The Family Artwork...

Since this blog is about my artistic influences, it would be incomplete if I did not mention the most obvious of those--my family.  This is not an awards ceremony sentiment (i.e. I would like to thank my fans, my manager, my family, my dog...).  Although I won't deny sentimental bias, the artwork that my family members make has directly influenced my own.

At some point I will have to write an entry about my family's musical pursuits (my mom, some cousins, aunts, etc.), but that would be paragraphs in and of itself.   So for now, I will just focus on two of the visual artists in my family, whose work I have for so long respected and been influenced by.

The first influence, is my great grandmother.  Some of the very first artwork that I saw was hanging in my bedroom, and among the pieces was this one:

It is a picture of a fox breaking into a fence near a chicken coop.  Although I am not sure about the exact knitting/weaving/crocheting method she used, the image is made out of colored yarn.  The picture came directly from my great grandmother's imagination, and I am told that she made them without patterns.  The subject matter is similar to mine, and the attitude of the fox, and the animal's inherent personality have greatly influenced the way I portray animals in my work.  The use of color has likely been influential as well.  

Cumulatively, I spent hours staring at the picture of the fox, as it was on my wall for years.  As a result, I do not think it would be possible for me to overstate the influence of this one image.  Apart from the immediate aesthetic results of this inspiration, my great grandmother's work has one other implication.  Though my work has a clear folk-art element, it is not necessarily an exclusively American one.  My great grandmother was from Latvia, and her influence on my work partially ties my own into a slightly different folk art heritage.  

The second influence on my art is the photography of my father.  We are both interested in similar subject matter: urban decay, the modern city, rusty things, old infrastructure, nature, farms, etc.  Although I do not have many of his images available at present, one is below:

My dad's photography champions the underdog.  His pictures center on items that have long since been forgotten or abandoned: buildings that no longer house anything; city streets which only seem to lead away from town.  I have always been impressed by his ability to zoom in on a detail that would otherwise be overlooked--it is both a compositional talent, and a natural ability to find value in the realm of the forgotten.  Though I do not do a lot of photography, I would like to think that the artistic decisions that fuel his work, have improved my own.  

The influence has also been direct at times, as in my drawing below:

Edward Hopper

                                                    (Click Here to View Photo Source)

Though most of my blog posts have been about artistic pieces and products that were either not intended to be high art, or are not currently considered such, there are some "serious" artists whose work I enjoy.  Among them is Edward Hopper (though even his work is tenuous for some).

Though his style is fascinating, and his paintings reflect a sense of longing and nostalgia that I enjoy, there is another characteristic of his work that I find the most compelling.  While paintings of urban landscapes are fairly common, they usually take the form of sweeping panoramas, and dramatic skylines.  Hopper's approach is different... Rather than focusing on the city in the aggregate, he focuses on the city in the individual sense.  His works are often portraits of the people who make up the city.  Hopper's paintings are not faceless renditions of cities from the outside, but are carefully selected vignettes of what happens behind the walls of the urban landscape.

Such is the case with "Nighthawks," his famous image, above.  It would have been easy, and perhaps obvious, to paint the same scene as an anonymous view of some compelling architecture, completely aloof to the life within the buildings.  However, Hopper responds with X-Ray vision, penetrating through the difficult front of the urban landscape, to the humanity within.

Yet even this analysis, is a bit simplistic.  There are other painters who successfully portrayed human vignettes in a downtown setting.  For example, below is Norman Rockwell's famous diner picture.

Both Rockwell's image, and Hopper's "Nighthawks" nostalgically portray the insides of restaurants.  There is a major thematic difference however.  While Hopper paints from the outside looking in, Rockwell simply paints from the inside, looking further in.  As a result Rockwell is exploring humanity, and human relationships in general with a little bit of atmosphere to give his characters personality.  Hopper, on the other hand, is painting humanity in the context of the urban landscape.  The city is not just a setting, it is a character just like the people within his portraits.

It is this balance that makes Hopper's work so compelling.  He not only goes beyond the typical urban landscape painting to find the life within, but he then examines the two variables in relationship with each other.

The real question is whether Hopper is painting the relationship between man and city as harmonious or confrontational.  The decision is up to the viewer...

(Click here for image source)

Rocky & Bullwinkle

Okay... so in my last post, I claimed that "Uncle Wiggily" was probably the greatest single influence on my work (take that Da Vinci!).  While this is largely true... two of my other childhood heroes were of equal (and in some ways, greater) importance:

                                                  Screen Shot, from Rocky & Bullwinkle

Though I enjoy the drawing/animation of Rocky and Bullwinkle, the Uncle Wiggily illustrations are really the gold standard of classic american animal illustration/cartoons.  The influence from Rocky and Bullwinkle on my art is different.

People who look at my images, often ask me how I come up with the crazy ideas that I paint (i.e. "Life on the Double P--A Story of Western Adventure on a Real Life Pet Peeve Ranch").  I have little doubt that the odd sense of humor in Rocky and Bullwinkle, with its cold-war satire and heavy use of irony and dark humor, has influenced my own.

It would be hard not to be moved by great philosophical quotes like:

       "No early worm is going to give me the bird!"

                  -Bullwinkle, Season 3: Episode 6 - Second Installment

Uncle Wiggily

If I were to point to one thing that influenced my work more than anything else, it would have to be the "Uncle Wiggily" books.  A series by Howard R. Garis of some popularity in the early to mid 20th century, Uncle Wiggily was an elderly gentleman rabbit, with a car made of nonsense components and edible parts.  Though the writing was imaginative and fun, I was really in it for the pictures:

                                                                     unclewiggily.jpg

The use of color and line in the Uncle Wiggily illustrations is superb.  The portrayal of the animals is interesting, and the use of human elements such as clothing, cars, and houses is fascinating.  Though these pictures may not look revolutionary now, after decades of Disney and Warner Brothers cartoons with anthropomorphized animals... these might have been wild back in the day.  After all, these came first.    That suggests a bit of artistic influence...

Neil Young, Greendale

Uh-oh, a music album!  What's this doing in a visual arts blog?  I mean, the connection to actual "art" is already weak here...

allcdcovers_neil_young_crazy_horse_greendale_2003_retail_cd-front.jpg

Well, good question.  And it's not here because of the album cover, though I like the picture--that would have been a few posts back.  It is here because of the way Neil Young uses the album to tell a story.

Greendale, is a rock opera, about a family in a fictional town in California.  It is about their experiences dealing with tragedy, and of course, it's delivered with an environmentally friendly message.

But, the way their story is told, is highly unusual.  Greendale is not delivered like a straight-forward plot arc, with a beginning, middle, and end.  Instead, time in the album is relative.  The songs appear out of order, and they reference each other in a manner that makes it difficult to determine which one should have come first.  Additionally, only certain parts of the story are told, and large gaps are left between each point (or song), that the listener has to fill in via thematic interpolation.  It is sort of an impressionist album.  As Monet's lilypads were just an illusion of the real thing, rendered in a way that required viewer assumptions to connect them to the real item, Greendale requires similar amounts of effort on the part of the listener.

It's a fantastic way to tell a story.  Since my work is heavily based in the idea of narrative, I find the idea of using an abstract storyline fascinating.  Though I still tend to go for a literal, easy to follow plot, my most recent series is an attempt to imply narrative, without actually stating it.

'59 Cadillac

When I was in middle school, I did an entire series of paintings of animals climbing the eiffel tower, with pink, 1959 Cadillacs driving by underneath.  The design is of the car is so iconic, so outrageous, and so immediately recognizable that it lends a certain panache to a painting.  Or at least I thought so.

http://static.cargurus.com/images/site/2009/02/12/13/42/1959_cadillac_eldorado-pic-33080.jpeg

Though I have long since abandoned my animal/Eiffel tower/cadillac series, an emphasis on automotive design still plays an important role in my work.  When I paint or draw a picture now, I still often add vehicles, but now they are usually made up.  Adding a vehicle is a great way to date a piece, or add something visually graphic, but I also just enjoy the process.

This is most likely a result of all the time I spent growing up "designing" pictures of my own cars.  Though they certainly weren't accurate--often missing the little things, like doors, front wheel arches, and steering wheels--they almost always had respectable tail fins.  I owe that to the '59 Cadillac.  

Genre Discussions: Advertising Art

I am a big fan of classic advertising art.  It's hard to beat the attention-getting graphics, the top notch illustration, and the often unusual products and companies that have been forgotten by time.  The following three images were originally intended for use on shipping crates.  In other words, they were just decorative labels used to identify and label the products inside wooden boxes... the only modern day equivalent I can think of is the "Clemintine" logo on the ply-wood boxes they have in grocery stores this time of year.

Indian River Citrus Sub-Exchange--could it possibly be more specific?  

How about this one?  The earth is an apple!  

And perhaps best of all, a shipping label made specifically for sweet potatoes:

Not entirely sure how the rodeo girl on the white horse relates... but that's obviously not important!

While it is often only the most famous ads that make it into the collective memory of the nation, and the most successful products, it is not necessarily because they had the best art.  It is funny to imagine how the art world might have been different if one of the products above had become, or remained dominant in the U.S.  Warhol may not have gotten famous with prints of Campbell's Soup Cans and Marilyn Monroe-- it might have been Victorious Brand Sweet Potatoes and a cowgirl on a horse.

Uneeda Biscuit Sign - Schenectady, NY

I am not posting the image immediatley below as an example of photographic greatness. In fact, it was taken with a middle-of-the-road point and shoot camera, through a middle-of-the-train, dusty Amtrak window.  Instead, please direct your focus to the fading sign on the brick wall behind the platform.

On it, you will notice a couple of weathered, painted signs.  The one on the bottom says "Boston Clothing House," and the one on the top reads "Uneeda Biscuits."  Since my photo doesn't really do it justice, let's zoom in with one taken by an actual photographer named Mitchell Frye:

http://www.mitchellfrye.com/page3/page5/files/stacks_image_729.jpg

This image captures the value, and personality of the sign (Click Here to Check out Frye's Photography).  When the paint was fresh and still drying, the sign would have been a piece of art--but with the age and texture so apparent in the weathering, it is now art with gravitas.  The sign has long since swapped commercialism for a sense of unadulterated Americana.  It now possesses an inherent feeling of nostalgia for a forgotten product, and a bygone era.  

As the biscuit sign sits there, fading away on its own brick canvas, it is a performance art piece with a strange audience. 

For a few moments every day, Amtrak passengers in Schenectady, New York may look up from the distractions of the modern day to notice the faded old sign, before the train pulls away.  And the few stragglers on the platform might look at the train, and look back at the old biscuit sign... and for a few short moments, they may feel lost in time.  Lost between two relics -- a fading commercial boast, and the steel rails themselves.  They may feel lost in the unintended artistic power of a piece long since forgotten by the company that created it, in a city long since forgotten by some of the companies that built it.  They may feel lost in the sense of constant and continual change captured on the face of that old brick wall by the station.  

That's a pretty poignant legacy for a biscuit sign...  

W.H. Beard's Bear Dance

New Englanders are famous for taking winter vacations in the South, scrapping together any time they can in warm and sunny states.  My family was different--we always went further North.  Although we often took day trips into the lower reaches of the northern New England states, when we took an extended period of time it was always in the Adirondacks.  I have many fond memories of the time I spent there, and there is plenty of visual imagery to go with it.  Mountains.  Forests.  Quaint downtowns.  And this painting:

http://www.nyhistory.org/node/43788

It's W.H. Beard's 1870 piece, Bear Dance, and although the original resides in the New York Historical Society Museum on Central Park West in the Big Apple, its reproductions are all over the Adirondacks.  It adorns the walls of Restaurants, lodges, gift shops- the image seems to be everywhere.  Though this image, like many of Beard's works is rooted in political and social satire, at face value it is easy to see why it is so popular in the Adirondacks. The park has bears, and it has forests--the rest just requires slight suspension of disbelief.

On a personal note, this painting is one of my biggest artistic  influences.  I have always admired the personality Beard captured in the bears populating this painting, and the mix of slightly goofy subject matter and exquisite technique creates a great tension.  Perhaps most of all, Beard actually succeeded in creating an image where the Bears are believable in their actions.  They have dignity.  Despite the image's popularity and frequent use for decor--Beard accomplished something that many animal painters fail to.  His painting never devolves into the realm of kitsch--in the grungiest lounge or the most mundane tourist traps, "Bear Dance" elevates its surroundings.  It always comes across as art.  

Genre Discussions - Album Covers

Go to any record store (if you can find one), and there is a fairly good chance that you will hear some discussion about the impending "Death of CDs."  The big rumor circulating wildly over the last few months is that major music companies will stop releasing hard copies of items in their catalog by the end of the year... at least on CD.  This could be bad news for the remaining retailers of tangible music recordings.  As iTunes, Amazon, and Emusic have demonstrated in the past few years, digital downloads do not require a physical store. So without new CDs, local record stores would presumably be forced to base their business off of used CDs and Vinyl, merchandise, and the upmarket selection of new vinyl that is still being released.

It is possible that many of the record stores that still exist, would be able to adapt quite easily to this change if it occurs, as many already base many of their sales on used items, and presumably have a dedicated clientele.  Furthermore the rise of digital downloads has been going on for quite a while now, and they have made it this far.  But there could be a major loser if this switch does occur--Album Covers.

In the vinyl LP age, the visual aspect of records was an integral part of the listening experience.  While hearing Thelonious Monk bop away on the piano at 33 1/3 RPM, you could generally enjoy a wealth of information from liner notes, and get an idea of his personality with a glance at a 12x12 image of Monk sitting in a wagon or wearing a weird hat.  With CDs, the importance of the album graphic shrunk as the actual size of the disc did.  Album covers that looked impressive at a square foot, looked squished and hard to read at CD size.  With the increasing boom of digital downloads (and piracy for some), and the supposedly impending "death of the CD" it  seems as though the future of the album cover may be grim.

This is unfortunate, as the covers of famous albums are some of the most familiar images of the 20th century (think: Abbey Road, London Calling, Time Out, Johnny Cash at Folsom Prison, Dark Side of the Moon, etc.).  The truly famous ones have become a part of the collective unconscious of the modern era, as much and possibly more than much of the art from corresponding decades.

There is still some hope for the album cover.  There has been somewhat of a rebirth of vinyl in the last few years, and though it represents just a sliver of the market compared to what it once was, the covers are still the same old square foot graphics.  Additionally companies such as Apple have tried to create a tangible aesthetic to their digital downloads with products like the "iTunes LP" which is a neat idea, though hardly the same.

The tenuous future of album graphics is unfortunate, as it would be the end of an era and popular art movement that has produced great graphics like:

And this:

Or:

And:

Not to mention:

And that leads to the last downside of the potential demise of album graphics... In a weird way, a collection of albums was also a collection of art.  A collection of music was also a collection of professional quality images in the homes of people who did not otherwise need to be art connoisseurs.  For some albums, the art on the outside was just as important as the music on the inside, and they were often musically reinforcing.

After all, the images above come from my "art collection:" a bunch of neat old (and new) LPs. 

Smokey The Bear

Smokey the Bear is credited as the longest continually running Public Service Announcement campaign in history... No doubt a successful program educating citizens about the dangers of forest fires and how they can be prevented.  But the campaign has another fascinating legacy--Art.  Some of the best illustration work of the past decades has been used in the efforts of promoting Smokey the Bear and his environmental messages.  The best of the Smokey drawings are one third Audubon quality realism, one third classic American children's book illustration (think Uncle Wiggly), and one third in the style of the golden age hand animated cartoons (Disney, Warner Brothers, etc), with a unique final aesthetic.

Just check out the image below (from 1950) to get an idea:

The campaign is also one of the ultimate exercises in Americana.  I grew up in small town New England, just down river from a State Forest of approximately 12,000 acres.  It is nearly impossible to drive through my county without seeing at least some Smokey the Bear relics.  Some are new, displayed proudly outside of volunteer fire departments... but some are quite old.  In the forest I have mentioned highlights include Smokey the Bear weathervanes, as well as a large stunningly rendered image on fiberglass which has faded with decades of sunlight.  I have little doubt that we have more Smokey Bear items in the area, than actual bears.  This really is the epitome of Americana: objects with an artistic quality that originally served as promotional imagery, that survive now as a sort of small town decor.  They go hand in hand with the CCC buildings that dot the New England landscape.  In some regions of the United States it's old Coca-Cola signs.  For us it's Smokey.

Even with this first-hand knowledge of Smokey the Bear artifacts and history, I was surprised by the actual breadth of the Smokey the Bear campaign.  He appeared on radio shows singing with Roy Rogers, had a Postal Service stamp created in his likeness, and appeared on the cover of Newsweek.  And those are just a few of "his activities" at the very start of the 1950s alone.  An excellent new website by the U.S. Forest Service, State Foresters, and the Ad Council, documents this historical campaign by decade.  Just click on THIS LINK to take a romp through Smokey history.  You may be surprised by what you find.

He was one of my childhood heroes, and the art remains one of my big influences.  I doubt that I am alone.

Peter Arno Cartoons...

I really like hand drawn cartoons.  The old-fashioned stuff, classic Warner Brothers, Rocky & Bullwinkle (although that example remains oddly modern and hip), the best of the daily newspaper comics, Political cartoons, and the New Yorker style 1 panel classics.  Although all of these have their own respective areas of brilliance, the New Yorker type is by far and away the classiest.  The subject matter often revolves around high society, or outsider fascination with animals and nature, and the endless ironies of 9-5 jobs and office work.  Regardless of specific content, these examples are generally depicted with an unusual level of stylization, as if the art deco era never ended...

Much of this overall style can likely be traced back to Peter Arno (and his peers), who contributed to the magazine for decades in the early and middle parts of the 20th century.  Some examples are below:

https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicO8c0oY9KeNI_3cE5FjsJ3kX5Wkf5IzaaBqHZ-UfBtqWabs7AnhoSLsquxKUFUerBLZzAksWkukmkJfmcvhRp97Eirq7DMQW42DUBWvEGPPv7fpBk9ETbUpciJah2ASpQpbDDb8mWBsLR/s400/Arno02.jpg

http://imgc.allpostersimages.com/images/P-473-488-90/60/6079/WRUD100Z/posters/peter-arno-my-god-we-re-out-of-gin-new-yorker-cartoon.jpg






http://imgc.allpostersimages.com/images/P-473-488-90/61/6128/9RPF100Z/posters/peter-arno-the-new-yorker-cover-december-6-1947.jpg

Genre Discussions: Ship Paintings

Ship paintings...  To many, they must represent the absolute bottom of the art field--talented craftsmen making making a living off of the captains and owners who wanted to satisfy their own egos with realistic portraits of their vessels.   Was a whaling-ship-painting adorning the home of a proud captain in the 1800s any different than Chevrolet posters hanging in a two-car garage today?  Are ship paintings nothing more than some kitsch decor to slap on the wall next to the light-up Red Sox clock and Rolling Stones poster at your local pub?

Well, I don't think so.  But then again, I am a bit biased.  I have always enjoyed good ship paintings.  After all, I am from New England, and am no stranger to some of the areas that were built off of nautical pursuits--shipbuilding, fishing, trade, etc.   As a kid, I found the art documenting this history so exciting that I actually used to draw my own versions where I would attempt to fabricate my own pseudo-historical ship battles or dangerous weather scenes.  It was also an excuse to try and cram as many cannons as possible into the side of a ship, which is important when you are ten. 

Other than my own nostalgia, there are plenty of reasons to take ship paintings seriously.  Yes, it is true that ship paintings are often a means of accurate pre-photographic documentation, more than introspective conceptual works.  However, the best ship paintings are a little bit of both.  They are accurate certainly, but they are filled with artistic license that makes each canvas reflect the personality of the artist.  In the works of the best practitioners: seas are always dramatically stormy, flags fly in the most aesthetically pleasing manner, ships are in full sail in situations where this could be disastrous, the rocks look all the sharper, and the flashes of the cannons are packed with extra bombast.  In short, they have all of the drama, excitement, and vision that anyone could really hope for in a great painting.  And they come with the benefit of not actually making you sea sick...   

So here are a couple of examples:  Two of the best ship painters, in my opinion (and that of many others), are Thomas (late 1700s, early 1800s) and James Buttersworth (1800s).  While their paintings are highly detailed, they are also extremely stylized.  For those who wish to view their works better, many are on display at the Penobscot Marine Museum.

http://www.globalgallery.com/search/subject/boats-ships-tall+ships/style/realism

 This painting below, by William Bradford (1823-92), is on display at the Boston Museum of Fine Arts in their Americas Collection.   I saw it for the first time this summer.  Although it’s hard to tell from the photo below (one of the only ones I found on the internet), the entire painting actually sparkles.  A fitting aesthetic touch for such icy subject matter.  

http://makarl.wordpress.com/2010/12/18/boston-museum-of-fine-arts-trip/

Also, just to be clear, I do realize that ship paintings are not entirely overlooked.  Their presence at art museums such as the Boston MFA is indicative of their quality, as is the high price that many of the best examples fetch today (For an example, click here....)  My point is simply that the best ship paintings are just as much "art" as they are "craft" or "decor."  They are historically important both as documentation, and as a unique genre of artistic expression.  Finally, the theme is interesting: humans struggling to overcome one of nature's most brutally alluring forces--the sea.

Time Captured

A PORTRAIT OF SCHENECTADY, NY.  Sometime in 2011, 2012.

At various points in the year, I find myself on a train, passing through New York State's old industrial cities--Rochester, Syracuse, Utica, Amsterdam, Schenectady, Albany.  It is a bit like passing through a graveyard for five hours, and there can be no doubt that the region is filled with some kind of metaphorical, industrial ghosts.  The decay is everywhere.  Hidden behind the invasive, choking plants, are abandoned freight cars, locomotives, buildings, sidings, homes, barns, depots, warehouses, fences, barriers, telegraph poles, and piles of god-only-knows-what.  But it goes beyond the obvious signs of decay.  That's easy to see.  The entire route is a reminder that the only constant is change.

From Albany north there is a two hour stretch that follows the Erie Canal, a masterpiece of engineering with a life cut ridiculously short by the invasion of the steel tracks that wrap along its banks.  While riding on those same tracks, you can watch the remains of the canal glide by on one side, while parts of the the highway system move along on the other.  From left to right, you can see the technologies that have taken turns supplanting each other as the dominant transportation-canal, train, auto.  I have no idea what will come next, but it seems likely that they'll place it right next to the road, and they certainly wont remove any of the old technologies before doing so.  They just stack up like Roman ruins.

So what's my point?  I took the photo above in Schenectady through a dusty Amtrak window on one of those New York trips.  I thought this was a good image to start off with not to demonstrate any kind of photographic prowess, but to help define what I mean by time-travel in an artistic context.  In a world where nothing is really thrown away, and much less is probably recycled, what types of art are here to stay?  What will last the course, so to speak?  We have now been accumulating objects with human marks for thousands of years.  This is especially apparent in places like Schenectady where three generations of art are often visible on one wall (there is the wall itself, perhaps the faded remnants of an old advertizing mural, and often a substantial dose of graffiti).

In the picture above, it is likely that everyone who views it will consider different parts of it the "art."  One may consider the car designs, while someone else critiques the architecture, and another analyzes the graffiti.  Still another may be interested in the urban planning, the graphic design on the bank logo, or the metal work on the lamps.  All of these potential art pieces represent different time periods, but they are crammed arbitrarily into one photograph.

If my own artistic interests are like that photograph, then the only way to explain my influences and inspirations is by "traveling" through time and "collecting" art that means something to me.  And that's the idea behind the Time Traveler's Art Review and Guide.  It's about sifting through the endless expanse of art that occurred at any given point in time, and extracting the examples that match my own "artistic" identity and persona.  With all of the pieces rejoined in one single piece of time, they will form a portrait much like the one above.  Except hopefully it will be of me.

-Peter Berris
September 6th, 2012