Category: Art

For some weird reason, FOX News found it worth noting yesterday that actor Alec Baldwin and a bunch of other artsy types gathered in Washington for Arts Advocacy Day, in order to encourage lobbying for arts funding. That means, among other things, the National Endowment for the Arts. I guess my invitation got lost in the mail.

Baldwin and others addressed a "crowd of… lawmakers and state arts officials". I’m sorry, but as an artist I find the words "state arts officials" really creepy.

I can’t say that I really know that much about how the NEA funds things like dance or theater, but they have become notorious in recent years for funding controversial, shocking, offensive and ugly art exhibits. They probably fund a lot of other stuff, too, but they are best known for bankrolling modernist, anti-Christian claptrap.

I have considered applying for a grant, myself, but in the end I just couldn’t do it. It generally means attaching your art to some (liberal) cultural theme like "Art and Global Warming", "Art and the Inner City", "Art and the  Goddess", or some such… it would just kill my soul.

Personally, I think the only visual art that the government should fund is art for public spaces. Murals, sculptures, that sort of thing. They should also feel an obligation to fund art that is not so "current" that it will fall out of style a couple of decades down the road. We owe it to our kids to leave something beautiful behind us, rather than rusting hulks of scrap metal.

Back in the Nineties, Congress made some big cuts to the NEA after it endowed some particularly stupid pieces that got a ton of press. It looked like they might let the agency dry on the vine.

No such luck. In his speech Tuesday, Baldwin said "If you told me back in 1996, we would have a Republican president and Republicans in charge of both houses of Congress, and the NEA would be flourishing and would be safe, it wouldn’t be possible…".

Amen, brother. Amen.

GET THE STORY.

Hey, Tim Jones, here.

It has been several weeks since my last post in this series on art, but my schedule was cruelly interrupted by some paying work. Things have slowed just a bit, so I want to encourage all of you to VISIT MY WEBSITE.

Idle hands are the devil’s workshop, y’know.

In my FIRST POST, I offered a framework for thinking about the different aspects of man-made objects (design, decoration, illustration and fine art).

In the SECOND POST, I broadly defined some categories of visual art (realism, abstraction, non-objective and non-representational art).

Now I want to talk about the implications of these categories for artists, offer some views on the opportunities that visual art presents, as well discuss the problems and strengths of different kinds of art. This time we’re talking about realism.

THE GREAT THING ABOUT REALISM

– I love impressions. One of my favorite TV shows (briefly) as a kid was called Copycats and starred impressionists like Rich Little and Frank Gorshin. Not long ago, I caught part of a TV bio of Dean Martin, and saw some old footage of Frank Gorshin doing an impression of Martin. It was a really good impression. Not just kinda good, but dead-on, scary good, which made it hilarious. Gorshin (who played the Joker The Riddler on the original Batman TV series) could do that. Dean Martin was entertaining to watch, but Gorshin’s impression showed everyone what it was that made him entertaining to watch. Gorshin studied, analyzed and practiced Dean Martin until he was almost more Martinesque than was Dino himself.

This is the kind of power that realism can have, whether we are watching an impression, or looking at a work of art. Great realism can grab people and stop them in their tracks. At an art exhibit, you might hear people saying things like, "Wow. How do they do that? I can’t even draw a stick man.". This is perfectly natural, and nothing to be ashamed of. People admire great skill, whether they see it in art, hear it in music, watch it demonstrated in dance or in any other human endeavor.

Neither artists or art lovers need to apologize for appreciating, or striving for, a high degree of realism. It not only can have great visual power, but is one of the few ways of actually measuring artistic skill (gasp!!). Oddly, this makes it seem both controversial and dangerous to some. Though most people readily acknowledge that not everyone can be a great musician (just watch American Idol), or dancer, or athlete, there are those who behave as if everyone is born an artist, and the one thing we must never talk about is whether they deserve the designation.

I earlier offered a very broad definition of abstraction, saying that every piece of art, even the most "realistic", is to some extent an abstraction. I will add to that a very broad definition of realism as any faithful representation of the physical world. This doesn’t necessarily mean expressionless copying, or one-to-one reproduction of every detail, but simply art that is inspired by and faithful to the physical aspects of reality. This broad understanding of realism can include a wide range of styles, from hyper-realism up to and including impressionism.

Realism can be quite expressive. Simply in the selection of the subject, the composition, the lighting, or the surroundings, a straightforward realistic depiction can express quite a bit of subtext. In other words, a lot of the artist’s self expression can be present before the brush ever touches the canvas. A good deal of it can happen at a subconscious level. This is one reason that I tell my art students please not to worry too much about self expression, as it will happen on it’s own as they mature and develop their skills.

The work of Ralph Goings (left) is a good example of highly realistic art that functions effectively as an authentic artistic expression. In his obsessively observed and subtle renderings, we can get a sense of why he paints the things he does. He finds great beauty and interest in the most mundane objects and settings. He apparently loves to hang out in diners, and that means he can’t be all bad. His stuff is just fun to look at, and you get a sense that in his work he celebrates his fascination with everyday life.

In terms of learning, realism is by far the best way to start developing the physical and perceptive skills that a good artist needs. For this reason, there was for a long time a strong emphasis on realism in academic art training. Not that realism ought to be an end in itself, but it is a natural starting place for visual art. Every discipline has rules, and you need to know the rules before you can meaningfully break the rules.

The work of Nicolai Fechin (left) is a good example of art that is faithful to reality, but also ventures into meaningful abstraction, and even a kind of expressionism. A typical Fechin painting includes interesting abstract passages, highly energetic brushwork, bold use of color and an obvious love just for the paint, itself. But holding all that together and transcending it, is Fechin’s clear understanding of light, space and physical form. A study of his work reveals a deep knowledge of anatomy and the subtleties of the human face. Frequently in his work, the realism of the face serves as an anchor for the rest of the piece.

THE PROBLEM WITH REALISM

– Realism is this property of faithful representation, but if that is all that realism is (in other words, if it is only the work of a highly trained copyist) then it will fall short of what art should be. If the artist is not capable of infusing into the image some sense of how they think or feel about the subject, then it does indeed fall flat. If this is the case, then all painters could be replaced by photographers, and don’t let the door hit you on the way out..

A painting can be a very realistic representation and still be trite, silly, dull, or in any number of other ways, just bad art. There is such a thing as an accurate, but lifeless, representation.

A great deal of 19^th century academic realism was bad art. It sometimes seemed to be a cold, academic exercise. At the opposite end of the spectrum, it was just as often the victim of maudlin sentimentalism. The same problems plague artists to this day, and are hardly unique to realistic art. Modern art suffers much from the same diseases. There is such a thing as calculated spontaneity, and manufactured angst.

Great realistic art doesn’t just give us a dry representation of the subject, but also highlights and enhances what is unique about the subject, as well as offering some insight into the artist’s feelings about it. The caricature of Orson Welles (at left), by the famous Al Hirschfeld, is a great example. Hirschfeld had a wonderful knack for reduction, simplification and enhancement. If Welles’ head were really shaped like that, of course, he would be in a long-term care facility. No one’s head is really shaped like that… and yet, somehow the drawing looks just like Orson Welles. Hirschfeld departs from strictly literal realism in order to emphasize the most Welles-ian aspects of Mr. Welles. He distorts, but (and this is important) it is a lovingly faithful distortion that draws its inspiration from Welles himself. Hirschfeld studied Welles… in a way, loved Welles. It seems a simple drawing, but I guarantee that it was not simple for Hirschfeld

In addition to what the image says about Mr. Welles, though, we have the delightful calligraphy of the drawing itself, the crisply rendered shapes, the flowing lines… overall, an elegant simplicity combined with an exuberant energy and humor that begins to tell us a great deal about the artist. This is art (simple as it is) that is firing on all cylinders. It is the result of preternatural giftedness (talent), combined with careful study, hard work and enthusiasm.

This highlights the important distinction between a work of art as a representation of something else (subject), and a work of art as an interesting and beautiful object on its own. Great art is both.

Next: "Modern" Art, and Why Art is Important.

A young boy has learned an expensive lesson: The painting pictured to the left was not a trash receptacle for his wad of gum. (Click on the image to enlarge.)

"A 12-year-old visitor to the Detroit Institute of Arts stuck a wad of gum to a $1.5 million painting, leaving a stain the size of a quarter, officials say.

[…]

"The gum stuck to the painting’s lower left corner and did not adhere to the fiber of the canvas, officials told the Detroit Free Press. But it left a chemical residue about the size of a quarter, said Becky Hart, assistant curator of contemporary art.

[…]

"’Even though we give very strict guidelines on proper behavior and we hold students to high standards, he is only 12 and I don’t think he understood the ramifications of what he did before it happened, but he certainly understands the severity of it now [that he has been suspended and disciplined by his parents],’ said [school director Julie] Kildee."

GET THE STORY.

I certainly hope that Ms. Kildee is correct that the boy did not intend harm, but stories like this have me shaking my head over how much longer it takes children to mature these days than it did fifty to one hundred years ago. Or, even twenty-five years ago, considering that when I was twelve most kids knew better than to stick a wad of gum to an artwork. They might stick it to the underside of the desk, which does show immaturity, but they knew better than to stick it to a painting.

Suppose an advanced alien race gives you an exotic, high-tech gizmo capable of making a perfectly precise plastic replica of anything. Let’s say it can exactly reproduce every color, texture and detail. Excited, you quickly use it to create a life-sized copy of Regis Philbin to adorn your foyer.

The alien gizmo would take certain information about the original Regis (like size, shape, color, texture…), and reconstitute and re-present it in plastic. However, the copy would lack other original "Reej" properties (like speech, movement, intellect, etc…).

In other words, the copy would be an abstraction of the original Regis Philbin.It could represent Regis Philbin, but it couldn’t work a live studio audience with the verve and panache (what I call the "X-factor") of the original Regis.

Still, anyone familiar with Regis Philbin could walk into your house, look at your plastic Regis monument and think "Wow, this guy really like Regis Philbin" , even if they thought that meant you needed professional help.

Now, if you made a photograph of your alien-tech Regis statue to carry in your wallet, you would find that the image would lose even more of the original information in the process, making the photo more of an abstraction. If you were to use the old office Xerox to make copies for all your co-workers, the images would be even more abstract, though they would still probably carry enough of the original data to be recognizable to fans of daytime television.

Abstraction is just the reduction or simplification of an object, from a complex reality to a less complex representation. In this sense, even the most realistic art is an abstraction. All artists make decisions about how much original data to retain, and which specific pieces of information they want to exclude.

Art that retains more of that original data appears more realistic (like the William Bougereau painting at left), while art that discards more information is more abstract (like the Picasso below). Though many people use the term "abstract" to describe images that are unrecognizable (or nearly so), in fact all art is abstract.

Or is it?

True abstraction presupposes an original object that is being abstracted, even if that object is imaginary. I could imagine a blue-skinned, reptilian, evil Anti-Regis and make a picture of that. It would still be an abstraction.

But there is art that does not represent or refer to any object. Not surprisingly, it is often referred to as non-objective art. Many proponents of this type of art assert that it transcends ordinary, traditional art, because it is not mired in the emotional or intellectual baggage associated with a recognizable image. People can respond directly to it’s native, visual properties, without interference.

Non-objective art often represents something, though, even if it is just a feeling, or an idea (Kandinsky was known for this type of image – like the one at left), so it must be distinguished from art that truly represents nothing. This kind of art (the Mark Rothko piece below, for example), which is called non-representational art, is so transcendent and self-existent that it refers to nothing outside itself. It passes beyond any attachment to the reality we understand, and (it is argued) establishes a new, independent reality.

There are problems and pitfalls associated with all these different categories. I’ll talk about those in my next post.

In the meantime, what’s your favorite piece of art?

Hey, Tim Jones, here.

I’ve been asked by some commenters here at JA.O what I thought about abstract art, and whether I appreciate any modern art (like that of Robert Motherwell, shown at left).

Now, I am no expert on anything. I am a practicing artist (a painter ) *begin hypnosis – VISIT MY WEBSITE – end hypnosis* with a Master’s degree in Fine Art. Maybe something worthwhile rubbed off while I was in college, but I do not present myself as any kind of Art Pundit.

I am also really not that well-read, so I can’t lay claim to any great depth of historical knowledge.

What I can try to do is to clarify some terms and state, in very simple language, what I believe art is and is supposed to "do". Art should not be presented (in my view) as the exclusive purview of highly trained experts. If you have to read a paper to understand a painting, it has already failed as a work of art, in my opinion.

I had a professor once, who traced the meaning of the word art back to it’s Latin root ars, pointing out that this was also the root of the word artificial. He went on to say that, in a sense, everything that is not from nature, that is "man-made", could be called "art".

This was received with knowing nods of approval at the time, probably even from me. It is an idea that still holds a great deal of sway in the world of modern art. The idea was that we should not take a narrow view of what is and is not art, which sounds okay, until you try to really begin talking about art.

The truth is, this is just not the way that people think and talk. In this broad, philosophical view of art, the tissue that I just used is "art". So is the notepad I just scribbled on, my shoelace, and every other human artifact you can think of.

The logical conclusion to this kind of thinking led the Dada-ists to hang latrines in museums, and still resonates to this day.

So, what separates art and fine art from non-art? Here is where it might help to draw and define some broad categories. You will see that there will be a good deal of possible overlap between them.

To get the ball rolling, I offer these working categories:

DESIGN – Everything that people make has a design. A tent, a spear point (like the one pictured) a clay pot, a mocassin, a tissue – all are made with an ideal design in mind. The actual object may be more or less close to the ideal, but the design is still evident. The design of an object can be pleasing, but this is not necessary. While some man-made objects may incidentally strike people as pleasing, the same is true of non-man-made objects. Design – in itself, then – would not be what we would call "art" in any commonly understood usage of the word. Art certainly incorporates design, but art is more than just design. Some design is so consciously elegant, though, that it becomes…

DECORATION – You might think that early in human history, people made plain things and gradually began to decorate them over time. There is no evidence for this, in fact. People have always decorated things. It’s what we do, and part of what makes us qualitatively different from the animals. From the beginning, people wanted to make their stuff look cool. So, clay pots received etched, painted or stamped decoration. Clothing was beaded and fringed and dyed. Spears were hung with feathers. People tattooed their skin. Decoration is just built into human beings.

Some of these decorations had symbolic meaning, and some did not. Decoration could be a simple geometric pattern, or an actual picture of something else. The purpose of the decoration, though, was always to add something (appeal, interest, information, etc…) to an already existing object, and was not there to be appreciated simply for itself. So while art can incorporate elements of decoration, decoration – by itself – does not constitute art. Decoration can, however, begin to take on the characteristics of…

ILLUSTRATION – Now we come to the real magic of art; that is, the ability to invoke, or to make present (in a way that is truly mysterious) something that is not there. Not only objects and creatures, but events and environments can be re-presented, merely by the etching of lines or the arrangement of pigment. You probably already have an intuitive grasp of something else that separates illustration from decoration – storytelling. Where do we generally find illustrations? In books.

Illustration exists, not to enliven some existing object or tool, but at the service of a story, or narrative. Many great pieces of art are illustrations, including so many of the wonderful religious icons you are familiar with. Norman Rockwell was proud to be called an illustrator. The strong narrative (story) element in his art makes it very illustrative. All illustration is art, then, but at times it can be elevated to…

FINE ART – What sets fine art apart from illustration is the way it treats this element of narrative or story. All images tell some kind of story, of course, but in fine art the narrative element is subordinated to the visual, sensual properties of the depicted objects (like in the piece at left, by artist Jeff Legg).

It might be a landscape, a woman, a bowl of fruit… but a piece of fine art exists as an homage to some discreet part of creation. Fine art is meant to be appreciated in itself, and by itself. It needs no underlying narrative (as a religious icon or other illustration does) to make sense of it.

Many great illustrations (like Michelangelo’s Pieta) cross over into the area of fine art, owing to the importance that they give to the native visual properties of the depicted objects, environments or people. Great artists often walk a line between illustration and fine art.

There is a danger, in pushing an illustration toward becoming fine art, that the visual elements of the image will overwhelm or detract from the desired narrative. This is why many religious icons are so graphic and simple. Too much attention to realism would actually serve as a distraction. As long as people can readily recognize who the icon symbolically represents, things like realistic shading or accurate anatomy are unnecessary.

There is, conversly, also a danger in allowing a piece of fine art to become bogged down in sentiment and narrative, to the detriment of the image. If an object can’t stand on it’s visual properties alone, then it’s presence in a piece of fine art becomes questionable.

Now, because of the arrangement of the above categories, you may have the idea that I think that fine art is superior to illustration, illustration to decoration, etc… . This is not the case. All of these things are good and necessary in their own right. The reason they are placed in a kind of ascending order is because each successive category comprehends, or incorporates, all the previous categories. So, all art involves design, but not all design is art. This will also be important in the next post…

BEYOND? – There are those who posit another kind of art that passes beyond mere illustration or representation, and becomes something greater. I will examine that idea in my next post, where I discuss Realism, Abstraction and Non-Objective Art.

There will be a quiz next Thursday. Bring two #2 pencils.

If you have read this far, God Bless You!!

I had to do a quick post on THIS STORY out of Switzerland, via an Australian news service.

Seems that art expert Katja Schneider (ALERT: Tim’s first rule of Life in the Real World – "EXPERTS GROW ON TREES") of the State Art Museum of Moritzburg in Saxony-Anhalt (everyone got that located on their globe, now?) had pegged the artwork of a local chimp as that of the famous (??) painter Ernst Wilhelm Nay.

He really is famous. Honest! He won a Guggenheim prize, and everything, so you can be assured that he is a GENIUS.

According to the article;

"The canvas was actually the work of Banghi, a 31-year-old female chimp at the local zoo.

While Banghi likes to paint, she is not able to build up much of a body of work as her mate Satscho generally destroys her paintings before they can get to the gallery."

See? Even in the animal world, creative types are misunderstood and oppressed.

Now, animal "art" is  nothing new, but this expert got caught in a big faux-pas, and it must be explained in some way.

There can really only be two explanations: Either chimps are under-appreciated as creative artists, or a lot of modern "art" is meaningless garbage.

Which way do you think the art community will split on THIS one?

Can we look forward to a major retrospective of Banghi’s surviving works?

GET THE STORY.

Well, I have been so spotty about contributing here lately at JA.O that I was hoping to do a couple of posts on topics of general interest before I came out with a shameless plug for my website, timothyjonesfineart.net.
I had planned to do one about our cat, Ozzie, for instance, but for some weird reason, I am not able to process images right now the way I have been, due to a mysterious software glitch. He is a Cat of Unusual Size. I photographed him next to a yardstick to give some sense of proportion.  Anyway, I want to assure everyone that it was going to be a pretty hilarious post, wherein I would make no mention of my new website, timothyjonesfineart.net.
I also had a post about Electric Light Orchestra on the back burner (somewhere behind my cerebellum), but this fell prey to my thumb-wrestling contest with Fortune City’s "Easy Site Builder" program, which is supposed to be kind of a sanitarium for the Technologically Challenged.
I have been working on the thing for several days, and I still have some bugs to work out. F’rinstance, I don’t have the e-mail feature of the site working yet, so visitors have to copy and paste my address into their e-mail program. R-r-r-r-r-…
See, I am on what you would call a rather spartan budget, so I had a choice: I could keep putting off the web page, or I could put it together myself. So I plunged in. The site does everything I wanted, so I can’t complain.
I published just a couple of days ago, but was still tweaking. Then I saw a post from Barbara Nicolosi in the combox, and I blurted out the address (timothyjonesfineart.net) in hopes she would drop by the site. I really admire Barbara’s work and enjoy her website, and I would respect her opinion as another member of the Catholic creative community.
So the chat is out of the carnassiére, so to speak. So, should you visit my site, thanks for dropping by. I hope you enjoy the art.
Wow! it occurs to me that I haven’t said anything in this post that people could really comment on (or work up a decent argument about), so reproduced below is the Mission Statement published on my website. There have been so many neat comments here lately about Art and Truth  and stuff (Michelle’s last about film, for example) that I was itching to jump in.

MISSION STATEMENT – Life, Truth, Beauty, Unity
“Painting is a language that can not be replaced by any other language.” – Michelangelo
LIFE – Philosophically,
I come from the perspective of historical, orthodox Christianity (I am
a Catholic), which means that I accept as given that the universe has a
point, a purpose that comes from beyond nature. Nature is, in
this way, a sort of continually unfolding metaphor. Creation points to
the Creator in all its details. In my art I hope to call attention to
the hand of God in nature, and so the purpose of my art is to point to
nature, which in turn points to God. In the words of Somerset Maugham –
“Art for art’s sake makes no more sense than gin for gin’s sake.”. Art
should represent, not an escape from life – or an attempt to set up
some independent or alternate reality – but a deeper understanding of
life.
TRUTH – Artistically,
I am a “classical realist”, though the definition of “realism” can be
somewhat flexible. Without getting into a long discussion (I’ll save
that for the blog) I can describe it as art that is faithful to nature.
That does not necessarily mean “photographic” or highly detailed. It
does not mean expressionless copying. The great impressionists (like
Monet) played down details and defined edges in favor of emphasizing
light and color, but they were describing a natural light and natural
colors, not mere invented color harmonies or abstraction. They were
still in love with their subject. This type of art is (consciously or
not) an act of worship. Art should tell the truth while appealing to
the higher aspirations of the human spirit, not pandering to the baser
instincts or following the latest fads.
BEAUTY – All
who admire nature glorify God, whether or not they mean to. My job is
to help people to admire nature. I hope that my artwork will encourage
those who view it to slow down, to observe carefully, and to appreciate
the infinite, exuberant complexity and beauty of the world. I am
fascinated with every piece of fruit, and I hope this comes through in
my paintings.
UNITY – All
things find their meaning and purpose in their Creator. Life, truth and
beauty together constitute a unity or harmony of purpose that reflects
the significance of a fully human existence. An attack on one of these
principals is an attack on all. Art that celebrates ugliness,
destruction or meaninglessness could therefore be described as
sub-human or even anti-human.

The above described approach to
art and nature is independent of any use of overt symbolism or
religious imagery. It is a kind of visual philosophy.

My last post was an obvious (I hope) attempt to parody some of the excesses of Higher Criticism and it’s devotees.

Now I would like to tell you how I wound up posting such a piece.

As I was in the final stages of the painting that I featured in the aforementioned post (Copper Pot), I ended up thinking a good bit about just how literally I should render a few things, like the pattern on the china.

It occured to me that this process could be analagous to writing, and I thought how it might apply to the Gospels particularly.

There at least a couple of big mistakes one could make about the painting. One would be to think that it was a complete fabrication, a product solely of the imagination. This might lead to absurdities like finding all kinds of hidden meanings where there are none, like the Higher Critic of my parody piece.

The other extreme would be to assume that it was like a photograph, and that even the smallest details were a verbatim reproduction, an exact copy of concrete reality. This might lead to equal absurdities, like if someone were to ask me where they could buy the particular china pattern on the little dishes.

In this particular painting, I simplified and muted the pattern on the china in order that it not draw undue attention in the overall composition. So, in a sense, I did fudge a bit, but that’s my job. Certain shadows are deepened, certain colors are amplified, edges are blurred or sharpened. If I blur the edge of a pear, I doubt anyone would accuse me of asserting that pears are fuzzy, or would assume that I need new glasses.

The truth is that it is a painting, a work of art representing real things, but crafted in such a way as to emphasize certain aspects of reality while downplaying others. All the items depicted are real and could be identified by anyone who bothered to rummage through all the junk in my studio (I love flea markets).

I find reality endlessly fascinating and full of surprises. I strive to be faithful to reality, but not obsessed with minute, photographic detail.

BIG RED DISCLAIMER – Unlike Jimmy or Michelle, I am not an apologist. I am not a Bible or a literary scholar. I do not claim to know how the Gospels were written, let alone how Plenary Inspiration would work. I am just an artist speculating wildly on how it might have been. If I venture into heresy or nonsense, I am counting on Jimmy and his readers to put me straight.

Based on my experience as an artist, and applying what I know about the creative process to the Gospel writers, I think that I might venture to make a few assertions;

1) The Gospel accounts are faithful representations of real events, but this does not mean that we should expect the same level of detail or attention to exact chronology that we might find in, say, a modern legal document. The writers were concerned primarily that people understand Who Jesus is and what He did, and not with the minutiae of his daily life. We know that Hebrew writers (as well as their audience) were less concerned with the sequence of events than with the substance and meaning of events.

2) The Gospel writers made full use of their human creative faculties (under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit) to emphasize certain aspects of Jesus’ life and message, while downplaying others. For instance, Jesus’ life as a youth simply doesn’t figure as prominently into the proclamation of the Gospel as His passion and death. The writers wanted to present all that was essential, with little extraneous material. Deciding what to include is the first creative step. Some gospel writers included more, some less, but all are faithful representations of real words and events.

3) Being, in some measure, free in setting down the events of Jesus’ life, the Gospel writers may have used different creative or poetic methods to emphasize certain aspects of His teaching. Placing Him in different settings, or at various times, the writers may have symbolically emphasized the substance of His teaching. We needn’t insist, for instance, that the Sermon on the Mount really happened on a mountain or hill. It may have, but it is not essential. Neither could we call this a "mistake" or an "error" any more than my changing the china pattern in my painting was an error. It was a creative choice that placed the non-essential at the service of the truly essential. Both the hyper-literal and the ultra-liberal interpretations would be wrong. The china dish is real, but the pattern is simplified. The pattern is not the essence of the dish, as it would continue to be a dish even with no pattern at all.

In an age before cameras, if I were asked to make a visual record of some object or person, I like to think that I could take some artistic license without being accused of lying or making a mistake, especially if I enjoyed plenary inspiration. We can trust that God guided the process, and that the creative input of the Gospel writers only served to draw out and clarify the essential truth of the historical events depicted.

JIMMY ADDS: Tim, if the painting thing doesn’t work out, you should try apologetics!

Whodathunkit? While walking downstairs with the painting at left, I suddenly encountered a wormhole in the space-time continuum (located in one of our kitchen cabinets), and the painting was sucked in before I could stop it! Fortunately, I was able to reach in and find it again, but when I pulled the painting out, the following analysis of the painting came out with it, apparently written by some future historian.

Go figger…

"The first thing we must learn about this artwork is who painted it, and this will give us a deeper understanding of the piece.
It is signed T.Jones in the lower left corner, and has been traditionally accepted as the work of Timothy Jones, an obscure, mid-level painter of the early twenty-first century, who signed his work in the same way.

We now know, of course, that this is very unlikely. There are a number of pieces signed T. Jones in existence, and they differ widely in style and content. This painting does not resemble the large, abstract pieces that are also attributed to T. Jones, so most modern scolars no longer accept that this is an original T. Jones work.
Who, then, painted it? Most modern scholars agree that it was the product of several artists, over a period of time. Perhaps it was based on a sketch by T. Jones, but the painting we now see was revised and developed within the Jonesian community, and reflects their concerns at the time.

We may notice that the handling of paint, the brushstrokes, vary throughout the piece. In some areas the paint is applied thinly, in others it is more thickly textured. Some areas seem more expressive and energetic, while others are more controlled and realistic. Clearly this was executed by more than one artist.

The painting appears to be a straightforward rendering of items that might be found around the artist’s studio, but if we look more deeply, we can see that it is profoundly symbolic. We should not make the mistake of thinking that these are necessarily real objects being depicted. In fact, whether these objects really existed or not is irrelevant. What is important is the deeper meaning of the image.

We see depicted a small copper pot, surrounded by some fruit, two glass bottles and two small china dishes. All rest on a simple white cloth, atop a wooden table or plank.

The vessels at the left of the painting (the copper pot and larger china dish) are full of fruit, overflowing with the "fruit of the spirit" that comes from life in Christ. In contrast, the vessels at right are empty, barren. What separates these two groupings, these two ways of life? We see a clump of grapes, representing the "grapes of wrath" that divide us. The "empty vessels" are separated from the others by issues like anger, resentment and judgemental attitudes.

It helps to know that at this period in history the Church in the U.S. was torn between progressive forces on the one hand, and opressive patriarchal forces on the other, and this painting clearly reflects that struggle. The piece calls us all to understand that we are all the same, standing together on the pure, white cloth of love, resting on the sturdy tabletop of the Primacy of Conscience. The deeper meaning of this painting, then (as with all great art), is – Be Nice.

Standing at the center is the copper pot, old and dented, but filled with fruit. this represents the church as a whole, overcoming the ancient and prejudiced ideas of the past to find the living fruit of justice.
Yeah,.. justice.

Or maybe, freedom.

Whatever.

In any case, we could continue to find deeper meanings to this seemingly simple painting, but space does not allow us to discuss all that we might find. Just remember, the important thing about any work of art is what it means to you."

I know some of you loyal JA.O readers have been wondering where you can find my artwork online, and whether it is available for purchase. Some nice person even made a bid for my last piece in the comments box, which was real flattering.

That particular piece is bound for our state Eucharistic Congress at the end of October, but will be available afterward.

I have been hinting at a web page of my own for some months, but as yet it has not come together (Soon, honest!).

I have been in a kind of transition period, professionally, and things have not always developed in a linear way.
Let me ‘splain-

No, there is too much… let me sum up…

After closing my art gallery in May of ’05 (another story), I endeavoured to set  up a working art studio in my home, with the idea of painting on a regular basis. I had other freelance work as well, but the painting would now be my main focus. My immediate goal was to produce a well-rounded portfolio (at least twenty pieces) so that I could begin to approach some serious regional and national galleries, as well as having some to enter in competitions.

But running my gallery had taken me away from other duties for almost a year, and I found I needed a few weeks just to catch up on chores that I had left undone.

My beautiful family was also home on their summer break, and I found it hard to work with alot of people and activity going on in the house.

So I didn’t really paint that much all summer.

Then fall came, the family was back in school and I could get things really rolling… except my studio wasn’t right. It took me another week to figure out a workable layout and to control the lighting, etc… . Proper lighting is crucial.

Finally, everything was set. All my ducks were in a row. I was in my studio, by myself, all day, with nothing to do but paint.

That’s when I ran into a serious case of "painter’s block". Ugghh.

Discipline was called for, but with prayer and a few weeks of self-examination, I was really, really ready to paint.
And so that’s (finally) what I have been doing.

So with apologies to those who have been so encouraging about my art, I ask for just a little more patience. I should be online within a month or so.

In the meantime, the act of painting has got me thinking about possible parallels to writing, especially in the area of the Gospels and what we might reasonably expect of the gospel writers.

But that is another post.