Fuck yeah!
Look at that painting. It is my latest trade. I love it.
It is by Monika Blichar, who is an artist and entrepreneur in Vancouver Canada.
I have much to say about Monika and her painting, too much for one blog entry.
But here are some highlights:
The painting is part of a series called 'The Sweetheart Collection'.
In addition to painting, Monika is the founder and president of Mab Ventures, Inc. and the Make and Break Arts Foundation.
Here is a link to the foundation’s Facebook page:
http://www.facebook.com/note.php?note_id=116132355099793
Both the series and Monika’s entrepreneurial efforts were inspired in part by the advice of her aunt, who told Monika that life is short and precious – Monika’s aunt was sick with cancer at the time – and that Monika must pursue her dreams.
Monika did.
The painting is two feet by three feet.
The series draws inspiration from glam beauties like Marilyn Monroe, Sophia Loren, and Greta Garbo.
Monika’s art foundation has the following goals:
(a) to raise awareness of the arts in the community;
(b) to support artists and offer assistance for community projects;
(c) to offer community workshops, events, and opportunities for arts education and programming;
(d) to provide similar and related services as determined by the membership.
Monika also teaches French to young children.
Monika’s paintings sell for quite a bit of money.
Ok. Enough highlights for now. I will give more later.
But I must say before I end that I am quite pleased with the Universe. So pleased, in fact, that I considered for a moment addressing it in the second rather than the third person. I have decided, though, that it has yet to earn such an honor.
So until then, Universe:
I want someone to trade me my original Monika Blichar for a painting that is equally if not even more inspiring than her Take Me Home, Toto!
I want someone to trade me my original Monika Blichar for a painting that is equally if not even more inspiring than her Take Me Home, Toto!
I want someone to trade me my original Monika Blichar for a painting that is equally if not even more inspiring than her Take Me Home, Toto!
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Monday, January 31, 2011
Sarah's Thesis Revisited Again
It is in the mail - my newest trade. It took a while for it all to happen. But according to UPS I should be getting the painting on Friday. Yay!
I must admit that I'm incredibly excited. But I must also admit that I have a residual feeling of consternation. I had hoped that by trying to trade up to a Van Gogh I would gain some insight into the nature of aesthetic value; but I can’t say that I have.
In my last post, I discussed Platonism, which is the view that certain properties, e.g. order, symmetry, unity and diversity, are objective features that works of art can instantiate to greater or lesser degrees; and paintings are the more beautiful the more perfectly they instantiate them.
In contrast to Platonism is the Humean view (named after David Hume, an 18th century Scottish philosopher) according to which beauty is subjective, or to use an oft-quoted maxim, in the eye of the beholder. According to the Humean view, if enough people end up really liking some work of art, it ends up getting a reputation for being beautiful (or at least important.) And if a work of art is deemed important throughout the ages, it becomes a classic.
Although something about the Humean view rubs me the wrong way, it does seem to explain how one could call both Michelangelo’s David and Andy Warhol’s Tomato Soup Cans important works of art. They seem to have very little in common other than the fact that lots of people like both.
In addition to making sense of the wide variety of so-called ‘beautiful art’, the Humean view would also make Sarah’s Thesis potentially true. If the Humean view is correct, then Dominic’s Face With a Line Through It could be getting more beautiful as this project goes on for no other reason than that more people are looking at it and thinking to themselves: I like Dominic’s drawing.
There is on final view worth discussing, namely the Kantian view (named after Immanuel Kant, an 18th century German philosopher.)
But I am feeling too excited right now to write much more. I just can't wait for my new painting. As I said already: Yay!
So I will end by making a very simple request of the universe:
I want my newest painting to arrive sooner rather than later.
I want my newest painting to arrive sooner rather than later.
I want my newest painting to arrive sooner rather than later.
I must admit that I'm incredibly excited. But I must also admit that I have a residual feeling of consternation. I had hoped that by trying to trade up to a Van Gogh I would gain some insight into the nature of aesthetic value; but I can’t say that I have.
In my last post, I discussed Platonism, which is the view that certain properties, e.g. order, symmetry, unity and diversity, are objective features that works of art can instantiate to greater or lesser degrees; and paintings are the more beautiful the more perfectly they instantiate them.
In contrast to Platonism is the Humean view (named after David Hume, an 18th century Scottish philosopher) according to which beauty is subjective, or to use an oft-quoted maxim, in the eye of the beholder. According to the Humean view, if enough people end up really liking some work of art, it ends up getting a reputation for being beautiful (or at least important.) And if a work of art is deemed important throughout the ages, it becomes a classic.
Although something about the Humean view rubs me the wrong way, it does seem to explain how one could call both Michelangelo’s David and Andy Warhol’s Tomato Soup Cans important works of art. They seem to have very little in common other than the fact that lots of people like both.
In addition to making sense of the wide variety of so-called ‘beautiful art’, the Humean view would also make Sarah’s Thesis potentially true. If the Humean view is correct, then Dominic’s Face With a Line Through It could be getting more beautiful as this project goes on for no other reason than that more people are looking at it and thinking to themselves: I like Dominic’s drawing.
There is on final view worth discussing, namely the Kantian view (named after Immanuel Kant, an 18th century German philosopher.)
But I am feeling too excited right now to write much more. I just can't wait for my new painting. As I said already: Yay!
So I will end by making a very simple request of the universe:
I want my newest painting to arrive sooner rather than later.
I want my newest painting to arrive sooner rather than later.
I want my newest painting to arrive sooner rather than later.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Sarah's Thesis Revisited
In a previous post I mentioned that my former student Sarah Adams proposed the following thesis.
Sarah’s Thesis: Participating in a project like the Van Gogh Project can increase the value of a painting.
It is a fascinating thesis. But is it true?
The answer to that question depends in part on what ‘value’ means.
If by ‘value’ Sarah means economic value, then I am inclined to think that her thesis is true. At the very least the optimist in me thinks it is true.
Suppose for the moment that I end up eventually trading for a Van Gogh. What would Dominic’s Face With Line Through It be worth? It is of course hard to say for sure. But I am willing to speculate that it would be worth some money. Prior to the Van Gogh Project, however, Dominic’s drawing, as awesome as it is, probably would not have made any money on the open market. So if ‘value’ in Sarah’s Thesis means economic value, and if my speculations are correct, then Sarah’s Thesis is true.
But what if ‘value’ means aesthetic value. Could participating in the VGP increase a painting’s aesthetic value?
Initially, one is tempted to say ‘no’. After all, being traded for in a public forum like this does not alter intrinsic features of a painting. So how could it alter a painting’s aesthetic value?
That line of reasoning, however, depends on a certain view of aesthetic value. I will call that view the Platonic view. According to the Platonic view, works of art instantiate to varying degrees aesthetic properties like symmetry, order, unity, and most importantly beauty. And whether they do so depends entirely on their intrinsic features.
The Platonic view does have some plausibility. Look at the Sistine Chapel and you will be hard pressed not to think that it is a work of astounding beauty. It is as if the form of beauty itself guided Michelangelo’s hand.
If the Platonic View is correct, then Sarah’s Thesis is false. Because the intrinsic features of a painting do not change upon being traded, participating in the Van Gogh Project would not increase a painting’s aesthetic value.
But there are at least two other views about aesthetic value that one might adopt. I will call them the Humean view and the Kantian view.
In a future post, I will discuss both the Humean and the Kantian views.
Before I end, however, I have to report the latest exciting news: I am about to make another trade. The artist is based in Vancouver. And her art, in my humble opinion, is awesome.
I can’t wait.
Sarah’s Thesis: Participating in a project like the Van Gogh Project can increase the value of a painting.
It is a fascinating thesis. But is it true?
The answer to that question depends in part on what ‘value’ means.
If by ‘value’ Sarah means economic value, then I am inclined to think that her thesis is true. At the very least the optimist in me thinks it is true.
Suppose for the moment that I end up eventually trading for a Van Gogh. What would Dominic’s Face With Line Through It be worth? It is of course hard to say for sure. But I am willing to speculate that it would be worth some money. Prior to the Van Gogh Project, however, Dominic’s drawing, as awesome as it is, probably would not have made any money on the open market. So if ‘value’ in Sarah’s Thesis means economic value, and if my speculations are correct, then Sarah’s Thesis is true.
But what if ‘value’ means aesthetic value. Could participating in the VGP increase a painting’s aesthetic value?
Initially, one is tempted to say ‘no’. After all, being traded for in a public forum like this does not alter intrinsic features of a painting. So how could it alter a painting’s aesthetic value?
That line of reasoning, however, depends on a certain view of aesthetic value. I will call that view the Platonic view. According to the Platonic view, works of art instantiate to varying degrees aesthetic properties like symmetry, order, unity, and most importantly beauty. And whether they do so depends entirely on their intrinsic features.
The Platonic view does have some plausibility. Look at the Sistine Chapel and you will be hard pressed not to think that it is a work of astounding beauty. It is as if the form of beauty itself guided Michelangelo’s hand.
If the Platonic View is correct, then Sarah’s Thesis is false. Because the intrinsic features of a painting do not change upon being traded, participating in the Van Gogh Project would not increase a painting’s aesthetic value.
But there are at least two other views about aesthetic value that one might adopt. I will call them the Humean view and the Kantian view.
In a future post, I will discuss both the Humean and the Kantian views.
Before I end, however, I have to report the latest exciting news: I am about to make another trade. The artist is based in Vancouver. And her art, in my humble opinion, is awesome.
I can’t wait.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow
That is the name of my latest trade.
The artist’s name is Gregory Dolnikowski. He is a nutrition professor at Tufts University; and he paints in his spare time.
Gregory learned to paint when he was young from his mother who was an artist. (Among other things, she painted the background scenes for displays in the Boston Museum of Natural History.)
Gregory is quite an active artist. He regularly displays his art around Boston; many people commission his paintings; and he even paints at parties. His work can be seen here:
http://www.yessy.com/gregdolnikowski
I had a lovely chat with Gregory before Christmas. Nature often inspires his painting: for instance, a rainstorm that beat down upon the windows in his studio inspired The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow.
Listening to Gregory talk about his painting definitely made me want to paint. He clearly finds immense pleasure in the act of painting. He told me that he sometimes loses himself in music as his brush swirls around a canvas. And he particularly enjoys painting at parties, which I must admit sounds like a lot of fun. Best of all, he has a regular job and so doesn’t have to starve like Van Gogh.
Trading for Gregory’s painting was a great way to end the year. I really do feel like that the universe has given me a Christmas gift.
Maybe next year, the universe will give me a Van Gogh for Christmas.
Of course, to get a Van Gogh, I need to make some trades.
So, just to help the universe along a little bit (especially now that I feel as if it is actively on my side), I can’t help but announce:
I want someone to trade for The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow
I want someone to trade for The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow
I want someone to trade for The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow
If anyone wants to trade for a Dolnikwoski original, let me know.
You can reach me at: pstudtmann@gmail.com
The artist’s name is Gregory Dolnikowski. He is a nutrition professor at Tufts University; and he paints in his spare time.
Gregory learned to paint when he was young from his mother who was an artist. (Among other things, she painted the background scenes for displays in the Boston Museum of Natural History.)
Gregory is quite an active artist. He regularly displays his art around Boston; many people commission his paintings; and he even paints at parties. His work can be seen here:
http://www.yessy.com/gregdolnikowski
I had a lovely chat with Gregory before Christmas. Nature often inspires his painting: for instance, a rainstorm that beat down upon the windows in his studio inspired The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow.
Listening to Gregory talk about his painting definitely made me want to paint. He clearly finds immense pleasure in the act of painting. He told me that he sometimes loses himself in music as his brush swirls around a canvas. And he particularly enjoys painting at parties, which I must admit sounds like a lot of fun. Best of all, he has a regular job and so doesn’t have to starve like Van Gogh.
Trading for Gregory’s painting was a great way to end the year. I really do feel like that the universe has given me a Christmas gift.
Maybe next year, the universe will give me a Van Gogh for Christmas.
Of course, to get a Van Gogh, I need to make some trades.
So, just to help the universe along a little bit (especially now that I feel as if it is actively on my side), I can’t help but announce:
I want someone to trade for The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow
I want someone to trade for The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow
I want someone to trade for The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow
If anyone wants to trade for a Dolnikwoski original, let me know.
You can reach me at: pstudtmann@gmail.com
Friday, December 24, 2010
Akrasia
Peter Smith is a curious artist.
It seems to me that there is a continuum of attitudes about art: On one extreme it is all about the process and/or beauty that comes from making art. On the other extreme it is all about the product, which inevitably comes along with the painter’s reputation and a price.
Peter Smith stands on the far end of the first extreme. He avoids attention; he does not show his art; and he does not even sign his art. He simply likes making works that he thinks are interesting and hanging them in his house.
‘Akrasia’ means weakness of the will. Smith’s painting is chaotic and yellow. It barely coheres. In fact, except for the figure on the top left, it seems random, as if forces entirely indifferent to painting produced it. Even the color does not in some sense of these words ‘make sense’.
And yet it is visually intriguing and demands attention. My eye vacillates between the turtle-like (in a post-modern way) figure on the top left and the blobbish slightly phallic red figure on the lower right. It then wanders over to the ghoulish looking figure that is emerging from the red blob. And then it returns to the post-modern turtle.
Were I to be potentially foolish and pronounce on the meaning of this painting – potentially foolish, because paintings don’t obviously mean anything; but then again, maybe they do – I would say the following: Akrasia is a glimpse into utter weakness of the will, a condition in which nothing makes sense and everything has a yellow tinge.
But how much is it worth? I don’t know. Like I said, Peter Smith has never tried to sell a painting. So maybe I traded Blow to Life for a complete clunker.
But I like it.
And even better yet, at least one other person likes it too. How do I know? Because he wanted to trade a painting for it. In fact, when I return home from Christmas at my girlfriend’s parents’ house, it should be waiting for me.
It’s almost like a gift from Santa.
It seems to me that there is a continuum of attitudes about art: On one extreme it is all about the process and/or beauty that comes from making art. On the other extreme it is all about the product, which inevitably comes along with the painter’s reputation and a price.
Peter Smith stands on the far end of the first extreme. He avoids attention; he does not show his art; and he does not even sign his art. He simply likes making works that he thinks are interesting and hanging them in his house.
‘Akrasia’ means weakness of the will. Smith’s painting is chaotic and yellow. It barely coheres. In fact, except for the figure on the top left, it seems random, as if forces entirely indifferent to painting produced it. Even the color does not in some sense of these words ‘make sense’.
And yet it is visually intriguing and demands attention. My eye vacillates between the turtle-like (in a post-modern way) figure on the top left and the blobbish slightly phallic red figure on the lower right. It then wanders over to the ghoulish looking figure that is emerging from the red blob. And then it returns to the post-modern turtle.
Were I to be potentially foolish and pronounce on the meaning of this painting – potentially foolish, because paintings don’t obviously mean anything; but then again, maybe they do – I would say the following: Akrasia is a glimpse into utter weakness of the will, a condition in which nothing makes sense and everything has a yellow tinge.
But how much is it worth? I don’t know. Like I said, Peter Smith has never tried to sell a painting. So maybe I traded Blow to Life for a complete clunker.
But I like it.
And even better yet, at least one other person likes it too. How do I know? Because he wanted to trade a painting for it. In fact, when I return home from Christmas at my girlfriend’s parents’ house, it should be waiting for me.
It’s almost like a gift from Santa.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
?!?!?!?!
Who would have thought? I made a trade.
I have been posting to the artist section in various cities on Craisglist, trying to drum up interest in the Van Gogh project. And it finally worked.
The painting is called: Akrasia.
The artist’s name is Peter Smith. He lives in Miami and paints in his spare time.
Peter claims that he liked what I did to Ode To Life. The nails, caulk and the board give it a tangible edginess. (Those were his words.) And he liked the title.
We had a lovely chat on the phone. Interestingly enough, Peter, like Boo, does not show his work in public. People have told him he should try to sell his paintings or, barring that, at least have a show. But he finds the pathological need of artists to gain the admiration of the public a revolting display of petty narcissism. (His words again.) So he just hangs his art in his house.
I asked Peter why he was willing to go public with his work by participating in the Van Gogh Project. And he said he liked the idea that his work would eventually be compared to one of Van Gogh’s.
So there you have it. Call it the power of the internet if you like. Call it the power of luck. I prefer to call it the power of the universe.
In my next post I will describe my reaction to Akrasia.
Until then, however, I can’t help but give the universe a little nudge:
I want someone to trade a painting for Akrasia.
I want someone to trade a painting for Akrasia.
I want someone to trade a painting for Akrasiae.
I have been posting to the artist section in various cities on Craisglist, trying to drum up interest in the Van Gogh project. And it finally worked.
The painting is called: Akrasia.
The artist’s name is Peter Smith. He lives in Miami and paints in his spare time.
Peter claims that he liked what I did to Ode To Life. The nails, caulk and the board give it a tangible edginess. (Those were his words.) And he liked the title.
We had a lovely chat on the phone. Interestingly enough, Peter, like Boo, does not show his work in public. People have told him he should try to sell his paintings or, barring that, at least have a show. But he finds the pathological need of artists to gain the admiration of the public a revolting display of petty narcissism. (His words again.) So he just hangs his art in his house.
I asked Peter why he was willing to go public with his work by participating in the Van Gogh Project. And he said he liked the idea that his work would eventually be compared to one of Van Gogh’s.
So there you have it. Call it the power of the internet if you like. Call it the power of luck. I prefer to call it the power of the universe.
In my next post I will describe my reaction to Akrasia.
Until then, however, I can’t help but give the universe a little nudge:
I want someone to trade a painting for Akrasia.
I want someone to trade a painting for Akrasia.
I want someone to trade a painting for Akrasiae.
Monday, November 15, 2010
I Couldn't Help Myself!
I admit -- I became dismayed and disheartened. Jean Clee changed her mind. She doesn’t want to trade for Ode to Life. And not a single other person has shown any interest.
Call it impatience. Call it desperation. Call it a lesson in not doing drugs.
But I decided to modify Ode to Life.
I’ve been doing some home repair and so had nails, paint and caulk lying around my basement. Over the weekend, I put those to artistic use. I took Ode To Life off its frame, nailed it to a board, dipped nails into paint and nailed them onto the painting, and then put caulk and acrylic in various places.
The result is what you see above. I figure it needs a new name. So I’m calling it ‘Blow To Life’.
I was initially appalled at what I had done and so drank a whole bunch of wine to ease my mind. The next morning, however, I woke up and, despite a persistent hangover, came to like the new painting. Indeed, I started feeling downright pleased with myself. But then, as I was walking to Ace Hardware to get some more nails and a pair of rubber gloves, I ran into Herb Jackson.
Herb is an art professor here and is a deservedly well-known artist. His art, in my opinion, is absolutely fantastic. I feel very lucky that I run into him every so often around campus. We had a lovely conversation during which he told me about the change in technique from the impressionists to Van Gogh. As we talked, however, I told him that I might modify the painting I had. That was a lie -- I had already done it but was still feeling a little bashful about what I had done and so couldn’t bring myself to tell him the truth. He told me that I should be careful because it is illegal to deface another artist’s work. After all, I don’t own the copyright.
Fuck! Fuck, fuck and another fuck.
What was I going to do? Had I done something illegal? Or worse yet, had I done something stupid? Have I doomed the Van Gogh Project?
Herb and I finished our conversation, we shook hands, and I worried about these question all the way to the Ace store. As I was perusing boxes of nails, though, an answer appeared to me: I decided that the only way forward was to trust in the power of art. I decided that I would take a poll.
If anyone thinks that I have defaced Ode To Life, please write ‘Boo’ in the comments section of this blog. By saying ‘Boo’, you will at one and the same time express allegiance to the artist who painted Ode To Life and express your dissatisfaction with my addition to it. All those who don’t comment at all will be interpreted as thinking that I have at the very least not worsened Ode To Life and so can’t be accused of defacing it (and hence of not doing anything illegal). On the other hand, if anyone particularly likes the changes, feel free to write ‘Yay!’
And of course, if anyone wants to trade for Blow To Life, let me know.
Call it impatience. Call it desperation. Call it a lesson in not doing drugs.
But I decided to modify Ode to Life.
I’ve been doing some home repair and so had nails, paint and caulk lying around my basement. Over the weekend, I put those to artistic use. I took Ode To Life off its frame, nailed it to a board, dipped nails into paint and nailed them onto the painting, and then put caulk and acrylic in various places.
The result is what you see above. I figure it needs a new name. So I’m calling it ‘Blow To Life’.
I was initially appalled at what I had done and so drank a whole bunch of wine to ease my mind. The next morning, however, I woke up and, despite a persistent hangover, came to like the new painting. Indeed, I started feeling downright pleased with myself. But then, as I was walking to Ace Hardware to get some more nails and a pair of rubber gloves, I ran into Herb Jackson.
Herb is an art professor here and is a deservedly well-known artist. His art, in my opinion, is absolutely fantastic. I feel very lucky that I run into him every so often around campus. We had a lovely conversation during which he told me about the change in technique from the impressionists to Van Gogh. As we talked, however, I told him that I might modify the painting I had. That was a lie -- I had already done it but was still feeling a little bashful about what I had done and so couldn’t bring myself to tell him the truth. He told me that I should be careful because it is illegal to deface another artist’s work. After all, I don’t own the copyright.
Fuck! Fuck, fuck and another fuck.
What was I going to do? Had I done something illegal? Or worse yet, had I done something stupid? Have I doomed the Van Gogh Project?
Herb and I finished our conversation, we shook hands, and I worried about these question all the way to the Ace store. As I was perusing boxes of nails, though, an answer appeared to me: I decided that the only way forward was to trust in the power of art. I decided that I would take a poll.
If anyone thinks that I have defaced Ode To Life, please write ‘Boo’ in the comments section of this blog. By saying ‘Boo’, you will at one and the same time express allegiance to the artist who painted Ode To Life and express your dissatisfaction with my addition to it. All those who don’t comment at all will be interpreted as thinking that I have at the very least not worsened Ode To Life and so can’t be accused of defacing it (and hence of not doing anything illegal). On the other hand, if anyone particularly likes the changes, feel free to write ‘Yay!’
And of course, if anyone wants to trade for Blow To Life, let me know.
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