Personal Style
Introduction - Mira Kamada
At the peak of his career Philip Guston rejected all he knew about painting, abandoning the sublime style he had developed over decades - paintings that epitomized the tenets of abstract expressionism; universality and subconscious expression. Friends and critics found the gross form of his new figurative work appalling. In place of elusive spiritual qualities, they now found only disdainful images of a world they wished to ignore. What had changed?
According to Peter London, "The things we make are signs of the things we are, seismographs of our internal state of affairs." After years of struggle for recognition and success, Guston had achieved what he thought he wanted. But his next turn became a question of truth.
"I was feeling split, schizophrenic." - Philip Guston
According to Guston, "when the 1960s came along I was feeling split, schizophrenic - the war, what was happening in America, the brutality of the world. What kind of man am I, sitting at home, reading magazines, going into a frustrated fury about everything - and then going to my studio to adjust a red to a blue?" He found that the paintings which had brought him fame now failed to express the world as he knew it, harsh, fetid, and toxic - the antithesis of his former vision. He could no longer paint in the old style. Instead, he needed to reveal his new vision, no matter how repugnant, because, ultimately, art is a search for something real. Curiously, his new work foreshadowed what surfaced years later in the expressive, figurative movement of the 1980's.
This issue examines the development of personal style. Visit any university art department and you will find students ardently reworking images (or ideas) from Art History 101. This is not a bad practice. Imitation can lead to understanding. But still it is only creating art about art. At best such emulation illuminates the difficulty and complexity of aesthetic problems. At worst it convinces students that their task is merely to imitate whatever is accepted, and miss the true reward of making authentic art.
How does an artist evolve from imitative student to adult in pursuit of personal vision? For some it's as abrupt as an epiphany, for others a long process over many years. Faith Ringgold reflects poignantly on the irony of being trained within a Western European tradition, but coming from a distinctly different background. It was a bitter day when she saw what it meant to be a black artist in a predominantly white art culture. Her paintings of white people were rejected by the New York galleries she approached. Although her style and subject fit the market, it was not from experience; it was an imitation of what she saw hanging in galleries throughout the city. This encounter forced her to confront who she really was, and what she had to contribute of her own. Her mature style grew to incorporate her cultural roots and the traditional fabric crafts that she had enjoyed as a child. Today she is known for her contributions as a teacher, artist, and writer.
"New needs need new techniques." - Jackson Pollack
Claude Cirimele felt dissatisfied with his work. It lacked some unidentifiable quality. By adding a random form or mark to a seemingly finished painting, he introduced discord to play against, stimulating new thoughts. This technique has led him to create work otherwise unimaginable.
Style has been defined as the quality of imagination and individuality expressed in one's actions and tastes. Shedding inhibitions, breaking rules, creating accidents, exploiting limitations; all are techniques artists cite to further their personal style. In our brief survey we were surprised to hear mature artists say that they were more fascinated by technical problems now than when they were younger (e.g., trying to paint the illusive quality of light shimmering on a surface). This striving, this willingness to change and grow reflects pure optimism. That mid-career artists are still evolving, pushing back personal boundaries rather than resting on the proven is inspiring.
How artists use their medium constitutes style. The more inventive they allow themselves to be, the likelier they are to develop a style that is both personal and authentic, creating not art about art, but art about life.
Recycling ~ Claude Cirimele
A turning point came when I began to plant 'mistakes' in my paintings. Initially, these mistakes were unintended, but I found if I planted an odd shape or deliberately deformed or altered a completed part of the painting, the struggle to correct it might lead to a new avenue. It can be very scary to deliberately deface a passage, but also rewarding, if the recovery process succeeds.
Another favorite technique is to heavily rework the surfaces of older paintings I once thought complete. This lends the opportunity to 'recycle' a painting I would otherwise consider unshowable. I usually choose to leave significant portions of the original work visible as a record of what has been painted previously, a traceable history. This technique creates consternation among family and friends because none of my completed paintings are safe from reworking.
In some way all my work is influenced by other artists, or by images of the past. I constantly look at current events magazines, art and history books to get new ideas and generate enthusiasm. I find vacuuming ideas attractive because I want my paintings to reflect what we are as humans, a blend of the past and the present. My influences have changed over the years, from the romantic spirit of Caspar David Friederich to Jasper Johns, who molded everyday objects into
art icons. For a time my imagination was captured by the photos of Roman wall paintings of excavations of Pompeii and Herculaneum. These images painted nearly two thousand years ago, of souls long gone, sparked my creativity. I saw in them an added beauty because the centuries have been cruelly kind. The deterioration over time has itself created images of timeless beauty.
Traveling through Life ~ Mary Buskirk
1955: As a painter in my second year of graduate study I enrolled in a weaving class and accidentally discovered my medium. In the spirit of Abstract Expressionism I spent the next few years exploring fiber: pushing the geometric grid of the woven structure beyond traditional boundaries. Each work was an effort to elaborate on some intriguing element from a previous work. This was an inward looking time; my work was totally abstract.
1960: When we moved to California landscape elements crept into my abstract structures. One series traced linear patterns from rocks at Pt. Lobos. Another developed from the complex web of tree roots exposed by erosion along the Big Sur River bank.
1975: As the corporate world discovered fiber I was challenged to move beyond the personal scale. When a specific 20' wall awaits a weaving it becomes possible to undertake panoramas. I began to look at the world more expansively. Each commission became a prod to create things differently than I might ever have done.
1980: On the first of many trips to New Mexico I experienced dramatic sky and landscape as I had never seen it before. I was also flying east often to care for my aging father, and seeing landscape and cloud forms from above. These powerful visual elements began to dominate my work.
1990's: With the tapering off of corporate commissions, political and social action have become more compelling in my life and have spilled into my work. The first time I painted a message onto an intricately woven work was frightening but liberating. Incorporating text as statement also opened possibilities for words and other symbols as purely visual elements. Painted elements and gold or silver leaf have become frequent additions to recent woven works.
2000: Who knows what will happen. I often wonder what directions my work might have taken if we had stayed in Ohio.
My Intent ~ Grant Huntington
The Challenge with commercial photography is that you are bought for your services and styles. You have to be versatile, to offer an array of styles. Since style is visual, not verbal, it's what you show, not say, that gets you the job. That's the first hurdle. What's different now in my work from ten years ago is maturity. I have always been committed to craft, which is why I chose Art Center for my education. I wanted to get the best training available. From early on I have also been keenly aware of producing photography that was effective for its purpose. Now I am more practiced, more 'athletic'. I know how to overcome the technical problems of my craft. I can rely on knowledge to fulfill my vision. Beyond vision, I now also understand my intent. This maturity, this agility allows my youthful side to form a finer sense of style. I think style evolves from practicing your craft.
I have my own style based on my commitment to fine craftsmanship. It's honest, not derivative. To achieve excellence in photography you have to know why you are doing it. You have to feel passion in the result. By nature I'm pretty conservative. But work is life and life develops. So once you're successful, failing to take risks can become a problem. You fall into the "Blue Dog Syndrome". Getting a client to try something new, something that doesn't exist, based solely on my vision can be frustrating. And our time here is limited. To work with that and make commercial art as though it were fine art-that's the real challenge.
Passions of Youth ~ Steve Brown
Certainly the passions of youth are no longer those of maturity. When young I was more concerned with the content of the imagery. Now I am more interested in the inherent qualities of the medium, the texture of paint on canvas, the quality of light shimmering on a surface, the ephemeral aspects of the physical world. I also find the making of art more meaningful than the resulting product.
All art (painting) is abstract in that it pretends the world we live in exists on a flat surface. The representational qualities in my work come and go. My current work looks very abstract, but I have photographs of the horizon at sea that look exactly like my paintings, or as close as I and a flat surface can get. The choice of media, how you apply pigment to a surface dictates style. I have a whole body of work that can only exist as small pen drawings. I have tried to paint them in watercolor, acrylic, etc., but nothing seems to express the feeling as well as ink on paper. Finances have also influenced my choices throughout my career. There were times when I would have made monumental sculpture, if I had financing. Even if the cash for materials was available, I still would have needed a space to produce the piece and store the finished sculpture. These practical considerations impact an artist's work. Because for years I have drawn almost every day, I can read my drawings like a journal or diary. I am amazed to fashion a seemingly new idea, then discover that actually I have been working on it for two or three years. I have begun to think that I have only 10 or 12 ideas, and the body of my work is variations on these. I never know, at the time, the importance of a piece; sometimes it takes years for me to see where it fits.
I have to be honest in my art. If I attempt to lie, the work fails; it looks phony. Often the work reflects the state of my life before I am fully aware. The drawing knew the relationship was over way before I had a clue.
Today I have more confidence than I had 35 years ago, but I also have bigger fears. I know a lot more about myself, life, and art. I also recognize how much I don't know.
For more reading on artistic development see:
London, Peter. No More Secondhand Art. Boston & London: Shambhala Publications, 1989.
Munro, Eleanor. Originals: American Women Artists. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1979.
Styles, Kristine. Theories and Documents of Contemporary Art. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1996.