No, really. I'm not saying I'm fine with my painting being juried out of a show because I want to save face or save my friends from feeling that they need to call me up and say something cheery - I really am fine with the jurors' decision. It's theirs, and I respect it as I do my own decisions.
Two years ago, On Calm Reflection was juried out of the same show. A short time later (well, a year seems like a short time to me, so I won't attempt to count the weeks), I was exhibiting it in another gallery, and the owner bought it. (Sandie, I hope the match will always be happy!) Which only goes to show you never can tell.
There are a good number of reasons for being juried out of a show. When more work is submitted than can fit in the gallery, a high percentage of it has to be culled. This gives the jurors a chance to develop a thematic approach to the show, choosing works that harmonize in color, texture or theme. So, one reason art can get rejected is because it doesn't flow with the theme that's developing.
Or, because of technical weaknesses. Or unoriginality. Or, maybe the jurors just don't care for it. Which is also ok. And which I find quite liberating - because the statement also applies to me: my opinions are valid, too. I'm going to share some with you, but don't mistake them for a lecture - I'm anybody, and your opinions are as much yours as mine are mine.
As a twenty-something student, I visited the museums in New York, Paris, London, Madrid, always in awe of the groundbreaking, historic work I saw in these places. Some of it thrilled me. Some of it I didn't understand. I knew I would learn more and hopefully come to understand it later. The deficit was always mine. I didn't think of giving myself permission to simply dislike something, or disagree with the curator as to its significance.
Friday night John and my fifty-something self went to the Portland Museum of Art. I wanted to see the Frederick Lynch exhibit - which we both loved, as it turned out. Google him. His art incorporates fractal geometry and handmade texture in sublime balance.
While we were there, we also browsed some of the other exhibits. There were some Mapplethorpe photographs, beautiful black and white studies, technically superb. Of course I was reminded of his controversial stuff - the photograph of the cross suspended upside down in urine was my introduction to his work. When was that - back in the 80s? At the time I was young enough to discount my personal feelings, which included revulsion - I'd learn to understand it if I studied hard enough.
My opinion today is that his beautiful work is not particularly memorable - it's just too beautiful to really be extraordinary. His cross-in-urine photograph may be his strongest image - it forces a visceral reaction (from all but the most self-effacing ascetics - they never appreciate art - LOL!) - but I don't like it. Because it's icky, and disrepectful, and when I think of it my nose wrinkles up and I remember the atmosphere in too many unsavory train stations. I don't feel the need to have that particular reaction forced.
We also saw a Matisse seascape that I thought was rather bad. Part of a great body of work, assuredly, because it was a Matisse, but it was half-assed. I imagine Matisse admired economy of expression: I do, too. To me a good smear is a much more realistic representation of a tree than a trunk and a bunch of leaves and branches - just as a concise metaphor is so much better than a long dissertation... oh, what am I doing blogging??
I can see that when I am slightly older and grumpier I'll need to be on guard against making pithy pronouncements without enough forethought. OK, I could start watching out for that now. I think it happened to Uncle Henri the day he painted that seascape. I also imagine the breeze was pretty brisk up on the bluff where he was, and his eyes got dry and squinty, and his fingers ached and a drink at the pub sounded like an excellent idea - and that's what may have become of this particular painting.
Just my opinion, for what it's worth.
On Calm Reflection. 20x20" on panel. 2007
No comments:
Post a Comment