When Is the Artwork Finished?

Sat, 09 Jul 2011 10:38:00 US/Mountain

This has always been a popular question, almost as prevalent as, "What is Art?" Any intuitive answer would be that art is finished when the artist says it is. Unfortunately, this is not always clear to either the artist or the viewer. One of my old professors once gave me an interesting test for the success of the work. If you take any part out of the composition and the art still feels complete, then the artwork is probably not successful. In other words, every part of the work should be essential to the whole. Even the blank areas should be as important as the most detailed information. There is a delicate balance between figure/ ground, between detail and space, between success and failure.

The creative process is much like a balancing act. You begin with a blank canvas and add information to the composition. At some point, everything should feel balanced or complete. Then you push the creation. Make it communicate beyond that which could be ever conveyed with mere words. You have to take risks in this process. The risks will ultimately throw you off balance. At some point, the work loses its wholeness. Then your bring it back to balance, maybe with a little line here, or a little dab of paint there. This process works back and forward until it once again becomes stable or balanced. You take it a little further and lose the balance once again, with an good healthy dose of rule-breaking and visual innovation. Then you pull it back on balance. Ultimately, you have to decide when is enough. At what point does the balance have enough integrated risk, that it is neither safe or boring. If you stop too soon, you risk being passé. If you push it too far, you have an overworked or incoherent image.

Some artists say they are not concerned wth any rules. Let's break them all. This attitude is dangerously close to ignoring the important relationship between the artist and viewer. It could also be compared to a student/ teacher relationship. Can you still be a teacher if your classroom is empty? I would say no. Likewise, if your art had no audience, would you still be an artist. On this level, the art must communicate to someone. In answer to my earlier question, a work of art should feel finished at many plateaus of development. You have to exercise your individual temperament and decide which plateau is the best milestone for your skill level and fortitude. If the work still communicates, then you have sucessfully found a good stopping point. - Ralph Slatton

Overcoming Artistic Block

Fri, 01 Jul 2011 19:52:00 US/Mountain

If you are the creative type, at one time or another you have experienced a lack of energy to do something new. Speaking as a visual artist, this is all too prevalent of a problem. Although we think of it as problematic, it is a natural process of creative growth. Artists desire to go beyond earlier successes. This is not an easy growing pain, as it must be overcome with each passing year of your career. There are many reasons we fall into a stagnant rut. Sometimes we fear success. Sometimes we fear the lack of success. Perhaps, we are perfectionists and refuse to work unless our attempts are error free. This feeling walks hand in hand with procrastination. Have you ever noticed that the task becomes larger when we push it to tomorrow’s agenda? The reason for this is that we expect more from ourselves, because we have given ourselves the maximum amount of prep time, yet absolutely no work time.

Over the years, I have learned some tricks toward breaking through the brick wall. First, you have to convince yourself that it is not a lack of creativity that keeps you from doing your best. You still are the same creative person. The only difference is that you forgot how to let yourself experiment, even though the work may be inferior to your best work. We have to give ourselves permission to do non-show pieces, or room to experiment even when it leads to dead ends. The sum total of all our failures build the foundation of our life’s greatest work. This is why we have sketchbooks and studio walls. This is where we hang our dead horses and reflect on how we can make them better.
Another tip toward creating new work is to break the task into smaller jobs. If you want to create a mural, perhaps the first thing is do the research and gather source materials about your subject matter. You may need to research other artists’ work and even sketch out their ideas. The second task may be to gather all your materials, like plaster, or paints, etc. These may sound like trivial activities, but it forces you to confront the task at hand, rather than procrastinating. When you begin the creation, don’t be discouraged that some aspects of the image are imperfect.

Art should be a process of discovery, as well as a process of fixing what is wrong. Correct as much as you can, but know that any product is ultimately a success. Whenever an artist is still working, no matter how terrible the outcome, believe me when I say that you are a success. You’d be surprised how many people will praise your work, even if you can see all its imaginary flaws. I am a firm believer that an artist is ultimately judged not by one work, but rather a life’s effort.

Choosing an Academic Career in Fine Art

Sun, 08 May 2011 11:09:00 US/Mountain

For those who enjoy flexible work hours and prefer a creative field of employment, the career of art professor has few rivals. The salary for an art professor is usually lower than the other university fields. The amount varies quite a bit, depending on the number of years employed, the size school and its location. To give a rough salary range for 2010-2011, Payscale.com lists an average salary for M.F.A. degreed employees at Yale University to be about 50-70K. I believe this is about 12K less in my state of Tennessee.

Generally, the art professor teaches three studio courses, usually a fundamentals course such as drawing or design, an introductory sophomore course in one’s area of expertise, and lastly, an advanced course for intermediate and senior students. This equates to twelve hours per week of actual teaching. Although this may seem like a very light work load, we must not forget to include the many hidden hours that are required of the job. Time must be spent with independent study students, graduate students, graduation committee work, personal creative research, advisement, prep time for classes, participation with social and community functions, and maintenance of the studios.

In addition, faculty, who have not earned their full professor or tenured status, must also set aside time to work on a professional dossier. The dossier is a thick binder, documenting all the contributions to the areas of teaching, research, and service. Each line in the dossier may equate to days or months of work in areas such as creating and exhibiting art, working on a research projects, or serving on departmental or university committees

At the end of the day, the university art professor does a huge amount of work, just to meet the bare essentials of the job. Fortunately, most of this activity is self managed, and has much flexibility on how and when it is completed. Another attractive feature is that university teaching is usually on a nine month contract, leaving summers and holidays open to special projects, workshops, or travel.

Now that we’ve looked at the duties of an art professor, let us explore the preparatory steps in acquiring this position. First, you need to have a proficiency in a particular area of art. Most employment descriptions require a candidate to complete their B.A. or B.F.A. studio degree, followed by the M.F.A. degree. These degree programs can take from six to eight years, in total.

The job market for a faculty position is quite competitive. It is not unusual for a typical search to contain over 300 applicants. Beyond the fact that you must have exceptional work, much can be done to overcome these odds. If possible, it is desirable to have skills in more than one studio discipline. Some popular skill areas include, digital media, drawing, and foundations. It is also essential to develop a strong vitae which contains competitive group and solo exhibitions. Although difficult, much of this work can be done while still in graduate school.

The single most important factor to rising above the competition is to demonstrate teaching experience. This seems to be a conundrum, especially for the new graduate, who might only have experience as a teaching assistant. Many candidates overcome this obstacle by taking an extra year or two after graduation and apply for adjunct teaching or artist residencies.

Once you feel ready to apply, here are a few resources for finding positions: http://www.academiccareers.com/ http://careercenter.collegeart.org/search.cfm

The Appropriate Medium

Sat, 26 Mar 2011 12:43:00 US/Mountain

This entry is for artists who enjoy an obsessive relationship with process in their art making. Although many artists enjoy a range of materials, at some time they may decide on the one that best responds to their personality and purpose. My personal choice happens to be printmaking and I will discuss some of the reasons for my decision.

First, let me give a little background of what we mean by printmaking, but more specifically my area of intaglio. Essentially, intaglio means, “to carve into.” It is a process which scratches, engraves, or etches beneath the surface of a matrix. The matrix is typically a metal plate, usually copper or zinc. The plate is inked and its surface wiped clean with a special cloth called, tarlatan. The ink remaining inside the lines are printed on moist paper, resulting in the finished artwork.

At times, I share a love/hate relationship with technology. However, my love is with older technologies, like gear driven machines and printing presses. I enjoy restoring old presses and working with the fine tools of the craft. They give me heritage with the old print masters, who used basically the same techniques as today’s traditional printmakers. I like the tedium involved in sharpening tools and the act of extracting an image from a metal plate. It is this kinship with the past that gives me special pleasure in printmaking.

The temperament of the artist is an important consideration in printmaking. The one aspect that is most appealing is devoting much time to a single endeavor. For me, the process is as much a part of the art as the product. It takes a certain craftsman mentality to sustain the energy to work many hours on a single print. The product goes through rigorous stages of alteration before all the problems are resolved. There is an interesting contrast between the indirect sides of printmaking, versus the spontaneous approach. For example, when I work on a plate, I am removed from the final image. Only the original idea guides the burin, not the original drawing. The drawings are not reproduced but are evolved from each stage of the plate’s development. When I first print my plate, I know that my image will only be an unfinished state or proof. Each proof is reworked to improve upon the image before it. In a sense, each printed image produces a new drawing, each with its own problems and successes. Only through successive printings and reworking, will I achieve an acceptable final image. This organic development is necessary; otherwise the final product will be rote and predictable.

Pressure is the other trait that is common to all intaglio prints. It holds strength of character, a presence that nothing can duplicate. It reveals a crispness and clarity that shouts its origin, and origin conceived in one single, powerful stroke. Roller against paper, against metal, ink is squeezed from the lines. The lines form raised black ridges, blacker than those from any pen or brush. The de-boss of the plate reveals the medium; the edges of metal speak printmaking.

What Scares You

Mon, 21 Feb 2011 23:47:00 US/Mountain

Which is more scary, a ghost at night or a ghost in the daylight. I am much more spooked by something unusual in the light of day. The imagination can run amok at night, bringing all our childhood monsters to play. Yet, strange occurrences during the light of day, far out weight those imaginations of the night. I suppose it has more to do with the subtle, psychological fears felt when the sun is high and the normal routines of life pervade our existence. There should be no reason for imagination to overtake us during those bright moments. However, if we notice something out the corner of our eye, some unusual movement, or some shadow that shouldn't be there, we know that our normal routine has been violated.

I saw on youtube a Japanese video of a little girl in front of a mirror. The girl turns around to face us, yet her reflection doesn't follow her movements. This is obviously a fake. However, I had thought of reflections as one of the ultimate horrors, long before this video ever aired. I used to imagine the possibility of our reflections making subtle movements that don't match our own. Real horror occurs not with a blatant movement like that of the girl in youtube, but rather, with a very small movement, maybe a flitter of our eyelash, or a slightly upturned edge of our lip.

One of my favorite film directors is Alfred Hitchcock. He also embraced the hidden subtleties that occur in horror genre. Unlike the so-called slasher movies that graphically exploit the horror of blood and gore, Hitchcock allowed the viewer's imagination to provide the element of terror. In his film, Psycho, the shower scene depicts the murder of Janet Leigh's character. There was no need to show the knife piercing flesh. Hitchcock merely suggested it by the eerie thrusting music, a rhythmic swinging of Norman's knife, and shots of the blood that pooled in the bath drain. The scene culminated in a brilliant shot of the shower curtain, gradually popping off its rod, as it was grasped by the dying victim. Franklin D. Roosevelt summed it best, in his famous quote, "there is nothing to fear but fear itself." The best terror is that created by the human mind, under the glaring sun of mid day.

Credit:
Special credit is given to the student who drew the image on this post. Unfortunately, I do not remember the artist. If you happen to own this work and would like to receiver credit or have it removed, please contact me at ETSU. It was such a wonderful work that I had to use it for this post.
- Ralph Slatton

Point Singularity Problems in Cosmology by Ralph Slatton

Fri, 16 Jul 2010 15:06:00 US/Mountain

I was recently contemplating limitations. What a profound concept! According to my limited understanding of the Big Bang Theory, the universe sprang from an infinitely singular point and is still expanding. Wouldn't this imply a finite universe with boundaries. Past these boundaries is literally, "nothing." There is no space, there is no time, just "nothing." Its a kind of cage that holds in all the logic, all the equations, all our sense of reality. If we theoretically travelled to the very edge of that boundary, what would we see? Could we touch it? Would reality break down by just going near it? See what a cage I've built for myself? I used to feel free, but I'm not so sure anymore. - Prof. Slatton

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