Art Critique 101

cave aurochs 2 On Saturday I and a group of around 30 others paid a fee to see three fine painters critique a group of mostly-amateur paintings. Paintings were lined up along the walls. The group– Marc Perlman, Chester Arnold and Frances McCormack-– selected paintings to bring on stage. The audience eavesdropped on their three-way conversation about each piece. It was an interesting, unusual event that I had never seen outside an art class.

My painting was not chosen. I offer some random takeaways from the event, and a few impressions.

  • Framing counts.  Never use garage sale frames.  Never ever, even if they “fit.” If you respect your piece, either hang it unframed or design a new frame for it.
  • Just because you have an emotional connection to a surface doesn’t mean it helps the painting.  One good pop art work was painted on a piece of wood from a crate.  True, the crate had come from France and the Louvre, but the nail holes weren’t doing the painting any good.  Your emotional attachment does not make a difference to the viewer.
  • Composition, color, design, content, meaning and drawing were discussed, but much of the time they talked materials.  Inferior materials can sink a painting.  Buy the best you can.
  • One really cannot defend a less-successful work if you bring it out in public, because the public decides on its success.  Give your paintings a chance by using good materials.
  • One good painting was still wet.  The wetness dominated the critique of the painting, smearing black paint all over Mark Perlman’s hands.  One element out of place can keep the viewer from appreciating your work.
  • One painting was an exact copy of a Cezanne.  The critics’ consensus seemed to be that if you wish to learn through copying, copy a hundred paintings , not just one.  Really do it and allow yourself to learn.
  • If you are  doing a genre painting, such as a sort of linear, geometric, Mondrian-type abstraction, it helps to imitate the absolutely flat and smooth surface generally found in such paintings.  Heavy impasto and imprecise lines don’t belong to that type of painting.  Lobsters are good, so are strawberries, but you don’t want to mash them together.

I would add, however awkward, stand by your paintings, like Tammy Wynette singing “Stand by your Man.”  Criticism has a place.  My mentor always said that he painted for other painters.  Never, ever paint because you think you might know what someone might like or approve of.  Stand by your paintings, but you don’t necessarily have to show, or keep, every one.  It’s only one point in an endless timeline of process.

I so appreciated the kind yet keen remarks of the commentors.  Never did they deride a work of art or cross the line into condescension.

Aspen, Suzanne Edminster
Aspen, Suzanne Edminster

My own painting I had to criticize myself.  It’s not the one at the top of the post, or the one at the side here,  but one in a series in gold metal leaf that is quite similar.  I didn’t get a good enough photo of it to post, as the gold metal leaf makes it difficult to photograph. Anyway, the negatives:  careless, poorly conceived, not enough surface field depth or variety of line– too superficial.  The positives:  use of an interesting material, strong sense of gesture and movement, and good composition with interesting colors.

I am primarily self-taught and thus self-critiqued.  I’m not sure I could have lived through four years of this in art school.  What are your responses to critique and criticism?

Stand by your art.

Afternote: Satri Pencak kindly cited my blog.  She has a fine curatorial website.   I appreciate her discerning take on events and artists in Sonoma County.

Small Work, Big Impact: 40 venues go small at SOFA Sat. Feb 2, 5-8 PM

Suzanne Edminster, Sea Garden, acrylic on paper, SOLD

Small does not mean diminshed  intrigue or impact. A good small painting reads big.  I remember that in the Denver Art Museum that you could see the Georgia O’Keefe small painting from across a vast room, before we could even identify it as hers.  It just shone.  I’ve been working on larger pieces for a while now. It’s an interesting lesson: large is NOT small scaled up somehow. The dimension changes meaning. This one will be on display this Saturday.

Confession: the very small works are often traces of projects that lead to larger works for me. My own sense of detail is not robust; I prefer the BIG. Even my handwriting is large and scrawling. I like to work small on paper– it feels more open and free. But sometimes I do “smaller” canvases: 10″ x 10″ is one of the smallest. I like mixed media on smaller canvases to make more of an impact. Everything is small-ized now. Just think of your Iphone and Ipad.

Suzanne Edminster, Days of the Dead, combined media on canvas, 12 x 12 inches
Suzanne Edminster, Days of the Dead, combined media on canvas, 12 x 12 inches

Small can be very expressive. I did the piece above when my dad was diagnosed with cancer. I wanted to make a response that expressed sacrifice and rebirth as his living spirit started to transition.  The Little Sun Cow below was just pure play and joy.  We all have our art totems.  Cosmic and regular cows are  mine.

Suzanne Edminster, Little Sun Cow, acrylic on paper, SOLD

One artist who has a great sense of the small is Susan Cornelis.  You can see her latest cool “fossil” smalls here. Come visit me this Saturday, or, better yet, start your own  small series. Small can lead  to big things. Surprise yourself!

SOFA Small Works

Jung, Creativity and Play

Europa, Suzanne Edminster, acrylic on canvas, 36" x 36"
Europa, Suzanne Edminster, acrylic on canvas, 36″ x 36″

“The creation of something new is not accomplished by the intellect but by the play instinct acting from inner necessity. The creative mind plays with the objects it loves.” 

C.G. Jung, from Psychological Types

This quote made me pause.  When we lose play, and give it over to force, we lose our contact with the creative world.  On the other hand, the “inner necessity” has to include work and bringing the play or fantasy to  fruition.

“The creative mind plays with the objects it loves.”  This painting is called Europa.  I wanted somehow to play with the Greek myth of the bull swimming with an abducted river maiden— and play simultaneously with abstract form.  I experienced both these desires in a visceral, childlike way.  I wanted to physically play with the figures in the myth, like playing with dolls or action figures, and I wanted to splash paint and watch it pool and run.   The two plays came together in this painting.  (Sometimes they don’t.)

This painting, an abstract mythic narrative, will be shown at The Gallery of Sea and Heaven in their upcoming  Myth and Legend show opening February 16.  They took two paintings.  The other one is a private narrative , where the visuals construct a strange story; it did not exist until I collaged it.  In other words, there’s definitely a story, but I don’t know exactly what it means, like the  stories and plots of dreams.

I think of Jung with his Tower on the lake and his mandalas.  He loved to play, and having a rich wife didn’t hurt the cause of “playing” with architecture .  When we play, we always trust that the practicalities of survival will take care of themselves, like children. What “objects” do you love to play with?