularly when it makes no attempt to recreate actual events. The less connection to reality a film has, the more easily I learn things about real life from it.
In turn, this causes me to reflect on my own art, which I'm still trying to find in many ways. I like my films to be highly processed, but not just for cool looks. I do it to add meaning. I prefer to convey as much or more by the objects in the background, the color scheme, the framing, the movement, as by the dialogue or plot. I realize now that lack of confidence in my ability to do this is a major stumbling block to the progression of many of my projects.
This also may be the reason why I'm so strongly drawn to motion graphics and special effects as a favorite field to work in. They are, to me, the abstract painting of the film and video world.
- a part of the mobile blogging experiment.
Comments
Nice analysis.
You typed all that on your phone?
Hard to believe, I know, but I did have almost two hours on the bus. Plus with the alphanumeric keyboard in landscape mode, it's not too difficult.