Pictures & Tears
“What does it mean - this is the question that taxes me the most, and it continues to vex me now that I’ve finished this book - for people to spend their entire lives looking at objects clearly designed for expressive purposes, and not be moved even once (in any circumstance, for any reason, no matter how indefensible) to the point of actually shedding a tear?
I am not sure. But I know that a loveless life is easy to live.”
- James Elkins, art historian, Pictures and Tears, p. 217
Finally finished Pictures & Tears. Intriguing book. Which started making me think about any incidents relating to painting and tears in my own art practice.
The only time I remember tears falling was when I was in high school. One of my teachers saw the large drawing I was working on. I remember I was sitting on the ground, actually, on the drawing itself because it was so big. I remember looking up and seeing clear drops forming on her glasses. When I look back on the drawing, I cringe because I can see the illusion of youthful dreams and my shortcomings. I was blind as to what the drawing was. So I am curious as to what she saw and experienced.
Strangely enough, I haven’t cried in front of a painting. The closest that I’ve come was at the recent J.W. Waterhouse exhibtion when I saw “Lamia”. It wasn’t even the entire painting that moved me. Just a small section. Just her right hand. I nearly missed it. It was amazing, and to me, it stunned me. I looked at it. Stepped back. Dove in for a closer look. The gallery was packed. I looked around and it seemed no one else noticed what Waterhouse had achieved in this small section of the painting. He had captured something - some quality, or essence of life. When you saw the painting in the flesh, one could sense it was a real hand. It was full of feeling and it possessed the warm sensitivity of touch…
Beautiful.
I hope no one googles or tries to see a reproduction of “Lamia” after I’ve just described it. Paintings like this can only really be experienced in the flesh. Anything else is just a mere ghost or shadow of the actual object itself. When I saw a couple Millais’ at the Tate Britain on the weekend, this just brought this message closer to home. There is something abrasive that happens when a memory/thought doesn’t entirely match up when the real thing is experienced. I had enjoyed and relished his “Ophelia” when I was in high school. And in my mind had pictured it large and grand. I wasn’t prepared for the smallness and detailed brushwork of the painting. Or the clear intensity of colour and light.
Paintings like this make me think that contemporary art has lost so much. Everything is taken for granted, often gratuitous. Ideas for their own sake. Nothing is sustained.
James Elkins will give a talk at Frieze this thursday, What do artist know?
I’m hoping he sheds some light.
