Illusionism
Proponents of abstract painting have often declared it to be “more advanced” than figurative painting because it challenges the viewer “to participate”. Presumably this means that figurative art “gives” the viewer content in the form of recognizable images. But this overlooks a fundamental truth: to see is to participate.
We can see the picture as either a rabbit or a duck. It is easy to discover both readings. It is less easy to describe what happens when we switch from one interpretation to the other.
Art and Illusion E. H. Gombrich
Ernst Gombrich (1909-2001) published Art and Illusion: A Study in the Psychology of Pictorial Representation in 1960. In his introduction Gombrich writes that abstraction, “the great artistic revolution” that swept across Europe in the 20th century, disengaged the requirement for representational accuracy from determinations of artistic excellence. This was a kind of liberation, but it came with a cost.
The impression has grown up that illusion, being artistically irrelevant, must also be psychologically very simple. We do not have to turn to art to show that this view is erroneous. Any psychology textbook will provide us with baffling examples that show the complexity of the issues involved.
Illusionism in painting is neither easy nor obvious. To do it well, requires a high degree of skill. Artists of the past did not necessarily understand the scientific basis of its complexity as described by Gombrich. But painters who understood the end result of that complexity could take advantage of it in their art.
How might a well educated and highly skilled painter use this ability of the mind to “flip” static forms in the mind’s eye?
One example can be found in this painting by Delacroix celebrating France’s July revolution of 1830.
A student wearing a vest and holding a pistol in each hand is depicted marching with Liberty.
What is the spatial relationship between these two figures? Is he beside, behind or in front of Liberty?
Focus on the boy’s uplifted right arm and he appears to be behind her. As one’s eye travels to the bottom of his leg, however, it becomes apparent that his right foot is resting on the ground plane considerably in front of Liberty. His highlighted hip and thigh could be read as either behind or in front.
This ambiguity animates the surface of the painting, mimicking a back and forth marching motion in keeping with the painting’s subject
This etching by Goya is another example of spatial ambiguity.
An apparently flat static print is actually a dynamic image that is pulsing within the illusion of a deep three dimensional space.
Initially, the central goblin dominates the image. Its location, black attire, extreme facial expression and the large scale of its hand immediately catch the viewer’s eye, pulling the form forward. However, as one looks downward, it becomes clear that the goblin on the right is standing some distance in front of the central figure. And the figure on the left is seated even further forward. Look up and the hand and grimacing face pulls forward. Look down and the figure recedes.
Before anyone can hope to achieve the complexities of these examples by Delacroix and Goya, the basic vocabulary of drawing must first be mastered. And then an artist must master the materials and techniques of their craft, the “organized skill” identified by E. P. Richardson as a necessary component of art. Recognizing the importance of these skills did not preclude Richardson or Fairfield Porter or other educated observers from appreciating the radical new trend in American painting that appeared in the middle of the 20th century. They saw a link to art’s history in the underlying “life of forms in art”. An example of this link is seen here in a comparison of drawings by Rembrandt and Jackson Pollock.
In DRAWING Mastering the Language of Visual Expression (2005) Keith Micklewright explains that lines, smudges and splatters are elements of an abstract vocabulary that can be used for various purposes. He writes that “…the visual ambiguity of marks allows the observer to transform them into equivalents for reality…”. Rembrandt, with his incomparable technique, is illustrating a specific narrative that his audience would be expected to recognize. Pollock is illustrating a personal narrative which is also a valid use of the language of drawing. Both images were created by what appears to be a few spontaneous gestures. Micklewright’s analysis is similar to the way Thomas Hess wrote about abstract painting in Abstract Painting: Background and American Phase, first published in 1951. Forms were analyzed and links to art’s history were maintained.
The following year, Harold Rosenberg initiated a different approach to explaining American abstract painting when he published The American Action Painters. He focused on the philosophical implications of the new trend in painting without identifying specific artists. This omission may have been motivated by a desire to avoid contentious art world politics. But it also made his thesis more malleable, capturing the imagination of critics, academics and museum curators. Ideas quickly became the dominating force in New York’s booming art world. The new role of “art professionals” was to interpret the ideas thought to be exemplified by new art in any of its myriad manifestations. Interest in continuities of form and mastery of craft was sidelined if not entirely forgotten. Illusionism became “artistically irrelevant” and no longer needed to be understood or explained.
People like pictures. They won’t go away. Everybody thought the cinema would kill the theatre, but the theatre will always be there because it’s live. Drawing and painting will carry on, like singing and dancing, because people need them. I’m quite convinced that painting will be big in the future. If the history of art and the history of pictures diverge, the power will be with the images. Nobody’s taking much notice of the avant-garde any more. They’re finding they’ve lost their authority.
David Hockney A History of Pictures From the Cave to the Computer Screen 2016
General audiences do not need to be aware of the psychological complexity explained by Gombrich in order to enjoy figurative paintings. Their response is typically spontaneous. Art professionals, however, have been trained to judge paintings based on the ideas the work appears to illustrate. Knowledge of the skills required to create recognizable imagery has faded. Art that appeared to be easily comprehensible was not deemed worthy of their time and attention. In The Power of Images David Freedberg argues that an immediate response to the “magic” of images has been largely educated out of most art professionals.
Fairfield Porter’s 1983 retrospective at the Boston Museum of Fine Arts was enormously popular with the general public. It broke attendance records. But this did not significantly enhance his stature among New York’s dominant critical voices and institutions. According to Hilton Kramer, the Whitney “…had to be coerced into accepting even an abridged version of the Boston show.” A curator had initially decided that Porter’s work was not “tough enough for us.”
Since the end of the 20th century the contemporary art world has moved in directions that have nothing to do with Fairfield Porter. But, as David Hockney so correctly stated: “People like pictures.” With the passage of time, there is now hope that historians might be willing to reevaluate the dominant ossified narrative of the evolution of 20th century American art. Ideally, they will then be able to appreciate the rich complexity of Fairfield Porter’s art and life giving him the recognition he deserves. This recognition then opens up the possibility that museums will, in at least a portion of their programming, acknowledge the general public’s interest in the art and craft of painting.