Folk + Abstraction: Core Aims

For a long time, I’ve been fascinated with the overlap between folk art and abstraction, and so here comes a New York exhibit I’d love to visit: Approaching Abstraction, at the American Folk Art Museum. There are many stereotypes about what folk art is, or where it comes from, but at the same time, the definition really encompasses an impressively wide spectrum: everything from Pennsylvania German, my personal favorite, to Mexican "outsider"collage, and all stops in-between.

The question I’m most interested in however, is: why abstraction? The answer can often come too easily. By nature of the work being by the “folk” or the common person, this often is meant as “untrained”. And academically speaking, this is often true – but not always. And here I think a key statement can be made: abstraction in folk art, being a step farther past the normal stylization, must have another impetus. I believe that “step farther” could be called core aim. I mean this in the sense which caused medieval artists to be almost wholly unconcerned about scientific perspective (vanishing point, etc.), only to have Renaissance artists pick up the very same principle and crown it king not long after: core aim. That is, what was the prevailing sentiment among artists of that particular time, culture or persuasion? What did they care enough about, to be picky about? And for folk artists, ignoring verisimilitude is not simply a necessity (i.e. something they couldn’t do), it’s that it didn’t really matter that much to them – it wasn’t their core aim. 

Now, as opposed to Abstract Expressionism, or even Color Field painting, abstraction was not so much a cause or a maxim, but simply a by-product. Thus the great inspiration of folk art to subsequent Modernists (the most famous example being African artifacts to Picasso, Matisse, Rouault, etc.) The Modernists and later artists picked up on the aesthetics of abstraction; saw its potential as a rallying cry and possibly an egalitarian tool, and they crowned it king, after overthrowing perspective. And that by-product of folk art, abstraction, seemingly emerged from certain limitations on the folk artist: training being one, but others being material limitations; narrow cultural beliefs, forms or distinctions, and of course time. Folk art in many cases was purely a sideline as far as commerce went; very little money was likely made. It was decorative; memorial/commemorative; life-affirming.

In my own work, I feel like those two core aims – that of a rallying call and egalitarian tool of the “high” abstraction and the formerly mentioned aims of folk art – come together. I am excited to see if this new exhibit sheds any more light on what that might mean for not only my work as it moves forward, but for artistic expressions writ large. 

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Amphibious Painter's Tape

On many of my paintings, as you can make out if you look carefully, I use techniques and tools such as templates; stencils; compasses; scribing, etc. Another technique and material I use frequently is taping-off edges, borders, grids and lines. Much of this penchant comes from my interest in finding a balance between the effort towards "perfection", and the human errors (or "happy accidents") that result from pushing the painterly envelope. I'm also interested in traditional Pennsylvania German, and other folk-expression's techniques for decorative painting, but I'll let that topic for another post...


For years, I used a brown paper-based tape, with a low-tack adhesive on half the tape...this created, in my non-rigorous testings, the best edge. Unfortunately, I have only been able to find it at one local store, and that is in my old neighborhood. Your run-of-the-mill blue painter's tape had too much tack -- even the low-tack tape -- and it required sticking it to your sweater or jeans a few times, so as not to pull off layers of paint. That being said, I often used blue tape, since it was the easiest thing to find.


And then came along Frog Tape. I receive a weekly email on DIY home repair...and the writer often mentions products that he finds to be useful and superior...one week he mentioned Frog Tape, and I was intrigued. Up to that point, I'd not seen it in stores yet. Soon thereafter, though, Lowe's began carrying it, and I was tempted...despite the higher price. Well, I have to say, it's worth the extra price, now that I've tried it. It utilizes a "paint-blocking" technology which essentially soaks up excess water found in latex paint (my usual material of choice) and prevents it from seeping through, which is when it carries suspended pigment through, and makes an annoying feathered edge.


This morning at the studio I used it over a well-cured latex coat, over which a spray-painted grid had been applied...I taped off the lines I wanted, and scuff-sanded the spray paint to aid in adhesion. The green paint I used was fairly low-viscosity (I often up the water content in my latex paints to aid in flow). So, I applied the tape, painted the shapes, let it dry, pulled it off about an hour later, and voila! Nary a seep...except where I'd not pushed the tape down hard enough against an edge; that was all me. Happiness!


So...I would normally never endorse a product unless (like good ol' Paul Harvey) I used it myself. Well, I'm here to say, it's a fine product, and I will keep using it. Try it out; I'd be curious to hear if anyone else has experience with Frog Tape.


(By the way; the name? I'm guessing they are referencing how a frog drinks (takes in water): through its skin.)

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Art Thoughts, Week 24 -- Hals and Mortality

(Dear readers; this essay was to appear Friday afternoon; unfortunately the internet was down all that day, so you're getting it late. This week will supply another installment however.)

Dutch Burgher, Frans Hals, Dutch (c. 1580—1666), 1643, oil on canvas, BF 262.

Eyes are difficult to paint accurately; take it from someone who has tried, and often failed. The eyes (and even more so the eye socket) have so many thin strands of varied strata; such numerous tone and color changes – not to mention being known as “windows to the soul” – that they are likely the hardest thing on a human to paint. Nevertheless, Hals has painted a pair of extremely engaging eyes; dark eyes that are at turn inviting, comforting, imploring.

The eyes are also where the viewer’s eyes are first drawn to in a portrait. Any divergence from this tendency indicates a Herculean effort on the portrait painter’s part – it’s just too natural. Our own primary mode of gathering information is highly magnetized towards portrayals of another’s same portals. Depending on the met gaze’s intensity, focus, aloofness or even intimidation, we may quickly turn away, but the eye is still an enormous draw in art, especially in portraits.

And this is a portrait – but of whom exactly has been lost. Quite possibly, Hals was paid by this Dutch burgher (Dutch citizen) to have his portrait done. Even though we’ve lost his name, there are many more things (and most of them more important) to be learned about him. After the eyes, other features become noticeable: the gently rakish angle of his hat sitting on a slightly tilted head, and how that angle plays with his emerging arm below; the coarse, painterly way Hals has depicted his beard hairs and hands like two little patches of Lucian Freud; the delicate lay of his gauzy collar. All this is interesting, and could command a separate essay. But the most obvious, and what exists as a parallel element to the intensity of his eyes, is his gold pocket watch. These two seem to be sidling up into a joint message. What of the imploring in his eyes and face may be found in the watch? What of the open and obviously-readable watch is related to his eyes?

There is a tradition in the painting of portraits called momento mori, where an object or element in the painting shares the message of sure mortality; of what Franklin called the only sure thing besides taxation. Eventually, the burgher might be saying to us, we all will die, you included; in fact, I’ve gone on before and want you to think seriously about this fact, reforming your life if necessary. Accordingly, in Pennsylvania German culture, the idea takes form in a more emboldening phrase: “O edel Herz, bedenk dein End” (O noble heart, consider your end).

Momento mori usually takes shape in one of several iconic objects: a candle; skull; wilting flower; clock and so on. Here the choice is interesting – a gold watch, such as only the wealthy could have afforded. With the intricacy and skill involved in hand-making such a diminutive timepiece, it’s clear that this burgher was a man of means. This risks clouding our reception of his message. Is he warning us of the deluding snare that riches may become, or is this blatant ostentatiousness clothed in a false morality? In other words, is he really concerned, or just showing off? Perhaps we should give his eyes the benefit of the doubt, and not be tempted to ascribe the gold watch too much persuasive clout. Let’s postulate the burgher had overcome the sirens of wealth in his lifetime, and is now reaching out through the fog with clarity; inviting us to live Socrate’s “considered life”.

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