A Servant of Two Masters
Charles Giuliano
Drawing Conclusions:
Works by Artist Critics
Curated by Judy Collischan
In addition to making works of art, Leonardo da Vinci was active as an inventor
and scientist. Michelangelo would have been famous for any one of his pursuits
as sculptor, painter or architect. He also wrote sonnets and penned remarkable
letters. Bernini designed a church for which he painted the murals, carved the
sculpture, and wrote the music for the dedication mass. This phenomenal diversity
of talent inspired the term Renaissance Man.
Through the ages there have always been those remarkable individuals. But parallel
to the notion of such genius is the more common idea of the dilettante—an
amteur who takes diletto (delight) in a pursuit. The dilettante is successful
in one medium or pursuit but dabbles in another. There is the Biblical concept
that one may not be the servant of two masters. That we will love one and ultimately
despise or abuse the other. This also entails the problem of conflict of interest.
That theme has been provocatively explored in a lively exhibition curated by
former museum director, Judy Collischan, at the New York Arts Gallery, 473 Broadway,
through July 31. She invited artist/critics and critic/artists to submit one
8×10” drawing and a single page, same dimensions, of text representative
of their published writing. More than 100 individuals responded with no apparent
jury. The result is an eclectic and dense installation. In three registers the
works and texts run around the room on three walls. For visitors it represents
a kind of treasure hunt to find the works and writings of the well known exhibitors
of whom there are an impressive number. There are many surprises both positive
and negative.
During the busy and upbeat opening my attention tended to focus more on the images
than the text. Of course, after first locating the position of my own work, a
single image of Saddam Hussein, from an ongoing portfolio project that was inspired
by and started with 9/11.
It was great fun meeting old friends and colleagues. All were anxious to point
out their works, and their dedication to the studio as well as the computer.
Mary Sherman, a friend and colleague from Boston, who is an important artist
as well as a superb writer, thought that the exhibition would make great material
for a book. She explained that she would like to really study the dense range
of writing and images. To make fine and subtle comparisons. It is, indeed, a
rich and fascinating subject that deserves further treatment. In this context,
we are confined to just a glimpse which provokes an interest in seeing the work
in greater and more representative depth.
But it is almost a taboo subject. It makes a lot of people in the art world nervous,
petty and vindictive. There is always the vulnerable aspect that the only reason
that the work gets shown is that the critic is “famous” and will somehow
be sympathetic to the gallery or curator that shows the work. It is an easy means
of getting attention and possible favors. But, for those very same reasons, it
is difficult for critics to have their studio work shown or taken seriously.
So it really works both ways. It can help to open doors and just as easily slam
them shut.
There is the more personal issue of focus of time and energy. One simply can’t
do it all. Or, most of us can’t. My friend Mary does, and I am always amazed
by that. In addition to creating, writing and teaching, she also is a member
of the Transcultural Exchange, which does ambitious international art projects.
And, on my own behalf, I would say that I devote almost all of my non-teaching
time to either making or writing about art. For a lot of us it is a 24/ 7 thing.
The real question is when are we not being creative. Like sleeping, watching
TV or hanging out with friends. This summer my down time has been spent watering
the gardens, swimming, or just driving around in the Berkshires.
But it wasn’t always like this. Most things in life are matters of chance.
I never wanted to be a critic, or even a writer. You may have heard this popular
proverb: Nobody says, when I grow up I want to be a critic. That just happens.
My parents, both physicians, sent me to Brandeis for pre med. Freshman year I
flunked chemistry, putting an end to the doctor thing, and got an A in a studio
class with Arthur Polonsky. That summer I got into a fist fight with my father
— a tough Sicilian — over my decision to major in art. It was a wound
from which he never recovered.
Later, when I told my brilliant mentor and professor, Creighton Gilbert, of my
intention to be an artist, he told me, “If you want to be an artist, study
art history.” At the time it seemed like very strange advice. But it would
come to shape my life and career. Brandeis had the unique idea that in the art
department one would major in studio and minor in art history. Art history students
were also required to take a number of studio classes. We came to have a sense
of the ideas, processes and materials of art. The education with phenomenal,
but in hindsight I think it was far stronger in art history than in the studio
program. It was the thinking process of art that later proved to be invaluable.
What I learned in the studio has long since been abandoned. For example, at that
time Brandeis did not offer courses in photography. I learned it on my own, along
with media and Photoshop. When it comes to making art, what you learn in school
is only the first step of a lifelong journey. It is the thinking, rather than
the materials and techniques, that prevails and sustains the ongoing process
of discovery and exploration. This is the vital lesson that is lost on most art
students.
During my stints as a visiting critic, graduate students often seem to be focused
entirely on theory and philosophy. For, me thinking about and making art have
never been about that. The art comes from the art. It is the observation and
immersion in the work itself that is the source.
In that sense, this exhibition of artist/critics/artists is hopeful and refreshing.
It is healthy that we are all coming out of the closet as practitioners of more
than one vocation. For far too long art writing has been dominated first by the
poets and later by the philosophers. The seduction of poets writing about art
is that the text reads well. The fascination with the moonlighting philosophers,
you know the names, is that it appears deep. Often so much so that you don’t
understand it. So, accordingly, it must be profound. And who has the command
of Kant of Derrida to challenge their ideas on their own turf? Just read some
of the letters in Art in America for examples of these professional conflicts.
But if you want to earn an MFA degree in America today, you damn well better
know your theory and philosophy. While it is good to be aware of the current
critical thinking, there is also much that is crushing and subversive about all
that. It is why so much art by emerging artists, each with their newly minted
MFA degree, is clever, smart but often lacking in guts, soul and humanity. It
is more about strategy than emotion.
So, this possible emergence of critics/artists/critics may be a healthy phenomenon.
The sensibility of the artist/critic may even find its way back into the art
schools and MFA programs. Perhaps.
But there have always been artist/critics. The first, arguably, was Giorgio Vasari
(1511-1574). In many ways he founded the field of art history. But he was also
an ambitious artist who was influenced by Michelangelo and Mannerism. The conventional
wisdom has been to read his Lives of the Artists, a great primary resource, and
to ignore his efforts as an artist. My esteemed colleague and friend, Dr. Liana
Cheney, would beg to differ. She is an authority on Vasari the artist.
In more recent time there was the example of Fairfield Porter. Who was known
in his lifetime for his writing and posthumously is more admired for his painting.
In the contemporary field, the artist Peter Plagens is the critic for Newsweek.
The artist, Peter Halley, has published an arts magazine. Donald Judd was admired
for his writing. And in the current NY show one will encounter works by the artists
Leon Golub, May Stevens, and Joyce Kozloff, to mention just a few, or such well
known critics as Ken Johnson, John Perreault, and Richard Kostelanetz. NYarts
publisher, Abraham Lubelski, is on the wall as is the curator Judy Collischan.
As to the works, well what can I say? Yes, there were some very strong pieces.
I particularly liked the drawing of an old Boston friend, now a New Yorker, David
Carbone. He has always been a Renaissance Man to me. But many works were little
more that doodles and scribbles. That’s OK too.
You are an artist if you think and say you are. What is the difference between
good art and bad art? Well, that’s another story. I’ll get back to
you on that. But I can say with conviction that being an artist makes me a better
critic and that being a critic gives me insight as an artist. How that equates
is not for me to say.
