Art Spirit

Any and all thoughts pertaining to the the nature and creation of Art.

Seeing Art

by DH

I see the world no longer as something separate from my mind.

After having been an artist for so many years, I now see the world as a living canvas connected to my sight and other senses. Every day when I look at nature around me, depending on the weather, my state of mind, or the natural sounds, the landscape transforms before my eyes and takes the form of a painting.

On windy days I might “see” the trees being beat about the atmosphere as Soutine painted his trees.

Walking down a city street the surrounding buildings begin to morph into a cubist arrangement of geometric design.

A chicken walking in a field on a stormy day becomes a torrent of motion and colour.

Wherever I am, whatever I am doing, nature becomes a painting. My thoughts are generated by colour, design, and texture.

Art never leaves me.

My Books Required Reading?

by DH

I was given a very nice compliment the other day. A person who I hardly know at all came up to me and told me that she had read my book, THE MUSE, and she thought it was so good that every Art student in every Art department in America ought to read it as a required reading assignment! I thought that was a very nice thing for her to say. I also think it’s a pretty good idea.

Painting a Memory

by DH

There is a recurring image that enters into my mind. Whether it is a memory from this life or one that came before I cannot be positive at this time. I’m sure it will come to me sooner or later. It is the vision of a large overstuffed chair with a flower print on it. The chair is sitting in a Victorian parlor and it is facing a window that has beautiful curtains pulled open to the light that is coming in from the outside. There is a large, wall-covering bookcase behind the chair and a beautiful wooden lamp table to one side of the window. The light coming in from the window has a golden, almost orange Glow to it that enters the room and permeates the air within the parlor so that every object in the room has a bit of that orange Glow tint to it. It is clearly late afternoon, perhaps 4 or 4:30 pm, and the Memory Glow has a real, physical warmth that I can actually feel even though the image is only a visionary moment in my mind.

There are several memory moments I experience now and then, wherein that orange Glow appears, representing the major feeling or sensation experienced by me in all of those memories. A field of hay in the late afternoon, horses in a distant pasture, a moment after a rainstorm—how do I describe this GLOW? The closest I can come is the painting “Harvest” by Maxfield Parrish. Take the coloration from that painting, lighten it a bit and place in a parlor setting. I have a strong desire to paint that Parlor Memory of mine, perhaps I will one day soon.

Who Is My Favorite Artist?

by DH

Recently someone asked me, “Who is your favorite artist?”

"The Bather" Pierre-August Renoir, 1887It is impossible for me to choose which ONE artist is my favorite artist, as I have MANY favorites. Picasso is certainly up there, as are Soutine, Monet, Matisse, Moses, Degas, Cezanne, Gauguin, Cassatt—too many to count.

There is, however, one in particular whom I have loved all my life without ever wavering. The other artists and I have had a few problems over the years—disagreements or differing opinions—but I have never had a problem with one of the very first artists I was introduced to as a child: Renoir. The guy just shouts out to me, “Be Happy!” Renoir’s paintings all have a sunny glow to them that I have never been able to reproduce, and his bright color treatment has a quality about it that is almost otherworldly. His subject matter is always simple and speaks to the world as an example of how the world SHOULD be and not how it has become. His still-life paintings are delightful, his seascapes sunny and inviting, his landscapes almost mystical, and his women are the way women ought to be, healthy, and shinning with an inner glow that has somehow been lost in our contemporary age.

My First Meeting of a REAL Artist

by DH

“It was in The Pit nearly two weeks ago that I met Frank Reed; the big, fantastic artist that I had seen walking around campus in faded blue jeans and matching jacket, looking as if he owned the world, because he knew that we knew that he had an Art Show somewhere in Europe. And he was right. We were all impressed with his swagger. We were impressed with everything about him, I more than anyone. I knew there was something more to this man than even what he was attempting to portray. I knew there was a depth to him, and that he had the Kunstwollen—the driving force of the Art Spirit—hanging like a halo around his head.”

From The Muse: Coming of age in 1968, page 4.

Creativity versus Inspiration

by DH

Cubist painting by PicassoWhen it comes to Creativity, we are not all created equal.

What makes someone like Picasso, or Van Gogh, or Beethoven stand out from the rest of the world? If we are all created with the urge to create, why can’t we all be as creative as Picasso or Beethoven? Why is the Art world filled with insipid, gimmicky nonsense? Why can the music world no longer exist without fireworks, amplifiers and ridiculous costumes to cover up for bad music that all sounds the same regardless of who is performing? Perhaps the issue is not the innate desire to create, but the inspiration that drives and shapes that desire.

True Inspiration leads to True Creativity

Art supposedly comes “from the soul,” but it is also driven by the physical brain. The brain is under continual assault by mass media, social media, advertising, and peer pressure. We are constantly being told what is important, what we should think, and what we should do. Current culture and societal fads have invaded our consciousness to the degree that the True Inspiration that directs True Creativity has been replaced by various formulae for the production of entertainments that will be most likely to lead to popularity and financial gain. Those who are inspired to create from the heart works of a higher value have been devalued in our society and marginalized. True works of Art have been replaced by the market-tested nonsense that overwhelms our consciousness by way of the various pervasive media. Is it any wonder that cultural artifacts – paintings, sculpture, music, literature – more than a decade old are considered irrelevant?

True Creativity will always be a part of what makes us human, but without True Inspiration, the produce will have no meaning or lasting value.

RAKU: More Than Just a Pot

by DH

A loaded raku kilnA piece of raku ware is more than just a piece of pottery. The pottery classes at Riverside City College in 1968  included (and probably still do) instruction in the making and firing of raku pottery. The pieces produced by each student accumulated over a period of time, and were carefully set aside. When the pieces were judged ready to be subjected to the rigors of the kiln, the focus shifted from  individual effort to communal celebration. A raku “firing” is a relatively short process, and one in which the artist is much more actively engaged than for other forms of pottery. The setting is almost like that of a bonfire, and like a bonfire, the atmosphere is both mystical and festive. It becomes the occasion of a party.

Raku: what goes into the pot

I remember a Raku party we art students once had at Riverside City College back in 1968. I made four pots. Two pots blew up in the kiln … two made it out. One really nice orange pot made it. It was fun. I loved going to the RCC art dept. at night. There was an atmosphere about it that I can’t explain. Very romantic … especially on warm nights. Always some students hanging out … firing pots … mixing clay … cleaning up the kilns and the pour spaces. Usually someone brought in a gallon of wine … almost always Red Mountain. There was a lot of laughter, and a lot of chit chat. The warmth of the night air mixed with the heat coming from the kiln. Made us all sweat and glisten in the outdoor lights. Kind of surreal really. Sort of a Mardi Gras atmosphere only with “products” being turned out on the side. Pots and sculptures that would sit on art students pine board and brick bookcases … looking really cool … serving no useful purpose … gathering dust … up to this very day.

The Spirit of the 1960s

by DH

The Spirit of the 1960sThe spirit of the 1960s continues to have a hold on our imagination. The youth and younger adults of today tend to romanticize it, and those of us who actually lived it often view it through the rosy lens of nostalgia. I suppose it is no different in that respect than any other past era.

Hippies, the anti-war movement, free love, the music, the drugs—those are just a few of the things that stand out as characteristic of the time and, depending on your point of view, represent some of the best and worst of the era. They do not, however, reflect a uniform experience or awareness of the people at the time. For instance, Woodstock was monumental at the time, but unless you were on the East Coast, you probably didn’t even hear about it until after the fact.

The TRUE Spirit of the 1960s

The 60’s were, indeed, a romantic time of experimentation and discovery, but the REAL and TRUE spirit of the 60’s is not to be found in the lives of rock stars, or in peaceful protests disrupted by violent agitators courting the ever more intrusive media. The REAL ROMANCE was found in the everyday lives of those who were simply and peacefully LIVING in an era that was generating an energy frequency different from any that had ever come before.

Some chose to distort that creative energy into the darker things that made up the bulk of the news of the day, while others quietly joined with the energy and rode along for a few years for their own personal journey of exploration and discovery.

I was one of these explorers, and The Muse is my story, going beyond the stereotype of the time to convey something of the nature of the romantic and creative energy that shaped my life.

Muse: Who is She?

by DH

Classical MuseIn Greek and Roman mythology, The Muses were the nine goddesses—daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne—who presided over the arts and sciences.

The concept of the Muse persists as “a woman, or a force personified as a woman, who is the source of inspiration for an artist.”

Maybe that is why some artists are able to produce work that has life and speaks to the hearts of others. As long as the Muse is present, the True Artist has the drive and ability to be creative. If there is no Muse, then the artist is just a hollow shell, and the work is dead.