Patient Figures in Art and Science
Art and science have an old, often under recognized confluence. The very word "scientist" is a relatively new term. The British polymath William Whewell, in the mid-nineteenth century first invented the word "scientist" as a parallel to the term "artist." The physicality of the artist’s world, even today, can be described in parallel terms to that of a scientist. A scientist has a laboratory, the artist, a studio. A fundamental truth is sought, in both realms, through experimentation with materials. That truth is realized through both a subjective and an acquired understanding of the laws of aesthetics in art and through the immutable characteristics of natural laws in science. Both benefit from observation and attention to details.
William Whewell’s other linguistic contribution was his term, "consilience," as in a "consilience of inductions." In this form of parallel reasoning, a common conclusion is reached through the paths of diverse disciplines coming together. Over time and history, I would conclude that in both art and science, the gaze upon the human form, the understanding of bodily presence, has changed in tandem, particularly in the twentieth and early twenty-first centuries. These changes caused shifts in how a body is perceived in medical science and how the human form figures in to social and political trends in art.
Men and women of science (a pre-Whewell phrase), as well as those in other disciplines, may feel, especially in recent decades, at some distance of understanding about art and artists. This may be due in part to the development of language that might be obfuscating in the realm of art and technologically challenging in the realm of science. Since I have the benefit of a science degree and training in Latin, scientific language has its charms, although with the cessation of Latin grounding in new scientific language, even this is changing. (Anyone for sonic hedgehogs?) * Artistic language, too, in the form of modern criticism, can at times be confusing, open to misinterpretation, and often not terribly enlightening.
One method of understanding commonalities in art and science is through the physicality of materials and the availability of technology. In order to do this with art, one must first observe change through the prism of materials. Change in forms have come through new theories and have been influenced by literature and philosophy. Yet materials and technology are often the driving forces behind the man (or woman) who makes the art. To give an example, relying on humanist theory alone, late nineteenth century impressionist painters suddenly "discovered" the great outdoors and decided to paint the human form under natural light, inspired by color theory as well as the late nineteenth century Conrad Fielder’s "inner workshop" of the human mind. One could also argue, however, that the invention of paint tubes, allowing artists to venture outside with portable paints, had just as significant a bearing on how artists began to see and describe their world - In Vivo (in nature) vs. In Vitro (in studio) to make a rather laboratory like comparison.
Certainly technology and material developments have had an impressive impact on both art and science, especially in the last fifty odd years with the introduction of plastics, latex, and resins. Benefits in areas of medical science have probably outweighed the advantages, at least long term, for visual arts. Recent research has proved many of these materials to be particularly unstable over the course of time, often within a person’s lifetime. In medical science, since a human life span is limited, the issue of permanence in materials is not necessarily of concern. Yet the same classes of materials that found their ways into our bodies have also, since the late 1950's and early 1960's, been actively marketed to artists. Recent concerns of preservationists point to the disintegration of the plastics, and other materials, used in art work, threatening the disappearance of an entire compendium of art and the cultural history that it represents. The life span of the human body, therefore, defines the life span of a body of work. Materials and technology may serve one discipline well, while threatening the posterity of another.
Most of the innovative industrial materials; resins, plastics, and latex compounds, were actively marketed to artists during the post war era, and some industries like Dupont still advocate their usage in modern abstract and conceptual art. Some artists from this first generation of alternative materials such as the late Eva Hesse, were well aware of the limited life span of the stuff with which she constructed her art in the 1960's, to the extent of expressing some remorse at selling her soft and floppy sculptures that would only "live for today" to collectors. Some contemporary artists, however, may not even be aware of the short-lived nature of their creations. I surmise this from reading of a contemporary artist now making plastic saran wrap creations, but being careful to construct these with the use of archival tape. What might that mean when a seeming desire for permanence is articulated through ephemeral means? Does the artist still desire that her art will stand long after her own body disintegrates? Does she know that it will not through default and not by design?
The body, as it is represented in both art and science, in particular medical science, has traditionally held a central importance. Yet in both disciplines, for reason of social politics and fashion in art and for reasons of technological changes as well as economics in science, the human presence has appeared, disappeared, and appeared again. Traditionally, an artist trained, and often still trains, by carefully studying and rendering the human form. This training, if applied rigorously, can take years. The artist trains to interpret a three dimensional human presence in space on to a two dimensional plane. Getting that right, anatomically correct and believable, takes concentration and honed skill. The medical scientist too, trains to know the human body inside, outside, microscopically and macroscopically.
For thousands of years in the history of visual art, the human figure has always appeared, disappeared and reappeared. It has been presented naked, draped, idealized, codified and modified. But for the purpose of this essay that can never serve the scope of this subject justly, I will highlight just a few examples from over the past 75 years or so. In our century, figurative art has been greatly influenced by social politics, by wars and by economics. There was a blossoming of figurative art in the United States in the 1930's with large commissioned murals as well as quiet, intimate studies. The 1930's was an egalitarian time for artists in general and for figurative artists in particular. The WPA (1935 - 1943) supported a number of women artists, artists of color, and artists of variable social, economic and demographic backgrounds.
With the advent of the United States’ entry in to World War II, and the subsequent disbanding of the WPA in 1943, the role of figurative art changed considerably. Most notably was the rise of Abstract Expressionism in the 1940's and 1950's. Post war art owes much of its formation and growth to the atmosphere of the cold war. In her meticulously researched book, The Cultural Cold War, Frances Stonor Saunders detailed the influence of the CIA (established 1947) in promulgating a new vision of American Art that countered Soviet Socialist Realism. The new work would be anti-figural, bold, and unfettered by traditional tools and materials. This art would be promoted not only in the United States, but across the post war globe as well, as a flagship for the ideology of the new American Century. Saunders’ claims that the American government, through its covert economic support of Abstract Expressionists as well as the critics, museums and scholars that promoted them, were challenged in the early part of this century. Yet much of what she wrote seems plausible, especially since this research is framed within the context of battling ideologies rather than the conspiracy theorist charge that has at times been leveled at her.
Despite the support for art that was emptied of the human form, covert or otherwise, there were pockets of backlash against the tide of Abstract Expressionism and its chief proponent, Clement Greenberg, in the 1950's and 1960's. Most noteworthy were the Bay Area Figurative painters, led by David Park, who, legend has it, drove all his abstract canvases to the Berkeley dump and gave them the heave in order to cleanse his mental palette for his figurative and landscape paintings. Winning out over abstract painter Clifford Styl, Park took the reins of the California School of Fine Arts, securing his counter cultural movement for a least a decade. Challenges came from the east as well, with the publication of "The Reality Manifesto,’ signed by 52 figurative artists attacking the trend to ignore figurative at the Museum of Modern Art.
https://www.theartstory.org/movement-bay-area-figurative-movement.htm
The battle lines in the art world, drawn decades ago, run just as deep today, with the repeated canard that figurative painting was for the most part side-lined. Yet there are many who persisted in their craft, insisting on a human presence, and even took pains to spend years in academic training on the subject. Perhaps persistence has paid off to an extent, with figurative art, at least in some circles, actually becoming fashionable again. https://www.wmagazine.com/story/go-figure-an-unfashionable-art-trend-makes-a-comeback
Many figurative artists still contend, however, that finding a place for themselves in the contemporary art scene has been hard won and fraught with difficulty and bias. It is tempting to think of these difficulties arising still from the politics of the cold war, even a generation or two removed - as if the struggles of a different era imprinted themselves on the human psyche like an epigenetic marker, exerting an influence long after its original value has disappeared.
Can a parallel be drawn, figuratively speaking, between the diminished representations of the human form in art and the human presence in medicine, too, becoming a shadow? Certainly advances in technology can make care more efficient, more directed, and faster. It could also be argued, however, that an over-reliance on these technologies turns the human body in to an abstraction. And this type of abstraction may also have unwelcome consequences. Despite technological advances in medicine, medical error is at present the third leading cause of death in the United States. Does a human presence become lost by medical bureaucracy, by a clinical reduction to an algorithm, and a statistic on a chart? One possible consequence of a focus shifted away from the patient and towards his or her abstract presence is the loss of a personal narrative. We often hear calls by sagacious physicians to listen to the patient, as clues to what is wrong will often be revealed through their own words and history. And this makes perfect sense. Only the patient knows his particular history, his family history, how much pain he experiences and where it is located. There are certain points that can only be conveyed through empirical experience of what treatments make a quality of life better or worse. Some larger institutions, such as the Mayo Clinic and Inspire Corporation haven even begun to publish patient’s stories, giving them platforms such as their Experts by Experience series. They have made a satisfying decision to include patients who are also artists in this series.
https://newsnetwork.mayoclinic.org/discussion/mayo-clinic-inspire-launch-experts-by-experience-series-to-explore-importance-of-patient-narrative/
The role of a human narrative is perhaps the predominant feature of figurative art as well. It is one of the main reasons, for instance, why some formerly abstract, or non-objective artists often returned to the discipline of directly studying the human form. Painters such as Philip Guston, for instance, started out as a WPA artist creating figurative murals in the 1930's, became an abstract expressionist in the 1950's, returned to figurative painting in the late 1960's, then returned again to abstraction in the 1980's. One could view this trajectory as politically expedient, although the artist himself claims that he returned to incorporating the human form in his work because he wanted to "tell stories." https://www.christies.com/lotfinder/Lot/philip-guston-1913-1980-alone-6141806-details.aspx
I love abstract and non objective painting when it is done well. I love figurative art and decorative art too, when these are meaningful and well crafted. I have practiced all of these art forms with great joy and have joyously written about them. In recent years, however, I have often returned to figurative art, popular or not, because it was the best way for me to illustrate my own parallel stories of health and art. This new focus has led me to explore the art of others working with the human presence in their art as well.
For my next blog posts, I will be featuring contemporary figurative artists as I find my favorites and seek to know more about them. Their work is thematically well thought out and they are all using materials that have withstood the test of time. Their work is expertly crafted, detailed, and lends itself to a rich narrative. Some of these artists incorporate issues of health in to their work. Others allude to bodily integrity in more oblique ways. Still others are hale and hearty, the characters of their paintings having a presence just as commanding as their own sturdiness. These artists’ works have moved me to find out more about their creative process and the narrative that supports their vision. My first four artists will be Elizabeth Colomba, Edgar Jerins, Tyrone Geter, and Erica Chappuis. What they share is a sophistication in artistic accomplishment and the ability to engage with viewers in such a way as to invite the viewer in to an exploration of complex vistas. Perhaps the central unifying truth, a consilience of inductions if you will, is the persistence of and insistence on humanity maintaining its visibility. "We are here!" They tell us. "Hear us. See us."
Links to Artists:
Elizabeth Colomba
https://www.elizabeth-colomba.com/
Erica Chappius
https://www.ericachappuis.com/
Edgar Jerins
Large Drawings
http://edgarjerins.com/
Tyrone Geter
Mixed Media
www.tyronegeter.com
* Sonic Hedgehog is a gene named after a video game character. https://io9.gizmodo.com/the-strange-history-of-how-a-gene-was-named-sonic-hedg-1691732678
Resources/ Links:
Saunders, Frances Stonor, The Cultural Cold War - The CIA and the World of Arts and Letters
New York: The New Press, 1999.
https://www.nytimes.com/2018/08/28/science/plastics-preservation-getty.html
https://www.nytimes.com/2014/05/22/arts/design/new-york-academy-of-art-recovers-from-a-bad-reputation.html
http://www.acastronovo.com/ClassHtms/ClassDocs/Hesse.pdf
https://hyperallergic.com/418768/a-year-of-magical-figurative-art/
My first impression of Elizabeth Colomba’s oil paintings was how technically proficient they were. Ms. Colomba received training in classical oil painting at the Estienne School of Art and the Ecole Nationale Superieure des Beaux-Arts, Paris in the early 1990's. This was a time when figurative art had still not made its resurgence in popularity that we are just beginning to experience today, and it demonstrates a certain pluckiness to say the least for the artist to persist in a medium and a subject that might not lead to deserving accolades. But persist she did, creating an oeuvre of impeccably crafted works of art.
In the painting 1492, for instance, there is a reckoning of what has become in popular folklore, a date of discovery and adventure. As a bicultural artist, Caribbean and French, Elizabeth Colomba brings to bear in this sumptuous work a duality that is painful to recognize. There is the spilled sugar, whipping a hurricane like fury through the atmosphere of the painting. Clearly this is a destructive disruption that will leave its mark upon generation upon generation - as depicted in the stain on the woman’s otherwise beautiful blue dress.
