POST # 162: Is it Art or Illustration?

At what point does one morph into the other? Not as easy to answer as it might seem. Historically, until the mid 1800s, most art was what we today would today consider “illustration.” It told a story: historical, biblical or mythological. Even something as non-literary as a 17^th century Dutch still life or a Turner landscape painting had an underlying “moral” basis, maybe a condemnation of sin or a Momento Mori, a commentary on the briefness of life. I recently came across a book in my library entitled: Modern Painters and Sculptors as Illustrators, with dozens of examples of famous artists from Picasso to Matisse, Chagall and Rodin, They clearly had as their primary intent the creation of a work of art. The written word, the story it came with, was secondary. On the other hand, when you compare their work to the great American illustrators like Howard Pyle or the Wyeths, you can see the difference clearly; their primary goal was to clearly tell a story. I’m not making a value judgment; Picasso is not “better” than Wyeth, just different. You can be a hack artist or a hack illustrator. What makes the difference between artist and illustrator is intent. Is the purpose primarily to tell the story or to create a work of art? With shades of everything in between.

As you suspect, whenever anyone makes a statement about art or artists, the exceptions jump out  at you. If you gave a copy of a poem or a short story to ten different artists and ask them to illustrate it, you would get ten totally different interpretations – as you should. Let’s say, there is a continuum, ranging from a totally abstract interpretation of a work of literature to an image where there is an almost photographic adherence to the story. “Fine Artists” have always been derisive of illustrators, assuming that work done for a client is necessarily less valid as of a work of art. Certainly, there’s no historic or even artistic basis for that. Is Giotto’s mural for the Arena Chapel less a masterpiece because it tells a story? Hacks are hacks; mediocre “artists” are no better than mediocre illustrators.

Anyhow, let me give an assignment to everyone reading this blog, artists and non-artists. Find a piece of literature you like: poem, story, book – and illustrate it in the manner of your choice. You can interpret it realistically or fantastically or abstractly. Any way you like. In fact, try it a couple of different ways. It’s a great way to push yourself, get out of a rut. For example, the artist Chagall was at his peak, did his best, most creative work from around 1910 to 1920. Then, he fell into a formula that sold well, made him rich and famous: his “faux” Vitebsk ghetto scenes, with flying lovers, rabbis and (cash) cows. It wasn’t until he turned to illustrating works such as Les Fables de La Fontaine and the Arabian Nights that his genius re-emerged and he ended up one of the greatest artist/illustrators of modern times.

Here’s your homework assignment: Pick a poem or a quote, a proverb, a fable - and create an illustration for it! I don’t care if you are an “artist” or not – in fact – I’m curious to see what the non artist readers come up with!

GO!…and send me the results.

 Renee Kahn

Artist and Ersatz Illustrator

POST #161: RENEE KAHN -THE PHOTOFRAUD

I was never much of a photographer, mainly because photography, especially back in the days when I was starting out as an artist, required a lot of technical expertise which I didn’t have, as well as expensive equipment which I couldn’t afford. But, since I drew pretty well the only time I really needed a photo was to jog my memory, provide some details I couldn’t remember and my $2.99 Brownie camera was just fine for that. Nowadays, thanks to the incredible I-phone cameras, everyone can take good photographs, be an artiste. What nobody seems to realize is that it takes more than equipment to make a good photograph.

Over the past few decades I’ve had the mixed blessing of being invited to judge a half dozen Camera Club competitions, mostly little local meetings, not the major shows that want big names. I would be invited, not because I had any expertise in photography, but because I taught art history at the local university and the club leaders thought I might add a “different point of view.” And that I did! At the beginning of the session, the judges would be introduced. No one had any idea (or interest) in who I was and why I was invited, so my first job was to inform the group that I had very little, if any, knowledge of photography as a skill, however, I could teach them something about photography as an art. The other judges got to critique before me, quick to point out smudged negatives, out-of-focus backgrounds, poor lens work, in other words, the technical aspects of photography.

The modus operandi of the meeting was to project the photos the members had brought with them onto a large screen for the judges to critique. When it was my turn, I would walk back to the projector and with a couple of pieces of masking paper crop their mediocre images into something that produced gasps from the audience. I would hear complaints from the other judges that cropping was “cheating,” that “good” photographers (like Henri Cartier-Bresson) cropped with their eyes before they took their photos. “B.S. I would reply, there are no no’s, only what works.” I would then proceed to give the audience a crash course in “Principles of Design 101”, the underlying basis for a good photograph or any work of art.

A few weeks ago, my friend Bob gave me his usual copy of the art section of the London Financial Times. Much to my surprise, there was a review of a newly published book of photographs by one of my all-time favorites Helen Levitt. She was one of a group of talented “street photographers” influenced by the great Walker Evans who roamed the city in the 1940s taking candid snapshots of run down New York City neighborhoods. She died over ten years ago in her mid ‘90s, leaving behind over 10,000 unpublished negatives and the images in the new book were taken from this archive. The FT generously reprinted several photos that were in the book along with the review. But something wasn’t right. The images they showed, although very interesting, didn’t have the flawless composition and punch of Levitt’s usual work. Maybe that’s why she never published them in her lifetime. Or maybe she never had a chance to work on them. I was bothered enough to get up in the middle of the night, find my copy of the newspaper, cut out the illustrations in the article – and crop them myself.  There ya’ go Helen Levitt! I went back to sleep, content. The next day, I proudly showed what I had done to a photographer friend. He looked puzzled. “They looked okay to me before.”

P.S. If anyone is interested, I can give a one-page intro to the “Principles of Design” in my next post. The rules are easy, but they’re only the beginning; you have to practice a lot.