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Friday, March 12, 2010

How much time can a single image represent?



I have always known this, but it is nice to be able to verbalize it and put it out there. Similar to the mantra that admitting something is the first step to recovery, I have been made aware that accessible art (in my own aesthetic language and experience) is just boring and I most likely will not be interested in it. Accessibility is a personal continuum. In essence, if I can figure it out quickly, it is as interesting as a shiny object: it can only hold my attention for a short period of time.

Perhaps thats one of the reasons why banal comedy holds my interest for all but two seconds. After the initial chuckle, I am done. So, what are the things that are able to hold my attention? That which allows for an experience (aesthetic), a thought (academic), and engages me in narrative.

Today was a fun day of art and aesthetic exploration. Looking at 18th Century works of Benjamin West, John Singleton Copley, and Jonathan Trumbull at the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston, I explored different genres from the highly regarded historical paintings, portraits, the "lower brow" landscapes, most of which explore narrative and character development. The portraits hold clues that tells a story about a person. Historical depictions capture a turning point in socio-political development, while dramatic landscapes evoke a sense of awe. The seascapes of William Turner (pictured above Sheerness as seen from the Nore, 1808), for example, explore the sublime which in "aesthetics, the sublime (from the Latin sublimis ([looking up from] under the lintel, high, lofty, elevated, exalted) is the quality of greatness or vast magnitude, whether physical, moral, intellectual, metaphysical, aesthetic, spiritual or artistic. The term especially refers to a greatness with which nothing else can be compared and which is beyond all possibility of calculation, measurement or imitation." However, I do believe this greatness is fleeting. Once we are exposed to something aesthetic, it has the power to loose its power. I call this a sublime aesthetic orgasm. We look for more.

Ever notice that the words sublime (elevated) and subliminal (unnoticed, below the surface) are related? One theory states it has to do with a threshold after which our response is unexpected and uncontrollable, whether aware or unaware. I diverge. Tangents are fun.

Most of these 18th century works employ and suggest narrative by what is included around the subject. Sometimes, they even imply different stages of the linear story line. I encountered an artist at Lawndale Art Center that attempts to do the exact opposite: juxtaposing time and narrative to create an interesting aesthetic image that attains what the artist affectionately calls gorgeousness. Chuck Ivy (pictured below Untitled Film Composite #24 from Tapeheads, 2009) questions "How much time can a single image represent?" The key to his questions lies in the semantics. He is not interested in the narrative aspect, but rather the passage of time's ability to create something sublime.

We are wired to find narrative in things. The challenge here is too look at the images without attempting to attach narrative values, but rather appreciate the abstract colors, shapes, composition, and depth.

Chuck Ivy's collection at Lawndale in partnership with Dan Havel "Dirty Secrets from the Cataract Cinema" is breathtaking, challenging, not readily accessible and holds my attention for a long time. Worth taking the time to explore.

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1 comment:

  1. Thanks for the write up! The opening was quite an experience, and I'm glad you enjoyed the show.

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