Pop Goes the Artist!

Today I finally saw the Ansel Adams exhibit at the Corcoran Gallery of Art in Washington, DC, and it was everything I dreamed it would be. I’m not a huge fan of the Corcoran’s permanent collection (maybe just because I have to pay to see it), but they always do great special exhibitions. This was no exception.

“No matter how sophisticated you may be, a large granite mountain cannot be denied–it speaks in silence to the very core of your being.”

I don’t know much about photography, but I do know that Ansel Adams (1902 - 1984) is a phenomenal photographer. If you’re trying to argue for photography as a fine art rather than a craft, then Adams is the photographer to turn to for proof: hundreds of beautiful photos and not a snapshot among them. He has a gift for capturing atmosphere and infinite space on a two-dimensional surface, and an equal ability to turn the seemingly random arrangements of nature into unified compositions that any painter would envy. The difference is, a painter, even if he is working from life, can rearrange elements freely, while a photographer can only work with what is already there. Adams had a brilliant eye for finding a focal point in an overwhelming panorama.

“Sometimes I do get to places just when God’s ready to have somebody click the shutter.”

The exhibit itself, which closes on January 27, incorporated a number of more “unusual” Adams images, including still lifes, portraits, and architectural and cityscapes alongside his iconic photographs of Yosemite and the American West. It provided a broader view of Adams’ portfolio and proved his magnificent artistic range. In fact, prior to seeing this exhibition, I didn’t know just how much non-landscape photography he did.

“Some photographers take reality…and impose the domination of their own thought and spirit. Others come before reality more tenderly and a photograph to them is an instrument of love and revelation.”

I was sorely tempted to buy the show catalog (when am I not?), but it was expensive and I have to pay my hosting bill this month. Luckily, I can console myself with one of the books I got for Christmas, Ansel Adams: 400 Photographs. Yes, it is as beautiful as it sounds, if overwhelming. It’s mostly landscapes, arranged by period and location, with a few other types of photo for variety. So maybe the show catalog would have be redundant anyway.

“A great photograph is one that fully expresses what one feels, in the deepest sense, about what is being photographed.”

(All Ansel Adams quotations from ThinkExist.com. Images pictured: The Tetons and the Snake River, 1942 (source) and Aspens, Northern New Mexico, 1958 (source). They’re two of my favorite Adams photographs.)

I know, I know… the lolcat thing is so 2007. But I still find them hilarious, and hey! this one’s art-themed.

moar funny pictures

A few days ago, I went to see the Edward Hopper exhibit at the National Gallery of Art. All exaggeration aside, it was the best art exhibit I have seen in years. I actually went through it twice, because once was not enough.

Before this exhibit, I liked Hopper’s work, but not with the enthusiasm that I reserve for, say, van Gogh. Seeing his work in person, however, moved him into my “top five.” I don’t know why there is such a difference between seeing a photograph of a painting and see the painting in person, but there is. The painting is usually bigger, of course. The colors are brighter and clearer. You can see how the texture of the paper or canvas gives another dimension to the texture of the brush strokes. But somehow that doesn’t adequately explain the difference in the emotional experience. I look at a photo of a Hopper painting and think “lonely,” but standing in front of one, even in the midst of a crowd of people, I feel lonely.

(Although, in fairness, Hopper himself said that “the loneliness thing is overdone.” So maybe I just see what I want to see. But I can’t be the only one.)

Emotions aside, I was also impressed by Hopper’s style and choice of subject matter. I love the strong geometry of the buildings, and his ability to paint an object with just detail enough. He makes frequent and striking use of strong contrasts between light and dark, which I love. His colors are rich and often just shy of realism, which goes a long way towards establishing a mood.

Most importantly for me, the exhibit changed the way I looked at the city. As I walked through D.C. after seeing the exhibit, I saw the buildings differently. Not just the “important” buildings, but the odd corners, the fire escapes and the apartment balconies. I know nothing about architecture, and it frankly doesn’t interest me in itself, but as a subject for painting, I’ve begun to see it in a new light. That’s something.

The exhibit closes tomorrow, but if you’re in the D.C. area today, run, don’t walk, to the National Gallery and brave the crowds. This exhibit is worth it.

Images pictured: “Cape Cod Morning” (source) and “Morning Sun” (source).

I haven’t been posting about my own art lately because I haven’t been doing much lately.  I’ve been sketching, but even though I’m at home, I don’t have access to most of my art supplies (and my workspace) while our basement is being finished.  (Excuses, excuses… I know.)  However, the work should be done by Friday (fingers crossed!), so I’m very eager to set up my easel and start painting again.  I’d like to finish the last Lucy painting as well as a still life I started at the end of the summer.

I also have a block printing project planned.  I don’t do much block printing (it is so. much. work.), but every so often the fit takes me and I crank out a couple Christmas cards or something.  This time I’d like to do bookplates.  I’m accumulating quite a collection of nice hardcover books, so I’m going to design and print some bookplates and then hand-color them with watercolor.  I think that will look nicer and be easier than a multi-color block print.  I’ll post a sketch once I settle on a design.

I’m also finally trying out Daniel Smith for supplies.  I’ve heard good things about their printmaking inks (and they have to be better than Speedball’s), so I ordered a tube of oil-based black ink, a piece of linoleum, and a tube of acrylic paint, because I needed that anyway.  I’ll post reviews of the paint and the ink once I try them.

Tomorrow, I’ll post once of my recent charcoal sketches.

Many people are aware of Vincent van Gogh’s extensive correspondence with his brother Theo, but he also corresponded with a number of artists, including Paul Gauguin and a younger artist named Emile Bernard, for whom he became something of a mentor.

I was not aware of these letters, which also included sketches of his works in progress, until I read an article about them in this month’s Smithsonian magazine. (The article can be found here, and does not require registration to read, although I don’t know how long it will remain available.) Emile Bernard was a relatively unimportant artist, but van Gogh’s advice-filled letters to him reveal a lot about van Gogh’s methods of working, opinions on working from life vs. reality, and color theory. Here’s a sample:

I follow no system of brushwork at all, I hit the canvas with irregular strokes, which I leave as they are, impastos, uncovered spots of canvas—corners here and there left inevitably unfinished—reworkings, roughnesses…. Anyway, my dear pal, no trompe l’oeil in any case…

I’ve always been attracted to van Gogh’s work, partially because of the dynamism he finds in landscapes (which I talked about once here) and partially because of his brilliant use of colors. This article quotes him as saying “I could hardly give a damn about the veracity of the color” and that’s almost something I want to write on an index card and tape above my easel. Color has so much emotional and visual power, it almost seems a pity to limit oneself to strict realism.

Anyway, it’s a very interesting article and includes a number of pictures of his sketches, letters, and finished paintings of his and Bernard’s. Worth a read.

(Smithsonian frequently has fantastic art history articles. In particular, I enjoyed (but forgot to blog about) this July article about Edward Hopper, another favorite artist of mine, and his lonely, evocative, quintessentially American paintings.)