Becoming a Painter in the Fine Arts
By Robert Wittig
Apple Tables
By Robert Wittig
Before I even start, let me get one thing straight ... I have no
business telling anyone how to paint, or become a painter, or work in
the fine arts ... so take this entire essay with a grain of salt, and
your sense of humour handy. Heh. That said, let's begin.
First of all, being a painter can mean a lot of different things. It
can mean painting houses, furniture, automobiles, or working in the
graphic design field, or in advertising, or in other capacities and
applications too numerous for me to know them all. I am going to focus
here on painting in the field of fine arts, but the discussion will of
necessity stray from that very narrow focus, because the various fields
do not always have clearly defined borders with one another, and because
painters often work in more than a single field. Personally, I have a
little experience in painting houses, a huge amount of experience
painting furniture, and a moderate amount of time spent in the fine
arts, with one notable adventure into graphic design to my credit (a
poster), and a few 'done for money' portraits, which may have been fine
arts, but due to my having been dancing somewhat to another's tune,
would not fit nicely into my definition of the fine arts.
And what is my 'definition' of the fine arts??? Well, it is a 21st
century definition, and would certainly not hold true for all previous
time frames, and even now, is not a strict definition, but one with a
lot of fuzzy edges, to make room for all the necessary exceptions to the
general rule. I believe that right now, in 2001, contemporary work in
the fine arts is most often defined as work reflecting primarily the
painter's vision, as opposed to anyone else's vision. (I could have said
artist, but will use the word painter instead, to conform with subject,
and to avoid the hassles inherent in the word 'artist', which makes
presumptions about the painter's product being 'art'.)
Second, being a painter in the fine arts presumes that one can and
often does also draw, and use other related art-type media for visual
expression, including the computer, printmaking, sculpture, etc., just
as a sculptor or printmaker would have some skills in other related
fields. While there may be some few painters who only paint in, say,
oils or watercolours ... and do nothing else, I believe most painters
have tried or will try their hands at many things in the course of their
career, out of curiosity, or economic necessity.
Everything I have to say about becoming a painter in the fine arts is
based solely on my own limited experiences, and it should also be noted
that to date, I have been exceptionally unsuccessful at actually selling
much of my work, which is why this essay is titled "Becoming a
Painter in the Fine Arts," and not "Becoming a Financial
Success as a Painter in the Fine Arts", which is something I as yet
have no experience whatsoever with. While I wholeheartedly believe that
making a lot of money (or at least enough to live on) as a painter is
nice, and a good idea, and something that I look forward to doing, it
does not necessarily have anything to do with becoming a painter. There
are some people who are much better at making money at painting than
they are at painting, and vice versa. Here, I will focus only on the
development of those skills peculiar to becoming a painter in the fine
arts, as I see them.
Learn how to paint
Although it sounds sort of stupid ... learn how to paint. What I mean
here is learn about your materials in general, and how to use them in a
manner that will insure that your work does not deteriorate as it ages,
due to your own carelessness. Paintings deteriorate with age naturally,
but a lot of modern work is just falling apart and the colours
dissolving within a few years of its being finished, due to either
carelessness or ignorance on the part of the maker. I do not know what
they are teaching people in schools, in this respect, but it seems that
it is either insufficient, or that the people coming out of schools (and
those who never attended schools) are not paying attention to the laws
of chemistry and common sense, in the making of their work. There are
several excellent handbooks out there with titles like The Artist's
Handbook, and The Painter's Handbook that explain the do's and don'ts
of the craft of painting, and it is a good idea to lay hands on them,
and read them until they are committed to memory.
This is not to say
that experimentation is undesirable ... in fact, it is very desirable,
and necessary, but one can experiment better if one already knows what
does not work, and why, so that one does not wind up simply repeating
experiments that have already been done. Also, it is a little bit risky
to actually sell these experiments, until you are sure that they are
successful experiments, since having a painting fall apart after it is
sold, and before the painter is exceedingly famous, can lead to all
sorts of problems one would rather avoid. I found my years of experience
as a furniture finisher very useful when I entered the field of fine art
painting, as a lot of furniture used mixed media, and part of my job
wound up being dealing with finish problems for large furniture
companies. It was very instructive.
Also ... learn how to paint
Also ... learn how to paint. What I mean here, is the part where you
have an image either in your head, or in front of you, that you want to
get up onto a piece of stretched canvas, or watercolor paper, or
whatever, so you dip your brush into the paint, and apply it to the
surface. I'm not trying to be a wise guy here, and neither am I putting
down 'modern art' per se. What I am saying is that after spending most
of the 20th century trying to prove otherwise, those factions of the
'moderns movements' that claimed that the skill of being able to make
your hands produce what your eyes see was unnecessary or even
deleterious to a painter's development, wound up proving just the
opposite. The moderns movements made some valid contributions to the
fine arts, but some of their experiments were also failures, none, in my
opinion, quite as large as the notion that learning how to paint
whatever one wanted to paint, was a bad idea, and only served to 'stifle
creativity'. What in fact we wound up with, was several generations of
crippled painters, crippled art schools, and eventually a system of
crippled modern art museums to house their crippled work ... in my
opinion, of course. Heh.
Learn how to cut wood and build stretchers and mount canvas, and
prepare it, and make frames, and gild them ... as much as time and
circumstances will allow. Then learn how to unmount the canvases without
wrecking them, and how to store the work, both flat in boxes and
portfolios, and rolled up, the way people tell you that you should
n-e-v-e-r store canvases, and then remember to go back every month or
two and see what happens, if they are stuck together, or cracked, or
not. If you have read up sufficiently on what you can and can't do with
paint, you will still probably lose a few canvases over time, due to
error, but will have learned what to do with all those unsold paintings,
so that they will still be useful in the future, should you ever become
famous enough to attract buyers at some future date, for your 'early work'.
Pay attention to everything that your teachers (should you be in a
position to have teachers) have to say, but do not believe everything
they have to say. If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.
Remember, in this year 2001, the people who are teaching were themselves
educated in a school system that was steeped in the beliefs of the
'moderns', and by this, I do not mean the ideas of the actual painters
who developed modern art, but rather their followers, who made the
actions of a few painters, sculptors, etc., into a religion, with a
codified belief system, and who saw adherents to other methods of
painting as heretics to their cause. Having never met the man, I can
only guess that Picasso would have laughed in the faces of many who
followed him, allegedly in his footsteps. He did not break rules without
first showing himself to have mastered them, and was never a person to
smash an icon that he was not first capable of creating. Schools, and
art movements, create 'causes' and 'followers'. If that is what you
want, then go for it, but it does not necessarily have anything to do
with becoming a painter in the fine arts.
Pay attention to everything ... period. A facet of painting peculiar
to the fine arts is, that it has to do with everything ... and nothing ...
at the same time. Since painting in the fine arts, version 2001,
requires that the painter's vision be first and foremost, there must be
some sort of a personal vision, and paying attention to everything going
on around you, and accessible to you through electronic means, etc., is
a good developmental tool, in forming that vision. I do not believe that
painting simply 'beauty' or 'truth' or 'ennui' or 'cynicism' is enough,
although each of these, and myriad other facets of life, are all small
parts of the puzzle.
Speaking for myself, I cannot consciously determine
which things presented to me are relevant, and which are a waste of my
time, so what I do, is I just let it all wash over me, and then paint
whatever my instincts tell me to paint, at any particular moment. Often
what I paint seems pretty pointless to me, as far as the subjects that I
consciously think are important are concerned, but I go ahead with them
anyhow, because I can feel some sort of subliminal enthusiasm for them,
then, at that moment, and for lack of a better plan, I just follow my
nose, or gut, or any other part of my anatomy. It is sort of like ice
cream or potato chips to me, only less filling. I tell myself each time,
"This will be the last ... I will do just this one more painting
without reason, and then tomorrow I will start a new regimen, and become
a disciplined and self-directed painter, in tight and certain control of
my destiny." Heh. I do not think I will hold my breath, however,
waiting for that to happen. Once the unreasoned subject pops up in my
brain, and I follow it, there follows that very addictive burst of
enthusiasm that is the driving force behind my work. I may not have the
means to describe it here, with words, but those who have felt it,
probably know precisely what I am referring to. If you can grab hold of
that burst of energy, and hang on, the rest of the work will just happen for you.
Pay attention to anything. Nothing is too stupid to paint, as far as
the fine arts are concerned. In fact, choice of subject is probably
pretty insignificant, because whatever is chosen will most likely wind
up being a metaphor of some sort, for something else ... not that you,
the painter, will ever consciously know exactly what. One of the most
amazing affectations to afflict late 20th century painters was the
notion that things had to be 'explained'. I am thoroughly amused by much
of what I see: paintings with long pseudo-intellectual tomes written on
their behalf by the painter, gallery owner, museum curator, critic,
whoever; incomprehensible 'Artspeak' gibberish, with plenty of words
like problematic, struggle, pathos, ennui, analysis, psychosocial, the
list goes on. If this stuff is genuinely not intended to just baffle the
reader, then it is at least doing a fine job of baffling the writer. I
think that some of the most important things, the most really
significant things, that anyone might possibly have to say about a
painting, can be said in plain and clearly understandable everyday
words. The rest is tripe. Paint anything you like, in any style you
like, as well as you can, and go easy on the explanations, because if
the painting can't be understood non-verbally, words aren't going to save it.
Try to improve your skill set
Don't worry too greatly about things like composition, choice of
colour, subject, style, etc. Just try to improve your skill set, and
while you are not watching, these global aspects will develop on their
own. Painting is much like driving in this respect. You learn the
basics, and the rest is just practice; you get really good at it (or as
good as you are going to be able to get) through doing. People will
invariably tell you what you are doing wrong, and what you should be
doing instead. None of them have the faintest idea what they are talking
about, even if they themselves are very fine, or very famous, painters.
If they did know what they were talking about, they would not be telling
you this, because they would know that the most any painter can ever
know, is what is right for themselves, but never for another painter, at
least not in the fine arts ... at least not in the areas being discussed
in this paragraph. If the paint is flaking off your canvases, on the
other hand, and they are telling you how to resolve that, maybe you had better listen.
Paint every day, or as near to every day as possible. Learn to paint
quickly at first. Since your skill is limited in the beginning, spending
a lot of time on a single painting probably will not get you anywhere.
Skip the details, and try to get the big picture roughed in, then chase
down the details as much as your level of competence will allow, and
then, when you think you can get it just a little ... bit ... better ... stop.
Possibly the most valuable lesson I have learned since beginning to
paint, is to quit while I am ahead. Never finish a painting. When it is
almost done, sign it, and set it to dry. Painting is after all, most
especially in the fine arts, a process. No single painting ever made a
person's career. You are probably going to paint until you die anyhow,
so what's the hurry? By quitting just as your level of incompetence is
being approached, you will screw up far fewer canvases, thus having much
more presentable work to pack away in cases (and occasionally sell) during your lifetime.
And in closing, take your work seriously ... but not yourself.
.
In postscript, I would like to add that any 21st century painter
should not overlook the possibilities inherent in the computer. One of
my good painter-acquaintances online is a quadriplegic, and does mouth
painting using a computer, and graphics program. One day he informed me
that it was indeed possible to get to that 'better place', where painters
go when they're working, using computer graphics. I immediately went
out and bought a tablet and pen. It will take me some practice to
master, and will surely never take the place of my easel as long as I
have the strength to stand before it, but when he said 'better place', I
knew that there could not be all that great a difference between an
easel and a computer, if they both lead a person's soul to the same,
'better place'.
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