I’m writing from a small village in the Ardeche in southern France. Having just returned from my morning walk up the hill behind my house, I began thinking about a subject  that has been on my mind a lot lately:  How to integrate work and life into a harmonious whole where the work, the place, the people,  time available and the entire natural world hum. It just occurred to me, half way through my coffee that the computer is the tool that can link these elements together. In a way, this seems obvious, but how now, in our troubled times does it work and what can it mean and what can a computer do in this context of ‘going back to Nature’ particularly as it relates to the arts? Apple seems to have  understood this new concept the best, indeed has made it possible.  And here is some background to my thinking.

In Italy, a movement was begun called the Slow Food movement, ostensibly to counter the over powering fast food society that has completely taken over the States and is making deep inroads into old Europe, even the great culinary kingdoms of France and Italy. This ‘movement’ is, of course, about much more than just eating good food slowly. It’s about rethinking the way that we live. In terms of food it implies organic gardening, buying locally, eating seasonal fruits and vegetables and taking the time to cook and share meals with friends and family.  All of this takes time, that precious, furtive , contemporary  commodity. But the idea extends much beyond even this.

Which brings me back to the ‘Slow Food Movement‘. It has been an inspiration in concretizing what has slowly become apparent to me as my own artwork began years ago to deviate from the frenetic Avant Garde approach to the ‘problem’ of what it is to be contemporary. Much of the fear of being labeled traditional or reactionary dissipated when it became clear that something new is afoot, that what you read in most of the art magazines, see in the big galleries and museums all over the world is not necessarily the only direction art or life needs to go. Much of the art gibberish, the self-interest, the hype, the superficiality of what we see and read arises from the same sources. Sounds strange doesn’t it? Could we imply that Jeff Koons is producing cheeseburger art and has sold the idea to cheeseburger appetites? It’s industrially produced and easy to market.

The implications of this Slow Food movement are far reaching. It’s linked to the entire environmental awakening and demands a re-evaluation of our society’s values. Smoldering revolution will not happen on pristine white walls under neon lights in established conventional institutions or commercial publications regardless of what they tell you. It will most likely occur in isolated individuals, small communities, and probably in very diverse forms. Cezanne was pretty much considered some kind of freak until very late in his life. And he wasn’t very welcome in the Parisian salons either.

So here, let’s make a jump to the 21st century and this is where the computer comes in— as a link to these ‘primitive’, isolated  and emerging sprouts. We have the Internet, email, vast memory, tremendous research possibilities, and with all the software available, the possibility of treating images, music, and texts in creative and professional ways. This does not mean that we need to rely on the computer for the source of our creativity.

The source is Nature and our relationship to her and to ourselves. The computer is a multifaceted tool, somewhat like the powerlock multi-tools that farmers often carry with them. Now, most modern farmers also use the computer. But they don’t grow food out of it. It’s just a tool. Art doesn’t necessarily grow out of a computer either. It’s just a tool, albeit an incredible one and necessary for the new direction I’m speaking of.

As we spend more and more time in the country here in the Ardeche and continue to renovate one of the 16th century buildings, I began to feel that my artwork should also include some of the local animals and that I could incorporate some of the animal species into the renovation project as granite stone sculptures—- an homage to these creatures which may or may not survive the continual march of destruction of  the natural environment. 

I sculpted a lizard, toad, bird, a gargoyle (a modern dragon) and a portrait of a man and a woman‚Äîtwo heads together listening to each other. Some of these have already been incorporated into the building and the others will be soon.  With my own observations, photographs and internet research, I was able to create images that reflect these local species. The link from the 16th century granite building and the 21st century was accomplished.

Portrait
Also, last year I felt the urge to paint some ‘portraits’ of some of the birds I was hearing outside. In the spring there were the cuckoos, in the early morning and evenings were the owls, and then there were the beautiful hawks that flew too high to distinguish for sure their exact identity.  The problem was that I could never see them clearly. What did they look like? I looked up what the local birds were in this area and studied the photographs, but still wasn’t sure which species of owl they were. And this one particular owl became a real focus for me. As it turns out, there is a website that allows you to listen to the sound birds make and then shows you which specific species it is. Wonderful!  I located the image and painted what I thought the birds might look like.  Thank you computer. (http://www.mangoverde.com/birdsound/)

My view is that with all the de-construction that has occurred in the 20th century, it is time to construct, to re-think the role of art, to place it within a context. Living in a building 300 or 400 years old is an inspiration to create something meaningful that will last beyond one’s own lifetime. Andy Warhol and Jeff Koons celebrate the fast food culture. They are certainly legitimate as chroniclers of a time, but they lead us to more blandness and keep the machine running for the benefit of the all the emperors men. There are cracks in the emperor’s art system too and these are very good places to plant new seeds. Stone walls are vulnerable to roots making their home in the cracks. They break them apart. The Brillo Boxes may indeed be the end of art history as we know it but perhaps not in the way Mr. Danto would imagine it to be. (Beyond the Brillo Box, by Arthuer Danto, published by Farrar Straus Giroux, 1992)
 

A few years ago, as a University Professor of Fine Arts (at The American University of Paris), I began to realize that even for communication purposes with students and colleagues, fluency with the computer was a necessity and since my field dealt with images, so was the manipulation of images. When I took my first computer three-day workshop, I was totally lost. The instructor assumed that most bipeds could move through clicks and double clicks with ease and I quickly became discouraged and was constantly being helped by my more upright neighbor. When I or some other lost soul would ask a question, the instructor would repeat the answer rapidly and then finish by saying "Don’t worry, it’s easy". At one point during a break, a fellow lost soul asked our instructor a question about a previous exercise and received the same lightning response finished by "Don’t worry, it’s easy". However, this girl, being braver than I, happened to be from Mexico and answered the instructor with a barrage of sentences in Spanish. The instructor looked perplexed and said, "I’m sorry, I don’t understand" to which the Mexican student said, "Don’t worry, it’s easy". So, yes, it’s all easy, if you’re already somewhat fluent in the language. 

When I finally got my own version of Photoshop, I dutifully tried to read the manual. Again, not much sank in. Then at night, when I was too tired to concentrate, I began to take various images and began to "mess around" with them in a completely haphazard manner. I would click on ‘Image’ in the bar menu and go down to something called ‘Adjustment’, then to ‘Color Balance’ and turn all of the dials in any way that I could, watch, the image change into something totally different and move on to the next effect, sometimes coming up with something I rather liked but was completely incapable of repeating the process or really understanding what had actually happened. I was becoming hooked on this experimentation, which then also lead to going back and trying to understand what had actually happened. Much more helpful than the books or manuals were the more literate computer friends around me that took the time to answer my questions. Most were very generous and patient and I hereby thank them all.

I slowly began to realize that my intuitive "painterly’ approach to the computer was affecting my own work and not necessarily in a bad way. First of all, I was learning to take better photographs of my paintings and organize them, although, my organization skills are still pretty bad.  (Perhaps someday I’ll be able to write how that has been solved also, but not yet). Since my work is basically figurative, I began to look at imagery in a slightly different way.

I still love to paint and draw from life, perhaps even more so now than before, both the figure and landscape, but I could use the computer as an exploratory instrument and not only as a reproductive tool. And of course, the deeper I got into exploring the ‘tool’, the more I wanted to understand how to manipulate it and make it do what I wanted it to do. In fact, rather than taking away the adventure of painting with oils on canvas, I realized what an incredibly fluid medium it actually was. There is an alchemy that occurs when using a medium such as oil paint that simply cannot be reproduced in another medium. Whew! Liberation! I didn’t have to feel guilty being a painter and exploring Photoshop or any other software. And I could learn from my experiments on the computer without feeling the necessity of ‘copying’ the image discovered in Photoshop in paint. After all, I didn’t want to become a painter simply copying photographs that I had manipulated on the computer. That seems too boring a prospect to me.

But what is exciting is delving deeper into both the visual world on the outside and the imaginative world within. This is an endless quest for me in paint and the results, when successful, are mysterious and often surprising. I try to take a similar approach on the computer. Sometimes I’ll scan one of my drawings and then begin to manipulate it in Photoshop just to see where I can go with it. It’s the reverse process of taking a photograph and seeing what I can do with it in paint. It’s always good to stretch out and stay open to new discoveries. This way of working has lead to making textile designs, which is a whole other story, to be explored in another essay. For now I’d like to stick with my own creative process and search for new imagery. So, taking a drawing and manipulating it in the computer is one way. The other is that I find myself taking more photographs and then exploring and exploiting that image, both on the computer and through paint. I don’t try to copy the image in paint but to use it as a beginning point in the painterly process. I find it interesting to begin from different beginnings and see what kind of result can be achieved. The search for meaningful images is paramount to me and I try not to limit my approach (es).

Since I do not consider myself a ‘photographer’, I feel free in the taking of photographs. And although this may sound strange, sometimes ‘-bad’ photographs can lead to innovative images, at least for me. Not that I wish to make bad photographs. On the contrary, I am trying to improve my photographic craftsmanship all the time. In fact, I am more and more interested in using the camera as a sort of sketchpad, then putting the image through Photoshop to see what can be pulled out. I love painting outside my country home in the Ardeche in southern France for example. It’s a thrill that takes me back to my hunting days as a child in Colorado with my father and brothers. I sit and look and listen and smell and try to open up to let it all these sensations and emotions flow into the paint. But I find myself beginning to photograph the same landscape and, although it’s not the same process, I aim for the same emotional depth when I start to manipulate the image. Sometimes I’ll discover things there that seep into my painting when I’m outside. It’s hard to explain and is not systematic, but I feel that my vision of ‘things’ widens and deepens.

I also love drawing from the nude. In my classes in Paris we draw a lot from the model. It’s a beautiful experience and teaches us the essential elements of drawing. Also, that the human body is magnificent, complex, sensual and sacred.  The structure one learns from figure work can be applied to almost any graphic problem. In my own work, I also use models and draw from life as much as I can. I try to have the same attitude as I do when painting the landscape outside, to open up to the vision in front of me so that the medium and I can work together to create a meaningful image. And, here too, I am starting to use the camera and Photoshop to explore directions that I cannot go in oil or ink. When drawing, one explores each curve almost like skiing over a mountain relief. In photography, capturing the image is instantaneous. Then one can explore that image, in Photoshop for example, to see what lurks hidden beneath. And, again, the discoveries somehow find themselves in the painting process, in perception of the world and in ones own imagination.

So, now, like other bipeds, I click and double click with a little more understanding of where that can lead to in terms of image discovery. But I retain my primitive status also and am ever more fascinated by the simple, more direct mediums. What a marvelous pencil Photoshop has become for me. I feel like I’ve only begun the adventure and just scraped the surface of possibilities. Is painting dead or been replaced? Only for those who don’t speak the language.