Friday, January 29, 2021

What Does Your Work Aim to Say?

Art student Alexandra V. asks: "What does your work aim to say? (About the world or your life)"

Alexandra, when you ask about what my work aims to say, it sounds like you're wondering about the intended meaning of my work: what I'm after when I do it, or what I hope to express or communicate.

Let's start by distinguishing those two ideas. As I understand it, expression has to do with how art can translate a feeling or an idea into tangible form. Communication, by contrast, is concerned not only with the revealed thought, but also with what the viewer actually takes away from it. Expression can happen without publication or sharing, but communication requires another person to engage with it.

It's hard for me to explain what I hope that my art will express about my life or the world around me, much less what I expect people to take away from it. Here's why:

1. Each painting has a different motive. Sometimes I'm inspired by the delight of a spring day; sometimes it's the morbid glee of a devastating caricature, and sometimes it's the sadness of an abandoned building.

2. What a painting has to say isn't readily translatable into words. Painting and writing are such different modes of thought.


3. A lot of my paintings are about the thrill of creating a realistic illusion. I never tire of the pleasure of translating something fleeting or unloved into permanent form. It's like preserving a flower in clear resin.

4. I'm often interested in finding exotic beauty in commonplace scenes—or finding commonplace beauty in exotic fantastic worlds. Those two goals are related somehow. That explains how plein-air paintings of gumball machines were painted by the same person who created Dinotopia. 

5. If I've learned one thing from social media, it's that I can strongly influence the way people respond to an image by how I choose to present it. People react not only to the image, but also to the title and the caption, and you can measure that response in the analytics and the comments. If a picture appears in a video, it's influenced by what comes before or after, and also by the voiceover, the music, and the sound effects. If a painting appears in a museum exhibit, a person's reaction is shaped by the frame and the title card. It's impossible to present an image without some context, and context is everything.

6. Even though I write a lot about my art, and I'm conscious of what goes into it, the meaning of it is somewhat of a mystery to me. So I'll leave it to others to interpret what my work is about. Art critics and academics have no problem doing that. One time my son was taking a class in fantasy literature at an Ivy League college, and he told me they were reading and analyzing Dinotopia as one of the texts. I offered to come and explain why and how I created the book, or at least to discuss it and answer questions, but the professor said he didn't need to hear from me. From his perspective, what I intended didn't matter as much as what he had already concluded on his own.

8 comments:

Ruth Squitieri said...

Someone turned down your offer to do a talk about your work in person? Are they NUTS? Oh well, his loss (but unfortunately also his students')

Andrew Jaremko said...

James - first of all, thank you for all that you share about yourself, your art, and your very intimate relationship with your art.

As a sometime movie maker, I'm very aware of the importance of context. I've also helped a more academic and hence self conscious artist by building electronic and microprocessor devices as controllers for several of her installations. I felt fulfilled by learning what to do to help the galleries operate her installations but only mildly interested in her "art".

Most of her work seemed to require the written "artist statement" explaining the private language she appeared to be using in a particular piece. It was all very intellectualized.

I saw that again when I was doing a work-study residency in video editing at the Banff Center for Arts and Creativity (how's that for a pretentious name?) in the summer of 1997. The artists seemed to mostly be trained to think that their art needed explanatory text.

I've always felt that whatever I do should stand on its own and not need me to talk about it. It's the Mary Poppins principle: "Let me make one thing perfectly clear. ... I never explain anything."

Genevieve said...

Nuts you say !! He claims he can tell your truth in your place... Pretentious !! Imagine all the unknown artists (in the present and the past) that didn't stand out because they were hidden by those 2 cents philosophers. Not only the academics but also the peoples influenced by the style and trending at a given time...

At least, with your books and blog, your real intention and opinions will be passed to the next generations. Your generosity to give your knowledge is unique. Thanks !

Genevieve said...


Nuts you say !! He claims he can tell your truth in your place... Pretentious !! Imagine all the unknown artists (in the present and the past) that didn't stand out because they were hidden by those 2 cents philosophers. Not only the academics but also the peoples influenced by the style and trending at a given time...

At least, with your books and blog, your real intention and opinions will be passed to the next generations. Your generosity to give your knowledge is unique. Thanks !

Maria said...

Thank you so much for your thoughtful and well articulated answer! The artist as commodity somehow has become so ingrained in our culture that we rarely reflect over the artist's role. I am so grateful for your posts! This one in particular, I will safe keep for times in doubt. :)

Steve Gilzow said...

Thanks for such a clearly articulated response, James. For many of us, perhaps what we “aim to say” is often less about the final painting than about the process of making it. Staying with a subject, giving it hours of attention, changes the usual tempo of time and registers the scene within us. When I look at paintings done outdoors years ago, that particular afternoon is alive and vivid in a way a photograph does not evoke.

Unknown said...

> I offered to come and explain why and how I created the book, or at least to discuss it and answer questions, but the professor said he didn't need to hear from me. From his perspective, what I intended didn't matter as much as what he had already concluded on his own.

I'm not sure if this falls into Death of the Author or not. Doesn't it sting quite a bit to be told your intent is meaningless next to interpretation?

James Gurney said...

Nah, it doesn't sting at all. People can do their analysis however they want, and if they come up with genuine insights, more power to them. My own frame of reference is more journalistic. I like to begin my analysis of an artist's work by considering what they intended, and go from there.