Vernacular Collage

"What is vernacular photography? . . . It could be understood as an oppositional photography - outside technical or artistic histories, . . . it could also be entirely conventionalized, a manifestation of visual banalities, or an image so enigmatic that its meaning or genesis is entirely obscured. It is mistakes & failures as much as it may not be. & how we understand the images may or may not be separate from their initial intents. Is this a category we are making up?"

The above quotation was taken from the blog article "Vernacular Photography" published on One Way Street. I was interested to read it initially because I have been enjoying the blog, Dull Tool Dim Bulb, so much recently.

Then I started to consider the vernacular in terms of collage. (And visa-versa.)

But I was going somewhere else with this. Here's another quote, this one from Robert Genn's Twice-Weekly Letter [to painters]: "Some artists have a sense of preciousness about every squiggle or splodge they make. They hang onto stuff with tenacity, even building archives to rival The Ark of the Covenant. I've always put this down to poor toilet training, but it may also have something to do with ego blow or the expectation of a place in the history of art."

Ouch. My toilet training was above reproach. I can't help myself. I'm a pack-rat trained as a librarian. And, come to think about it, I consider myself to be a vernacular collage artist!

All Curiosity

As is often the case, Robert Genn's newsletter provided me with some food for thought this morning. In answer to a reader's question about finding the time to explore new ideas, he says:

"You need regularly to move from the assembly line and simply surrender to your intuition, and you need to be guilt free about it. While maybe a seeming distraction, it's the elixir that gives energy and courage to the roll of your production and your life in art. The penchant for exploration has a great deal to do with innate curiosity. Artists have curiosity in degree--some are all output and no curiosity, others are all curiosity and no output."

That last bit just about sums it up for me lately. . . all curiosity and no output. Ever since I came down with the flu right before Christmas I have been unable to work at my art. I have been two weeks trying to unscramble a huge accounting mess, a result of my steadfast avoidance of the issue, and I'm still not done! I have been seeking refuge in films and books which, although providing lots of ideas for collage, have become an escape from unpleasant tasks. . . I need to get back on the assembly line!

How Long?

Ok, the bottom line is that it takes 10,000 hours to get good at anything, any "cognitively complex pursuit" that is. Like drawing or painting. I'll never get my hours in for drawing but I just might try to cram near the end. Collage has a shorter learning curve especially if you start with sharp scissors. Do the math: that many hours amounts to three and a half years of practice for eight hours a day! (Thanks to Robert Genn for bringing this fact to my attention this morning.)

Vermeer and Glazing

One DVD that I find myself watching again and again is Girl with a Pearl Earring. The incredible artwork of Johannes Vermeer, the historical setting (Delft, Holland, 1665), and the sensitive performance of Scarlett Johansson make this film adaptation of a best-selling novel a winner for me. I especially enjoy the scenic shifts in color dominance from yellow to blue to scarlett. . . red making a perfect backdrop for the envious green of the wife's gowns! What brought Vermeer to mind this morning was Robert Genn's newsletter about glazing techniques. I tend to do a lot of glazing in my abstract acrylic paintings, and lately I have applied his technique to some of my collage work as well. The Atomist Confronts the Infinite Void is an example. I was interested to learn Genn's formula for his thin acrylic glazes: 5% pigment, 45% acrylic medium (gloss or matte) and 50% percent water. So far mine have consisted only of pigment and medium and, especially with the heat on, I have learned to work fast to avoid the clumpy mess that results from over-brushing. Vermeer was a master of the glazing technique.