Skip to main content

Good girl produces (good) art

This week I watched the final episode of “Work of Art: The Next Great Artist” on the Bravo channel. Normally I dislike competitive reality shows, but I’ve enjoyed watching these 14 artists compete for $100,000 cash and a solo show in the Brooklyn Museum of Art.

Because I love art but have no formal training, this show gives me insight into the current criteria for what is “good.” Each week a panel of judges brutally tells the artists what they liked and didn’t like about their work. Here’s what I’ve learned.
Good art can be:
about the materials
about skill
about the subject
about the viewer's reaction

The other day I kicked off a new piece of my own art. For several years, I’ve been recreating famous paintings by using torn paper. I project the image onto the canvas to get the main shapes just right and then carefully study the original to fill in the details. Sometimes I recreate the entire painting, but most frequently, just a part of it.

Here is the original I am copying – Princess Hyacinth by Alphonse Mucha.

Here is my progress, so far. I just have two days’ work done on it.

A few times, I've used the same materials (paint and paper), scale (jumbo), and technique (torn paper on canvas) to create my own subjects. For example, recently I collaged a garden rose, currently for sale at the Phoenix Village Art Center.

A professional artist once told me that my best work was this quirky, little, white shadow box thing. I don’t even know what to call it. It is something I never show to people (well, it does light up, so it draws attention to itself!).

Inspired by a book I'd read called, “Time Off for Good Behavior,” this blonde-headed doll from the dollar store was painted gold and tied down with wire, to keep her from being good all the time. 

I placed her in a wooden box with a short string of mini Christmas lights. 

Then I wrote down short phrases from the book that reminded me of myself (in a bad way) and using beeswax instead of glue, affixed them to the wide, flat frame.

I created this good-girl-in-a-box as a sort of therapy. I was really tired of being good all the time. I realize now that this looks like a sexy bondage thing; it wasn't meant to (although believe me, being good is a sort of bondage).

All I can say about all this is that I hope I live a really long life. There is much to learn about the things that interest me, art being among the most important.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Holy cow, it’s costmary!

Recently while helping my sister, Kit, move to a new house, we found an inte res ting old bible belonging to “V. H. Reinhart” in the bottom of a moldy old box. I’d never seen a bible like it. The left-hand column is written in German and the right, in English. Victor H. Reinhart, born in 1885, was the father of my step father, Wilbur Reinhart, and I knew from oral family history that he was a Mennonite minister. Inside the bible we found a single, brittle, pale green leaf and immediately recognized it. I said, “Holy cow, it’s costmary!” (Tanacetum balsamita also Chrysanthemum balsamita)  Because I’m passionate about both genealogy and herb gardening, this discovery was a bit like taking a beautiful old painting to the Antiques Roadshow and finding a signed copy of the Declaration of Independence behind it. Costmary’s (now obsolete) common name is “bible leaf,” having been used as an aromatic bookmark since the time when a bible was likely the only book in the house. The volat...

Genealogy: it’s about connection

Each one of us has two parents, four grandparents, and eight great-grandparents. For every generation you go back, the number of people who procreated, to eventually make you, doubles. When I first started out on my genealogy journey, these numbers astounded me, and still do. I love to think about my DNA stew. It feeds my soul. Playing with numbers Let’s assume each generation makes a baby at age thirty. Perhaps the age should be 16, 18, 20, or 25, but whatever, I picked 30 for this exercise. After all, in the past, people started having children earlier than today, but they also bore many more children and did so over a period of 10, or even 20, years. Stick with me for this simplified and fictional example: For a child born in 1960, there were two parents who were born about 1930. The baby’s four grandparents were born about 1900. The baby’s eight great-grandparents were born in 1870. (You see, I'm doubling the number of grandparents and going back 30 years at the same time....

Retirement lasagna

So far I don’t like retirement. I keep thinking of a well-known Hemingway short story called Hills like White Elephants . In it the main characters listlessly tour Spain .  She points out to He, “That’s all we do, isn't it -- look at things and try new drinks?”  For me, like for the woman in the story, “everything tastes of licorice.” What I mean is that everything is nice, but there is a sameness to it. I feel like an uninte res ted tourist, passively observing my own life. It’s only been a few months, but most days I’m watching the clock by 9 a.m . The wash is done, the spices are alphabetized, and the house plants watered and pinched to perfection.  I hate this. So around  noon  I start thinking, I could make a nice lasagna for our son, for one of our nieces, for an elderly neighbor … a nice lasagna for somebody. Maybe I could make a nice lasagna and simply freeze it?  It's pathetic. It turns out that work is my dream retirement...