In a comment elsewhere, I said, “I am not much interested in technique any more. … Many other artists will always have better technique than me, but when people are walking by, which works make them stop, look, and say, ‘Wow?'”
Does technique really matter?
I often remember something a pianist friend of mine confessed. He said that for most of his career, the way he kept track of how well he was doing was by keeping a log of the number of hours practiced.
That, he said, was a catastrophic error. He should have been keeping count of only one thing: the number of concerts given.
As a painter, I could translate that to: Number of works sold for how much each.
The whole last century of art could be described as an anti technique reaction. When I look at those perfectly executed paintings of the nineteenth century with all those naked boys and girls thinly disguised as gods and goddesses preaching some insipid moral lesson, I am glad we don’t paint that way any more. Why does it matter at all how well you paint it if no one is interested in what you have to say?
What difference does it make how well you can play the piano if no is there to hear?
In another recent post, things got really nitty gritty technical. Regarding that technical stuff, Lisa Call commented, “For me this type of thinking is very left brain and analytical ‘I need to place this color next to that one and then X will happen if I also do Y and Z.’ But I find that my best work is made if I can shut off that part of my brain and just go with what feels right and not stress each small step.”
I thought that comment was revealing. I hope you don’t mind, Lisa, for bringing it up here again. It’s a succinct restatement of the paradox. Technical stuff means being all concerned about technique, but is that what makes art, art?
This post also appears on rexotica.
Rex, No problem I was thinking about bringing it up again as I think it got buried by all the technical talk about color. Which I do find interesting but I think for me all the technical stuff gets in the way of making great art when I enter the studio.
Did Sargent really sit down and worry about tone and chroma and warm vs. cool color or did he paint what he saw and felt and the result was just dead on? Some pieces are gifts – they just happen – everything clicks. This could have been one of those pieces for him.
Maybe his less successful work are the pieces where he tried hard to follow a recipe and in the end he completely missed his mark.
I’m very curious what other artists think about this and how they work.
When you work in your studio are you thinking about all of these technical details and analyzing each step (to me very left brain) – or do you clear your head of all the rules and just make the work you feel like making (very right brain)?
As to your main question – I don’t believe it is technique that makes art art.
But I also think that some mastery of the techniques is necessary so poor craftsmanship doesn’t distract the viewer. I don’t think perfection is necessary but I do think the impact of work that appears amateurish, due to poor craftsmanship, is diminished.
Lisa,
You said it all here:
Having technique means understanding why those “gift” pieces work having these options in the toolbox for future work. Look at the tent. It has a blue outline on top, which is critical to the color effect of the painting. This is probably an option from the tool box.
Gaining powerful technique is both a process of practice and of discovery. Whatever an artist’s technique level, there will always be “gift” pieces. This is why technique can always grow.
Having technique means having options and not having to worry about technique while working.
If an artist focuses on technique, they may do good work because their technique always develops. But there is more to it than that. Focusing on technique can be a way to free inhibition in other ways, to let subtle statements develop. Better to focus on technique, than to over-focus on, “What is my statement?”
However, if an artist uses a static technique and lacks any other aspect of developing or striving, then they are not in the game. The work will show this.
Rex asks, does technique matter? Lisa, does it matter that you quilt rather than fresco? Obviously. Art is the intersection of the practical and the sublime. You could call it “technique with heart”. Denying technique is only a way of focusing on certain techniques, not an escape from technique.
Looking back over my own development, I see that in younger days, I concentrated hard on developing skill for its own sake, but little by little it all started to shed away.
To take this to another form, the great swordsman, Miyamoto Musashi, recommended that the student should practice his basic cuts many ten thousands of times so that in battle, he need not think at all; he called this “no mind.” There was a scene in “The Last Samurai” where that theme was exploited.
Musashi said also that the student should study all styles. Then he should forget them.
He was also a brilliant painter.
I suppose there is represented my own philosophic ideal as regards art technique. I can highly recommend The Book of Five Rings.
“Skill without imagination is craftsmanship and gives us many useful objects such as wicker-work picnic baskets. Imagination without skill gives us modern art.”
-Tom Stoppard, Artist Descending a Staircase
Technique is necessary but not sufficient.
Technique is knowing how to drive the car. That’s not the hard part. The hard part is knowing where to go. But if you don’t know how to drive, you can’t get there, even if you know where you want to end up.
And, as my technical abilities improve, I’m more and more coming to realize that part of what you learn when you learn technique is learning that there were more places to go than you previously realized.
Hurter and Driffield, two of the gods of the photographer’s technical pantheon, wrote “The photographer who combines scientific method with artistic skill is in the best possible position to do the good work.”
Paul,
“Skill without imagination is craftsmanship and gives us many useful objects such as wicker-work picnic baskets. Imagination without skill gives us modern art.”
THAT was a great quote!
But of course not all modern art is imaginative or unskilled, nor for that matter is all craftsmanship unimaginative or skilled.
Looking at art should be like seeing the swan sailing along on the lake without seeing the legs making the motion possible. Artists express themselves by making work which communicates to the viewer, but it is not often appreciated how much this involves. The visual artist is the equivalent in music of both the composer and the performer(s), so a complex range of skills are involved, all of which should not intrude unless that is part of the message.
Just as a singer needs to nurture and develop a voice to be able to sing well again and again, to explore as wide a range and as great a complexity as possible, so we as visual artists need to know that we can count on skill to help us repeat and improve on our means of expression.
But somehow the art is more than the sum of the means and the intended expression. It is as if having learned to walk and then to dance we use our abilities with some added spark, and are suddenly seen to fly.
Karl I think you misunderstand what I’m saying.
Having technique means understanding why those “gift” pieces work having these options in the toolbox for future work.
That is not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the moment of creation. Is the artist doing left brain thinking “put a in slot b and …” or are they doing right brain thinking and letting any learned skills just come out intuitively without having to analyze each step?
I’m not talking about what happens when you go back later to evaluate what you have done and learn something from it.
I do believe technique is necessary but I think technique for technique’s sake isn’t going to result in art. You can know all the color theory in the world but if you don’t have any thing interesting to say I don’t believe an artist can be successful.
Those optical illusion animations were interesting and displayed an amazing grasp of the technique of color but they weren’t art. Art is something more.
Rex: aren’t you jumping around between career and artistic achievement?
The number of paintings that you sell may not have any correlation to your skill/vision/output as an artist. All it tells you is how well your career is going.
There are plenty of people who play the piano for themselves. They wish to play better for their own purposes.
Lisa:
“But I find that my best work is made if I can shut off that part of my brain and just go with what feels right and not stress each small step.”
But sometimes when something is not quite right technique will tell you which way to go and will avoid you going in the wrong direction.
So, in the example of the tent, knowing that chromatic contrast is as important as tonal contrast, would be of great help. (Slipping into photography here…) instead of cranking up the contrast slider beyond any practical benefit, I could alter the hues and saturation to create an effect that tone by itself couldn’t achieve. With practice this becomes “intuitive” but that is a slippery word best left for another discussion.
Colin I’ve been waiting for someone to pick up on this. That was my first reaction to reading this post.
I’m curious as to why this friend of yours felt this way.
First – what was the point of counting in the first place? And second – what was the error in counting hours practiced vs. number of concerts given? What did he feel he missed?
To me it’s a question of process vs. product. Some of us are more driven by the first and not the second, in which case counting hours is what we might count. Does this mean we are focusing on technique? I don’t think so – we are focusing on the making of our art, which is much more than just technique.
And that begs the question – if you put in enough hours do you just get better by the shear repetition of practice? I think so. I know the more I make my art the better I get and so the resulting art is better. Maybe counting hours can be an indication of the end result also.
Colin, your final comment about the knowledge eventually becoming “intuitive” is exactly what I’m talking about. I believe this is actually a key step. Being able to just see it and feel it without having to analyze it.
One thing I keep thinking about are the Gee’s Bend quilts. The women that made these amazing works of art had no formal art or color training – yet they created what Michael Kimmelman of the New York Times called “some of the most miraculous works of modern art America has produced. ” Review here.
They weren’t hampered by color theory or other technique issues. It was entirely intuitive.
I think there’s a big difference between technique and knowledge, though having either one can help enhance the other.
To run with Rex’s piano analogy, someone can have an encyclopedic knowledge of music history, theory and forms, but not play an instrument. They have alot of knowledge, but no technique. Another person can have little knowledge about the things mentioned above, but may have the dexterity and natural ability to learn music by ear and play difficult passages flawlessly. They have great technique, but little knowledge. If someone has both, then their knowledge can help improve their technique, and their technique can help them expand their knowledge.
The piano analogy could be applied to visual art, with color theory and art history coming under knowledge, and hand-eye coordination and skilled use of materials falling under technique.
But does someone who is a highly knowledgeable skilled technician make good art? It doesn’t hurt, of course, but something more seems to be needed as well. Intuition? Inspiration? Conceptual leaps? What would you call them?
I think we’ve also seen cases where technique can get in the way. If an artist is focusing too much on showing off their technique, that may be what’s communicated to the viewer rather than an aesthetic or emotional experience. Of course the opposite is true too – if the technique can’t support the artist’s vision, what you see is the poor technique, not the vision.
Both sides of the brain are needed to produce great art. There is no reason to approach anything with “half a capacity”. It is more wise to understand how both sides work together, and allow the “checks and balances” of “both eyes” to help in the creation process. In fact, many artists look at their work in the reflection of a mirror, to gain yet another variation in which to see more clearly the work at hand.
“Did Sargent really sit down and worry about tone and chroma and warm vs. cool color, or did he paint what he saw and felt, and the result was just dead on?”
It is well documented that Sargent struggled with his work, folks were very open about criticizing him in public; this is how we know. The “Tent” painting is an excellent example of one of his masterpieces. Sargent had ideas in his head about execution when he approached his work,(left brain), then set out to use his “technique”,(a collection of methods that allowed him to achieve his desired goal, in the style he chose, in a manner quick enough to be of use), then his (right brain) kicked in, making the minute and artistic adjustments he felt were needed to bring his work to fruition (and perhaps to improve on his original idea). In many ways, Sargent could be likened to a scientist who experimented, with success and failure as an end.
Omega gives a fine analogy…when everything in an “art piece” is in it’s place, the viewer only sees what the artist wants them to see; with no distractions.
Karl describes technique as it should be; there as a foundation, but not a stumbling block. If it is a stumbling block, one needs more technique, because they have not learned “why” they need it. Technique is knowledge and understanding; no one gets it “free” unless they put in the time (Practice). In music, if one does not use technique to play certain pieces, certain pieces cannot physically be played (some are lucky and discover their own technique that works, but it is technique just the same); in art, if one does not have the proper techniques in place, one will not be able to achieve the desired results (consistantly). Technique is the quickest and straightest way to something.
Rex asked if Sargent had a recipe? The answer is yes, (like most plein air painters have a sort of system to mix sky, water, trees, shadows, etc. quickly, then adjust for subtle nuances later). Aside from Sargent having colors already in his head he wanted to experiment with,(ex.twilight colors for, Lily, Lily, Rose), he had a “palette” that could achieve any note of color: this part of one’s technique can take years to develope well, (Carolus Duran helped him immensely set up his original color palette). Beginners tend to buy pretty hues and tones that would be better “mixed” from primary-secondary colors (to create harmony), they also leave other colors off their palette that they really need. One should start with basic primaries with black and white, then only add a new color when they discover “why” they need it;(to hit an exact color note). Many of his paintings were nothing more than excuses to use, practice, and explore color.
The quote Paul shared with us, “Skill without imagination is craftsmanship and gives us many useful objects such as wicker-work picnic baskets. Imagination without skill gives us modern art. T.Stoppard”
This made me think of something that caught my attention at the newly opened National Gallery this year. Very few people went into the galleries of “modern art”, the huge majority of people flocked (you had to wait to get a look) around Vermeers, Rembrants, Titians, (ooing “n” aahhing) in chorus. Random folks at the National Gallery for two days generally bypassed “modern art” , in favor of the great classical masters. It also seemed to me that everyone had pretty fine tastes in art: But few probably had any training or education in art. Could that mean that common, average, unknowledgeable people only like classic masters?, and highly intelligent, sophisticated, and learned folks tend to like modern art, and read “into it” their knowledge and understanding; like a generation did with Kurt Cobain’s lyrics.
As far as what contributions abstract art has given society, I read somewhere that invention of the “Trinitron” TV,ie; color pixels within color pixels of red,yellow,blue, was inspired by the technique of Seurat’s painting method. Interesting, even if not true.
Segovia said: “it is not how many hours one practices, but how many times one gets up and comes back to practice.”
Segovia said: “it is not how many hours one practices, but how many times one gets up and comes back to practice.”
John, that is a great quote to end on, and I think there’s a lot of truth to it. It’s not only the number of hours at any one time that matter, but ongoing immersion in your work over many years. Even when you’re not actually practicing (or painting), your mind is continually gathering new information within the framework of your ongoing practice.
Omega,
That was artistic!
I found the prose poem style refreshing.Thanks for commenting. It’s a hard act to follow because you say so much, actually.
Colin,
The struggle between career objectives and artistic objectives has been the metanarrative of my life.
In the end, the artistic objectives win. I have happily thrown away lucrative deals and relationships because the money was not worth the artistic price.
Not without suffering for a while though, as some as yet unprofitable artistic vision intrudes into a profitable means.
So the answer to your question is really a matter of integrity. I want to have it both ways. Of course I do. Don’t you? Doesn’t everyone?
I am willing to work at it. Life is in the striving.
Rex:
“I want to have it both ways. Of course I do. Don’t you? Doesn’t everyone?”
I’m not sure that everyone does. A conversation for another time perhaps. Certainly there is a post or two in there :-)
Lisa: thank you for the Gee’s Bend links. Very worthwhile following.
I think that the whole subject of intuition is worth pursuing after some more thought.
Lisa,
(I was hoping someone would ask about my my pianist friend said what he said.)
He said that because he had realized that he’d damaged his career by being too concerned about “perfection.” In the classical music arena, there is too much emphasis on technique and not enough on feeling. For this reason, he felt, classical music long ago lost the hearts and minds of the public. The fact that ordinary people are quite satisfied with simple music is seen as an example of a deficiency on their part, but that arrogant attitude has cost the form its audience.
I will leave it to others to infer what that says about much contemporary art.
I find it arrogant to say, as mentioned above, that that the women of Gee ‘had no formal training’. Checking on the website I read: ‘The women of Gee’s Bend passed their skills and aesthetic down through at least six generations to the present.’ Not all ‘formal training’ has to be acquired at a university. I consider a six generation tradition as pretty formal.
I absolutely agree with you Birgit and I should have been more specific when I wrote my comment. I meant “no formal art training in a traditional western-art sense of the word”. It was certainly not meant as arrogant – just too hastily typed.
Sorry for the delay in responding – I took a vacation from the blog this week and spent my time making art instead of writing about it.