Peeks and Piques!
Representational
Art
By
RAYMOND J. STEINER
ART TIMES May 2007
REPRESENTATIONAL
PAINTERS have long struggled with the difficulty of presenting 3-dimensional
objects on 2-dimensional surfaces. A host of techniques have been discovered
and passed down — “tricks”, if you will, of the trade — that
bring about the illusion of “reality” to appear as if by magic under the
skillful use of pencil, pen, charcoal, pastel stick, conté crayon, or
brush. A Dürer drawing of a rabbit, an Ingres nude, a Chardin vase, or
a Venetian vista by Canaletto, for example, “fool” the eye into accepting
them as tangible “in-the-round” objects or scenes. Largely sloughed off
as pure and simple “gimmickry” by those strictly adhering to modernist
theories of “pure” art, the fact remains that trained draftsmanship —
the common term for representation — is still a skill beloved by
many artists and one that continues to elicit admiration on the part of
a great many viewers of art. A well-rendered still life, a recognizable
human likeness, a believable city- or landscape, is still able to halt
the gallery-goer or Museum muser for a closer look and, more often than
not, a silent sigh of satisfaction. The satisfaction, I fully believe,
is warranted. Until and unless one actually attempts verisimilitude in
reproducing a 3-dimensional world in a 2-dimensional format, it is simply
too easy to pass if off as a negligible accomplishment on the part of
the representational artist. Capturing even the relatively simple shape
of a hen’s egg in a drawing or painting can prove to be a daunting task.
Try it! When one moves from objects to, say, street scenes or landscapes
the task is compounded a hundred- or a thousand-fold (because objects
are multiplied, of course). Furthermore, a bowl is a relatively static
form — a human face, less so, but still maintaining a continuity
of features over a period of time. Street scenes, however, like natural
vistas, are almost in constant flux—one might create a plausible
“likeness” of a given neighborhood with certain buildings, street signs,
and streets or some rural scene containing landmark natural features such
as trees, lakes, hills, or streams — but they can only approximate
what actually lies before one’s eyes. An amateur but avid landscape painter
myself, I am fully aware of the hazards of trying to paint a recognizable
piece of nearby countryside. Like many of my fellow plein air artistes,
I fudge, of course. There is a famous story of Camille Pissarro being
questioned by an on-looking peasant as to why he had painted three trees
on his canvas when, in fact, there were only two in front of him. “Look
behind you,” said Pissarro. His “fudge” was to place the tree where he
wanted it in the interest of making a more pleasing composition —
a practice that all artists are familiar with. You are, after all, making
a painting and not shooting a photograph. Moving an entire tree, however,
is merely a more obvious “trick” that landscape artists have learnt over
the years. Though a distinctively-shaped mountain might demand some precision
in draftsmanship, it is well-nigh impossible, for example, to reproduce
every branch, every leaf, every stem — so “tricks” of suggestive
leaf-filled limbs or open fields of grass are employed. A slice of living
nature, in any event, is never an easy subject, no matter how accomplished
the landscape painter. My own bugaboo is the very season we now find ourselves
just entering. Carting my Julien easel and colors out in the merry, merry
months of April, May and June most often end up for me in an acute case
of frustration. Although I love to paint a snowed-in field with an ice-fringed
stream running through it, an autumnal vista, or a summer, sun-drenched
forest-floor, the idea of competing with Nature while it is itself in
a full-fledged creative explosion of burgeoning life, almost always immediately
drives me indoors with my tail between my legs to turn to my real work
— writing! So, whatever you may think about representational art,
please just remember this — it ain’t as easy as some masters are
able to make it look — or as some of its detractors might want you
to believe. A few minutes with a pencil and paper in front of that deceptively
simple egg could just prove my point.
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