Whitescapes

This iPhone photo I took of a receipt on top of a piece of printer paper shows the subtle differences in shades of white. The receipt paper has a more yellow tone to it than the printer paper, which I otherwise would not have noticed if I weren't looking closely or if they were not so close to one another. I cannot tell if there is a tint to the printer paper, but seems like it has a warmer color in the photo too. The most stark contrast I notice is between both papers and my computer screen since it is emitting white light, but that is different because it is light rather than material objects. Overall, both papers do not appear white in the photo like the white they do seem when they are separated in person. They are both tinted, but the receipt paper definitely has a yellow-greenish tint to it from my perspective.

Response to John Berger's "Ways of Seeing" Episode One

In John Berger’s first episode of, “Ways of Seeing,” from 1972, he discusses how the process of viewing and learning about art has changed as the ability for artworks to be reproduced has become easier.

Berger uses the Goya painting, “The Third of May 1808,” of the men and the firing squad to illustrate how the meaning of a work can be changed given the context in which it was viewed. This stood out to me the most in the video. I have been fortunate enough to see the painting in person twice, at the Prado in Madrid. Each time I saw it, though in person, was in a different context. The first time I saw it, I did not know who Goya was, or why the painting mattered. I simply looked at it in the room with the other Goyas as we passed through, and then moved on to the Rembrants, trying to keep up with my mother’s hurried pace. The Goya had zero impact on me that time, as I was simply trying to keep an eye on my mother so that I did not get lost. The second time I saw the painting was with my study abroad group. We were allotted a couple of hours to spend in the museum as we wished. I had heard the name “Goya” multiple times during my time studying there, and had seen a photograph of the painting in my textbook a few days prior to our trip to the Prado. This time I had set out time to goo and see this painting. It was big, and made me scared for the man in it. I felt free to stare at it close to the canvas and from the other end of the room. That moment that was captured in the painting was not the one that I had seen in the textbook, nor the one that I gave a hurried glance to when I saw it in person before. I actually got to see it and take it in the way it was meant to be viewed. In Berger’s video, I recognized the painting, but after watching the video of the girls dancing before it, I did not really care. I was waiting for Berger to continue talking; my brain was going the pace of the song the dancers were singing instead of the slow, reflective one that it was in the museum the second time. It completely changed again when he changed the video to a slower, darker one. It made a tiny bit more sense this time, but I am honestly not sure if the two things are related at all. Also, the frame of the camera only captured the face of the main figure in the Goya, and neglected the rest of the scene, which further took away from viewing the painting on its own, even via a secondary means like a video.

These different contexts in which I have viewed the work, have, as Berger asserted in his video, altered the viewing experience, and subsequent meanings gathered from the work as a whole. The experiences of the viewer, the environment or media in which the work is viewed, and how and where the work is displayed, all impact the meaning that the viewer can gather from the work.

Response to Color Podcast

After listening to this Podcast, I understand much more about color than I did before. I knew dogs and bees saw differently from us, but I did not know it was because they had different numbers of cones in their eyes. I found it so interesting that the monkeys were able to accept the extra cones as well and were able to see new colors eventually. That experiment creates major potential for the manipulation of human sight abilities, particularly those of of colorblind individuals. Over the past few days, I have also been staring at clouds to see if I could see a pinkish-red hue like the tetra-chromatic woman was able to. Unfortunately, I could not, though I did try quite hard for entirely too long of a time period to do so. Hearing about the mantis shrimp was quite amazing. The incomprehensible nature of their sight abilities to humans like myself, is quite intriguing. I want to know more about how their 16 cones work, and if they can actually see all of those colors or simply have the cones to potentially see all of them. They sound like a magical creature I would read about in a fairy-tale rather than a real creature. The chorus that helped the listener to imagine the color spectrum was also truly helpful and a fun addition to the Podcast. I was also unaware of how the light spectrum of the glass prism was discovered. I knew that white light was comprised of our visible color spectrum, but not the whole story behind how it was discovered to be so, so that was cool to learn too. Overall, the Podcast was really interesting and taught me a lot of things I did not know previously.

Postmodernism Project

To inspire my postmodernism project, I chose the Jean Bullariard's quote, "We live in a world where there is more and more information, and less and less meaning." To juxtapose information and meaning, I utilized components of technology and things that are related to sentimental memories. For the Photoshop aspect of my piece, I took an image of an old couple, and replaced the basket of vegetables that the old man had, with one full of remotes. I also replaced the home button on the remote with an information clip-art symbol. The fabric contrasts the old version of binary code with the binary print I created. The fabrics themselves also contrast between old burlap, and modern upholstery. I even found a page from an old phone book that has the old phone numbers of my family and relatives, some of whom are not even alive anymore. For the color scheme, I used contrasting blues and orangey-brownish-golds to contrast the two components. I  also used many leading lines, most ending up at the old man, a lot of texture, rule of thirds, and tons of L-shapes. The geometric and linear nature of the piece was meant to both mimic the linear passage of time, and a combination of a circuit board and digital code.
The denotative meaning of my work would be a bunch of information collage onto a page. The connotative meaning would allude to the contrast between information that is overproduced and endless, versus the information that holds sentimental value and deep meaning. The ideological meaning of my piece would relate to an abundance of technology, the meaning of technology, and the importance of focusing on the information that is actually important to you as an individual.

Response to Postmodernism Readings

Jean Baudrillard's argument that Disney world and other fantastical theme parks are a form of hyperrealist art based on the imaginary, could not be more accurate in my opinion. Hyperrealist art is considered to portray reality itself by very closely copying real people, things, or scenes. Chuck Close dis this with his portraiture that looked like actual photographs. Disney world utilizes things from Walt Disney's imagination, which are not real at all, and reifies them into a space wherein people can insert themselves into this false reality. It is the ultimate form of hyperrealist art. It creates an entire unreal world, which guests can spend real time in and have somewhat real experiences in. I never viewed Disney World as an art form as a whole hyperreal machine before, but it truly is a magical fantasy. 

I was confused, however, with Baudrillard's choice to put quotations around "real" when referring to the world outside of Disney world. I do not know if that was simply a stylistic writing choice or if he was implying that the world outside of the parks is also not real. I think that the world outside of the parks is real, though highly mediated and influenced by norms. If the world outside of the parks were not "real" then what would be?

"Fashion Junkies"

Quite A Mysterious Picnic

George Bellow's 1924 oil painting, "The Picnic," attracted me instantly. It was my third favorite piece that day, because the stark contrasting colors and juxtaposition of relaxation and play with the foreboding storm clouds and darkness, is a concept something I relate to.
When I was a little girl, my mother told me that, "in life there will be mountains and valleys, so always remember when you get stuck in a valley to keep moving towards the next mountain top," and it has always stuck with me. I believe that it has because I have battled many ups and downs in my life with difficult past experiences and through battling mental illness. This is why I immediately sat on the floor in front of this painting without even reading the plaque. I felt like I was the girl in the pink dress. She stands on a little peaked hill, with one side bright green, and the other darkly shadowed, which suggests that change is coming and that she is in a position of importance in the scene. Her back is to the viewer, as she faces the darkness ahead, as if she is merely acknowledging that it is coming as she talks to the figure beneath her. The high-vantage perspective that the artist takes also creates a sense of power, especially with the power behind the thunderstorm across the lake. Maybe the lake is a symbolic divider between the playful picnic scene and the vast dark mountains ahead. The artist utilizes a lot of leading line to the figures and contrast in shade to add drama to a seemingly harmless picnic. Also, the way the artist blends the paints is similar to how I like to blend oils, so I also really liked that aspect.
Overall, "Picnic," was strangely relatable to me, and the composition, color choices, and mysterious narrative made it my third favorite piece at the BMA that day.

This Side of Matisse Caught Me Off Gaurd

Each year, the art classroom in my elementary school had a different artist's work hung above each of the six tables. For some reason, I remember the year that Henri Matisse's paintings floated above my classmates and my head as we worked. My teacher at the time chose the brighter pieces he did which had thick brush lines, and freer forms. I remember thinking that they looked a little silly, being so bright and having such thick lines, and odd, organic shapes. I particularly remember the table which my teacher called, "The Purple Robe,". So, naturally, since we visited the BMA, and it has been on display there for years, I went to see it. After viewing it and having a few memories of how my love of art first began to blossom in that basement classroom, I spotted this piece. Before even looking at who painted it, I just stared at it for a few minutes. The frame surrounding it looks as though it were recovered from the shore in the painting. I looked at the placard, and was surprised to see it read, "Henri Matisse". It certainly did not ascribe to the Matisse I had known so long ago!
There were no outlines, and only a few thick brush strokes used. Most importantly, where were the bright colors and people?! I felt tricked and confused. So, I stared and stared. The longer I stared, the more I fell in love with the natural form of the sea arch, the stark contrasts of the sky, and how the layers of space gave it a feeling of depth. What I ogled at the most was the water; every time I saw one shadow or highlight I would find a shape of a new one, which hinted at deeper water, or rocks, or a glare of sunlight. My initial surprise at the difference between the distinct style which I had prescribed him to have in elementary school to this painting had just seemed to wash away with the waves in the painting. I quickly found myself playing, "I spy," with the water. This is somewhat odd because the shadow lines in the arch, the rocks in the foreground and the horizon line lead the eye right to the tiny sailboat out beyond the arch, but I honestly did not care about it, just the water and the new increase in appreciation I had found in his 1920 oil, "The Pierced Rock".

I did not expect to see any, "Bathers" in an art gallery... and like it!

At the Baltimore Museum of Art, I came across the oil on canvas painting, "Bathers," by Paul Cezanne. The French artist painted the work from 1898-1900.
Initially, the way the trees were painted with groupings of brush strokes to add depth and shadow drew me into the picture. Once I was closer to the work, I noticed that there were even more bathing figures than I had originally perceived, and that the background contained a small house, fields, and the shadows of mountains in the distance. The form of the bathers was precise enough to see the curvature of each figures' muscles, yet not so defined as to take away from the natural easiness and simplicity that the painting conveyed. The outlining of the figures, and lack of facial features or hair added a sense of mystery yet cleanliness. Maybe the reason that Cezanne chose to represent the figure
in this manner was to subtly signify cleanliness since they were bathing. The muscles and trunks of the trees are strong, yet the branches of the trees and arms of the bathers are softer and more flexible in form; the juxtaposition is pleasant.
The colors used in the piece are cool, except for the ones in the foreground used in the closest bathers and the sunlit ground. In the shade, especially by the river has the darkest hues of blue, grey, green, and brown, possibly to signify the temperature of the river in contrast with the warm bodies by it.
The overall composition is pleasing to the eye. The orientation and implied movement of the figures, the use of small L-shapes, the leading lines created by branches, bodies, and space leads the eye just to the center of the painting. The three figures in the middle draw the eye between and beyond them to more bathers who are in the river, the house and field in the background, and then finally to the mountains and sky in the background.
There is a sense of harmony and easiness in this painting that calms me and makes me want to breathe in cool crisp air and just watch the world go by around me. This is why it is my favorite piece that I saw that afternoon.

I Had No Desire to Chatter About, "Chatter"

On September 28th, I attended the gallery event, showcasing the mixed media collection of works by Kyle Bauer, titled "chatter". I did not like the collection, or the presentation of the works in general.
Maybe I would have a better appreciation for it if I were there earlier in the event for when he spoke about his collection. When I attempted to learn about the pieces in the gallery, I was struck with further confusion, as there were no artist statements attached to the title plaques of the pieces. Further, half of his pieces were untitled studies. Apparently, the pieces were arranged to "guide" the viewer through the gallery, but I did not get that sense at all, and frankly do not know where this path of the sculptures' supposed special orientation was supposed to take me. The one piece I did like is the one pictured to the right. If it had meaning behind it other than "fireworks," then I would respect it more.
In response to his statement in the card, which described his work, I still do not understand the meaning his work was designed to inspire from the viewer, or even from him. I guess that some of his works could be metaphors for a journey, but honestly I struggle to see it. Even the way he described his own creative process as letting, "the objects dictate their own form," is illogical. He created the works. Works cannot create themselves. He claims that there are, "multiple layers of meaning," but I can hardly see one.
Maybe I dislike the creative process, the formalist perspective, or the oddness of the show in general, but the bottom line is: I do not feel the need to chatter about "chatter," ever again.

Response to Italo Calvino's, "Visibility"

Dante and Thomas Aquinas argue that a more spiritual, higher being such as God is imposing messages that our subconscious takes in and then translates and reflects through high fantasy style thinking. This is the type of thinking used to create dreams, which he claims is altogether distinct from imagining anything consciously through a sort of "corporeal imagination" (Page 81-82). I do not agree with this logic. I think that if I we are to imagine a scene or scenario in our minds consciously, it is because we have already or are actively, drawing from experiences and observations that we have made. In the case of high fantasy dream thought, I believe that it is fueled entirely by the subconscious, unless the individual is lucid dreaming.
Saint Ignatius de Loyola suggests that one must understand scripture first and then they may view the images of holy figures as the church created them to look, so that the viewer does not use their own imagination to conjure up a different image (Page 86). The author, Italo Calvino, then asserts that the process that Loyola describes, hearing and then eventually seeing the image, allows for a lot of time to imagine other scenarios and images in the middle. The author makes a valid point, and I believe that if the church wanted there to be only one image associated with representing the trinity, or any holy person, then they should show that before teaching the scriptures. Loyola posits that we actively make "mental movies" in our minds, but why not create a character's image first and then add the personality and plot? It would probably be a lot more effective.
I do not agree with the point made on page 87 that there is a sort of transcendence of imagery to the mind. I think that the brain is simply too complex for us to understand in its entirety at the technological level, which our society and world is currently situated. Dreams and seemingly random, complex thought must be attributed to some scientific explanation about cognition. This meta-cognition is simply too advanced for us to understand yet. So, while I do not believe cognition to be spiritually based at the moment, if it is never proven to be biologically based, then I would see no reason for the spiritual arguments made to be implausible anymore.

Reflections on, "The Whole Ball of Wax"

"The Whole Ball of Wax," by Jerry Saltz, insists that art subtly and incrementally influences and impacts the world and the individuals in it. Saltz claims that art is equal in importance with other subject matters like science, politics, or religion, which I do not entirely agree with. I believe that art is a different concept all together; one that is not confined by a simple "subject," but rather weaves its way into all aspects of our lives. I think that art is a supplement and compliment to other subjects because of its vast, yet immersive nature. For example, you cannot enter a church without viewing some form of art, or open a textbook without viewing a digitally designed page, or turn on the television without finding digitally designed images or videos. So, while Saltz argues that art is an equal sized cog in the machine we call life, I would like to counter that it is grease that aids all the cogs: always there influencing the machine's functions to varying degrees, but often overlooked or unrecognized by the cogs.
The influence and pervasive nature of art is undeniable, and understanding it is an ever-evolving process. Art is very nonlinear and nonobjective in a very linear and objective world. It is a multifaceted instrument that has layers upon layers of meaning, which can change depending on the experiences of the observer, the artist, and the time period in which it is observed. It is fluid in its meaning and its purpose. Saltz mentions that Oscar Wilde once remarked that, "the moment you think you understand a work of art it's dead for you". I couldn't agree more. Art has different meanings for each individual, but that meaning can also change for them as individuals depending on their changed experiences and knowledge base. So, while the art does not alter, our understandings of it do.
Art is a dynamic, moving-part of society that is necessary for the sanity of everyone. It involves so much more than creating a work, and letting people look at it. Art is experiencing something spiritual, and cognitive. It can subconsciously influence our emotions, thoughts, and actions. Art surrounds us all, and is a larger part of our lives than is often realized. Art is an ever-present gift that influences all aspects of our lives and society. So, I wholeheartedly agree with Saltz that art is a necessary and inseparable component of our existence as human beings.