Art and Murder

I have just finished reading a fascinating novel: The Portrait, by Iain Pears. The entire novel is a one sided conversation - a monologue (although much more enjoyable than that description would imply). Simply, the artist talks to his friend as he paints. The artist is a Scottish painter living on a remote island off Brittany during the early 20th century. The old friend is an eminent art critic who traveled to the island to have his portrait painted - and to uncover the reason MacAlpine fled London four years before.

I loved this creepy and unusual thriller. It is filled with observations about art, friendship and power... and today, I want to share one morsel that has stuck with me.

"Have you ever noticed that no artist has ever committed cold-blooded murder? In the whole history of art, go back as far as you can, and no artist has ever been a true killer. Oh, I know, there have been accidents, like Caravaggio stabbing someone in a fight, but that hardly counts. And many kill themselves. But what I mean is a deliberate intent, a planned murder. This we do not do. Why is this, do you think? Is it because we are creators, not destroyers? Is it because, - as all the world knows who truly understands - that we are really feeble, frightened characters for all our bluster, more keen on being accepted and praised than wreaking vengeance on others?"

I found this observation/assertion striking... and it got me to thinking. About creativity and destruction... but also about the process of painting a portrait. Throughout the work, as the artist talks to the sitter, he ruminates about many things: their relationship, success, failure... but he also talks about what he sees. He had painted this same sitter twice before (once, amazingly enough, from memory!) and he repeatedly goes back to the differences among the three paintings: what he saw and represented being influenced by what he PERCEIVED about the sitter at the point in time when he painted him.

This made me pause and reflect, - not for the first time, - on the differences between painting from life and painting from a photo. There are so many huge advantages to painting from life: many of them technical. It is simply not possible to see (and therefore easily represent) the volume of an object in space when you paint from a photo. This is especially true of a portrait. The way the light not only falls on the shapes, but also how it moves through the local atmosphere, all but defies capturing when not done in real time with a live sitter. Iain Pears observations on the feelings brought out in the artist by the sitter are a whole other dimension. One I believe is absolutely "on the money."

In the double portrait I did recently of my best friend and her sister (done, alas, from a photo), I found that I had an easier time with (and did a better job of) painting my friend not because the photo of her was better... but because I knew her and have feelings about her that I do not have about her sister. Everyone who views it and knows them both has remarked in some way that confirms my sense that I got Sylvie much better than I got her sister.

Naturally, in the case of painting from life, even with a model that I don't know very well, there is a chemistry that forms... some connection that really does infuse the work. The painting I have attached here - Derrick - is an example of that for me. Although I did not know Derrick well, there was a spark of energy that I believe animates the painting in a way that I don't imagine I could have done from a photo. On the other hand, I had a model sit for me a few weeks back that was a remarkable "downer" experience. Although this young woman was attractive, - I had selected her for her striking features, for some reason our time together left me feeling sapped of energy... almost depressed. A feeling that passed whenever our sessions were over. After I read Iain Pears book and contemplated his comments on portrait painting, I pulled out the studies I did of this young woman... and was blown away by how stiff and blank they look compared to others I executed in the same sitting length. Not the right chemistry for some reason... and it made a measurable difference.

So... does this mean I have to like my subject? I don't think so... but I do think there has to be connection at a psychological level. Something alive and animated between us. Perhaps I should seek a model with whom I would have antipathy... see what that kind of energy does to the work? Could be an unpleasant 3 hours... but the results might be very alive indeed!