Style versus substance

I wanna go north, east, south, west
Every which way, as long as I'm movin'…

My method of packing is to start with the important stuff, like vacuuming the floor joists in the basement. That’s excitement speaking. Like Ruth Brown, I'm happy as long as I'm moving. I’ve been home in Maine since February, when I went to Pecos, NM to paint with Jane Chapin. For my mid-Atlantic friends, the plein air season has already started in earnest, whereas we in the north are just starting to believe the snow is finally behind us.

My current adventure started with a deceptively-simple question. Could I do a portrait “in the manner of Francis Cadell?” That the inquirer differentiated between “style” and “manner” meant that he wasn’t asking me for an imitation Cadell painting. I wouldn't know how to do that.

Iona Croft, 1920, by Francis Cadell, courtesy National Galleries of Scotland

“In the manner of” has a specific meaning in art history, which is that it was done by a follower of a particular artist, but after the artist’s death.

Style, on the other hand, is the mark-making, composition, color palette and other visible attributes (or method of working) that give the appearance of the finished work. Style ties a painting to other works by the same artist, or to a specific period, genre or movement. It’s the art historian’s principle tool in classifying artwork. I can never be a Scottish colourist, any more than I can be a Canadian Group of Seven painter. Each of us is tied too closely to our own time and place in history, and imitating the Dead Masters is a sure path to mediocrity. But we can think seriously about the values those painters brought to their work.

Cadell had a palpable affection for his subjects: human, still life or landscape. Even so, people and objects were always somewhat subservient to their settings, which were frequently the Georgian rooms he occupied in Ainslie Place in Edinburgh’s New Town. Ironically, I’ll be painting just down the street, in a similar Georgian townhouse.

Full stop, by Carol L. Douglas. Well, we both like purple.

Cadell chose beauty over stylishness. The difference is depth and staying power. It takes some scratching to get down to fundamental truth. It’s easier to go for pretty scenes, cheap symbols or trendy commentary. But those things are only transient.

My old friend and model Michele Long used to say that figure painting was a collaboration between the artist and the model. I think that was a profound insight, but I’d add a third player: the audience, present and future. Art is primarily communication, and that requires that the subject, artist and audience all bring something to the engagement.

Michelle reading, by Carol L. Douglas

People sometimes ask me if there are paintings I would never sell. There’s one: my grandson Jake as an infant. (It was the last time he was ever still.) Once I’ve laid down my brushes, I don’t think of a painting as mine any longer. From that, it’s easy for me to realize that it was never really mine in the first place.

Thus, it isn’t about me, my skills, my whims, or my inadequacies, but about the subject and the viewer. That takes a lot of the ego out of the process, and makes me able to relax and enjoy painting.

Finding your audience

Marketing art is about being as visible and transparent as you can tolerate.

Electric Glide, by Carol L. Douglas

“Any thoughts you ever have on who might be interested in what I do, either gallery-wise, or direct buyer-wise, I'm all ears,” a reader commented on a recent post about finding your audience. I know this painter, but she lives in Colorado and I don’t know her market. I do know she’s already taking the first step I’d recommend: applying to plein air events to get herself noticed.

What does ‘marketing’ mean?

• Getting your paintings seen by an audience;
• Keeping that audience engaged with your process via regular communication;
• Inviting them to your events.

Put that way, it’s not so daunting, is it? But expect to work half your workday at this marketing gig—first by studying how it works, and then by implementing what you’ve learned.

Dry Wash, by Carol L. Douglas

For example, although I’ve had an Instagram account for several years, I only recently figured out how it actually works. I learned that by listening to webinars and my friend Bobbi Heath.

An artist can’t have too many friends. Often, the sale is less about what you know than who you know.

Still, can you talk comfortably about specific pieces of your work? Your inspiration and process? This self-knowledge is critical to selling your own work. Here’s a test: ask your best friend about what it is that you do all day. If he or she can’t answer, then maybe you need to start talking about your process more.

Cape Elizabeth Cliffs, by Carol L. Douglas

Everyone has an audience, and it started with your family. Just as your social circle grew in concentric circles from them, so too does your audience start with close friends and family. Your friends on Facebook and your followers on Instagram are your first audience. You need to connect with them regularly about your art. From that, your audience will grow as naturally as your circle of friends did when you were a child.

Your posts in all media should be designed to show a ‘whole’ you—not just your finished paintings. Your studio, your town, your brushes, your gaffes all combine for a total picture of you as an artist. Be as transparent as you have the nerve to be.

Tricky Mary in a Pea Soup Fog, by Carol L. Douglas

And update your website, or make one if you don’t already have one. That’s your business-card to the Web, and it must be as beautiful and inviting as you can make it. It doesn’t have to be exhaustive. It should include a bio/CV, artist statement, images of your work, and contact information.

Only then are you ready to approach a bricks-and-mortar gallery, because the first thing they’re going to do is look up who you are on the Internet.

As for what galleries you should approach, that requires legwork. Make a habit of visiting galleries in your area to check out the work they sell. Get to know the gallerists. Approach only those that seem like a good fit. And don’t be afraid of rejection; there are many reasons galleries won’t take you that have nothing to do with your work.

Tom Sawyer's Fence, by Carol L. Douglas

At the beginning, I said that my reader is already applying for plein air shows. They’re a great way to be seen by a wider audience. So too are art festivals and juried shows. Apply to as many as you can tolerate.

Here’s a final bit of advice from my pal Bruce McMillan: “I tell my students in my children's book class that the way to deal with rejection when submitting a manuscript is to assume it's going to be rejected. That way you're never disappointed. And while it's away, get the next place lined up that will reject it.”

Shouting into the well

“Untitled,” by Carol L. Douglas.

Sometimes we do work that is very important to us, but the public reception seems lukewarm or nonexistent. It feels like you’re shouting down a well for all the good it does.

That happened to me when I finished my series on misogyny. I felt very bleak when it was closed down after a few days. Now I realize you can’t judge the public’s reaction by the feedback you don't get. Still, silence is terrible.

Barb Whitten was a tad dispirited on Friday night after her opening for The Usual Suspects. Attendance was very low. I was being my usual annoyingly-positive self, pointing out that there were office buildings along Water Street and people didn’t need to go inside PopUp 265: A Fresh ArtSpace to see the work; the whole installation was visible from the street.

“Untitled,” by Carol L. Douglas.

I told Barb about a workshop student of mine who had commented on my blog post about her show:

“This will be an interesting and thought provoking art opening! Art reflects life, and helps us to empathize and consider the rights and the wrongs that so many in society are experiencing today. I would like to be able to go to this opening, just to talk with and listen to others, and reflect on the issues together. It could be scary and messy but we all need to face the messes our country is experiencing and pray for God’s wisdom as to how to heal our land.”

She couldn’t be at the opening, but she’d told her Facebook friends about it.

Sunday, Barb got a phone call from a perfect stranger, who said:

“I saw the number on the window and just wanted to call and tell whoever was responsible that I think it’s one of the best things I’ve ever seen and a really good way to address and call attention to the things that are going on in our world today.”

And then I got an email from a reader, which said, simply:

“Brilliant work.  The whole planet is still in shock, confusion, disbelief.”

“Begger,” by Carol L. Douglas.

This is a three-part message, then.

If you see art that moves you, talk about it. It makes a difference to the artist when the audience is engaged. He spent days, weeks or years creating his or her half of the dialogue, and we’re all cheated if it turns into a monologue.

Art really is more than painting pretty lighthouses for money. I make no apologies about painting landscapes, but there is a subtext to art. It can’t be jammed solely into an economic impact statement.

Don’t assume that if you don’t get immediate feedback to your art, nobody is listening. Because I write this blog, I’m in a position to hear a lot of comments. People are far more engaged than you’ll ever know.

Addendum: The Rochester (NY) Democrat & Chronicle recently interviewed me about figure model Michelle Long. It’s a nice piece and can be read here.