Determining Worth: Finding Value in Margaret Kilgallen’s Artwork

by Karina Reyes

In his article, “Revision number five: Quality,” Dave Hickey argues that some art is not only valuable, but better than other art. According to him, there is definitely a difference—based on a list of qualities and series of questions one must ask of each artwork—that makes each work better or worse than others. I found his list of questions he asks himself when approaching a piece extremely helpful in helping determine what exactly is valuable. He makes a fair point in saying that price, or even likability, of a work has no direct implication on its actual worth. As he mentions, art, unlike other things in this world which are held at high value—such as rare gems or gold, which are in themselves intrinsically of value—is exclusively extrinsically valuable. It is because we apply a certain worth to art that it has value at all. And so, it is crucial to set certain standards and criteria for determining worth. Or else, the worth we apply to a certain piece is entirely arbitrary and subjective in relation to its appeal to our pathos, which is based on emotion, not logic, therefore should be used sparingly in making judgments.

Keeping this theory in mind, I would like to argue for the worth of “In the Sweet Bye & Bye,” an exhibition held at Redcat Gallery in 2005 that featured Margaret Kilgallen. Though at first glance her work is undeniably simple, there is much more that underlies her artwork than meets the eye. This is my first reason for believing her work is “good”. To me, artwork that has a full story behind it, though it may not explicitly tell it, is successful as an artwork. To intrigue the viewer enough to make them want to know more because they can sense the meaning in it, yet are not able to grasp it, is what keeps the viewer coming back to it.

Kilgallen draws influences from a wide variety of influences in her life. As a San Franciscan, she cited inspiration from local graffiti artists, finding the spontaneity and purpose behind their works as worthy of note. Being able to actually sense the presence and the touch of the artist’s hand in its own environment, for her, was a thrilling sentiment. She also took interest in and studied historical manuscripts, signs on stores, and immersed herself in history, both ancient and recent past from all different cultures. In an interview, she also mentioned studying drawings in textbooks, such as botanical ones, and adopting the flat style of these drawings.
Implementation of typography in her artwork comes from her background with texts and her background in bookmaking. Upon graduation from college, she even worked for some time at San Francisco Public Library, where she learned to restore books, letterpress and bookbinding. She also mentions in interviews being intrigued by historical works, such as fifteenth and sixteenth-century French manuscripts. She found that the random arrangement of words was a kind of surrealist poetry.

That she draws influence from such a wide variety of aspects makes her artwork valuable, in my opinion. She has a specific purpose in mind when she drafts out plans for he work. Pre-meditation, though not always a requisite to make an artwork “successful,” is in her case indispensible to the success of her work. She also had an interesting perspective on the technique behind her work. She saw anything that evidenced a personal touch as beautiful. In her own work, she used no grids or guides of any kind to make perfectly even lines. She relied only on her own steady hand, even finding the places in which a certain line wavered a little as the most charming part of the work. "Imperfect perfection" was something she craved and indulged in. She believed it the wrongness in things that made them right.

Her subject often has to do with locations. She drew many a scene of neighborhoods in San Francisco, taking pictures when walking if she found a setting that struck her as particularly interesting. This interest rose from the extreme preoccupation with various cultures she fostered. An avid anthropologist, she found the common person within cities inspiring and captivating. The graffiti found on the side of trains or random walls on buildings developed her theory that art was a means by which an artist could take a place and claim it as their own. Place was not something to be portrayed through art, but something to be claimed and transformed by it. Whenever she did a gallery or exhibition, she’d paint directly on walls, taking up huge spaces within the exhibition so that the viewer is immediately immersed and awed by the sheer magnitude of her work.

I also think her work is good because, while she has her own personal reasoning and meaning in each work produced, she also strives to connect her purposes with the audience. As I mentioned previously, graffiti artists were a major influence. This evidences her love of people and artwork not because it was featured in a high-end gallery or sold at an auction for dizzying profits, but for its reality and application in the world. Throughout her career, she steadily produced artwork in galleries, but also maintained her work as a graffiti artist herself. Few artists, I feel, are capable of balancing their values in such a manner. Many artists and art critics feel that artists, who “sell out” by immersing themselves in the capitalist realm of the world, earn demerit to their name. But Kilgallen was able to support herself as an artist while adhering to her values in producing “low” art. This unification of street, “low,” or “people” art and the high-end aspect of art is what made Kilgallen such a respectable artist though, in my opinion.

In an era in which artwork is seen more as an object you can put a price tag on than a thing valuable in itself, I think it’s crucial for an artist to put something more into their artwork than a simple motif or theme. Margaret Kilgallen seems to me an artist in the true sense. There is not a line or imagine created that does not have a purpose, history and meaning behind it. To her, art was not just for the average museum-goer. She considered her audience on a neighborhood street equally valuable. This is not to imply that she shunned typical museum audience, however. On the contrary, she hoped to merge together elements from both art worlds to bridge the gap between both audiences. And it is this that makes her work, “good.”

Austin Art Trends: 20 To Watch

Austin Art Trends: “20 to Watch” –AMOA Exhibition
A review by Karina Reyes

In a city so widely flourishing in the arts, it is nice to see the more established institutions attempting to highlight the endeavors of its locals. The Austin Museum of Art’s “20 to Watch: New Art in Austin” features 20 artists in the Austin area that they deemed worthy of public recognition. While, undeniably, some artists are well worth the extra attention, I found some artists were less-than-presentable for such highly conspicuous exhibition space.

Upon walking in, I was immediately met with what I perceived to be a weird division in the room on the left. The obtrusive wall-like object was in actuality an artwork itself. Made by Scott Proctor, the accompanying wall plaque discussed Proctor’s hope to make the viewer think of space within the museum in new, innovating ways. I guess if one considers mild bewilderment a new perspective, Proctor accomplished his objective. It did manage to capture my attention for a full minute in contemplating why the pseudo-wall was being held up by a jack and some sort of wooden structure. Overall, however, I’d say that I read space in a way within a museum in a new way, not space itself. Thus, the artist’s mission was, in my opinion, half-accomplished.

The space directly in front when walking in, on the other hand, was occupied by an artwork that caught my attention and retained it rather well. I assumed it to be a large playhouse in the center of the space at first, but then I realized it was a giant castle-like construction. Made of what appeared to be canvas, glue and wood, the work was quite impressive upon close inspection. The artist, Ali Fitzgerald, made tremendous effort to make the detailing and outlining of figures on the structure, which as mentioned, looked like a castle, very precise. The material she worked with looks convincingly like glue, so I imagine it must have been a difficult task to make the glue oblige with such preciseness. She even took care to paint in the shadows which in the actual object would have been present. The wall plaque described the work as a three-dimensional representation of the artists’ novel dealing with the trials of a girl in a boarding school. The work is an attempt to capture, according to this description, the isolation felt by the protagonist within the story. I thought it was all in all a captivating work.

Also in this first exhibition room was the work of Baseera Khan. “She-mountains Have a Dog Breaking Up the Dirty Prayer Hands Shoved Up her Schnoz,” described as the representation of “living between cultures,” I found to do anything but make me ponder ties between cultures as I observed the sporadic blend of colors and lines. The figures were hard to make out, and the colors seemed too arbitrary to detect any pre-meditation. Perhaps this is what dear Khan was going for, however. Maybe her more instinctual strokes are what best relay her experience growing up between cultures. However, I found that her works were too esoteric for my taste. I feel an artist, if expecting to be displayed publicly, should attempt to make things at least slightly comprehensive to its audience.

The next space right past Khan’s work, houses “No. 3.1.2008” by Meggie Chou. While in this instance the artist’s goal is understandable (granted, only with the help of the wall plaque), I found that what it lacked was aesthetic appeal. I shall give the artist credit for seeking to convey the modern-day trouble of over-mechanization of our bodies, however, I do believe this is a theory that has been covered extensively in the past. Since the waves of industrialism began to take hold worldwide, artists have addressed the loss of personality attributed to the human body. I should mention, however, that Chou was not so much interpreting loss of humanity from the body as forcing the viewer to think of the body as a complex system of tubes and pumps. It did make me stop and wonder how truly wondrous it is that our bodies is made up of many, many parts, all working together to make our bodies run smoothly. So what the work lacked in visual appeal it made up for in profound realization.

The next exhibition space on the path was most likely my favorite within the entire exhibition. “Phantastic Magoria” by Rebecca Ward brought me back to my childhood, though I doubt the artist’s intention was such. With prismatic-colored rectangular shapes accompanied by similar projected shapes, the site-specific installation was a clever play on sense impressions. It seemed game-like to me in the original-Nintendo kind of way. Ward made an impressive use of the space she was given. Categorized in the exhibition’s descriptions with Proctor (wall-on-a-jack), I thought Ward made a far more favorable impression that lasted throughout the rest of the journey through the museum.

In the subsequent space, Eric Zimmerman’s works also had a lasting impression. A combination of drawings, projections and sculptures, I found Zimmerman’s work to pique my interest from the instant I walked into the space. The most intriguing aspect of the series was the drawings found in the opposite corner of the room. Though at first seemingly unplanned and drawn intuitively, it appears that the artist spends meticulous attention to detail in getting each drawing precisely the way he desires it. Indeed, when closely inspected, each stroke and mark seems to fit and flow into the next, unifying the composition in a compelling manner. In an exhibition filled with so many detail-attentiveness-lacking individuals, it was refreshing to see such work. This fine-tuning in detail also gave Zimmerman’s work a polished effect that, in contrast to others, seemed to give it a refined quality.

Matthew Rodriguez’s work in one glance obviously the antithesis of Zimmerman’s work found right across the way in the same room, was, surprisingly, pleasing. Seemingly a sheepdog wrapped up in a colorful, eccentric array of socks and blankets, I was most definitely befuddled by my positive response to this work. The description of Rodriguez’s work identifies his aim as “releasing the character of the environment,” yet, I hardly felt this was the particular goal in mind. To me, his work as a whole seemed to be more about bringing the viewer to reminisce on childhood. Rodriguez’s photographs and various mixed-media works, such as the framed furry, green monster, and especially his “Brigadier Bobobramble” sheepdog, seemed to allude to things familiar in people’s childhoods. Altogether a comfortable, reminiscent set of works. Within the exhibition, it worked rather well—in an art world increasingly preoccupied with keeping up with technology, it’s nice to see an artist reflect on the past.

I was once again thrown back into puzzlement by Buster Graybill’s “Come Along Johnny,” however. It was not an enjoyable puzzlement, either. A boat filled with charcoal-colored, plastic inner tubes hanging from the ceiling hardly qualify as an accurate representation of “natural and cultural displacement.” More than anything, I felt this artwork elicited a feeling of wariness that something would come toppling down on the viewer’s head. Hardly impressive. It was almost my least-admired artist with in the show, but was instead beat out by Jill Pangallo’s decisively creepy doll series, replete with eerie commercial music that follows one for a good few minutes.

Nancy Burson’s work of “Stereograph Viewer and Stereograph in a Surging Sea of Humanity,” on the other hand, was a successful installation, giving the viewer something on which to stop and ponder. The information guide mentions that the work has no explanation. I was at first frustrated by the lack of explanation, which is usually received with every artwork within a museum, but then I found I was glad to make my own interpretation of the work. The re-examination of the tie between science and artwork is usually an over-done topic; I felt that Burson made a successful effort at representing such a cliché theme in a captivating manner, however. It was interesting to see a photograph from the late-nineteenth century displayed in a non-traditional way.

Upon turning into the space behind me, I was very much drawn to “Re-kindling,” Shawn Smith’s large wooden sculpture found in the center of the room. Described as being constructed upon inspiration from a “generic google image” that was highly pixilated, I disregarded this description and instead focused on the object’s own craftily put together form. Each block of wood seems to have been masterfully glued, then painted onto the next. Smith evidently took greatest care to put each segment in a place that seemed to fit it well making it seem a seamless construction. This piece worked exceptionally well within the exhibition in its dealing with a highly modern concept, yet rendering it in a highly artistic manner that awes the viewer.

Xochi Solis’ large, amorphous glob “I was not seized by jealousy at all,” however, though vaguely appealing aesthetically, was somewhat disappointing upon acquiring further information on it. I did like Solis’ interesting arrangement of layers of latex, gouache, wood panel and paper, however, the artist seemed to have little reason or inspiration for his work. Though the descriptions on plaques enlighten the reader of Solis’ intention to convey heart-like forms, I have reason to believe the artist just threw on layers of materials and afterward declared them as so.

The same I found stood true for Ayson Fox’s “Try and Stop Me,” the middle book in the covers lining the walls on continuing into the next exhibition space to the left. I did like the artist’s idea of representing the book’s predominant tone and story in a visual synopsis on the cover, yet I found the work itself to be a little disappointing. Though the simplicity of the pencil lines and the clear masterful control of the pencil are impressive, I thought Fox’s series of works were not particularly astounding. Not something that would stay in the viewer’s mind, in any case.

In the next exhibition space, “Divinity Series,” by Stephanie Wagner was something at which to marvel. Upon walking up to it, I thought it was a series of very strange, overly-glazed sculptures. However, upon close speculation, I came to find the sculptures were in fact comically arranged and constructed Chihuahua-looking dogs in all sorts of poses with different objects either beneath or on them. The technique Wagner used, as described on the wall plaque, seemed impressive as well. Apparently originally constructing the sculptures with flammable materials, Wagner intends the materials to burn off in the Kiln during firing. The result is a most unusual texture surface that was all-too-hard to forego touching. Resist I did, however. The apparently-customized pedestals were a nice addition the overall effect as well. I thought her work had a nice place within the exhibition as displaying innovative ways in which to use materials. Instead of focusing on viewer perceptions or concerns with technology, Wagner made nice use of mediums in exploring boundaries.

Overall, I would definitely recommend the exhibition to anyone wishing to have any of the aforementioned feelings I had when walking through. At times awed, at times befuddled and overall bemused, I found the exhibition did leave a lasting impression. It was definitely nice and, in a certain way, comforting to see what Austin has in store for the up-and-coming art scene. This new generation of artists, if they are in fact representative of the emerging art trend in Austin, seems capable of rousing interest through careful representation of ideas.

"Then & Now" Exhibition-Austin Museum of Art

Austin Museum of Art:
Modern Art. Modern Lives. Then & Now
A review by Karina Reyes

The Austin Museum of Art Exhibition of “Modern Art. Modern Lives. Then + Now” blends together a thought-provoking and interesting array of portraiture dating back from the impressionist movement.

Largely acquired from local collectors, this exhibition has an impressive array of works. It features a selection of from 19th, 20th-century and contemporary artists.

The overarching theme in the show is portraiture—yet in a non-traditional aspect. The presiding message seems to be: portraiture can be used—even in drastically different eras—as a tool to convey ideas of self, groups and current issues to the general population. As the exhibition discussion states, at any period in time “to be ‘modern’ was to be of one’s own time. But in the arts, being modern also meant pushing against the constraints of the present to envision new possibilities, especially new ways of shaping and depicting contemporary society.” Artists have long held the role of forcing society to reflect on critical issues, and it is this role that the exhibition seemed to address.

Eugene’s Delacroix Portrait of Charles de Verninac upon entering into the first section of “Then,” meets the viewer with a confrontational gaze. Painted with rich, vibrant tones, which the description claims was a bold statement in Delacroix’s time, this painting seems to capture the calm, but assured nature of his nephew.

Edouard Vuillard’s Woman in an Interior With Two Bonnard Paintings (Annette Solomon) is also an aberration from the strict guidelines to which most portraits of the eighteenth century had to conform. Standing at the side of the room, seeming almost out of place in her dark clothing contrasted against the warm yellow tones of the room, perhaps this painting is a statement on this woman’s discontent in her surroundings. The painting, as alluded by the title, may also be a statement about the woman’s relation to the artist since it is the “Two Bonnard Paintings” that is the title, not the woman’s name.

Pierre-August Renoir’s "Young Girl in a Blue Dress" (also known as Bust of a Young Woman) is no mere portrait either. Though more in the convention of a waistline-up framing and in the more formal clothing and pose, the expression on the woman’s face is different from traditional portraiture. There is a sense of other-worldliness, as if the woman thinks of something far out of the viewer’s comprehension. One’s own gaze is pulled out of the painting by the woman’s intense focus on something not depicted.

The series of sketches by Edgar Degas, titled "Portraits of Actors and Actresses," addresses specific actors and actresses personality, capturing them each in their prime moment that presents them as an artist. All are dramatically staged or posed, such as Mary-Louise Marsy or Polin, each portrait shows the individual for what they are, which in turn defines who they are.

Camille Pisarro in "La Mere Jolly" also explores a person in his or her ideal setting, yet the setting is rather a different one. The mother depicted here sits complacently, knitting in a sunny garden. Pisarro here was concerned not with the accurate portrayal or representation of the woman, as the brushy, impressionistic work dispels of that idea, but to portray her in a naturalized setting. We see this woman in her prime place, not as a posed model, but in her everyday life.

"The Smiling Blind Man" by Pablo Picasso is also a perspective on “people at the margins of society.” The man in the picture sits, much like Pisarro’s figure, in his chair, seemingly wondering in his own contemplation. Picasso, as discussed in the exhibition’s detailing, concerned himself at one point with representing people not in mainstream society. Portraiture, in this case, was not like much portraiture—in trying to display status or wealth or even preserving someone’s record in time—it’s simply the portrayal of a common person in a common setting. This might have something to do with the impressionist movement’s goal of showing moments in time, in capturing the simple essence of something or someone.

As we make our transition into the “Now.” part of the exhibition, we see what seems at first a dramatic transition, but in actuality is an extension of the themes begun by impressionists. In this section of the exhibition, we see artists pushing, rather more forcefully, against the boundaries of traditions and confronting sociological issues.

Julie Speed’s "Still Life with Suicide Bomber #1 and Suicide Bomber #2" raises many questions of the conflict in Iraq. Staged as a traditional still-life with fruit, the piece is both revolting and yet, the viewer can’t help but feel it is normal. The mangled piece of finger in the foreground cannot be called a true portrait, yet it is still retains the polished, staged characteristics of traditional portraiture. Speed made an impressionable statement of the detrimental effects of war, commenting perhaps on its acceptability in society.

"Immigrant Backpack" also forces the viewer to contemplate on another current issue—immigration. Made of soft sculpture of vinyl and thread, artist Margarita Cabrera put together an ensemble of what the viewer assumes is found in a typical backpack of an immigrant. Tortillas, a ratchet, a wallet with a wallet-sized picture of the Virgin Mary, a can of beans and children’s books, among other things, lie in display. The portrait here lies in various simple objects that immigrant workers live off. Though there is no human figure in this work, one gets the feeling of the humble, simplistic lifestyle of a person, thus a person is metaphorically present.

Kehindle Wiley is more direct in his message in "Elcias." An oil on canvas work more closely in line with traditional portraiture in the direct gaze and representation of a being, this work still breaks with tradition in subject matter and the way in which the man is portrayed. Wiley does series of works that presents young African-American men in portraits filled with floral décor. This work directly confronts the viewer to consider the role of African-Americans within society—what is the difference between these young men and men deemed worthy of portraits throughout time? Wiley uses portraits as a way to raise self-awareness.

Marie Watts’ column of blankets is a derivation from the rest of the exhibition. While her idea of blankets as a good exemplification of a person’s being, and I enjoyed her concept that because we are received and exit this world in a blanket, I feel it was a bit of a stretch to call it a portrait. The work definitely exhibits a different aspect of human beings, but rather than defining anything about them, it is simply a mediatory tool in the transition from life to death. Despite its incongruity within the exhibition, however, I felt it was one of the most compelling pieces present.

The show must have proved difficult for curators to pull together, as it is binding together many different artists with contrasting ideas, themes and ways of representing human beings. I applaud their tact in piecing and making two drastically different eras work together. The organization as you walk around from start to end was well thought-out and the various themes they had in separate rooms made it easier to classify and understand individual works. It was refreshing to see traditional stuff contrasted so masterfully with contemporary work of our day.

Christie’s Art Auction

This past Tuesday was evidence of the art market’s flourishing business. A total of 57 works, only three which remained unsold, were auctioned off by a variety of sellers ranging from French philanthropists to Seattle collectors to divorcing couples. The buyers, strangely enough, were all anonymous, as reported in the New York Times.

This auction attracted my interest for a couple of reasons:

First, while we do not know who the buyers were, we do know that 70% were American, 26% were European (which included a significant number of Russian buyers), and 4% were Asian. I was surprised to find such a large number of European buyers, as the artists were all American.

Second, I was amazed that one of the lowest-priced “artworks” sold was none other than a modernist house designed by Richard Neutra, for a mere $15 million. I say “mere” because the highest-selling painting, “No. 15” by Mark Rothko sold for an unsettling $50.4 million.

Upon reading this news, I realized where my deep disillusionment with the art world lies—when an artwork so simplistic sells for almost double what a house costs, you have to wonder: where do the values in art lie?

Most of the paintings sold in this auction were bought previously anywhere from ten to fifteen years ago. Apparently in that decade or two, paintings collect even more value. For example, Rothko’s “No. 12” was bought in 1999 for $11 million. That’s an accrued $35.4 million increase in 9 years! Is it really that much more glamorous now than it was only a decade ago?

It’s issues like these that make me really stop and wonder if the heart of art lies in the right place.

Genres Generals

Evaluation Criteria for the Non-Artist

So, you're standing in a museum or gallery room looking at a painting. It's one of those moments in which you feel a comment is necessary because it's just you and that one other person who straggled behind their tour. You muster up the most profound observation you can, only to end up with, "yeah...the colors are...pretty."
Not that there's anything particularly wrong with that, but I'm sure a more eloquent manner in which to express your feelings on the subject at hand might carry out with more prestige.
The following are a list of criteria and technical terms in various genres to identify in artworks that are sure to make you sound like you've been well-versed in your art matter.


Paintings
These two-dimensional works are best described by their most obvious elements: mediums. If it's shiny (oily, even) and impossibly perfectly blended, chances are it's an oil painting. Oil is the most high-quality paint one can find. If you're looking at a particularly old oil painting, it usually is yellowed from varnish, a layer of gloss commonly applied to a finish oil, and is slightly cracking. A fair amount of paintings pre-modern-era are oil. A good example of such an artwork is Italian painter Paolo Veronese’s, Portrait of a Sculptor, an oil on canvas.

The next most common paint, especially in modern-day paintings, is acrylic. Popular for its quickness in drying and inexpensive cost, this paint is used widely in large-scale works as it saves money and allows the artist to work quickly. These paintings are detectable in their more matte look, though, if used skillfully, the paint still blends colors just as well as oil. However, the quality is never the same finish as an oil painting.

In addition, we have also watercolor, gouache and tempera paint as well. Watercolor has the most translucent appearance, as it is paint applied by mixing dry paint with water. Contemporary artist Brendy Vaughn’s shows the result of such multi-layering.

It is usually applied layer upon layer of thin, watery-looking colors. Gouache and tempera are, I won't lie, better left to identify by reading the plaque beside the artwork. It's ok, you can cheat.


Sculpture
This is, to be frank, a tricky realm. Sculpture can be anything from traditional clay-based materials to "found objects," which sometimes can be random crud found on the street. Yes, even crud (Google Chris Ofili if curiosity is piqued).

Now, if made from earthy materials (clay composites), there are two basic things you should know: 1) it was originally hand-modeled from a mushy mess into the concrete object standing before you. That in itself is pretty impressive. This method is called modeling. The Greek kamares jar pictured on left is one such example of modeling. 2) in order to get to that concrete stage, it underwent a super-baking process, known as firing. If it has color, it’s called a glaze. If it's just its natural color, then it's just been bisque-fired. If it is a plaster object, however, it is made of a material that is similar to clay, based of a powder and water. This material is often used to make cast molds of objects, a process by which the material is wrapped around an object until it solidifies, leaving behind a hard replica. This technique is often used to for the impressive-looking Greek and Roman sculptures found in museums (gasp! they're not real!).



Another form of sculpture is made by the subtraction, or carving, method, These can be made from any number of materials, including granite, marble, wood and even concrete. Take, for instance, Michaelangelo’s St. Theresa in Ecstasy. Michelangelo would hand-pick giant slabs of marble and import them from hundreds of miles to create his stunning works. This work is initially chiseled from a solid block of marble and then smoothed and chiseled until a masterpiece unveils.

Other forms of sculpture that are based on a mixed array of materials are really up to the own viewer's interpretation. I have seen in my time some rather oddly composed works, including a recent stuffed toy dog wrapped in a quilt with toe socks hanging off it. There was really no visual cohesion. It made me want to hug it, however, so I can only assume it had worth of some kind.


Other Media

Everything that isn’t sculpture or art, for the sake of brevity and lack of expertise in these areas, I will define as, “other media.” Modern graphic design work, installations, performance art, video art, photography—it’s all extremely varied. The only advice I can offer is to rely on your immediate reactions. Technical skill in these genres is not qualifiable, as they rely heavily on modern technology, not human skill. Instead, look for balance in contrast, forms, and colors. If the work harmonizes well or makes you think critically about subject or message being conveyed, it is worth the time. Local Austin artist Eric Zimmerman’s work is provides a great example of an installation work that is aesthetically appealing. Comprised of a combination of sketches, sculptural and projection works, it forms to make one astounding whole.

One Last Word to the Wise

Now, though you may often hear that artists’ works are to be appreciated and respected because they are simply a form of expression, I believe that this a false supposition. If something particularly offends you or irks your judgment in a way that is not pleasing, I don’t believe it merits any praise. However, if you should happen to encounter such a work, do refrain from ostentatious or conspicuous demonstration of dislike.

I also would, as an artist (even if not a “true” artist), beg that you first consider the work both critically and intuitively. Only by employing both methods may you come to decide if this work is, in fact, for you. Art is, after all, meant to be enjoyed—it is the language readable by all—regardless of background or age. So, enjoy.

The Non-Artist's Guide to Art Museums

Do you, like many, find yourself cocking your head awkwardly, one eye half-squinted, when encountered with a particularly confounding artwork in a museum?

You are not alone, my friend.

There are preventative measures for the mildly discomforting neck-ache (and no doubt headache) incurred by such strenuous observation after spending the day in the modern-day art museum.

I have been having serious issues with art these days. No, not art. The lack of interest in it and the common negative attitude toward it, which I have reason to believe arises from grievous misunderstandings of art. And so, I will offer my own advice on how to approach art in the current sea of art trends.

I realize you'll ask, "What makes you qualified to give such advice?"
I don't claim to be the most qualified person, but I do believe I have enough credentials for the following reasons:

1) I have produced art in all mediums for as long as I can remember and am two classes shy from an art degree.

2) My favorite subject is art history. I have been studying everything from prehistoric cave drawings to high renaissance art to post-modernist art to performance art to comic sequential art. I know a fair amount of artwork spanning all ages and mediums.

3) I am not your typical artist. I have this theory that to be a "true" artist, you must have experienced immense trauma in your life. Salvador Dali was raised believing he was the reincarnation of his deceased older brother. Vincent van Gogh's works prove the results of too much paint-eating. I, on the other hand, still have both ears intact and am the middle child of five in a loving, supportive family. I have no serious complaints, fortunately. Or in this case, not so fortunate as I am not driven to express inner turmoils with paint on a canvas, and thus, will never make my name in the art world.

But that does mean I can look at art from the perspective of a non-artist. I paint things that I think are pretty, simple as that. I myself have stood, I can't even guess how many times, before "art" and just looked at it, hoping something would come of it or I might find something to like in it. Of course, nothing does.

Many a time, I've also wondered what the world is coming to when looking at art.My point is, I'm right there with you when befuddled by a particularly incomprehensible piece.

My qualifications established, I will attempt the daunting task of setting a definition for art. Now, being an artist, honestly, doesn't make you any more qualified to determine what art is than a non-artist. I do, however, think we can at least offer you a few tools in the form of criteria to look for. You know, the basics.

But first, a definition.

I suppose an etymological, straight-from-the-dictionary definition is a good place to start. Art: "the quality, production, expression, or realm, according to aesthetic principles, of what is beautiful, appealing, or of more than ordinary significance." Not bad. I think the key words here are "aesthetic principles," "beautiful," "appealing," and "more than ordinary significance."

Art has always been, and continues to be, just another form of expression. Not unlike words, except it's more well-suited for those who, well, maybe just weren't gifted with eloquent prose. Sometimes, though, I feel this is taken a bit to the extreme. I believe if you are going to express yourself, especially publicly, you should keep your audience in mind. You definitely shouldn't let the audience control how you express, but at least acknowledge that others would be looking at your artwork to grasp something from it. This lack of consideration for audience is an immense problem in today's art world, I feel. Artists seem to get so caught up in "expression" they end up in the self-centered lane.

This is where attention to the aforementioned "aesthetic principles" is crucial. An artwork that not only has something to say, but says it in a way that's memorable because it adheres to the aesthetic principles of "beautiful," "appealing," or of "more than ordinary significance," has a better chance of positively impacting its viewer. No doubt something that startles or baffles you negatively does impact you, but I'd say you tend to remember things--more fondly, even--when they bring a smile to your face rather than a look of disgust.

Of course, within those aesthetic principles, there is a wide degree of what qualifies as beautiful or appealing--every person has their own definition of these words. I think Henry Geldzahler, an art critic, came up with a fairly good theory. He suggested that good artwork stays with you--a week, a day, a year later--you still remember its form, its lines and the elements that worked so well together that the image stayed with you.

"If a work calls itself to memory," he said, "without your asking it, if it insists, if it comes back like a melody, then that's quite serious and you probably have to buy it."

Now, obviously, the majority of things we see are either not for purchase or beyond our fiscal means. However, if you get that urge to want to own it, then yes, it means something.

Geldzahler also insisted that good artwork continues to reveal something to you. If at first glance you look at it and are transfixed, that's great and all, but does it keep your interest? If you were to return to it at a later time, would it be a new experience all over again?

Artwork that withstands this kind of extended scrutiny surely must be worthy. In a way, finding good artwork is like finding a good significant other: the true test of having something valuable is hat it continues to astound you in new ways, never getting old.

Something Better for your Money

As a college student, I inevitably see many dorm rooms and student apartments. Some shabbier, some nicer, but all alike in one aspect: they are all decorated in some fashion.

Typically, I find movie or entertainment-related posters are the choice of ornamentation, and while I'm not opposed to "Pulp Fiction" or Andy Warhol's many many works, I can't help but feel a substitution for the $20 or so paid for each poster could be better spent elsewhere.

Luckily for you, I have some suggestions!

The first was started by a couple of inspired women here in Austin who decided to address the growing problem of homeless people in the city. Fifteen years ago, they began a program called "Art From the Streets" (AFTS).

This two-day event, sponsored by the Austin Resource Center for the Homeless (ARCH), features an art sale that completely benefits the homeless individuals who submit artwork. Last year alone, the sale grossed $73,148, enough to get many artists off the streets and into homes.

Now, wouldn't you feel much better buying original artwork that you knew was directly helping better someone's life than buying another Gustav Klimt print from a random poster sale, the profits of which you had no idea were benefiting?

The artwork found at these sales is actually pretty impressive as well. Take a look at some of these original pieces:

John MonBelly (artfromthestreets.com)



Sam Cole (artfromthestreets.com)

So, yes, I strongly advise readers to invest their money in this show. It's right here in Austin, has something for everyone, and really makes a difference. The artists themselves are present at this show as well to share in the event and relate their experiences to those interested. If you don't have the money to contribute, you could also volunteer.

Another set of remarkable artists is one that, to me, is even more relatable. I take trips every so often to Guatemala, seeing as how the entirety of my family is originally from there. In the short travels I have made to various cities within the country, I have come across what are some of the most awe-inspiring works I have yet to see elsewhere.

Besides boasting a style all of its own, what I find remarkable about this artwork is the producers of it: the most humble, pleasant people I have ever met in my life. Most of them

A scene of Guatemalan Landscape
Feliciano Bal
(www.stony-hill-madison.com)

originating from remote villages that survive entirely on what little agriculture they manage to produce, they paint for the sheer pleasure of painting, and it is strongly evident in their work.

In one particular village called San Juan, accessible only by taking a twenty-minute ride across a deep blue lake surrounded by volcanoes,
I was highly distressed to find that not only had I forgotten a camera to take pictures of the astounding work I found there, but I had little money left to buy artwork. Or else, I would post pictures to substantiate
my claim that it truly was some of the most amazing work I have ever seen.
There were paintings measuring at least 5' x 3', depicting the most vivid scenes with illustrious colors of prismatic blues, greens, sunset pinks and

An Everyday Mayan Market Sale
(highroadprintcatalog.com)

oranges. You'd have to see it yourself to truly understand, but take my word for it: they are almost worth going to Guatemala solely for the reason of finding some good decoration for your home.

The best thing about them is they cost only 300 Quetzales, which in American currency is the equivalence of about $40. And to think of all the money people spend on what I term, "talentless trash."

An artist at work
(static.flickr.com)

Anyways, all this babbling does have a point: if you're going to spend money on such non-essentials, try to at least assure that it is benefiting something worthwhile. Because not only will you have a beautiful place, but a beautiful soul. You know what I'm getting at; just do it.