My college sketchbook discovery

Looking for something on my bookshelves yesterday, I came across several black bound sketchbooks from drawing classes and painting classes, taught by professors Alex Minewski and Alex Martin (I adored them both), during college in the early 1970s, in New Paltz NY.  The sketchbooks are filled with drawings such as the articulating cube study of a couple of boots, above.  But what especially intrigued me was discovering a number of assignments written on the inside covers of the sketchbooks. 

We were never given a finite number of drawings to do; instead, we were told to do "endless" articulating cube studies of hands, or drawings of the bases of trees, etc.  Whatever the topic, the number of required drawings was always "endless".  Many drawing assignments refer to the book The Natural Way to Draw by Kimon Nicolaides.

 *By the way, the paper in these sketchbooks is white, though maybe a little discolored by time.  But nowhere near as yellow as they appear in these photos.

Along with drawing assignments, I evidently wrote down assignments for a Freshman Studio class in the same sketchbook.  I remember finding them very obscure and confusing.  I didn't like the teacher.

I  recall doing a vividly colorful abstract painting based on the work of Hans Hoffmann, And then, suddenly, I was instructed to tear open a hole in the painting, for a reason I never totally understood.  I'm guessing it had something to do with getting us to understand that our work was not so precious, and not to be afraid to explore how it could be transformed.  But I had really liked the painting, and the transformation never sat well with me.  I got rid of the painting after the end of the semester. 

If I ever did the drawings of ears, I must have been so embarrassed by them that I made them magically disappear, because they are nowhere to be found in my bound sketchbooks.  But there's plenty of gestures and cube studies of hands...  Even then I was smitten with Flair pens, one of my drawing tools of choice.  I also favored soft pencils and charcoal.

 The sketchbooks have lots of drawings - gestures, cube studies, weight drawings, contours, etc, done of friends doing yoga in the lounge my roommates sleeping or hanging out, and so on.

I especially recalled some of the weekend painting assignments, such as drawing and painting in the old Huguenot cemetery in the town, and a weekend painting assignment based on a still life of a (very smelly) fish on a platter in the painting studio.  But I have no idea what ever happened to most of these paintings, or most of the drawings and paintings I did in college, both in class or as out-of-class assignments. 

I did a bunch of Rouault studies, as well as studies from other artists, in my sketchbooks.  Somewhere in my house I actually still have the self-portrait that I did working in the style of Rouault. 

 And then there's this bit of wisdom, straight out of Mr. Minewski's mouth to my sketchbook.

The sketchbooks of that era were vastly different than the much more journal-based sketchbooks students do today, and I suspect the drawing and painting classes were vastly different as well.  While we were asked to research various artists, we were not asked to keep written notes or reflections in our sketchbooks.  We did absolutely no copying of images from magazines or books or photographs, other than studies of the work of famous artists.  And of course we didn't have cell phones or tablets and such, and honestly, I am glad that we used observation as our primary source of inspiration.  Other than the famous artists studies, ALL of our drawing and painting was done from observation, or at least based on observation with expressive interpretation of what we saw.  We learned, in painting class, to model form using color.  We learned to manipulate the weight of our line and to explore the way forms bent and twisted.  While a lot has changed for me in the decades since my college education, I'm glad that this was the way my education as an artist began.  I'm working to rediscover the skills I learned at that time! 

I hope I haven't bored you too much!!

An art education conundrum

For the first 9 years of my teaching career, I taught high school, including an advanced Drawing and Painting class.  I don't think I  could do that any more.  I've seen a lot of  high school artwork over recent years, and as I look at my own personal artwork, and how I approach it, what I'm realizing is that I am philosophically light years away from what high school art programs have become. 

When I completed the painting in my previous post (detail shown above), I got a compliment from another art teacher, mentioning the vibrant colors, and referring to it as 'painterly'.  This, to me, was the ultimate of compliments, and what I aspire to.  I've always loved rich color, energetic paint strokes, and a sense of movement and energy in my artwork. It is, ultimately, my reason for painting.  Sometimes I'm more successful than other times, but it's definitely my thing.  The painting below, by the way, is a painting of my son when he was a college student (he's 29 now).  It includes collage of broken glass, weird rubber toys, yarn, and cutouts from magazine pages, and was developed from a photo I took of him, since he wasn't willing to sit for a portrait.

I think I've probably previously shared most of the paintings in today's post, but anyhow, they are here to back up my point.  And actually, this topic is something I've discussed here on the blog before.  Check out this post from March 2016.  I'm probably repeating many of the same thoughts today.

So what exactly is my point?  A lot of the high school artwork I see nowadays is derived from photographs, particularly making use of phones.  (That is not necessarily a criticism, though I'd love to see more high school work from life.)  As with the 2 paintings above, I've certainly worked from photos too (I use only my own photos), but I use them as a reference point, as a basis for my personal expression.  My goal isn't an exact replication of the photograph.  When possible, I prefer to work from life, as with the still life below, at least until the flowers started to wilt.

The high school artwork I am referring to is usually impeccably rendered, meticulous in detail.  I look at it and say "Wow, I'm impressed.  I can't do that", and then I think "but I don't even want to do that!".  It impresses me to see this work, but it doesn't EXCITE me, doesn't MOVE me.  And the thought of making this meticulous artwork leaves me cold.  It isn't artwork I'd be excited to create.

I've seen high school art shows where the work shows extensive talent, sure, and a lot of impressive skill, but the pieces seem to be more graphic design than expressive artwork.  Where are the visible brush strokes, the emotive color, the energy, and the personality?  I miss these things.  They are the reason I am particularly moved by paintings by Kandinsky, or Matisse, or Kokoschka, or Chagall, or Kirchner, for example.  Again, let me refer you to this old post.  I've said it all before, and maybe better!

When I taught high school art, my students spent a lot of time working from life, whether a still life setup, or using a mirror, or having someone model.  It was the days long before cell phones, so nobody was taking a picture of the still life or  model for reference.  It meant there was much more exploration involved with figuring out how to represent and interpret what they saw, rather than depending on a version of what a camera lens sees. 

I realize a lot of my personal feelings about this were developed in my college painting classes  in the 70's.  We worked from life probably 90% of the time, and expressive interpretations were encouraged.  We drew and painted extensively, working with gesture, and contour, and "endless articulating cube studies" to develop our perception.  I do not recall ever being asked to reproduce a photograph as a painting or drawing, though I do recall assignments to re-create works from other artists, as an exercise, not as a pieces for exhibition (I chose a Gauguin, and a Hans Hofmann).  It was a valuable learning experience, discovering the layers of color, the arrangement of the composition, and how the artist interpreted form.  We also did self-portraits in the the style/technique of an old artist.  (Somewhere I still have my multilayered Rouault-style painting of myself.) It was a valuable exercise.

 

So anyhow, I'm thinking that I'm a bit of a throw-back.  Yet maybe that's not a bad thing.  I'm eliciting positive responses to my most colorful recent painting, so maybe I'm on the right track?  When someone gets excited by my use of color, and calls my work 'painterly', I'm thinking they aren't seeing enough color or loose brush strokes in other art, because I'm sure there should be many who could do it so much better than me.  I'd love to hear your thoughts!