Christmas Ornament. Photograph, 5 x 7 in. Copyright 2007, Tania Nault.
I usually hit delete reflexively whenever I get one of these sort of “tell us more about you” e-mail survey things from my family (right, sis’?) or friends, but this time I read it on Maggie Stiefvater’s blog so if the big kids are doing it, that must mean it’s cool, right? Right?
1. Wrapping paper or gift bags? I’ve been using a combination of both and feeling pretty good about it, that is until I took Mack for a walk this morning. We went down the our back alley and the previously empty bins were simply stuffed to overflowing with Christmas wrapping paper of every colour and pattern. By the time I reached the end of the block I felt dirty somehow. Next year it’s bags… I might even get my daughter (who’s learning how to sew from her Granny) to teach me how to make a few from Christmas prints which are probably on sale right now…
2. Real tree or Artificial? A little of column A, a little of column B… this year (because the kids were at their dad’s for Christmas) I opted to use a lovely live poinsettia as our Christmas tree. So while it was a real plant, it was artificially our tree.
3. When do you put up the tree? Usually, about a week before Christmas. I realise that by average North American standards that places me firmly into the Grinch category, but my family traditionally put up our tree Christmas Eve and none of us grew up to be axe murderers, so I figure it all works out in the end.
4. When do you take the tree down? Usually when I can no longer hide behind the assumption others make that we’re celebrating Ukrainian Christmas.
5. Do you like egg nog? No, I refuse to consume custard posing as a beverage.
6. Favorite gift received as a child? A pyrograph kit. I could burn things and call it art! What could be cooler?!
7. Do you have a Nativity scene? No, I’m one of those secular types who seems to have forgotten the reason for the season.
8. Hardest person to buy for? My husband. Not because he’s picky, or ungracious, but because the thing he really deserves (1973 Corvette Stingray) is out of my price range. He makes it worse by loving everything I give him that isn’t a Corvette.
9. Easiest person to buy for? My kids. They make very clear Christmas lists, which is good, ’cause I’m pretty clueless.
10. Mail or email Christmas cards? Mail. Admittedly, however, this is my *gasp* first year sending Christmas cards. My 2007 New Year resolution was to send birthday, anniversary, and Christmas cards to family and friends. My 2008 resolution is to do it again.
11.Worst Christmas gift you ever received? A truely horrifying denim overall dress. All I could think when I saw it was, “Do you know me at all?” The answer, sadly, was “No.”
12. Favorite Christmas Movie? The Muppet Christmas Carol. I have a thing for Kermit.
13. When do you start shopping for Christmas? As soon as my kids have handed over their lists.
14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present? Yes, the denim dress was promptly shredded. Oh, you said recycled. Never mind.
15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Kocsonyas, which is a Hungarian head cheese. When I was a kid, after we’d opened our presents on Christmas morning, my sister and brother and I would go over to my Grandmother’s house to open presents there and Grandma would serve us “Christmas Kocsonyas.“ Ever since my Grandma passed away, my uncle makes it for us now, and I eat it, but it’s not the same.
16. Clear lights or colored on the tree? The “Christmas Poinsettia” branches couldn’t hold the lights, so no lights this year.
17. Favorite Christmas song? I’m not particularly musical, so I’m drawn to music for the lyrics more than the notes. And this year, I was taken with a new-to-me carol on CBC Radio One this season: “The Holly” (Rita McNeil’s version). The line “And the first tree of the green wood, it was the holly” that caught my ear. Maybe the possibility of an arboreal hierarchy appeals to me?
18. Travel at Christmas or stay home? We travel to our homes: my family from the Lestock area and my husband’s from the Nipiwan area.
19. Can you name all of Santa’s reindeers? Yes. I think people who sing “Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer” without singing the the introduction are the real Grinches.
20. Angel on the tree top or a star? Ditto the tree-topper this year. The “Christmas Poinsettia” did have a rather lovely bow, however.
21. Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning? Morning. I think opening presents on Christmas Eve is the definition of impatience, which I think should automatically put you on the naughty list.
22. Most annoying thing about this time of year? Thinking that a simple, 26 question quiz would only take 1o minutes to complete…
23. Favorite ornament theme or color? Hodge-podge of ornaments received as gifts, children’s school/craft projects.
24. Do you have a stocking? My family didn’t, but my husband’s family does, so it depends which home we’re at.
25 Favorite for Christmas dinner? Turkey. Because it gives me an excuse to make stuffing.
26. What do you want for Christmas this year? World Peace. Oh, sorry, for a second there I had a Miss Congeniality flashback there for a moment - watching a lot of “Peachtree” this holiday.
A few weeks ago, I came across fellow wildlife artist, Crista Forest’s blog post “Encourage or Discourage Young Artists?” where she talked about how many professional artists report having been discouraged from becoming an artist when they were young. Forest questioned the wisdom of well-meaning parents, teachers or guidance counsellors who tell artistically talented young people, “That’s nice, but you need a real job - you can always paint in your spare time.” I’d have to say my own experiences were largely similar. I know when I was in university I certainly didn’t tell my family I wanted to be an artist - I told them I was studying fine art and art history so I could teach. The post did get me thinking about other experiences I’ve had along this road and how similar or different my experiences have been compared to what I’ve heard/read about other artists.
One of the things that has caught my attention when talking to/reading about other wildlife artists is: of the number who have formal (university/college) art training how many of those say that, despite a life-long interest in drawing/painting animals, they were discouraged from making the sort of art which had inspired them in the first place in favour of non-animal subject matter in the fine art style de jour. One example is artist Debbie Edgers Sturges, who was interviewed in the Mar-Apr 2007 issue of Wildlife Art Magazine, and said, “In graduate school, they encouraged us to dig down deep into some very nasty places… I knew for my own mental health that wasn’t where I wanted to live. I knew where I’d be living; I’d be painting my loves - the outdoors and animals.” Another is artist Lori McNee Watson, interviewed in the Sept-Oct 2007 issue, who said of her university art experience that she, “found herself in conflict with professors who expressed a kind of contempt toward the traditional style… [she] sought to free herself from the the contemporary art box constructed by her academic advisors.” I know this to be true of my own university experience: one of my instructors was dead set against any animals appearing in my work, figures were fine with as long as I didn’t render them too tightly, but no animals allowed. It wasn’t until Marsha Kennedy agreed to act as my faculty supervisor that animals began to creep back into my work.
The artist who has spoken out most strongly (and articulately) about the subject of the attitude of the art establishment (of which fine art departments in universities and colleges are a large part) toward wildlife art is Robert Bateman. Bateman grew up birdwatching, watching nature and making drawings and paintings based on what he saw. It wasn’t until his adulthood that “real” university trained artists told him that representation was out, real art was done with “big brushes.” Bateman believes the art establishment has divided the art world into “Tought Art and Easy Art.” Tough Art is difficult to understand and requires the interpetation of the art establishment and that makes it real art; whereas, Easy Art is appreciated by average members of the public and that makes it decorative or illustration.
I don’t know what your university art experience was like, but I think the thing that bothered me the most about mine was this: in one breath I had art instructors encouraging me to work on projects and subjects that captured my imagination, to create work that drew on my own personal experiences and internal imagery, and then with the next breath tell me that using animals as my subject matter was unimaginative. If art is a work “exhibiting a human creative skill” (Oxford English Dictionary) then how can one limit what art is and how can a university, of all places, tell artists what subject matter can and cannot inspire them?
About a month ago, I went to a workshop entitled, “The Business Side of Art” at the Art Gallery of Regina. The facilitator was Karen Schoonover, the gallery curator/director, who said that, rather than the nuts and bolts of paperwork, etc. associated with the business side of art, her workshop would focus on the “game” of fine art and the role of both artists and public galleries in that game.
She went on to lay out the main points of the game:
- The gallery/art establishment views fine art as an academic/professional pursuit; asking the question: What art created today will be of future art historical significance?
- The value of a work of art is based almost entirely on the artist’s professional credentials: academic training, exhibition record, and has almost nothing to do with the actual work itself.
- Fine art is not a commodity, it is an intellectual property.
- The role of the public gallery is to collect, store and interpet these art historical artefacts for the public.
- The role of the artist is to tackle the “big ideas.”
The object of the fine art game then, is to be an artist of academic and professional note who creates works which stimulate/challenge the fine art community with the eventual goal of increasing the professional recognition of the artist and his/her work in the eyes of that community.
Our job as emerging artists is to decide whether our work was “craft” or “art.” And if you’re thinking, “well, that’s easy, craft is anything made out of popsicle sticks and construction paper and fine art is oil paint and charcoal drawings” then I refer you to point two above. In the fine art world: craft is mainly commercial, it’s creator is largely concerned with the final product and finding a buyer for the work; whereas art is mainly intellectual, it’s creator is largely concerned with the idea behind the piece and with finding an audience for the work. Therefore, if the art you make is made in the hopes someone will like it enough to buy it, it’s not “art” at all, but craft. However, if the art you make is an intellectual pursuit made in the hopes someone will notice it, it’s art.
Within an hour I felt as though I’d been shuttled back in time to my university days where the emphasis was not on the “what” or sometimes even the “how” but the “why.” And I wasn’t entirely comfortable with the trip.
Here’s the only way I can think of explaining how I feel about the subject of “fine art.” In addition to my Bachelor of Fine Arts, I also have a Bachelor of Arts in Art History and when I was in university, the National Gallery of Canada purchased Barnett Newman’s “Voice of Fire” for its permanent collection. To say that the Canadian public was upset by the $1.8 million price tag is something of an understatement. I quickly found myself in the strange position of defending the purchase to family and friends who decided that because I was studying art I must understand the purchase (I was in my second year). But defend it I did. When faced with the statement, “I could have done it with a paint roller and some masking tape.” My response was always the same: the average person, the average artist even, given the same paint and canvas would never have painted that painting. Only Barnett Newman, who was considering both the physical nature of paint on canvas and the metaphysical nature of humanity, could have painted that painting.
Having said that, I’m not fond of the painting. I understand and recognise it’s importance in art history. I admire the intellect who created it. But visually, it does nothing for me. And I think that’s crucial. I think that if visual art doesn’t stimulate me visually, then what’s the point? There’s no single subject (or idea for that matter) that’s going to appeal to every individual viewer. And if art is only about the idea, then what’s the point of an art gallery at all - why not simply publish the show catalogue, sans images, of course, and call yourself done? (And yes, I realise I could probably get a Canada Council Grant for that idea…) The people who come to me, don’t do it for a short story about their favourite animal, even though I could write one. They come to me for art, for a visual experience. And that’s the object of my game.
Prairie Gold: American Goldfinch. Scratchboard with acrylic inks, 10 x 8 in. Copyright 2007, Tania Nault.
As I went back and reviewed my original post, I realise that I never did credit the photographer who provided the reference of the goldfinch: katmystiry from www.morguefile.com My apologies!
I did decide to tone the lemony yellow down a bit with some raw sienna and I went back in to re-scratch the highlights across the feathers. I’m quite pleased with how this worked out in the end and once it’s been sealed, it’ll be handed over to it’s new owner.
I know it’s been a while, but I’m going to blame computer error (yes, that sounds ever so much better than user error…) but I have an update (well, I have several updates, actually, but I’m going to piece them out over the next few days).
Prairie Gold, Work in Progress. Scratchboard, 10 x 8 in. Copyright 2007, Tania Nault.
I’ve got all the scratching done on this I’m gonna do before I add colour. And yes, in case you’re wondering, I did scratch around all the musical notes, etc. for the music to “Oh Holy Night.” I had played around with some ideas for a background, but in the end, decided to leave it as it - after all, this is something of an allegorical work - the elements are stand-ins for other things.
I’m a little worried about adding colour to this one: all my photo references of American Goldfinches (well, at least the males in their breeding plumage) show very bright little birds. Like lemons with barcode stickers attached to them. What I’m wondering is if against that black background it might end up looking unnaturally bright? Yes, in a completely contrived set up, with the bird and the book actually symbolising something else entirely, I’m worried that the bird’s colour might look unnatural. That’d actually be funny right now if it wasn’t so important to me that this looked good.
