Dune Landscape, 2007
oil on canvas, 18 x 24 cm

I was born in New York City in 1969. My parents encouraged me to draw and paint from a young age. As a teenager, I painted landscapes in oil, but I felt that I should seek a more practical career.

I went to college at the University of Chicago and got my BA in biology in 1991. After that I did research at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology in the Department of Brain and Cognitive Sciences. I studied visual perception and the primate visual system. I got my Ph.D. in 1995.

During post-doctoral research in Amsterdam, I rediscovered my interest in art and decided to become a painter. I had an exhibition at Galerie Klerkx & van Heerden in Haarlem, The Netherlands in 2001. Since then most of my work has been for private commission.

Another lesson I have learned already is to do the tasks as early in the day as possible. It is easy to procrastinate, and then at some point it becomes too late to do anything.

Another one of my resolutions is to write a bit of fiction each day. To keep it simple, I’m starting with a children’s story. This is a lot of fun.

I think that good planning will help. It was a lucky accident that I had some clay here at my grandmother’s house where I am spending the holidays, otherwise I would not have been able to the sculpture work (or rather, “exercise”) yesterday. I have painting materials here that let me paint daily as well. But what about the future?
It is clear to me that I need to make some sort of traveling kit to carry my essential art materials with me wherever I go.

For ordinary days, I will need to make sure that I keep everything organized so that the “energy barrier” for starting with each type of work remains as low as possible.

I guess I should add that another one of my New Year’s resolutions is to write a blog post every single day.

I did the same walk around the harbor that I do every day when I am in Wilhelmshaven. But today I felt exhausted afterwards, and it wasn’t from the physical weight of the camera. I felt tired because I used my out-of-shape “photographic vision,” a special way of looking at the world through a camera. It took about half an hour of walking and shooting to get into “photographic vision,” and it now persists for some time after I put down the camera. “Photographic vision” lets me take photographs without using a camera, in a sense. I assume all the photographers have this; probably the professionals live with it all the time. For an amateur like me, it yields a sort of “mental muscle ache,” something like what you feel when you first start exercising muscles that you didn’t realize you had. All the more reason for the daily workout!

Do not fail, as you go on, to draw something every day, for no matter how little it is it will be well worth while, and will do you a world of good.

– Cennino Cennini, Il Libro dell’Arte

In 2006 I made sculpture; at the close of the year I began to take an interest in photography. What I found was that weeks could pass without my even touching a paint brush. Recently, I have been painting daily without doing any sculpture or photography at all.

Is it good to abandon one art form for another, even temporarily? One could argue that, in some cases, it is good. But here is another way to think about it, in analogy to physical exercise: would it be good to give up daily exercise for the sake of art? Thinking of it this way, the answer is, of course not.

My goal for 2007 is to draw, to paint, to do sculpture and to do photography, every single day.

My goal is not to try to accomplish something remarkable every day in these various media. The goal is to keep myself in “condition” or “artistically fit” in the same way that I stay “physically fit.” Stated in this way, I don’t think this New Year’s resolution is too ambitious to follow. We shall see . . .

Do you have New Year’s resolutions pertaining to art that you would like to share?

If you are recognized as an artist as an adult, does your “early work” then become art as well? What if your “early work” was not so good? What if (as in the case of my sister Nina) only your “early work” was good?

Does an artist need to be older than ten to make real art? Is children’s art “Art”?

. . .

related post: Edward Winkleman, What Is an “Emerging Artist”?

JENNIFER HOES: I married myself at the moment I was prepared to embrace my own life and agree on the responsibilities that come with that. I married myself at the age my father died, I decided not to stay in the shade of his death at thirty.

Jennifer Hoes at her self-wedding in Haarlem, The Netherlands, 2003.

KARL ZIPSER: Is it not a bit self-centered to marry yourself?

Jennifer Hoes in her studio in Haarlem speaking, about porcelain objects cast from her body, with her mother.

JENNIFER HOES: I believe if a person is loyal to him- or herself, he or she he has more to offer to others — to be active, straight and involved in relationships. Therefor, by no means, is marrying yourself a self-centered act. In my wedding I needed my family and friends there as my witnesses and it was also a celebration of my relationships and intentions with them.

Installation at a big plant and flower fair in Holland: Jennifer Hoes is “Eva” in a back-projected movie within the installation; her porcelain objects represent the animals in paradise.

KARL ZIPSER: Marriage is of course more than a ceremony. There is also a wedding night . . .

JENNIFER HOES: The wedding night I spent alone and slept like a baby! I feel my wedding-night was the most logical one after a hectic day!

KARL ZIPSER: There is also a honey moon . . .

JENNIFER HOES: Unfortunately I had no money for a honeymoon, that would have been nice and welcome after the hard work.

Jennifer Hoes’ porcelain vases based on cast of her thighs [photograph: Eric van Straaten]

KARL ZIPSER: Also there is the rest of your life “together.” How does self-marriage affect your life on a day to day basis? Do you find yourself a good life-partner so far?

JENNIFER HOES: My wedding ring says “I will return to my heart every time.” I read this every day. I think the values to an individual life are pretty much the same as in a marriage, it is about how you’ll behave, about taking responsibility, about being a loving person. The promises you make in the ceremony concern good intentions. The intention to do your best, be involved, be sincere, etc. and the ceremony is something you do for the moment later when you’re making a mistake in the relationship, to remind you of your promises and to make up for your mistake. To always try your best. Of course, I’m not always happy with myself and the things I do.

KARL ZIPSER: Does your self-marriage preclude you from a traditional marriage with another man or woman?

JENNIFER HOES: I can still marry a partner. But I do feel I had my moment in white, so I’m not eager to take the trip to the city-hall again.

A nipple montage by Jennifer Hoes

KARL ZIPSER: Would it be fair to say that your wedding was an “art event”?

JENNIFER HOES: I don’t claim my work (or wedding) is art. I do, and make, what I feel I have to do or to make. The “art” label is given by others. The media, because of the wedding, tried to own me, make me say or do things. I had to verbally fight with reporters and kept most of them out of my wedding ceremony. I did not invite them. The truth is I did not reject them altogether when they did come. I enjoyed the attention, but to an extent.

Jennifer Hoes beside a nipple montage

KARL ZIPSER: Jennifer, you indeed got a lot of media attention because of your self-marriage. You present your “wedding” as an important personal experience. Wasn’t it just a publicity stunt to promote your art?

JENNIFER HOES: Today people still ask me when the next big “stunt” will be. I am hurt when people degrade my very being to a stunt. The wedding cost me a lot of time, effort and money. Also, very important, I did not make any money out of it, would also not justify it being a stunt for the sole purpose of entertaining others.

Karl, I don’t make a distinction between my life and work. Therefore my wedding can be considered “work.” It also explains why I can so easily use my own body as a tool. I believe life is a matter of design — for the biggest part we are the designers of our own lives. I believe we have more influence on our own lives then we sometimes realize. It is about taking responsibility and accountability. I use this concept in my work. At the physical level the work is based, sometimes literally, on the from of my own body. But the work is also is a projection of my heart and mind. The wedding, as something of heart and mind, is just as relevant to my work as a cast of my nipples.

Jennifer Hoes in her “Summer dress made of silk and silver.”

KARL ZIPSER: Will you take questions from readers here on Art & Perception?

JENNIFER HOES: Yes.

Walter Bartman was my art teacher in high school in 1984-86 in Bethesda, Maryland. Students of “Mr. Bartman” were ten times more likely to become Presidential Scholars in Visual Arts than students in other art classes in the United States. Although he retired from high school teaching in 2001, Walter Bartman continues to teach landscape painting in Maryland and in workshops across the U.S. and in Europe.

Artwork in this post is plein air painting by Walter Bartman [click images to enlarge]. This interview was edited for publication together with Leslie Holt

KARL ZIPSER: Walter Bartman, you give effective training in how to draw and paint, but you also give students the feeling that painting is important, help them find a passionate devotion to art. What are the key ingredients for creating an art community like the one you create among your students in your high school class?

WALTER BARTMAN: Karl, I like to think that all ideas need a catalyst, like a fire needing a spark. As an idea person, I realized I could never see all my ideas to fruition. That is what has made teaching so important to me. I found that I could share my enthusiasm and ideas for discovery with my students. I have always seen myself as someone who puts things into motion. Teaching was the perfect field for me and my temperament, though when I graduated from college, I didn’t value the importance of the profession. That came when I had actually taught and seen my impact.

As an artist, I am striving for a breakthrough in personal awareness. I feel that is what all of the “fields” of creativity are about. That should be their mission, to go beyond what is known. How you get there has many paths. I follow a path that is grounded on “digging the garden,” as Matisse put it. It is the Zen of working. Sharing that with people of similar interest seems so easy. Today, most of my students are adults and they like the younger students have seen what inspiration does at any age.

I have always led my life with six ideas…

1. You can paint the sky any color you want and it will eventually happen (Any thing we dream can happen because it wouldn’t if we weren’t able to think it).
2. The color you see is made by the color you just saw (everything is relative).
3. It is the invisible in art that needs to be found, not the visible (clues are in the visible).
4. The holy men wrote the books, they didn’t read them (be inspired to express what is in your head).
5. The universe is inside me (all sensations are internalized).
6. The mind prevents me from seeing, not my eyes (Getting the mind to see more…gaining a perspective on how you think)…

The most important reason I draw and paint is because I can see my ideas that are in my mind on paper. I came to realize this when I was very young. I could see in my drawings that “my personal ideas come alive”.

I always encouraged my students to build their ideas on their temperament (personal sensitivity). Understanding the perspective each student brings is important, because they share their ideas with others. Like the gardener, the plant needs nourishment at a young age, not pruning to soon. Too much direction is not healthy, I want my students to have an utmost belief in their personal ideas. I helped validate their own discoveries, with that comes personal intellectual growth.

KARL: Walter, your words give me a vivid recollection of the inspiration I felt when I joined your class 22 years ago. In addition to what I gained directly from you in the student/teacher relationship, I also got much support and encouragement from your other students. Do you think this community spirit developed as a side-effect of your method of teaching individual students, or did you also specifically strive to nurture the feeling of community?

WALTER: Karl, Community has always been something I feel has made great movements in the arts, science or math. It was my intention from the very beginning to build a community of young artists as the future generation. I have always felt that human thought is collective. We build ideas on the thoughts of others. If you can bring a group of very creative people together in a sharing environment, they will support each other and challenge each other to go beyond the instructor’s expectations. I was always impressed by the enthusiasm of the students for idea making through the visual art of painting.

KARL: Can you comment on your approach to building this strong community of artists?

WALTER: When I came to Walt Whitman high school, I soon realized that I would build my program around a nucleus of very talented students. That nucleus would pull other students in because of the high standards and enthusiasm of a small group of students. Each year, a new group would follow. They would be identified in the beginning classes and encouraged to challenge the older students. That kept the older ones from being complacent. I was fortunate to have some really fine students. I found that each year produced a strong group of students. Instituting a yearly festival art exhibition at the school gave the students an opportunity to be showcased for their ideas. I feel creative people need to have some opportunity to display who they are.

I always tried to build a community. It wasn’t ever about one student. I find when I teach, I do it to a group, not single students. I also befriended my students. I was there to validate and support each student who gave 100%. If you remember my grading system, students only received A’s & E’s. If they received an E, they could always make up the work. I also found that quantity made quality, so I always required a lot of work.

The work I assigned was based on contemporary movements. I felt my students were a part of that movement and had something to add. It is funny, but looking back on the work in my classes, some of it was very profound for anyone at any age. I guess that is why my program was nationally recognized.

KARL: You have succeeded in building a tremendous environment for your students, a place where art matters. The results are, I think, astonishing.

However, when students left your class, even if they went to a good art school, they might discover that they do not have the same magic feeling about art as they had in your class community. What advice can you offer to your former students, and to those who will never be your students, for building and maintaining a creative environment in which to produce their art?

WALTER: The advice I would give to students is to see themselves as artists. That means they have to have the discipline to make their own work. They must be self motivated. They need to establish purpose and work toward it. They must have an absolute belief in their work and that it does make a difference.

Over the years, I tried to prepare my students for an exciting life full of art. I hoped that their experiences in my classes would prepare them. I realized after talking to a number of students that when they went off to school, many of the programs just didn’t offer that spark they were looking for. After hearing their concerns, on their return from their schools, I counseled them to seek out a community of artists nearby or to form one.

I hoped that their experience of studying with me would be enough to eventually lead them to being productive artists. All I could do was to prepare them. Hopefully, upon leaving my program, they were working as artists and just not students. Artists have to be self-motivated. I tried to instill that in their work ethic.

As their teacher, I know I instilled a guilt complex for not working up to their potential. I guess I had expectations for them. That is something I know is still present in their minds years later. However, if there is one thing I had hoped they carried with them, it would be that art makes for a fulfilling life. It is something they could do anywhere at anytime.

KARL: Will you take questions from readers here?

WALTER: Yes.

Haarlem is a major art center — in historical terms. When the genres of landscape and still life were revolutionary and new (in the 17th century), Haarlem artists were the key players. The Haarlem portrait painter Frans Hals is one of the most influential artists in history. Much of what is best about Manet‘s work he borrowed directly from Frans Hals. Van Gogh was hugely influenced by Frans Hals as well.

Haarlem also has one of the greatest Michelangelo drawing collections in the world. But this is a dead collection, in a sense: in a recent major exhibition in Haarlem, artists were not permitted to study Michelangelo’s work in the only way that makes sense, drawing within the exhibition itself, looking directly at the master’s work. Although there was a huge volume of visitors to the show, there was almost no serious critical analysis of the art or the exhibition (here are exceptions: 1, 2).

Thus, Haarlem is a cultural graveyard. Haarlem’s living inhabitants treat the past with silent, uncritical reverence. The tombstones of the old masters (native and foreign), cast a long shadow over contemporary artwork and creativity.

Artists in Haarlem today can be divided into two broad categories:

• those trying continue past traditions (especially in still life painting)
• those trying to be part of the great international art scene.

In the first category are some talented painters achieving commercial success with their neo-17th century still life paintings. But in this endeavor, they are little more than expert craftsmen. [Hanneke van Oosterhout is flirting with the idea becoming one of these, but I think she will pull out before it is too late].

In the second category are artists who are in denial about their place of residence. These artists would probably be better off if they moved to the real international art centers of today — New York, London, Berlin. How can one be a great international artist living in Haarlem, of all places?

Before we all pack up and move to New York, I’d like to point out that the action in the great living art centers of today is not all that impressive. I’ve spent a lot of time in New York and Berlin, with an eye to moving there for the sake of my art career. I was singularly unimpressed by what I saw in the living art culture. I might move to New York for its great museums, but not for its contemporary galleries.

More interesting to me than moving is to look at this cultural graveyard I live in, and see what are the weeds growing besides the tombstones. What is the new life here? Might it grow into something for the city to be proud of?

Where do you live and work? Could your city or town become an important art center? Or would you rather move to New York?

. . .

In a future post, I will profile what I consider to be the most exciting contemporary Haarlem artwork.

Tracy’s blog raises interesting questions about what it means to be an artist today. In the past, artists liked to cloak themselves and their work in mystery. Tracy is open about her work (good, bad, unfinished) and her difficulties in the process of creating and selling. There is a refreshing and direct quality to her writing style that makes mysterious 20th century artists seem a bit comic in comparison. Is Tracy a good example of what 21th century artists will be doing, or should she hide her unfinished work and cultivate a more refined public image?