Impasto Makes the Un-Gilded Lily

A while ago I posted about the late illustrator and fine-arts painter Pino Dangelico. In passing, I mentioned that some giclée reproductions of his paintings featured "enhancement" by the artist. I think this matter bears elaboration.

I'm no expert on this, my observations here are largely based on casual visits to art galleries in places such as Carmel and Palm Desert. But, to add a bit of hard data, here is a site with prices for Pino Giclées, both basic and "enhanced" or "embellished" (both terms are used).

The prices seem lower than those I'm familiar with for a Pino giclée, but the important information is that, in this instance, having the artist grab a brush and put a few thick swaths and dabs of white or other light colored paint on it have the market effect of doubling the presumed value.

This can be a nice, almost-instantly realized benefit for an artist, gallery owner or on-line vendor: the artist's hand certifiably touched the reproduction and thereby increased its intrinsic worth.

If I were in the position of having to make paintings to pay my bills, I'd probably happily go along with the enhancement process. But I'd also realize that there are issues. Not easily resolved ones at that.

Obvious issues involve the worth of a reproduction as opposed to that of the painting that is reproduced. Capitalist tool me, I simply shrug my shoulders and assert that whatever The Market is, is.

Then there is the matter of input by the artist. An interesting case is posed in the book The $12 Million Stuffed Shark where it is related that heads were scratched in puzzlement when Damien Hirst's glass-encased, formaldehyde-preserved stuffed shark began to deteriorate badly and had to be replaced. Would a new stuffed shark be the same "work of art" or something different? Was the artist's "intent" more important than the physical "art" itself? Again, no easy answer.

But the issue that interests me most with respect to "enhancement" is the effect of additional artist input to an image. In most cases, the source painting for any reproduction represents something close to what satisfied the artist. Coloration, composition, any textural elements (thickly and thinly painted areas, effects of visible brush strokes) and other factors combine into what is presumably a "balanced" work of art.

Therefore, if the original is about as good as one can expect, then any additions by the artist are likely to change this "balance" and probably make the result aesthetically inferior to the original.

And this is what I almost always perceive when I encounter giclées "enhanced" by Pino himself; the resulting image is less satisfying than the original. Moreover, I also find it less satisfying than that of an un-enhanced giclée. Assuming I couldn't afford a Pino original (a very good assumption), I'd probably buy an unmodified giclée rather than one bearing the artist's own brushstrokes. Because I'd like it better.

Separated at Birth - 60 Years Apart

Alright, already. I know they aren't identical. They are products from different manufacturers and introduced to the market nearly 60 years apart.

But isn't there just a whiff of something evocative?

Judge for yourself:

Studebaker Champion convertible - 1950

Mercedes SLK - current

London's Off-the-Beaten-Track Masterpieces

Laughing Cavalier - Frans Hals - 1924

A Bar at the Folies-Bergère - Eduard Manet - 1882

Do these painting look familiar? I hope so. Do you know where to see them in person? You have to travel to London. But they won't be found in top-of-the-line art museums such as the Tate or the National Gallery. They're in places a notch below the "must see if you're in town for only three days" list. Take heed: they're surrounded by other notable works of art.

The Hals painting is in the Wallace Collection, somewhat off the usual tourist track. The Wallace is a short ways east of Baker Street in the zone between Oxford Street on the south and Madame Tussaud's and the Sherlock Holmes Museum to the north. And there's no Underground stop nearby, so you'll have to blow some pounds for a cab or else hoof it.

The Manet is in the Courtauld Gallery, a smallish museum occupying part of a wing of Somerset House on the Strand. It's south of the Covent Garden area and the Strand itself is probably the route one might take from Trafalgar Square to the City and St. Paul's Cathedral. The nearest Underground station is several blocks away at Temple, on the Embankment (Circle and District lines).

Philadelphia Suburban Trolley Cars of the 1930s

People joke about Brooklyn. And New Jersey (pronounced "joy-zee" when joking or actually from Hoboken).

Then there is Philadelphia, "city of brotherly love" and the subject of a few knife-twisters. For example (if I remember this right), W.C. Fields on the matter of death mused "on the whole, I'd rather be in Philadelphia." Then there is the apocryphal contest where first prize is one week in Philadelphia and the second prize is two weeks there.

Me? I lived there the better part of three years as a Penn grad student.

Actually, I'm not telling the complete truth. For about six months of that time I lived in Lansdowne, a suburb just west of the city. Across the street in front of our apartment house and parallel to it ran the Red Arrow trolley line (Some links about the Red Arrow are here and here). The coaches were pretty old-fashioned looking even in 1967, but I found that kinda neat.

Inbound trains rolled past our place down the hill to the station at 69th Street where the line terminated and a Philly-bound passenger would have to transfer to a bus or subway line to continue his journey.

The 69th Street Terminal is also anchor to one end of the Philadelphia-Norristown interurban line (some links are here and here). In those days, the interurban ran fascinating coaches whose ends were shaped in a early Buck Rogers sci-fi fashion. I never had a reason to travel that route, but once upon a time decided that I had to do so, and did before some fool decided to get rid of those fabulously archaic-futuristic coaches.

Here's what I'm raving about:

Red Arrow car

Red Arrow car as seen in the 1960s

Philadelphia and Western (Philadelphia-Norristown) interurban Brill "Bullet" car

Lineup of Bullet cars in the 1970s

The Norristown Bullet cars were built around 1930 by Philadelphia's Brill company (Wikipedia link here). Since they ran as fast as 70 miles per hour (a bit more than 100 kph), end designs were tested in a wind tunnel -- a progressive and unusual practice at the time.

The bottom photo gives the better sense of the Bullets, but to fully appreciate their look, they had to be seen in motion -- particularly at speed.

Lawrence, the Neglected

Sir Thomas Lawrence (1769-1830) was one of those painters fated to be honored in his own time and rapidly neglected following his death. I originally titled this post "Lawrence, the Forgotten" but decided that was too extreme because he never became utterly unknown. Indeed, his some paintings have resided in important collections since the day they left his studio.

Somewhere I read that Lawrence's reputation fell because he specialized in painting portraits of the famous and wealthy. And maybe because of his ties to George IV as regent and king. Could be, though not many artists of his time devoted careers to depicting peasants and shopkeepers. That subject matter started coming into vogue around the time he died, so it's not really fair to fault him on that score.

Perhaps a more realistic possibility is that he wasn't Sir Joshua Reynolds who, along with Sir Thomas Gainsborough, dominated English portraiture for a good part of the 18th century: call it Reynolds-or-nothing for many critics. Then too, he had strong rivals such as Sir Henry Raeburn during his career, and these might have diminished his later stature.

For what it's worth, the Lawrence portraits I come across in major museums strike me as quite good (though they probably represent some of the cream of his crop). Like most artists, quality of his work varies; to see a cross-section (along with those ringers that creep into a search) Google on his name and then select Images.

The Wikipedia entry for Lawrence is here, and an item from the Telegraph about his swingin' bachelorhood is here

Below are examples of his work.

Arthur Wellesley, First Duke of Wellington - 1814
This was painted the year of Waterloo and probably is the definitive portrait of the Duke.

John Philip Kemble as Cato - 1812

Maria, Lady Callcott - 1819
This is almost surely unfinished, so it offers a window into Lawrence's technique; try clicking to enlarge.

William Wilberforce (detail)
Another unfinished work. Nowadays painters are urged to "work the whole canvas" while developing a painting. Portrait artists, given the problem of getting enough sitter-time, often have little choice but to get the face done first and then complete the work as best they can if the sitter can no longer sit.

Marguerite, Countess of Blessington (detail)

Blogging Note

We're off to Spain, Portugal and Morocco tomorrow and return the 29th of this month.

But posting at Art Contrarian will not cease -- provided that the blogging software by those kind geniuses at Google does what it's expected to do.

I've written 11 articles and stuffed them into a publish-date queue. A new post should appear every Monday, Wednesday and Friday (West Coast USA reference) while I'm away.

While on the road, I'll check the blog and my email as best I can. But be advised that it might be days or weeks before a comment gets vetted by me and published.

Happy reading!

Sinister-Looking Car

Selecting a styling theme for an automobile is a tricky business. For that reason, many car designs have tended to be bland or highly derivative -- remember back around 1980 when a number of brands featured boxy styling that clearly was inspired by Mercedes-Benz?

There is the related, but hard to put one's finger on, factor of "personality:" consider the various iterations of the cute Volkswagen "Beetle" or Plymouth/Dodge Neon from the mid-1990s. Luxury makes often attempt to look dignified -- stately and conservative. In general, where personality is consciously injected into a design, it is something positive that a potential buyer might relate to.

So why then did Honda's Acura brand move to a style image that strikes me as being sinister?

Acura TL - 2010

Acura has been a runner-up near-luxury make. It hasn't had a racing heritage image such as Mercedes or Maserati or a performance-sedan persona like BMW's. And so far as I can judge, it never was skewed to one driver-sex; not a "chick car" nor "guy car."

Well, now it's a male-image car; a sub-middle-aged male one. Note all those sharp cuts and angled shapes in the grille and trunk areas.

This is not to say that only youngish, car-performance freak guys will be the only buyers. Still, I can't believe Honda consciously wants to abandon other, larger demographic market segments. Perhaps they simply want the car to be "edgy" (in more than one context), and are placing a bet on the Bob Lutz concept: Intense approval for some buyers is better for sales than blandness that doesn't have much effect one way or another.

Me? I don't mind the looks of the Acura TL and would consider buying one if I had the money and was needful of a new car. Though it might not be my first choice.