June 21, 2016 – Modern art – is it love?

My painting in-progress. Funny how the under painting of the big eggplant is quite abstract. Reminds me what my artist friend Julia told me: it’s ALL abstract.

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Just after finishing last week’s post, I met my mom, my niece and her partner and went to the newly opened SF MOMA – the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. Leigh and Lena were here from Brooklyn, and visiting our MOMA was on their not-to be missed list. So off to the city we went.

The space holding the art is wonderful: staircases that narrow (or widen, depending upon your direction) are made of beautiful blonde wood. Mid-way there is an open area with a see-through catwalk that, if you look down, would give anybody with a fear of heights, the willies. And the restrooms are an all-out, full-color experience – especially on the 2nd and 7th floors. The new museum offers plenty to captivate. Except, for me, the art collection.

We saw just about all there was to see on 6 floors of galleries. And with very few exceptions, none of it – particularly the 2D art, the paintings – inspired me. There was nothing that evoked awe or wonder, nothing I’d call luminous or particularly beautiful. Nothing that brought me into the experience of being in a body, or caused me to feel much emotion. It all brought me right into my head (huh…that’s curious… really?) and left me there.

Georgia O’Keeffe – “Black Place” – 26″ x 30″ and “Jay Defeo – “The Veronica” – 132″ x 42″ (it’s huge)

There was one Georgia O’Keeffe abstract painting, that felt like rolling hills and – as Leigh pointed out – the webs between our fingers and toes – and another by an an artist new to me, Jay Defeo, that had me think of wings and feathers. Apart from these, I can’t recall anything that seemed to be inspired by organic shapes or patterns. My experience, was there was a near dearth of gentleness, of loveliness. There was one stiff sculpture of flowers up on the top floor – but they were sort of cartoonish and odd. Besides two blow-up plastic flowers – think pool toys – there were no other flowers in the whole place. Outside the 4th or 5th floor, however, there was a beautiful living wall of various green plants.

Modern art is described with terms such as abstract and conceptual – ideas that reside in the head – in the mind. And it includes movements such as surrealist, minimalist, cubist – in which the artist has taken leave of the world as it is. So what was I expecting?

Leigh went to art school in New York for a time and Lena’s father is a modern artist – she cut her teeth on it. They seemed to love the museum. They were completely absorbed in the artwork, knew many of the artists and were happy to see their favorites. On the way home in the car, we had a discussion about modern art, abstract art, my art. Leigh offered, that my art may head in that direction as it (and I) evolve. Many artists – iconic artists like Picasso, as well as artists I’ve encountered who are close to home, have taken this journey – from representational to abstract. Is it a given? I’m not at all sure. Our discussion brought me to a familiar place, whereby those who “get” and appreciate modern art have a point of view, that those who don’t, are missing something. Leigh and Lena weren’t dismissive of me or my experience, but others are – of this response to modern art.

I went searching online and found nothing substantive in the way of a discussion, that aligned with my experience. I did find plenty of what seemed to be thoughtless dismissal of modern art, by those who say something like “I could have done that” or “a little kid could do that.” These people are called ignorant. This seems to be the extent of the conversation.

Those of us who don’t get modern art, are told we lack context and history. We must know what was happening in the world at the time. We need to understand how these artists pushed out the edge of what is considered art, from the perspective of their time. I can and do appreciate all of this. But it’s still an intellectual exercise. Chuck Close’s monumental portraits are amazing to see, but I’m not moved by them.

I met an artist when I did Art Expo in New York. She was there on her own and we were staying in the same hotel. She joined my mom and I for dinner one night. We stayed in touch for a while afterwards. She paints abstract oils and was getting quite a bit of attention and having success with her art – at the time, we last talked several years ago. We talked on about abstract vs representational art. Seems I’ve been wanting to understand the draw to abstract art for a while. What she said was “it’s about impact.” Which, I took to mean that abstract art has more impact than what I do. I didn’t get it then and I still don’t.

The painting I dove into Tuesday last evening.

Last Tuesday I came home to work on my own art – painting a fuzzy background of an apple orchard – as I listened to opera – specifically, the melodrama of Puccini’s music. I wanted to be brought back into my heart, to feel. I was actually hungry for it. The point of art – for me – is to delight, to inspire, to console. I’m here to express the feminine, to make a case for beauty, to bring the viewers of my art, to a precious part of themselves that they either weren’t aware of or had lost contact with. And I’m compelled to show how what is here, right now, is worth capturing and elevating by painting it. This planet and our embodied experience of being alive, is what I mean to celebrate and uphold. I do this with light and color and with objects that we are familiar with. I have had more than one person – a stranger to me – at an art festival, be brought to tears when experiencing my art. There is emotion in it.

I did find affirmation in “The Master and His Emissary – The Divided Brain and the Making of the Western World.” In his book, Iain McGilchrist talks at length about modern art. He ties modernism to the left brain and its narrow focus and tendency to disconnect and see in parts, rather than holistically. It follows then, that our left-brain dominated culture would put a high value on it.

I am not arguing against modern art or with its being highly valued. There are certainly plenty of people who appreciate it. We are a culture that reveres progress, what’s new, what’s next and it seems that this is what is, so highly valued in the serious art world. Plus, if it’s startling or even shocking, all the better. To me, it at least almost always fails to connect me to my aliveness – even more, I can find it cold and disconnected. And this is what troubles me. I believe the larger problems of our time are all related to disconnection, from the planet, from each other, from parts of ourselves.

Iain McGilchrist says this: “We confuse novelty with newness. No one ever decided not to fall in love because it’s been done before, or because its expressions are banal. They are both as old as the hills and completely fresh in every case of genuine love.” Flowers, fruit, things we love, have been painted millions of times before, but never by this artist, who is living – who is alive – in this moment. Like falling in love, painting what we love is also as old as the hills – and I say, when it is genuine, it is just as fresh.

I’m compelled to paint what I love – it’s what fuels my work, my life. I’ve recently come to know that by doing that, it goes further, by painting what I love, I paint my love. Since my sense is we all need to be surrounded by a whole lot of art-love, I’m here to support you doing so too.

So, now, go – paint your love.

Love,

Cara