Does art have to have deep meaning to be good?

The Warehouse

soft pastels on Art Spectrum Colourfix

by Miki Willa

There are so many people out in blog land who have much to say about what art is and what makes good art. There are quite a few people who have differing opinions on the subjects. I didn't want to be left out, so I decided to jump into the fray.

There is a rather large camp who think that a work by an artist must make a statement about the state of the world in some way in order to be considered "real" art. It is not good enough to be sell executed, or to be visually appealing. As I came across these opinions, I wondered what grand statement about the human condition my art makes. So far, I can't see any.

There is another camp that says to be considered good art, it has to be technically well done. It has to follow all the rules. And, it has to convey the feeling of the artist about the subject at hand. I do try and put my feelings into my paintings.

There are also a group of people who think that anything that smacks of realism is not true art, but merely copying. This seems to have been happening in the world of academe for a while. I have known a few people who were not accepted into university art programs because their art was too "predictable and inside the box." But I like realism. Does that mean that what I like isn't art?

I do have more questions than answers in this discussion. However, I have come up with something I think is important. I think art should be celebration. I should celebration human emotions, the beauty of the small stream or majestic mountain, the ingenuity and resilience of humans, and the ways in which the earth reclaims what humans reject over time. There is much more to celebrate in art, and I guess that is what I think my work does. I celebrate the earth in my landscapes. I celebrate the power of water in my waterscapes. I celebrate glass art makers. Not everyone will agree with me, but that is okay. What is a discussion without opposing viewpoints.

The painting is a celebration of a landmark in Renton, Washington. It has survived earthquakes, fires, and the gentrification of the neighborhood. I took the reference photo on a glorious fall day because I loved the colors on the hillside, and the plume of steam and smoke against the brilliant blue sky.

Creativity

Pipes and Punties

12 x 18 soft pastels on Kitty Wallis Professional White

by Miki Willa

I have run across a series of questions about being an artist and creativity at Textures, Shapes, and Color. I have been thinking about the answers to these questions and decided to tackle the question of creativity first. Here are the questions:

1. What is it that I want from my creativity?

2. What does my creativity want from me?

My first step was to look up some definitions for creativity. Wikipedia, not always my favorite source, defines creativity as a "mental process involving the generation of new ideas or concepts, or new associations between existing ideas or concepts." Another online definition is the "re-evaluating or combining old ideas." Websters says, "Creativity is marked by the ability or power to bring into existence, to invest with a new form, to produce through imaginative skill." And finally, Carl Rodgers, writer and philosopher, defines creativity as "the emergence of a novel relational product, growing out of the uniqueness of the individual." With this small research done, I can now begin to examine my own creativity.

As an artist, I have, and continue, to evolve along the creativity curve. When I first started out, I wanted to recreate exactly what I was seeing - photorealism. I actually started out doing technical illustrations, then moved on to other forms of illustration. There are many artists I know who don't believe there is any creativity in illustration. Skill, yes, but nothing of the individual self. At the time, I thought I was being very creative. Now, I am not so sure.

Over time, I have moved more in the direction of painting my impressions of what I see, bringing my own individuality to the piece. Is this creativity? It is hard to fit this into the first couple of definitions I found unless you accept the premise that art is always new if it comes from within, and is not a copy of another artist's work. It is much easier to fit my work as an artist into Rodgers definition.

Now, what do I want from my creativity? I want joy, clarity, and fulfillment. I want to continue the enjoyment of watching my inner vision emerge onto a blank piece of paper. I want to continue to learn to express my own individualism, to continue to find new relationships between existing concepts. I don't want much, right?

What does my creativity want from me? It wants continued growth and practice. It wants silence of the inner critic, but guidance from the inner critique. It wants to be shared. It also wants me to continue to stretch, not only in my mind, but in my creations. It wants me to continue to practice creativity.

About the painting: This is the punty warming oven at Uptown Glass in Renton, Washington. I am particularly happy with the oven and the intensity I was able to achieve. This is number four in the glass blowing series.

The Art of Rejection

Lone Tree

12 x 9 soft pastels on Art Spectrum Colourfix

by Miki Willa

This morning, I was reading about an artist who recently had paintings that were not accepted into a juried show. After seeing her paintings, I really don't know why. It got me to thinking again about what juried shows mean and why they are or are not important to me. I have had pieces selected for shows, and rejected. In all cases, I would like to have known why.

Recently, I had the opportunity to talk to the artist who rejected my favorite piece for a show. We didn't talk about that piece, but jurying shows in general. This artist said all shows are different based on who is sponsoring them. He eluded to the fact that occasionally, gentle pressure was applied to make sure certain people got pieces in, and even won prizes. This was not often the case, but did happen. He also said that sponsoring groups often give thematic directions, ie. "We don't want anything with flowers." After our talk, I had an entirely different outlook about juried shows.

Every juror has his/her own likes and dislikes, just like every artist and patron. Every juror has a comfort zone. I would have difficulty making decisions about abstracts because I don't know the genre well enough. Then, there is the fact that environments affect what we think and feel. I suppose that when a show is juried with digital images or slides, this has less of an impact than if the juror is in a crummy hotel and the breakfast was a horror.

Having said all this, I want to get back to my stated topic - The Art of Rejection. It is perfectly normal to feel defeated and sad when a piece you really like doesn't get accepted into a show. After all, you wouldn't have entered the piece if you didn't think it was good enough. The art comes in what you do after you get the news. I was part of a show committee one year and watched an artist become very unpleasant when her painting was not accepted. She was very loud and called the juror some very unkind names. Unfortunately, the juror was still in the room. My rejected piece was next to hers in the pick-up area. I think I handled it better. I went out and sold the piece a few weeks later. By that time, I was experienced in the art of rejection. I knew that my piece was one that someone would like because I really painted it for people like me who like old fashioned landscapes. This juror did not like that genre.

I think that is the real secret. Paint what you like. I have decided that I am not going to paint for a juror, a society, a group who says it must be done a certain way, or public praise. If I paint what I like, and use my best skills and techniques, then if I enter a show, and that painting is not accepted, I will still be sad, but I will have a good painting that I know will find a better home some day.

Today's painting is from our Oregon Coast trip. I took a series of photos by the Yaquina Head Lighthouse. I really like the romance of the lone tree. (And yes, I think barns are romantic, too.) I was trying for an Asian look with a feeling of mystery. My husband thinks I was successful with the mystery. This painting took me a couple of days of looking at it. For the tree, I did a complementary under painting in orange. The trunk started off purple, but doesn't look this purple in real life any more.