Through a glass ...

Art almost always involves the manipulation of media.

Sculptors carve marble, poets work with words, painters apply paint to surfaces.

The principle holds true with every new technology. The art of the film maker lies in the uses s/he puts to the cinematic processes and materials. And photographers?

At first the sheer wonder of images appearing on glass was enough, but soon photographers began to produce work which deliberately made use of developing techniques, plates and papers, to artistic ends. And with each technical development, there are artists who take advantage of it to extend their art.

Alan Cross is one such artist. His work is currently being shown in the Worthing Artists Open Houses exhibition.

Alan is an accomplished photographer in what one might call a conventional sense. Subjects are pictured with a clarity and intensity which makes an immediate impact on the viewer.

But he has also produced a body of work which goes beyond this and towards abstraction.

Camera lenses excel at revealing what the human eye cannot register. Consider the early days of colour photography when white shirts appeared yellow under tungsten lighting. The camera was faithfully reproducing what we actually see, not what we think we see. Today, high definition digital cameras reveal those colours we fail to see. We discover that there are (often unexpected) colours inherent in subjects which we thought we knew. Perhaps we do ‘see’ them intuitively, but that is for psychologists to explore.

Of course, this is not new. The French Impressionist painters showed us that shadows were not grey or black and, once shown, we knew it had been true all along.

Alan takes photographic images and draws from them those colours and gradations of colours we would otherwise not see. He then subjects them to digital processes which distort the image, bringing out shapes and patterns or perhaps creating new ones. The result is aesthetically pleasing and more besides.

It would be sad if viewers’ responses to this work were that it is simply ‘clever’ or even ‘decorative’.

So how might we allow, say, the image above to engage with us as art? First, we might ask ourselves what it is a picture ‘of’. I imagine that many people would say ‘water’ or ‘mountains and valleys’. But we cannot be quite sure, especially if we know how this artist works. There is an ongoing discussion to be had here in our minds. Second, we might consider the contrasts of light and shade, the distribution of colours and tones. How do they affect the whole image? Do we see balance? Or disharmony? How do we read the whole composition?

Eventually, we should come to the golden question: what does it mean? Irritatingly for some artists, it’s no good asking them. Once they release an artwork, they lose their rights over its meaning. The question is strictly: ‘what does it mean for me?’

This is an intensely personal question, but we profit from trying to articulate an answer. Alan’s abstract work has that potential to make us reflect, and perhaps to flourish.

https://www.instagram.com/alanxcross/

https://www.alancross.space/

Never lies ...

There is a strong temptation to believe that photography is easy.

Almost every phone is equipped with a powerful, point-and-shoot camera. Freely available apps will turn the most mediocre shot into one of professional-looking quality. We are so surrounded by photographic images on social media and advertising that they are literally commonplace.

And yet, mercifully, there are also photographers who offer their work to us as art.

Dianna Jazwinski is one such photographer. You might already have seen her work unwittingly; Dianna has produced work for publications such Gardens Illustrated, The English Garden and Country Living. Beautiful as these images are, quite a different category of Dianna's work was on display at the recent Worthing Artists' Open Houses exhibition. This was work which reached out and engaged with the viewer.

In this example, Antique Roses, Dianna presents us with an intriguing image. Dead or dying rose heads are scattered on a surface, dimly lit in such a way that intricate detail is still present. The tones and colour range are subdued; they don’t thrust themselves at us, and yet we are brought very close to the subject. For these and other reasons, this is a work which calls into play our memories, our world view and even our self esteem. Quite something for a pile of dead flowers.

The joy of this work is found in simply being with it. No critical analysis is needed. And yet, in many ways it exemplifies the work, the skill and the vision of the artist. The very first ‘seeing’ of the image in the mind of the artist is a good place to start. Here the artist has seen a pleasing and provocative potential where others might find little to inspire. Whether the arrangement has happened by design or accident doesn’t matter; it is the one which she has settled on. The practical decisions, such as how to frame the composition (for example, what should be included or excluded), have a direct impact on how we, the viewer, receives it. The technical decisions and adjustments - such as field depth, lens type and lighting - all have to be made. And then there is the choice of title ...

The finished work comes to us from this bringing-together of vision, skill and experience.

But there is far more besides. The meaning of any artwork is not owned by the artist. As soon as it leaves the studio, the viewer takes up their part of the work. How we respond to an image like Antique Roses is directly affected by what we bring to it and therefore individual (and personal). As a man of a certain age, I found myself engaging with this presentation of objects - things once of acknowledged beauty, but now discarded; items which had been cut out so that others might flourish - at a surprisingly deep level. I was saved,though, from negative introspection. These roseheads are given a dignity simply by being selected as a worthy subject. Their beauty is recognised by the lighting and the focus on detail. I find myself noting that the title Dianna has given is Antique Roses; not Dead Roses or Discarded Roses or even (save us) Untitled. This was a choice, not an accident, and invites me to consider what the adjective might imply.

Dianna’s work is varied, stimulating and beautiful. Take an opportunity to look further.

https://diannajazwinski.co.uk/

https://www.instagram.com/dianna_jazwinski/

The pictures in my head

Denise Strange is an artist working in Worthing; a selection of her work is currently on display in the West End Gallery as part of the Worthing Artists Open Houses 2019.

Her work is delightful and varied, and comes from someone who is clearly inspired by natural beauty. And if we want travel deeper into the experience of art, Denise's work uncovers some of the dispositions which might get in our way.

This image is unmistakably a vase of flowers, of roses.

And yet the artist has painted it in a style which doesn't look precisely the way we imagine things to be. There are no clear edges and every surface is made up of 'splodges' of colour. The leaves, the blooms, the vase, the background - all of them are created with 'patches' of colour. The shadows (which show us shape and texture and depth) are dabs of darker tones. The highlights, reflecting light from a source we can't see, are splashes of white.

It is the kind of painting which can give the deceptive impression that it is easy to create, although only a moment's thought convinces us otherwise. Nevertheless, some people will still insist that this is not how they expect to see a vase of flowers depicted. There are no hard lines. And we can't say with any certainty what the colour of, say, the vase is. Some might point to an illustration in a flower textbook as being 'more realistic'.

But this is a beautiful and skilfully executed painting.

Some reasons why follow later, but first the mistakes which critical viewers might make.

First, because it is such an automatic response, we don't realise that most of the time we 'see as' rather than simply 'see'. We see a flower and we match it to all the other flowers we have seen, and immediately see it as a flower. In our heads, we can make sense of what we see because it conforms to the idea we have built up of what flowers look like; we 'recognise' it. If we didn't do that, the world would be a bewildering kaleidoscope of moving colours and shapes. When we approach a painting, we need to remember the artist has usually presented us with what we would actually see, rather than what we would see it as.

Second, we make a big mistake when we consider that the artist has wanted to show us what something looks like. There are artists who do this, and we call them illustrators; their work is specialised and has a very particular purpose. The great gift of much art is that it re-presents the world to us (not represents). It shows us the world in a new or fresh way. It invites us to share in an experience and to explore it. It engages us, and treats us as part of the adventure.

What Denise has done in this image, is to have invited us into the experience of coming upon a vase of roses. She presents us, without thrusting or insisting, with that sense of being with the roses rather than simply observing them. The colours delight us and, because most of us have some prior experience of roses, they call on our memories of scent and texture and occasion. Perhaps precisely because of the hazy and indistinct style of this painting, it slips easily into a conversation with our recollections.

Denise Strange's work is thoughtful and evocative. I commend it.

instagram.com/dee.strange

www.denisestrange.com

#stilllife