After my last two letters on the value of various triggers that might motivate art viewers, many artists enthused on the value of colour. Colour, they insisted, is the most effective way to caress the emotional brain.
The idea that specific colours have specific value has been around for a while. Generally speaking, warm colours inspire, excite and motivate, while cool colours calm and sedate. Really dark colours are found to be heavy and depressing. Black-painted bridges experience fewer suicide attempts when repainted a bright, warm colour.
A recent U.S. and Canadian survey gave some interesting colour insights. Crayola, the crayon people, had 20,000 kids help in renaming some of the company's most popular colours. The children were first asked to write a story. Then they were asked to illustrate their story using crayons from a large display of Crayola products. Next, a team of researchers, colour-trend experts and content developers pulled all the themes and patterns from the stories--interpreted and analyzed them and came up with new names for eight of the colours. Essentially, they let the kids name the colours.
The experiment seemed to show children's positive and optimistic outlooks on life. "Super Happy Yellow" was typical--no cowardly yellow stuff here. Environmental concerns surfaced with "Giving Tree Green." "Fun in the Sun Orange" seemed to reflect the children's active life. "Bear Hug Brown," was a bit of a surprise. For these kids, brown signified the feeling of a loving hug, perhaps Grandpa's fuzzy old sweater.
The question in all of this is how much is learned and how much is built into the inner workings of children's brains. How might particular colours play out with Iraqi or Sudanese kids? How much do language and word association affect what we feel about certain colours?
Universally, orange increases appetite. Blue relaxes patients after surgery. Pink makes most men frisky. It's only reasonable to think that pea green might induce some arcane desire or state of mind. And think of the potential of a combination of colours--an irresistible cocktail of emotional delight.
Best regards,
Robert
PS: "Today we need colour more than at any time in history. Blacks and grays, both depressing, should be replaced in clothes, offices and homes with new colours that give inspiration, tranquility and happiness." (Linda Clark)
Esoterica: Linda Clark's "The Ancient Art of Color Therapy," still in print after thirty years, is loaded with anecdotal material on the power of colour. From an artist's point of view, the avoidance of bad colour is a significant part of our job. Every painter knows that some combinations produce disgust and revulsion. As wizards who stir the bubbling pot of illusion, we artists need to understand what power we have.
Visual triggers March 21, 2008 After my last letter "Grabbing the heart," about people making their minds up in the blink of an eye, artists wrote to add their own take on "unusually satisfying pattern." We've included some of these in the current clickback. See URL below. Many also wanted to know some of the other visual triggers on my list. Here are four: Precious colour Gradations big and small Something personal Something mysterious
Precious colour is only precious when it's set off by neutral tones, mainly greys. Straight-from-the-tube garish colour doesn't always cut it--colour needs absence of colour nearby to be truly delicious.
Gradations provide an interactive dimensional flip that teases the brain. Blends play with the sensibility of ordinary things and twist the mind to see art rather than either reality or artless play.
Something personal has to do with an artist's unique style--the mannerist touch an artist gives his work. This trigger works for those who have prior knowledge of an artist's style. Naming and labelling is basic to human nature--instant labelling is highly satisfying.
Something mysterious activates our sense of illusion and magic. To tell all is the key to yawns. Illusory art excites. To enable this trigger, an artist needs to stifle the natural tendency to fully disclose and describe. People suspend judgment in the presence of mystery.
The emotional brain readily and positively reads these and other indicators as they briefly but tenderly touch neural pleasure-points. There are other stimuli that quickly ring the neural bells. For example, some folks need to see detail, drama, romance or sentimentality. At the same time, others close their minds to bravura, style, non-objectivity or even certain subject matter. In the arts, as in commodity selection, decision making is a perverse combination of clear emotion and intellectual filtration. Accessing the mind at an emotional level happens in a blink of an eye and is a key to a warm glow that motivates.
Best regards,
Robert
PS: "There's something happening here. What it is ain't exactly clear." (Buffalo Springfield)
Esoterica: Regarding "Unusually satisfying pattern," this important trigger involves building a structure on which more mundane visual motifs play. No matter what the subject matter or lack thereof, curves, lost-and-found lines, checkerboards, lineups, offsets, counterpoints, gestalt-bleeds, spottisms, patches and activation make surfaces interesting to the emotional mind. Artists who understand this are better able to encourage viewers to linger. For some among us it's automatic and intuitive, for others it's something to learn.
Grabbing the heart March 18, 2008 Recently I had an opportunity to watch people buying my paintings. It was a solo show where people were coming in and interacting in a friendly, social environment. By watching people's faces, I noticed something I hadn't quite seen before. Many buyers appeared to me to just glance at a work and make up their minds then and there. This blink-of-an-eye was of course followed by the regular rationalizations that buyers (particularly couples) go through when they're considering something: "Is it too big?" "Where will we put it?" "How do you feel about it, dear?" At the end of my letter I'm going to tell you what I think triggered some of those instant decisions.
New research in neuroscience seems to indicate that advertising is most effective when some sort of desire synapse is triggered in a nanosecond. By covering volunteer heads with EEG sensors, using eye-tracking techniques and galvanic skin responses, researchers such as Dr. Robert Knight of the University of California, Berkeley trace the emotional roots of decision making.
In applying this stuff to art, it would have nothing to do with the sort of buyer who looks at a work and thinks he needs it because he needs to look smart or intelligent. Or the buyer who recognizes a farm he's been on or a mountain he's climbed. It applies to an open-minded person who simply and instantaneously feels good about something.
The advertising business (US$600 billion this year), dealing as it often does with visual stimuli, pays big bucks to people like Robert Knight to tell them what's happening in people's heads. I've never heard of anyone doing this in our business.
A clue to Knight's thinking is his disdain for focus groups. By rationalizing everything, focus groups often come up with the "wrong" (and unemotional) decision. When you think about it, a couple anguishing over the purchase of a work of art is like a small focus group. Often as not they talk themselves out of it. At the same time, some works just seem to walk out of galleries. Are these works talking on an emotional level to the folks who can't resist them? And what is it about these works that they can't resist? No matter what type of art you're looking at, at the top of the list I'd put "Unusually satisfying pattern."
Best regards,
Robert
PS: "The brain makes behavior. If you can effectively measure the brain, which we think we can, we can give you information that's not available through any other methodology." (Dr. Robert Knight)
Esoterica: The brain, when instantly engaged, acts in an emotional manner--what we often call "heart." Art in its higher forms is all heart. Sorry to admit this, but when I look at some folks in galleries, it seems to me that we are able to engage their hearts in the same classic way advertisers work hard to achieve: (1) You get their attention. (2) They become emotionally involved. (3) They retain what they feel. And it all happens in the blink of an eye.
Deferred adulthood March 14, 2008 In his recent book, "America Alone," Mark Steyn makes frequent mention of "deferred adulthood." While mainly taking place in Europe, young people in their twenties and thirties are choosing to stay in their folks' homes and sidestepping responsibilities, including marriage and childbearing. They live on the welfare of parents or state, indulge themselves in frivolous, self-gratifying activities, seldom negotiate life improvements, and essentially sleep in. While Steyn is looking at the political ramifications of the phenomenon, it holds implications for the creative life.
The situation may not be helped by people like me who are always trying to get folks to access their inner child and see the world and their work "baby-eyes new." Many Western art schools promote the same sorts of concepts. It's our times. "It takes a lifetime to become a child," said Picasso.
Last weekend, twenty-five senior members of the Federation of Canadian Artists juried new applicants to various levels of status. The slides rolled by, and the original work of each artist was paraded before us. We privately marked our ballots "in" or "out." The work ranged from goofy to gorgeous, conservative and stodgy to fiercely modern. While many jurors were eager to see new visions triumph, when the ballots were counted mostly the work with old-fashioned technical superiority was honoured. While jurors may crave freshness, the frequent appearance of glibness and childlike, immature concepts as well as technical laziness didn't cut it like it used to.
Call us jurors a bunch of fogeys, but we are indeed arbiters of what gets shown in galleries. Partly because of sleeping in, civilization may be going to hell in a conservative hand-basket. There's a pile of younger, smarter people who seem to have dropped out of the creative race. We'd love to see them trying, but they're busy with other priorities. We wouldn't like to see a time when only older, establishment painters get all the action. Graying societies are declining societies--they lack the chutzpah for re-growth and rebirth. The game is totally worth playing. As Steyn pessimistically says, "Otherwise, it's the end of the world as we know it."
Best regards,
Robert
PS: "We know what we are, but know not what we may be." William Shakespeare)
Esoterica: Jurors are not allowed to gasp, moan, groan or enthuse while jurying. Secretly, I often wish we could. Many of these aspiring artists need to know that the greater world is more important than our fusty chambers. New stuff needs to be energetically run up the flag pole to see if anyone salutes. Young people need to know that they must always be putting themselves forward, that it's worthwhile getting up. "We do not always get what we deserve, but we often get what we negotiate." (Gary Karrass)
The courage to play
March 4, 2008
In his latest book, "A New Earth: Awakening to Your Life's Purpose," Eckhart Tolle discusses how the human mind is almost constantly engaged in private thoughts. These inner rumblings reflect our personal trials, dreams, needs and obligations. To function properly as a creative person, an artist must divorce himself from some of this clutter and begin a process of rebirth into another mode. "Even though people may travel," says Eckhart Tolle, "they tend to remain where they have always been--in their head."
Early yesterday morning, my daughter Sara and I were painting at the end of the Laniloa Peninsula, Oahu, Hawaii. From a parked car nearby, a young man in a white shirt and tie watched her out of the corner of his eye. As I passed by, he rolled down his window and said, "That girl just took out a canvas and started painting. She hardly drew things out at all." The fellow and I struck up a conversation. He turned out to be a Teaching Assistant from the nearby Brigham Young University at La'ie. He was "having a quiet read and some meditation."
I told him the girl was my daughter and that she was working "alla prima--all at once." Then he said, "It looks quite a lot like play." Later, when Sara and I were going over our day's efforts, we agreed the young man had got to the truth of the matter. As far as plein air painting is concerned, play has its own methodology:
Feel and relish the environment. Get into a "be here now" state of mind. Start your work anywhere. Look cleanly and with an uncluttered mind. Be joyous and unencumbered in your stroke. Work everywhere at once when you can. Try to leave your strokes alone. Do not labour or think too much. Don't sweat the small stuff. Let the painting tell you what it needs. Though it may be small, make your picture big. Without being a wimp, serve your subject. Don't verbalize your sight--sense the being. Surrender to earth's beauty and wisdom. If you make errors, fix them in good humour. Be suspicious of what you've been told, how you ought to do things, and what you ought to think.
Best regards,
Robert
PS: "Van Gogh didn't say, 'That's just an old chair.' He looked, and looked, and looked. He sensed the Beingness of the chair." (Eckhart Tolle)
Esoterica: The plein air act requires a mental transformation and a shift in consciousness. Playful looseness is a virtue. Running on old methodologies or rigid game-plans can be detrimental. Sara and I both remarked on the value of amateurism. Amateurism can induce clear sight and creative optimism. At least you are not held in check by a lot of stuff you already know.
Current clickback: If you would like to see selected, illustrated responses to the last letter, "Seeing red" about the observation of colour in our world, please go to: http://clicks.robertgenn.com/seeing-red.php
Unexpected blessings February 19, 2008
On Thursday morning I was at my easel when a courier appeared at the door. He was delivering an envelope from a friend, a local lawyer of my acquaintance. The letter stated that in 1974 I had brought some of my work to his office, and a recent bookeeping search revealed he had never paid me for them. Lorne's note was filled with contrition and guilt. "How much do I owe you?" he asked. "Do I owe you a ton for arrears? Do I pay you the current market value? What about the money you would have earned on the money you should have had for the paintings?" As I was contemplating these thoughts a $10,000 "down-payment" cheque fluttered from the envelope.
Thinking back those thirty-odd years, I vaguely recalled the delivery. More recently I had noticed two paintings in his office when I'd been getting his help in transferring some property. I had thought nothing of the earlier transaction, took it for granted that he owned the paintings, and only noted their need for cleaning.
Over the phone, Lorne and I had a good laugh. I put his mind at ease by disclosing my own sloppy billing and sieve-like mind. Carol Ann and I looked over our ancient records and came up with nada. A subsequent visit to Lorne's office found four, not two paintings. I measured them, determined their probable cost when new, ran them by my current price list, cut that in half, and he cut me a cheque. I'm now in the process of cleaning and reframing them for free.
As I was removing three decades of lawyer-office-cigar from the surfaces, I was thinking of Samuel Johnson's remark, "We need to keep our friendships in constant repair." Deeper than this, I thought, there's a sort of Karma and integrity that mystically guides the creative life. You might say it's one of our unexpected blessings. Every one of us has such a story. People respect artists and look out for them. The surprising and singular finding of my lifetime has been the value of friends and the sense of trust that builds between them. This includes not only collectors, but fellow artists, dealers, agents and curious observers. Sometimes I think friendships are even more important than the art. "Life is human relationships," said the wise man from the East. By sharing our creative magic with others we reap the magic of their friendship.
Best regards,
Robert
PS: "Friendship multiplies blessings and minimizes misfortunes; it is a unique remedy against adversity and it soothes the soul." (Baltasar Gracian)
Esoterica: That's not to say humour and passive amusement do not play a part in friendships. Among artists and their patrons I notice a mild form of banter. Perhaps it's some sort of jealousy that lies beneath both surfaces--something to do with the fragility of the human condition and the fickle mystery of art. George Bernard Shaw wrote a note to Winston Churchill: "I am enclosing two tickets to the first night of my new play; bring a friend... if you have one." To which Churchill replied, "Cannot possibly attend first night, will attend second... if there is one." Prints or originals?
February 22, 2008
This morning Pam Haddock of Sylva, NC, wrote, "Our art association is in a quandary. One of the requirements of our well-attended and successful group shows is that all work has to be original, with no reproductions. We make an exception for photographers. Now some of our painting members want to keep and enjoy their own originals and are busy making giclees. They want to show and sell them. Some club members don't want this. I can't see what the fuss is about--it seems they're reproductions just like photos. What do you think about having prints among our originals?"
Thanks, Pam. With the low cost and easy availability of giclees, this question rankles a lot of art clubs these days. While preciousness of original art is a factor, there are many reasons for duplication, not the least of which is the potential extension of financial return. Further, some artists are getting the idea that their art is worth more if it is reproduced. I've noticed that this concept works for some artists and not for others. I've also talked to disappointed potential buyers who were sad to report an overabundance of prints. "Do these artists love painting, or do they just want to capitalize on it?" they ask. Somehow, there's still something pure about an original.
While some clubs continue to disallow reproductions, some others are in the throes of a print epidemic. There's a happy middle ground that tests the waters for both: Exhibit prints and originals in two distinct areas of the venue--and have them clearly marked and advertised as such. Print seekers will move to the print section, while the purists will go to the originals. If the show is nicely balanced, with no great shortage of either, club members can observe the current tides.
Another solution is for a club to make print access available to all members. An ensuing show can be all reproductions. This can actually stimulate some interest in a community that may be weary of art-club events. Further, it permits artists to access and print from better originals that may already be sold and out in the community. While it's understood that artists continue to own the copyrights to their work, unless they have sold the rights separately, owners are often, but not always, pleased by the compliment.
Best regards,
Robert
PS: "They're building walls faster than we can make original art to go on it. Reproductions are the answer." (Kiff Holland)
Esoterica: The ongoing problem with ubiquitous reproductions is what to do with genuine prints. Some folks do engravings, serigraphs, stone-lithos and other handmade, limited-edition works of art. I, for one, don't like to see traditional print-art being marginalized, and mechanical reproduction has gone a long way in doing just that. This is one of the reasons dedicated printmakers tend to avoid clubs. Putting up a sign that says "Genuine prints--this way" won't cut it either, unless you feel a donnybrook is needed for club publicity.
Soft edges
February 15, 2008
Sometimes it's a good idea to cruise your work to see if a few soft edges might improve things. Gradated transitions, both broad and narrow, especially around the periphery of paintings, can go a long way toward a convincing sense of reality (if desired) and a professional touch. Further, they make your harder edges, particularly those near a painting's focus, do their job more effectively. Softness is also useful in obfuscating difficult or poorly drawn passages. There's wisdom in the world of fuzz.
Soft technique comes naturally to some. For others, the soft-hard push-pull has to be worked at. Oil makes soft effects easier than acrylic, but it's still possible in acrylic. Watercolour-flow wet-into-wet is pure magic. The type of support is important as well. All media are not equal at being soft.
While feathered edges and soft transitions can give the feeling of speed and painterly freshness, achieving these effects can be time-consuming and fiddly. There are several ways to get softer edges. Big soft brushes are the pro's choice. While sometimes difficult to control, big brushes allow petering pigment to skip and lessen. Fan brushes also have a lot of fans. Some tired old brushes are worth their weight in gold. Another method is to pummel or circumambulate with a hard stubby brush (almost like the application of a stencil) in somewhat dry application over dry under-painting. When all else fails, a delicate sable can tease softness into being.
Many painters, completely in tune with the value of softness, forget that colour change is also valuable in transitional areas. Gradating up or down the colour wheel--say from red to orange or green to yellow--adds additional zing and deliciousness. Attention to this sort of "aura thinking," especially in abstract work, can raise things from dreadfully dull to electrifying.
Painters also do well to look at airbrush art. Here, effective compositions can be achieved with only soft gradations and sensitive edges. Not that you necessarily want the slickness of airbrush, but the medium shows the possibilities. The human mind delights in soft mystery. Constant sharpness goes a long way toward killing mystery and is responsible for more dead paintings than this world dreams of.
Best regards,
Robert
PS: "The secret of being a bore is to tell everything." (Voltaire)
Esoterica: While accurate description is paramount for some artists, keep in mind that art also needs to be seductive. Softness is the gentle handmaid of seduction. Knowing when to be gentle is part of the art. "The eye and soul are caressed in the contemplation of form and colour," said the American instructor and author John F. Carlson. "The subtle changes of colour over a surface are transitions like music and are intangible in their reaction upon us. There is an immediate sensual appeal."
Art in half-light
February 12, 2008
Yesterday, Edward Vincent of Sydney, Australia, wrote: "No matter what type of painting I do, my work looks infinitely better in half or reduced light. One wonders if they would be best in the dark! Is it the absence of half tones? Is it a general lowering of the key? Is it the absence of detail, or is the truth much more sinister?"
Thanks, Edward. There are several significant deceptions happening when you view your work in half-light. Like buying a car in a dark alley, you're inclined to miss the flaws. You need to bring the vehicle to a well-lit area to make a wise decision. Problem is, self-deception helps us to feel good--temporarily--and often gives us courage to continue our folly.
On the other hand, half-light is much like the effect you get when you squint at your work. Things look softer and sometimes more artistic because details are subsumed by the big picture. While "sore thumbs" can stick out in half-light, many an admiring half-light look happens after some of the sore thumbs are healed. Unfortunately, squinting is merely part of the creative process--one's efforts must also stand up to open eyes in the cold grey light of dawn.
Creative evolution requires that we face our faults. Human nature would have us avoid the distress. While all art is some sort of an illusion, it's important that we creators not be deluded. Here are a few suggestions:
Invite yourself to look at work in all lights--including those under which the work will be viewed in galleries, homes or museums. For the studio, a progressive dimmer is a valuable tool. Be hard-nosed in your looking. Pay particular attention to mid-tones in a variety of lighting conditions. Do they hold up?--or do they disappear to chalky whites or deadly blacks? Note the recession and protrusions of colours. Often, slightly retouched compromises, grayed or in higher or lower key, will bring a work to life. Further, when viewing in full light, ask yourself if some edges might be somewhat softened--as they would be when seen in half-light. Above all, take every work for a walk--outdoors.
Many artists feel the need to have two sides to their being--one confident and energetic, the other diffident and critical. Split personality or not, to see the truth we need more light.
Best regards,
Robert
PS: "The easiest person to fool is yourself." (Richard Feynman)
Esoterica: Many of us have had the experience of going into a darkened cabin or other murky place and noticing a particular print or painting that seems to exude wonder and mystery. Closer examination in proper lighting may reveal a more pedestrian work. Point is, we cannot rely on bad lighting to sustain our reputations. Sooner or later, people really take a look at the stuff.