Why abstract painting?

This was a question I was often asked after I gave up painting watercolors of realistic landscapes.  What is the point? people (especially my husband) would ask.  Not an easy question to answer.

For artists, abstract painting usually proves harder than being representational.  They have to decide what it is they're trying to say, visually and even emotionally.  I usually have a definite concept before I begin, such as the idea that memory consists of many layers, or fire is hot. 

Several years ago I created a series of abstract paintings inspired by volcanoes.  What interested me was not any particular volcano, but the color of fire, the violence of eruption, and the texture of lava.  My problem was how to recreate my feelings about volcanoes on canvas, without actually representing a volcano.  I became an Abstract Expressionist - flinging and spattering liquid paint, trowelling on real lava, scraping channels in thickly applied paint, setting bright reds against deep blacks and blues, tracing lines with a stick.  I guess you could say I danced the role of a volcano.  The experience was always very intense and utterly exhausting.  Some paintings were very large and took several hours to complete.  I was always afraid that if I interrupted the process, I would never be able to pick up the momentum again.  Nevertheless, even an artist needs sleep, so I would often find myself in the intimidating position of starting again.

Teaching abstract painting is quite a challenge.  Some of my students arrive in the classroom wanting to break away from realism, but where to start?

We begin by recognizing that every painting consists of shapes, colors, textures and lines.  As abstract painters we have the freedom to invent any shape and make it any color.  However, the 'rules' of composition still apply to some extent.  My aim is to make a painting which not only attracts attention from 30 feet away, but also contains some detail (smaller shapes, faint lines, subtle textures, perhaps) which makes it interesting close up.  I don't like my work to be too predictable.  We have to take account of the nature of perception.  If there is something fascinating in the middle of the painting and nothing around the edges, our viewers will be marooned dead center.  This may be what we want, but probably isn't.  An isolated, intricately detailed shape in a sea of amorphous ones is bound to demand attention and may be an annoying distraction.  Painting in the abstract often requires a high level of objectivity on the part of the painter, trying to see the work as others see it.

Textures are not only fun to create - especially with the huge variety of mediums available now - but they add interest to a painting.   Abstract painters have plenty of choice.  They can aim for smooth, brushless plains, matte or gloss; or coarse surfaces roughened with a palette knife.

 Mark Rothko created huge, mesmeric rectangular shapes of color applied thinly, like veils which seem to hover and shimmer.  In front of one of his paintings one doesn't feel the need to ask "What is it supposed to be?"  It is an experience which might be described differently by every viewer.

 Willem de Kooning's earlier work consists of a frenzy of brushstrokes, often smothering each other, colors melding unpredictably.  In some of his paintings containing 'Woman' in the title it is hard at first to find the woman and when we do we are not always sure whether we are looking at her front or her back!  But it doesn't matter because we are soon caught up in the tangle of brushstrokes and the whirl of color.  As one of my first art teachers, Katrina Wagner, used to say "It's about paint."

Howard Hodgkin, a contemporary British artist not well known on the West Coast, denies that he is an abstract painter and, indeed, the titles of some of his paintings ("In a Hotel Garden", "The Green Chateau", "Clean Sheets") imply real subjects.  Yet the brilliant manner in which he uses color, especially scarlet reds and bright greens, extending it over the small wide frames of his paintings, makes it the subject to the extent that it is unnecessary to find the objects he may be representing.  He is very emotional when he talks about his art and the art itself has a strong emotional 'content'.  Nevertheless, it's about paint.

A frequent remark overhead by abstract painters is "My 5-year-old child could do that."  Firstly, it is often difficult for non-artists to understand the subtleties that underlie an apparently simple abstract composition.  Or if the painting appears just a mess of out-of-control brushstrokes, how can they determine whether any skill went into the painting?  Perhaps the cat jumped on it while it was still wet. 

Virtuosity can be mistaken for good art: just think of the pianist who covers the entire keyboard in a split second while standing on her head.  This doesn't mean that she is a gifted pianist - an incredible athlete, perhaps!   Same with the painter who can make the light in every window of his cute little, rain-soaked cottages gleam in the dark.  This in itself does not make him a good artist, just a skillful technician. 

Finding no ready meaning  in an abstract painting can lead to the notion that it is "meaningless".  Or 'not getting it'  may result in the accusation "It doesn't make sense."  It is a pity that viewers often feel threatened by abstraction, as if it is a closed world in which they are not welcome.  Museums are doing more to help the public, especially children, to understand what motivates abstract artists.  The artists themselves need to help too.  After all, it is never the viewers' fault that they can't appreciate that all they need to do is to respond intuitively to shapes, colors, and textures.                                                                                            Ann Baldwin
                                                                                    ©September 1999 

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