tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51915634096906330512024-02-07T20:30:47.861-05:00Uribe Art NewsNicolás Uribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127652490606687392noreply@blogger.comBlogger45125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191563409690633051.post-30139344135713165792013-09-30T18:04:00.002-05:002013-10-01T10:44:38.629-05:00DafenLand<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5tAnkA2fnUa-8NmTE-xbVr0HzNmwi8z7_s1sHYuwwPjVFLnZxZl_YjxymvFWqE9ZOTRHBEmbkicLVfYRCjgRXkzIAceCDBiC93h5cqKdYd7PvTzoLMV168dlzPJGU4i4l_yAkYbm2jhHw/s1600/sweatshop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5tAnkA2fnUa-8NmTE-xbVr0HzNmwi8z7_s1sHYuwwPjVFLnZxZl_YjxymvFWqE9ZOTRHBEmbkicLVfYRCjgRXkzIAceCDBiC93h5cqKdYd7PvTzoLMV168dlzPJGU4i4l_yAkYbm2jhHw/s320/sweatshop.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I was
looking at some newer photos of the painters of Dafen and it’s always
fascinated me how even though our knowledge of these painting-sweatshops was
obscure (it’s only until recently that these painting villages have become a
sort of popular attraction to the western public), the paintings produced there
were, unbeknownst to us, part of our everyday life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These massively produced paintings are just
that, paint on canvas. But I was wondering, how different is this exercise of
commerce dictating art, of a life devoted to endlessly copying another’s
painting, to that of a “real” painter who produces works with artistic merit,
like lets say (for the sake of argument) Neo Rauch or Botero, both of whom have
ended up copying themselves. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I guess
this is seemingly an unfair argument. Sounds ridiculous to compare Rauch, who
is in every contemporary painting book out there, to an unknown Chinese painter,
one of thousands, who paints hundreds if not thousands of areas of paintings
in a day that will be later sold to WalMart. It should be accepted that an
artist, one who we consider to be a “true” artist that is, has the right to
decide to devote his or her whole life to exploring the way in which he or she
interprets painting; even if that means painting the same painting (not
literally, but figuratively) time and again. It is after all, a valid
possibility in an artist’s creative process.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I am also
aware that many times, it’s desirable for an artist to have a recognizable
manner of, in this case, solving a painting. But, and lets be completely
honest, many times this desire goes hand in hand with sales. If a type of
painting becomes commercially successful, then it is wise for the painter and
for the gallery to produce more of the type of painting that is in demand. It’s
a simple equation that almost inevitably affects creative processes.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">So what’s
the difference between copying others work for commercial purposes, and copying
ones own work for commercial purposes? In both cases, the original images that
spawned the need to copy, had at some point, artistic worth. After that, one
painting gets literally copied while the other gets elegantly copied.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWEf51Hk9Um_ZN8mNokrdKXSh8YrTJn9mTxVTGEU7PiIpzvwyM4ipnIo43unRcQzmY63y9QsnW7n13ar_RRheozVGk7f7KtUtMBTI_9kF6_kPvnnVTLorhyphenhyphenRk_kbl9Ba33Q-XPLlOirdiG/s1600/1(30).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWEf51Hk9Um_ZN8mNokrdKXSh8YrTJn9mTxVTGEU7PiIpzvwyM4ipnIo43unRcQzmY63y9QsnW7n13ar_RRheozVGk7f7KtUtMBTI_9kF6_kPvnnVTLorhyphenhyphenRk_kbl9Ba33Q-XPLlOirdiG/s320/1(30).jpg" width="276" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">If a
painter reading this suddenly feels offended, think of this… people will travel
thousands of miles to Xi’an to view the terracotta warriors. They consider this
one of the greatest objects in history to be unearthed… and yet being aware of thousands
of people painting the same painting every day is nothing but a sweatshop in
our eyes. One that today we westerners are willing to visit as if it were
Disneyworld, but a sweatshop nonetheless. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I very often
wonder, perhaps too much, about honesty in painting. I always try and
understand where this frank but bizarre impulse resides and how it affects a
work of art in an indelible way. And finally, I wonder where is it that this
sincere act stops being genuine. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS5IbvX7drZaJNBdgy0fbTf6IJJPslzi0uU2bNGx34A-1_B9_VMQ4mrVLInh2JGgOHzsfY0Lg-e_LF9kJWEVK1ChYBCZS6I7iIWjo-pUWdldodQLedswOby5qHh0pnnQzVXtpPB_LYjJcz/s1600/dafen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS5IbvX7drZaJNBdgy0fbTf6IJJPslzi0uU2bNGx34A-1_B9_VMQ4mrVLInh2JGgOHzsfY0Lg-e_LF9kJWEVK1ChYBCZS6I7iIWjo-pUWdldodQLedswOby5qHh0pnnQzVXtpPB_LYjJcz/s320/dafen.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Because in
my eyes, I think there’s not that much of a difference between Rauch, or a
Chinese Dafen painter that makes a couple of thousand dollars a year, or me for
that matter. In the end we are all painters, affected by the same things. The
Dafen painter tries to paint like Repin, Rauch tries to paint like a successful Rauch, and
I try to make it no so obvious that I look at Phil Hale. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">My point in
all of this, and I’m not sure I’m trying to make a point but instead question a
bunch of things that stem from this act of curiosity, is to ask myself what is it
that makes an image more powerful than the others, what is it that makes it a
catalyzer, an image that observers throughout history deem as indisputably
authentic. Where does that original originality subsist, what intentions made
it materialize and why does it appear to fade so quickly, making it hard,
almost impossible for a painter to use it frequently. How is the same painter
who was at one point aware of the force of honesty quickly willing to succumb
to his or her own iteration.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">To me it
would be fascinating if I could talk to Rauch, but since we’re being honest, I would be
far more inclined to talk to a Chinese painter that has painted the same
paintings thousands of times for 20 years. I would love to know what he thinks
about the "honorable" act of painting. I wonder if he is in awe when he walks
into a museum and sees the Mona Lisa through bullet proof glass. I wonder how
he feels about the value of creating something unique. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHnYjciFf3_evwFDrsXR87c-r-v5_PsNq_XjdslVKSvC33VLSOc-jfshJ_Iznko-cBqiOXgZqoxok4toyZKzov-1Q03WhWhQp0Rauh0jdRlfvKWKVoT6P1AgO4fAPV87xg-Vl-IrXIYwYz/s1600/nikolaus-gansterer_mona-mona-lisa_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHnYjciFf3_evwFDrsXR87c-r-v5_PsNq_XjdslVKSvC33VLSOc-jfshJ_Iznko-cBqiOXgZqoxok4toyZKzov-1Q03WhWhQp0Rauh0jdRlfvKWKVoT6P1AgO4fAPV87xg-Vl-IrXIYwYz/s320/nikolaus-gansterer_mona-mona-lisa_web.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">In the end,
when you think about it, if Dafen was managed by an artist, it would be seen as
an act of massive appropriation fit for any contemporary biennial. We used to
be shocked by Dafen, thousands of starving artists working at gunpoint, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>but now they have dafen.coms and tens of other webpages with paypal
transactions, and I’m sure it won’t be long until we see a “real” artist use
their services to show something at Basel or Venice.</span></div>
<br />Nicolás Uribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127652490606687392noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191563409690633051.post-8605964156433513942013-03-13T19:12:00.004-05:002013-03-13T20:14:20.385-05:00On Permanence<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ6mDJi0yEhiVAF7LcU8ib32L8R1uCUiDjwgmhZcXHxzsKyWDKQSGl2eHBMwpymCeNyL77RCzaQKclZxp1bVNRrfWutiXq8Ln-tuIdr40JMQWom9LM0ucG-fj0QpDDKQvoeh7lSEqqFqrO/s1600/media_httptrufflehunt_tgCvp.jpg.scaled1000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ6mDJi0yEhiVAF7LcU8ib32L8R1uCUiDjwgmhZcXHxzsKyWDKQSGl2eHBMwpymCeNyL77RCzaQKclZxp1bVNRrfWutiXq8Ln-tuIdr40JMQWom9LM0ucG-fj0QpDDKQvoeh7lSEqqFqrO/s400/media_httptrufflehunt_tgCvp.jpg.scaled1000.jpg" width="282" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US">When you reflect upon the manner in which a
traditional painting is developed, you realize that every decision the painter
makes is based upon one thing – permanence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We chose linen because we have more than 500 years of history letting us
know the way in which this particular material has behaved. We chose mediums
that with time will not alter the original colors, we chose paints that will
not fade with exposure to light, we chose boards that are acid free and will
not yellow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We work in a particular
order so paint doesn’t peel or crack. We make conscious choices to inject our
paintings with decisions that are based on stability, hoping that the paintings
will be durable, but also and perhaps more importantly, faithful to the original
state in which the were produced.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US">Ever stop and wonder <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">why </i>we do this? Is the answer because we want future generations to
look at our paintings as if they were unaltered by the passage of time? </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Let
the next generation make their own pictures</i>” Rockwell famously stated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US">Rockwell’s statement is selfish at its
core. Could you imagine if Rembrandt or Velazquez had been as carefree as
Rockwell? We wouldn’t have today their paintings as objects of reference. But
when you think about it a bit more, would it matter? Would it matter if we
wouldn’t even know what we were missing? Wouldn’t it be like thinking about the
hanging gardens of Babylon? We never saw them, but we can imagine they were
beautiful because history, stories or myths told us they were beautiful. Would attempting
to paint without ever seeing a Rembrandt make us lesser painters? Would it
impede us from making solid, moving works of art?</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US">I am obviously not lessening the impact a
work of art can have in future generations. Las Meninas has been the object of
countless interpretations through different mediums including sculpture, video,
installation and of course painting. Appropriation in art is a fascinating
endeavor and if the context of an original image was lost, the act of re-contextualization
would be simply impossible. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US">A much simpler answer would have to do with
the market of art. If somebody pays X amount of money for a painting, it is
understandable that they wouldn’t want their investment to depreciate. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I don’t want to get into this aspect,
because it shouldn’t be an issue in the creative process.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US">What if we just accept that paintings, like
ourselves, die. We as makers may even have a say in how long it takes them –
they can die quicker or slower than we do. What if we were absolutely conscious
of the fact the every single material that makes up a painting degrades through
time – sadly we do not paint with McDonald’s burgers on top of Styrofoam. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We use materials that transform, that are
brittle, that are sensitive; in many ways we use materials that are alive. So
if we paint with “living materials” why do we want fixed, unalterable images?</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US">I refuse to accept the argument of
longevity. It is horribly pretentious. It’s akin to wanting your last name to
never disappear; to thinking that the impact that a work of art may have will be relevant long after we are dead. I refuse to believe that we may
think so highly of ourselves, especially when traditional painting is one of
the most humbling acts I know of.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US">So what if instead of defying time, we
embrace the fact that paintings are fragile and fleeting. What if we, working from our traditional roots,
accept the delicateness of instability?<span style="font-size: small;"> </span>What if we let the next generations decide
what is relevant, what is important, and take out of the equation the idea of
presuming we foresee the future significance of what we do?</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US">How would painting be taught if we had no
references? Would you paint on linen stretched on bars just because someone
told you to do so? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am aware these are
impossible questions to answer, but they make me think about the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">why</i>. Why do we work in the manner in
which we do? Are we listening to ourselves or are we overly aware of what has
been done before?</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US">If we knew nothing, perhaps our senses
would be sharper, our relations with the nature of our materials would be more
intimate, and our intentions would be simpler. Perhaps.</span></span></span></div>
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<br />Nicolás Uribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127652490606687392noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191563409690633051.post-52897814347609025472012-08-03T12:18:00.002-05:002012-08-03T12:18:21.774-05:00Color<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I felt the need to re-establish my relationship with color... once again... not sure how many times I've questioned my use of it. What I end up doing, and I guess this is, in a way, a natural solution (hopefully not overly predictable) is that I paint monochromatic images. I love form... I've always thought that the one thing that interests me above all in painting is form. The ability to convey solidity, even if it's solidity as part of a dense atmosphere, just fascinates me. And form, fortunately for me, is something that does not depend on color.<br />
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So these are a couple of paintings that are just an attempt to understand blues in relation to earthy grays. The first is a portarit of Freud... I know... painting Freud sounds like a bad idea, almost campy, but I had to do it... a mini homage if you will. Plus I was looking at Giacometti so inevitably he got into my head too... <br />
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And the second is a portrait of my mom... I like this one. I actually feel she's in there. Kind of fragile, somewhat broken, but manages to keep it all together... a wonderful woman. <br />
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<br />Nicolás Uribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127652490606687392noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191563409690633051.post-45283159549313540842012-06-11T12:56:00.003-05:002012-06-11T15:16:46.195-05:00Honestly<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've been feeling somewhat dissatisfied with my paintings as of late... I feel that I've become a bit too aware of how I approach my work, and it has become a static matter of me sitting down and painting what is <i>effective</i>. And by effective I mean something that I've noticed works in my previous paintings. I feel that if I don't do something about it, my work is going to be redundant and worst of all, predictable. And if there's one thing that I do NOT enjoy in painting is repetitiveness. I understand that the solidity of one's vision comes from uniformity, but too much work, solely solving the same problems over and over again goes from consistency to tedium.<br />
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Now, some may argue that repetition and constancy are essential to developing one's work, and it is only thru thorough exploration that one may understand the parameters in which one's work unfolds, but I feel (and I'm strictly speaking for myself), that while iteration may further understanding, it may also hinder risk-taking.<br />
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One thing I find myself repeating to my students, and ironically it is the one thing that a student of mine recently suggested to me, is that to develop one's work one should be honest. Now, when I say it to my student's I can understand why I say it and why whatever I saw in their work prompted to state such an ambiguous suggestion. But when someone recommended such a cryptic endeavor, because lets face it, it is horribly cryptic, I was caught off guard.<br />
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In a sense, I feel comfortable when I have to design a painting. Organizing all the formal elements that make up a picture is, I believe, not that problematic. But when someone thought that my work was not being sincere... well that kind of kicked me in the nuts... What the hell does it mean that an image lacks honesty??? Quite frankly, that's a really hard question to answer. I think I understand what it means when an image feels foreign... like it's borrowing from others experiences. And I guess, that is what's key - <i>experiences</i>. We can only paint what we know. We may be stimulated by other images, we may savior the fact that these other images may arouse or challenge us, but we have to accept the fact that we can only do what we know.<br />
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I think excitement sometimes takes a hold of us. Excitement that makes us believe that alien experiences are our own. But I think the answer, <i>my</i> answer, is to go back to basics, to reflect upon the simplest things, and more importantly, to solve them in a simple manner. Because in art, at least in my eyes, as complex as a painting may be, it's essence should be simple.<br />
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Honesty is horribly humbling.<br />
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(Glenn Ligon image btw...)Nicolás Uribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127652490606687392noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191563409690633051.post-5382898587935480042012-04-11T18:32:00.000-05:002012-04-11T18:32:39.203-05:00UpdatesHere's an update on a few of the paintings I had previously shown. Props to my students who helped me in turning a nice but comfortably safe grey painting into a more exciting grey-pink one. It's funny how I try and teach them to be fearless and sometimes I'm apprehensive with my own work . Thank god I have them around to prevent my brain from becoming stagnant.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjczSy3p48krKYmZoTjLW0sk3_PNnFxeyqSZhPbTaptne7qq62tfSseUmCmHFQiA-45_s5PDpttzCk4Qp46rE2501cLItXs_sWO8DK0Xlpp8YhjyFP98t0aLXDwNcGF3Cqv28UlmV18Fct5/s1600/Rapunzel1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjczSy3p48krKYmZoTjLW0sk3_PNnFxeyqSZhPbTaptne7qq62tfSseUmCmHFQiA-45_s5PDpttzCk4Qp46rE2501cLItXs_sWO8DK0Xlpp8YhjyFP98t0aLXDwNcGF3Cqv28UlmV18Fct5/s320/Rapunzel1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Nicolás Uribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127652490606687392noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191563409690633051.post-26170670912232108582012-03-24T20:17:00.000-05:002012-03-24T20:17:42.853-05:00Grey Hare<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDdfCFnFopKKq3UiufsxAUDBCVgdL2M1f6tTPg9zlDyqY8Y_GNHFkAu5qxJtK9Z5T69Q0s4J26wuAdleaN_2QVPbYBz48FHMdXmsbFTPEwd-cAXTc2CYVgk_PrUkZjYny3DjI82rZlTlFC/s1600/HaresCU.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDdfCFnFopKKq3UiufsxAUDBCVgdL2M1f6tTPg9zlDyqY8Y_GNHFkAu5qxJtK9Z5T69Q0s4J26wuAdleaN_2QVPbYBz48FHMdXmsbFTPEwd-cAXTc2CYVgk_PrUkZjYny3DjI82rZlTlFC/s320/HaresCU.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div>This was initially going to be an underpainting... and for some reason it just begged to be kept as a grey painting. I was a bit unsure of what was going to happen with the color, so I'm glad I kind of acknowledged that the image was working as a grisaille. It's not a Black and White painting, but a Grey painting... I'm not sure if that makes sense, but it kind of does in my head. <br />
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Not done yet, but very happy with the results so far... (sorry about the glare... but it's a WIP)<br />
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<i>Her Bunnies and Hares</i><br />
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</a></div>(Bunnies are obvious reference to Cecily Brown... love her.)Nicolás Uribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127652490606687392noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191563409690633051.post-57843392653311180522012-02-29T17:56:00.005-05:002012-02-29T18:05:54.176-05:00Figuring things out<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxCfCd7aXlIFgdDD06IqRCc3A3NJoyGqVF2wHc67KsG-7rqteGpT8q1MDLT3KWW2Wq_lBpFsoxq1IiVKI8WEuiRYTdnW2I5xAU237WReDPrszKwoXqtiC_WYiPhLe_dMcdvFwleuA8VKys/s1600/Alice.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="368" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxCfCd7aXlIFgdDD06IqRCc3A3NJoyGqVF2wHc67KsG-7rqteGpT8q1MDLT3KWW2Wq_lBpFsoxq1IiVKI8WEuiRYTdnW2I5xAU237WReDPrszKwoXqtiC_WYiPhLe_dMcdvFwleuA8VKys/s400/Alice.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
I've said it before... At the very core, I'm an illustrator. For some reason I feel illustrators, who even though sometimes work within very strict parameters, are capable of portraying the way they look at the world in a more direct, sensitive and poignant manner. In my head (lets not forget that I'm in no way stating absolute truths) illustrations are about the immediacy of how images are digested. I can tell in a split second if I'm attracted to an image or not.<br />
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Whenever I'm working on something that has to do with gallery clients, it's clear that the painting has a very specific commercial objective. I have to work within the visual "rules" that I've created for myself that have, in turn, generated a market. When people are interested in my work, they expect it to look a certain way, to feel a certain way, to be consistent with other works that they felt were exemplary of what I can do. And to be honest, I'm fine working within those expectations, but sometimes, I feel I have to indulge on something I revel in.<br />
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Caprice.<br />
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And there's nothing that satisfies me more than putting the illustrator's hat on, and delve into acts solely dictated by whims. See, when I paint, I'm engaged in this serious act where I question everything I do, where reason tries to dominate my decisions and I'm taken to a place where I usually learn a ton of things about myself, but where the painting process feels sluggishly laborious.<br />
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When I think about illustrating, I just paint and react to what I paint. It's quick paced, intense, and most importantly, <i>fun</i>. I looooovvveeee when painting is fun. It can be such a drag at times, that when you actually enjoy what you're doing, painting seems like the best thing on earth.<br />
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So, to make a long and somewhat existential story short, I've decided to let the world of illustration slowly creep in and infect my paintings.<br />
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These two are in different stages. The one with the chair, which is titled Rapunzel is done, although I have to put a matte varnish so it doesn't glare ( I HATE glare), and the one with my dad as a Frazetta tiger is finding its way... Hope you guys like 'em.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLcmxA4AquGKlqcofiRsFD6Whyphenhyphench-a6xyHY1YZIN84263lDsMu1bQ_48ZVJw53qUi7BVxRfPwFMlvtwxVEoPGFjWyH1mjp7w3lF-k01u2Y5zaHLvjFz_X4IPfsot7X9OTVmyUcD1RKg9Pp/s1600/RapunzelB.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLcmxA4AquGKlqcofiRsFD6Whyphenhyphench-a6xyHY1YZIN84263lDsMu1bQ_48ZVJw53qUi7BVxRfPwFMlvtwxVEoPGFjWyH1mjp7w3lF-k01u2Y5zaHLvjFz_X4IPfsot7X9OTVmyUcD1RKg9Pp/s400/RapunzelB.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Nicolás Uribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127652490606687392noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191563409690633051.post-77390291595062029562012-01-30T18:01:00.002-05:002012-01-30T18:03:19.643-05:00Centipede (The Dickinson Girls)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqETA6LhiJLa8eYbHC7c4HqNwgQSNcvvzOhHroKh1S0moqKI2rBpDyki-HZjX__cqCCxo2dhB_TYJj47ePL4RqV58GmyM0H2vvpu-Uk_T4pZ0mRm1hfVt63e5sG4bDFD525yfEF5VV0gVL/s1600/Centipede.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqETA6LhiJLa8eYbHC7c4HqNwgQSNcvvzOhHroKh1S0moqKI2rBpDyki-HZjX__cqCCxo2dhB_TYJj47ePL4RqV58GmyM0H2vvpu-Uk_T4pZ0mRm1hfVt63e5sG4bDFD525yfEF5VV0gVL/s320/Centipede.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
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Finally done with this one. It was one of those paintings that I thought would end up lacking something, but after finishing it I found it quite satisfying. It's one of those efforts that you can't truly judge until you consider it done. I was going for a <i>sort of </i>controlled collapsing of the stairs... They became the perfect pretext to talk about paint and edges. The more I paint the more I realize that these two aspects of painting are becoming more and more relevant to me.<br />
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The way an area of paint meets another area of paint. Ultimately, I think that's what all my paintings are about. One moment of painting leading me to another moment of painting, until the image reaches a sort of equilibrium. It's about to fall apart, but for some reason remains cohesive. <br />
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I guess I'm more concerned about decision making when painting. The way the surface tells the story of how an image was constructed. Good decisions, bad ones, attempts at correcting, strokes that were once totally off but later deemed perfect... I deeply enjoy watching a painting take shape. I even think I actually enjoy more looking at these painted decisions, than actually applying paint to try and describe something.<br />
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Anyways, hope you guys like it.<br />
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Centipede (The Dickinson Girls)<br />
180 x120 cm <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPj6kNXtnUw8vrW32LEAjsnJLY-fe4MLvekhjA75S1eAhyNCr3qYFdybhJl8vHa9CVSZaFxqg551uaqfE6HRxHZh6r65xazt1Lim_BNxcgHZXVUk1Bn-0h13AisgUb6torKvVB06Pq7dtx/s1600/CentipedeCU.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPj6kNXtnUw8vrW32LEAjsnJLY-fe4MLvekhjA75S1eAhyNCr3qYFdybhJl8vHa9CVSZaFxqg551uaqfE6HRxHZh6r65xazt1Lim_BNxcgHZXVUk1Bn-0h13AisgUb6torKvVB06Pq7dtx/s320/CentipedeCU.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>Nicolás Uribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127652490606687392noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191563409690633051.post-89520682289241618272012-01-02T19:13:00.001-05:002012-01-02T19:15:42.074-05:00New year<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKGs7LevVRKjOedXpY-Nlt0uNsIUDIyVs80g2EXCT5Ry-SZVCEVVOMC_UBjuCJh_7zkNdzVifEmIOlMLAGgpHad3ibmx1cC7k3qgavOmZyBHNwl3TMuAk9lpPGnAyfGpiKXf5xuTsbEFFH/s1600/Schiele.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKGs7LevVRKjOedXpY-Nlt0uNsIUDIyVs80g2EXCT5Ry-SZVCEVVOMC_UBjuCJh_7zkNdzVifEmIOlMLAGgpHad3ibmx1cC7k3qgavOmZyBHNwl3TMuAk9lpPGnAyfGpiKXf5xuTsbEFFH/s320/Schiele.jpg" width="288" /></a></div><br />
First off, happy new year to everyone! I hope 2012 is full of opportunities that translate into hard work for all of us. I've always said that a painter should be grateful if life has given him or her the chance to paint. Here's to life giving us chances...<br />
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This is a painting I just varnished today (matte varnish - wax, turps, damar). I have a couple of paintings that are also almost ready, so I'll keep you guys posted on the progress. Hope you guys like this one.<br />
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<i>We too gave Schiele a handjob</i><br />
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(that's the title btw... if anyone was thinking wtf...)<br />
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Oh, and it's oil on jute (with a cotton canvas backing), in case you guys are wondering about the heavy weave...Nicolás Uribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127652490606687392noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191563409690633051.post-5415131143138413712011-10-03T17:13:00.000-05:002011-10-03T17:13:28.003-05:00Done!I'm done and there's quite a few things that I'm happy with... Hope you guys like it.<br />
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<i>Laguna</i>, 120 x 180 cm.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRBCZvUSUQ9vcUrZo-YVl6PWV8acKJL2_4V4-hNeupkYzDs8gyxZ0R7l-hRHxabcLADKQrVML6-40vqILtjImiFNsGziU0dhtIL9CIdD802lF_UB0aCg1AnHXvFDf310HjIhk-1dNUhD8R/s1600/LagunaB.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRBCZvUSUQ9vcUrZo-YVl6PWV8acKJL2_4V4-hNeupkYzDs8gyxZ0R7l-hRHxabcLADKQrVML6-40vqILtjImiFNsGziU0dhtIL9CIdD802lF_UB0aCg1AnHXvFDf310HjIhk-1dNUhD8R/s320/LagunaB.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Nicolás Uribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127652490606687392noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191563409690633051.post-48641717810394780052011-09-12T19:48:00.000-05:002011-09-12T19:48:05.683-05:00On the easelThis is something I'm currently working on...<span id="goog_1142809378"></span><span id="goog_1142809379"></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCUKWUEOjykVjgpOsFXAUjpqnG9mfdsy1RmT-vukdw9rxSkTLOt8eCKCGgSczwFAzzR3yWHXslFCuIlMZmRoUyABLvlwfva4IhtkIbwAUu9W-DHAEEnSGwCJHgYpxD-0OMc2y26Y8sO6Hd/s1600/Ilanit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCUKWUEOjykVjgpOsFXAUjpqnG9mfdsy1RmT-vukdw9rxSkTLOt8eCKCGgSczwFAzzR3yWHXslFCuIlMZmRoUyABLvlwfva4IhtkIbwAUu9W-DHAEEnSGwCJHgYpxD-0OMc2y26Y8sO6Hd/s320/Ilanit.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWO7H5cTFsZWT5QqwxgmnSZVa0xdIfpYih4C2rPHEbAKL73m1dtEBQzDto7nKSIYlAzRmB5ksR44iJy1Ocol34zAg3eaUBMIjFjEj1ZP4U52yE8pjoS4c_dif3UuEPMLDDuC6mswpRjvOJ/s1600/Ilanit2_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWO7H5cTFsZWT5QqwxgmnSZVa0xdIfpYih4C2rPHEbAKL73m1dtEBQzDto7nKSIYlAzRmB5ksR44iJy1Ocol34zAg3eaUBMIjFjEj1ZP4U52yE8pjoS4c_dif3UuEPMLDDuC6mswpRjvOJ/s320/Ilanit2_1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
And this is the one that I've been showing finally finished<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBkxDN2GNNMamVTKAyKtGApbaA-VbKFI-O3j94h0BoBXguOSKTlB5Ik2tPnhQPkHOw5DB-KSMgW4_oNi2mqB8dkHpsL6RHfqwMVeKfpnyT0T-0rK5YNpHrbmi8ZZ2tMEfXZDZV6drBEkvy/s1600/DollHouse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBkxDN2GNNMamVTKAyKtGApbaA-VbKFI-O3j94h0BoBXguOSKTlB5Ik2tPnhQPkHOw5DB-KSMgW4_oNi2mqB8dkHpsL6RHfqwMVeKfpnyT0T-0rK5YNpHrbmi8ZZ2tMEfXZDZV6drBEkvy/s320/DollHouse.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Nicolás Uribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127652490606687392noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191563409690633051.post-48253380063777228202011-08-21T17:18:00.006-05:002011-08-23T20:45:42.990-05:00Flawed<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjopebfbupEf5jME-SgZyOxuz3dXHaQctyNIw58glySmUWAexsY75ny12QaGNpyxuT8C1Qum7QD0_zYcwVMHNz04i5cVeT55RfTTazIoY4yge8tITvZyvM0eHng7w1upA1biZIZr4lToZf8/s1600/DollHouse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjopebfbupEf5jME-SgZyOxuz3dXHaQctyNIw58glySmUWAexsY75ny12QaGNpyxuT8C1Qum7QD0_zYcwVMHNz04i5cVeT55RfTTazIoY4yge8tITvZyvM0eHng7w1upA1biZIZr4lToZf8/s320/DollHouse.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>One of the things I'm horrible at, which is probably the one thing that has become a nuisance when I hope to be represented by a gallery, is that my work is visually inconsistent. I rarely envision what my paintings should look like when they're finished... I try not to anticipate and trick myself into thinking that I prematurely know what the painting needs... I just try to be alert while I paint, and I hope that I'm willing to make the necessary changes, whatever they may be. This, one may say, is probably true for every painter out there, but what happens in my case is that I end up sacrificing the "unity" if you will, of my work. One painting may be painted in one manner while another, which may very well be painted at the same time, is treated completely differently.<br />
<br />
This of course is something that galleries detest. Well, it's something they don't particularly associate with figurative painters at least. It shows (to them) that I'm not really worried about creating a recognizable image, an image that may be associated with my name. And I kind of have to admit they're right. While I'm painting, the last thing on my mind is having to subject what I have to say to what I've said previously.<br />
<br />
The other day I was reading a book edited by David Evans, <i>Appropriation</i>, a concept I'm very much drawn towards. I felt somewhat relieved when I read a Richard Prince interview with Peter Halley, where Halley was asking Prince why some of his rephotographing of images seemed to have a different approach. Prince's response really hit close to home.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Halley</i></b> You don´t feel like you're assigning each work, as well as yourself, a role?<br />
<br />
<b><i>Prince</i></b> It's not that worked out. It's more like I'm conducting an affair or relationship. Each set of pictures has different considerations. In order to produce the effect of what the original picture imagines, you have to play the picture, you can't play yourself. <br />
<br />
I guess all of this is a preface to put in context the changes that this painting endured. One of my biggest fears is to find myself painting just to finish a painting. And when I'm referring to finishing something I'm alluding to a technical aspect, a stylistic choice. There were things in this particular image that while I thought were well painted (at least as well as I can paint them), they just felt bland. Like I was in auto-pilot. And I absolutely hate that feeling. If a painter is detached from what he or she is painting, the viewer is going to recognize that immediately.<br />
<br />
So I painted, and repainted, and while it looks overworked, it's not a bad overworked. I'm able to exhale and feel comfortable when I'm next to the painting. And there's nothing quite like the feeling of being honestly content with something... when I don't like something I simply can't function properly. <br />
<br />
So fuck style. I'll do whatever needs to be done to satisfy the needs the image requires.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBNtaA-sELTXTcFY0Tznyqlc4-qy9kMt_Lp8BoSy6HfgGiUw4OdZUiMW-JoWMhYlZCgQzFePvaBTTxgEH8fT8fu8jc-apT5tsklRPwmSUFCOcCAI71ZYHwFLkyhyphenhyphen7VJcCNSXpVyXxfNKBh/s1600/DollHouseCU_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBNtaA-sELTXTcFY0Tznyqlc4-qy9kMt_Lp8BoSy6HfgGiUw4OdZUiMW-JoWMhYlZCgQzFePvaBTTxgEH8fT8fu8jc-apT5tsklRPwmSUFCOcCAI71ZYHwFLkyhyphenhyphen7VJcCNSXpVyXxfNKBh/s320/DollHouseCU_1.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
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</div>Nicolás Uribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127652490606687392noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191563409690633051.post-49189910434877831842011-07-22T09:53:00.000-05:002011-07-22T09:53:05.714-05:00Lucien Freud<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIJe1C0Ox8jyUwijNHS6eAtdseqQ4FtIlHJLzDAg0brogn6D8n6Ae6I4BS4pSd7b_D_b3WC2zNt-mBN1jqaHdJls3Oap6-npA1-sn-foMK4XBswGirdF3IRG56a_mPyFSsT4Vr0z-bFV3H/s1600/reflection.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIJe1C0Ox8jyUwijNHS6eAtdseqQ4FtIlHJLzDAg0brogn6D8n6Ae6I4BS4pSd7b_D_b3WC2zNt-mBN1jqaHdJls3Oap6-npA1-sn-foMK4XBswGirdF3IRG56a_mPyFSsT4Vr0z-bFV3H/s320/reflection.jpg" width="288" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Absolute Genius. </div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Rest in Peace.</div>Nicolás Uribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127652490606687392noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191563409690633051.post-65601393325000869412011-07-18T20:39:00.011-05:002011-07-19T07:35:40.177-05:00On Originality<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhSeaFnBesglBrQeJ017g5-qSeMK-pUD2jivv_zzowod9xKDoOevhSGwKSkplJHsr0GQ4l2AfvITNvMHbkiS3JlSu-E2BiV0OI9lb3wWTy6lUx6n6d-B5TCQnMb7PgJr53734d_XNbAPQq/s1600/lastSupperp1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhSeaFnBesglBrQeJ017g5-qSeMK-pUD2jivv_zzowod9xKDoOevhSGwKSkplJHsr0GQ4l2AfvITNvMHbkiS3JlSu-E2BiV0OI9lb3wWTy6lUx6n6d-B5TCQnMb7PgJr53734d_XNbAPQq/s320/lastSupperp1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">Rather than throwing accusations around, and presumptuously acting like I’m exempt from all of this, I’ll start by stating that I’ve suffered, and continue to struggle with this every day. I’ll give you guys an example…<br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="ES-TRAD">Felix de la Concha is a terrific painter. </span>His electrical posts (like the painting depicting the twelve apostles) are just full of personality. They‘re a fresh blend of Hockney, Antonio López, Rackstraw Downes… anyways, when I saw his electrical posts, all I could think of was “damn, I’ve always wanted to paint one of those posts, and here comes a guy that paints them better than I could’ve ever imagined…” </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So after cursing him out, I naturally just HAD to paint a damn post. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And so I started painting a post. I tried to convince myself that if I made it greyer it would, without a doubt, immediately make it my own. Needless to say, that was hardly achieved… Literally halfway through the painting, I realized I was painting an electrical post that could only be described as a post that was painted after a painting of a post painted by a better painter…</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So after feeling like an unoriginal piece of garbage, I decided I would alter the lower half of the painting. The painting was representing an inanimate object that was set outdoors, so I would now paint, in the lower half, part of a figure that was set indoors. The post was a vertical shape, the figure would have breaks in it. Then I thought, it needs something in the bottom… shoes! So I painted a pair of shoes… then I noticed it looked like a lazy pyramid composition and way too symmetrical (nothing wrong with symmetry, but wasn’t working for this particular image). So I painted out a shoe and painted a purse instead. Then I thought, “one shoe… like Cinderella…” (yes, thank you, crazy imaginative)…Then I thought, “well… it’s an electrical post from Bogotá, let’s just title the painting “Bogotá Cinderella”. Top that off with some clumsy stenciling to try and desperately connect top and bottom half, and the painting was done…<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtzYZPtrcUin5JbFIXAUZWs3V8agTNk29IkCZSP3C_V56KNfcsJ1dZJdlcHw4F5kSaGjz0aP6f-roz4Nt4zxJLMYzVkLyFBmRmw2494p15_UNU_smaEAuvNtpKhMP597N2BU74V8806PS5/s1600/71.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtzYZPtrcUin5JbFIXAUZWs3V8agTNk29IkCZSP3C_V56KNfcsJ1dZJdlcHw4F5kSaGjz0aP6f-roz4Nt4zxJLMYzVkLyFBmRmw2494p15_UNU_smaEAuvNtpKhMP597N2BU74V8806PS5/s320/71.jpg" width="186" /></a></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">A sense of urgency was born from feeling unoriginal and the painting was modified until it<i> sort</i> <i>of</i> became my own. Now, I’m not saying that from now on nobody can paint an electrical post because it’s been done so well by de la Concha. In fact, obligating one's self to paint objects that one can relate to a particular artist, could make for a great exercise. Although I think, at least in this particular case, that I would be so worried about trying to make it <i>different</i> from de la Concha’s, that the exercise would just be one of strictly distancing one's self from the original image.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">While this particular struggle ended up with a capriciously contrived painting, I was also indelibly tattooed by one of his paintings of pillows… so naturally I went ahead and painted a pair of pillows. This one was just blatant robbery. I thought his paintings were so damn cool, and again, I cursed him because for the longest time I had thought about painting my pillows. I thought that by depicting how the pillows ended in the morning after me and my wife had slept on them, would be a nice portrait of us. Once again I was grasping for straws… another futile attempt at making someone else experience my own. Granted, I made them greyer and somewhat moodier, but they’re essentially the same painting. (These bottom ones are de la Concha's) </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ6iQlj6TuSM2d5Zola4_c-85cAk-aDub-z-KGrhL3NMYSkw-_B04KVdVPiXSJ7By-KfaDw9rL6IgMI_a7o93E288wGqmOafxr6JsJfVrHSy-4LXlkm0FqhxDerI0-E2SFUDQhyphenhyphenrDTxaoA/s1600/12DiasDoceNoches.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ6iQlj6TuSM2d5Zola4_c-85cAk-aDub-z-KGrhL3NMYSkw-_B04KVdVPiXSJ7By-KfaDw9rL6IgMI_a7o93E288wGqmOafxr6JsJfVrHSy-4LXlkm0FqhxDerI0-E2SFUDQhyphenhyphenrDTxaoA/s320/12DiasDoceNoches.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">These are just a couple of examples of how much I struggle when I look at something I respect. And quite frankly, all this came up when I saw some images of paintings the other day.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’ve always felt that painting like someone, however talented he or she may be, doesn’t quite make sense. Painting, in my opinion, is such a private process, that unless you are in your formative years, where you are shown, for example, a very specific way to approach painting, that it seems like a waste of energy to try and paint like somebody else.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Granted, sometimes we are enamored by the <i>how</i>. How in the hell did he achieve that surface? Or how did she solve those eyes? Or how did he mix that tone? If we as painters were not curious about these things, then we might as well paint walls. And yes, many times these questions drive us to try and solve paintings in manners which are not our own. I’ve often referred to these actions as an effort on our part to have that <i>same</i> experience that the artist who painted the original image had. Or at least our interpretation of that experience, because we never truly know how an image was executed just by looking at it. If you think differently, then please try and copy a Rembrandt. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’ve always seen work that you could trace to its teacher, be it my teacher, who I respect enormously, Steve Assael, or great painters that have done countless workshops and have aided students for years, like Silverman, Schmid, Leffel , or more recently, painters like Collins. The thing is, these type of influences should be strictly formal; they should illuminate students in manners of technically approaching paintings. But I seriously doubt that these teachers, even though they all share a huge respect for figurative art, would want little armies of bastard painters that will never be as good as them. Once again, Rembrandt comes to mind.<br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">It worries me to see the influence that great painters like Alex Kanevsky and Sangram Majumdar are having nowadays. Now, I’m not going to put images of painters and compare them with these two talented painters, because I think it’s kind of pointless. The object of this is not to rat them out… partly because I’m sure that the painter that is content with painting like someone else, already knows that he or she is painting like someone else. And quite frankly, who am I to tell a painter what their true objective should be? Maybe a person’s goal in life is to try and see if she can paint skin like Assael’s, or if he can paint drippy buildings (sorry Alex) like Kanevsky’s, or if she can paint cakes like Uglow’s.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Maybe, just maybe, getting close to those images that they hold so dear is enough. But what if this is not just a whim or not just a couple of paintings, but you suddenly become the <i>poor man’s </i>__________. What if a gallery starts looking at you like a cheap Cecily Brown, or an affordable Freud. Your life has now become the scavenging of somebody else's efforts. And that… is just sad.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Again, if I was going to call someone out, it was going to be me. No shame in recognizing that. I feel fine with it, because I know that those paintings I have done are pages I have turned. They are experiences that I have painted through, and I have moved one. They were stepping stones in understanding who I am as a painter. I am not implying that other artists can´t have these same experiences and have them also become launching pads, but it worries me when galleries are quick to offer people a spot in their roster with work that feels awkwardly foreign. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">When you think about it, painting like somebody else, albeit not <i>exactly</i> like somebody else, is not that hard. What is impossible to replicate is the reasoning behind the paint strokes; the emotions that become decisions. Those will always be unique to each painter. That is why I’ve always felt that we as painters should just surrender to our lives and accept ourselves as exceptional beings with the potential of sharing fascinating ways of looking at the world. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Nicolás Uribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127652490606687392noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191563409690633051.post-76211416571743745132011-06-13T18:31:00.003-05:002011-06-13T18:53:14.292-05:00Embracing Limitations<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZEhZD58JzE45EL1iDoEknaZRTm47Ap45-mA-nQ9kSihLDOGv1nvCztso7eqoxoZE81pr_XO6gv01RIRCx2KBK8s3yWLwkBPZ5_pxHVnEI078FQW9BPbUAWjnzwwT__jju3KfHVGcFRWCF/s1600/DollHouse2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZEhZD58JzE45EL1iDoEknaZRTm47Ap45-mA-nQ9kSihLDOGv1nvCztso7eqoxoZE81pr_XO6gv01RIRCx2KBK8s3yWLwkBPZ5_pxHVnEI078FQW9BPbUAWjnzwwT__jju3KfHVGcFRWCF/s320/DollHouse2.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
Even though I'm quite respectful of the type of training an artist chooses, I can't help but feel odd when I look at people working at Neo-Neo-Neo Classical academies. Among the feelings I get, is an accusing sensation, self-imposed I'm sure, pointing out how badly I draw and paint. I feel terrible when I look at how disciplined and controlled is the manner in which those drawings and paintings are executed. I can't tell you how I felt when I glanced at my palette after I saw the Michael Klein video. While you could have open heart surgery on top of his, mine looks like something that was dug out of Pompey.<br />
<br />
While I thought about my technical short-comings, I realized something. I actually appreciate that my drawing ability is not as high as these highly talented people. I don't mind when I find that I messed up proportions, or dirtied colors, or altered my composition. The thing is, I've always seen art as a struggle. Now, that's not to say that sometimes, SOME times, wonderful things happen effortlessly, but most of the time, at least for most of us, it's something akin to labor. And by labor I of course mean childbirth. <br />
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In my case, and I'm obviously not saying that this should be everyone's manner of work, painting is a horrible experience. I paint, and scrape, and repaint, and curse the heavens, go to bed frustrated, paint again, look at a good artbook, get depressed after looking at a good artbook, go to bed thinking fuck it, paint again, start feeling confident, fuck it up a smidgeon, hopelessly and frantically try to fix it, give up, frame it and sell it. <br />
<br />
So every time I look at these Zen classical draughtsmen, I always feel I have a responsibility towards myself and the sanity of my family, to think clearly, to draw more accurately and to paint cleanly. And I try, god knows I try...<br />
<br />
but I can't.<br />
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That's when I realize, fuck it. I'm not as good a draughtsman as these guys, I'm not as good a colorist, and I can't make the clear and confident decisions they make... BUT, I embrace painting. I absolutely adore the process of uncertainty, of self doubt that accompanies every image I make. I like that it's not easy, that I can't grasp concepts firmly, that my paintings reflect struggle. I'm ok with that.<br />
<br />
God bless these guys working in those ateliers, because I genuinly enjoy looking at the stuff they do... mainly because I'm not capable of doing what they do.<br />
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So here's a painting I started a bit ago. It's a bit clusterfucky, but it'll get there. Where you may ask?<br />
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... I'll get back to you on that one.Nicolás Uribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127652490606687392noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191563409690633051.post-5081583234922586672011-06-01T19:45:00.004-05:002011-06-01T19:51:39.092-05:00What good is it?I was remembering the way Robert Hughes ends the Mona Lisa Curse documentary by pessimistically stating that if the current Art world isn't capable of answering the question of what it's good for, then we should pretty much just wrap it up. Art and the market of Art are not separate worlds anymore, they have melded into a media-thirsty pot, where it is now indispensable that the artist becomes a recognizable brand. And while I do agree that the business of art has opened doors that are going to be difficult to shut, I question if this apparent new direction is really all that different from the one that came before it.<br />
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It is true that there are more wealthier younger artists than before, and perhaps most of these artist will not stand the test of time, but I wonder if their motives are significantly different from the ones of artists centuries ago. I know people just love the starving artist stereotype... how Michelangelo had to write letters saying he was broke, how Poussin asked a patron if he would be so kind as to commission a small work because he needed the money, how Sorolla described the difficult times he was going through when he was a young painter, or the ever-popular Van Gogh sob story. We could say that the difference is that the artists used to work for the sake of their art and not for money... maybe so, but that doesn't mean that there were no wealthy artists. Velazquez, Rubens, Van Dyck, even Rembrandt who squandered all his money, were very, very wealthy at some point. In Rembrandt's case, lets not forget that one of his works is not known for its title, but for it's marketing merit- the Hundred Guilder Print. So lets not hurriedly state that the way art was viewed before the 1960's was untouched by the art market.<br />
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What does hurt, is that Art is becoming <i>solely</i> about money. The market, which was once an after the fact extension of a work of art, has quickly become an unavoidable conditional in the execution of a work of art. Hirst, which would've been born if Koons and Greed had had a baby, states his view of the Art world with one simple statement - If you were given the chance to own the Mona Lisa or the Mona Lisa's reproduction rights, which would you own? Obviously he would've been banking on the t-shirts immediately.<br />
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Hughes, again in the documentary, says an absolutely wonderful line when referring to Hirst's Virgin Mother - <i>"isn't it a miracle what so much money and so little ability can produce (...)" </i>. Just wonderful. But again, I wonder if artists before Hirst were not selfish. I mean, if we believe in <i>l'art pour l'art</i> then there is no other reason but selfish reasons for creating art. Whatever they may be, how ever pure or unpure they may be, they are selfish in the sense that an artist does a work of art only to satisfy himself. Now, this is obviously understanding that a vast majority of works of Art were created under some sort of directing patronage. But regardless of the fact that an artist may have worked within parameters, he or she always found a way to self-express within those limitations. It almost made for a more gallant effort in pursue of selfishness.<br />
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So I wonder... so what if those selfish needs involve money? What if those self-serving desires, when coupled with money, produce a wonderful work of art? Should we despise it for its intentions? I guess when it comes down to it, the decision to succumb to the tempting money gods, rests inside every artist. What I can't accept, is an artist who repeatedly betrays his or her creative desire to say what he or she wants to say, by constantly tainting the process of creating art with some pecuniary whim. It's even sadder when the attempt to create a commercial piece fails even at that.<br />
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I can understand that a lot of us, if not all of us, will be faced at some point with tough decisions in terms of how much we decide that our economic needs will affect our work. And I'm sure many of us will make work that we're not entirely proud of... the important thing is to remember, at least from time to time, is that Art is selfish... a good selfish if you will.<br />
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So what good is egoistic Art? Who the hell knows... Art just poses questions. Sometimes even questions that don't need to be answered. To think that Art is good for something, makes you think there's a preset goal when creating it, and that you're trying to achieve it efficiently. And I'm sorry but Art is not meant to be efficient... it's even at its worse when it's pretentious and pedantic.<br />
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So there you go... Art is selfish and useless. And those two things are the reasons I can't live without it.Nicolás Uribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127652490606687392noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191563409690633051.post-54480980740600698002011-04-08T18:13:00.000-05:002011-04-08T18:13:34.303-05:00Done<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5DBy47yLflxQTSmg4AxLet0SWnfZN-lc8og-FBSgTfZgWDLMOnkq5oeTnRUTFL4Bupr1SsVPSzoiOLRMNgnCy_wdMjrxKPzp6hd8t6hCzEyTNhglR9ytiNkBuMKrKm7l-WmRZO9f_Ae0Q/s1600/JuanCamiloCU.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5DBy47yLflxQTSmg4AxLet0SWnfZN-lc8og-FBSgTfZgWDLMOnkq5oeTnRUTFL4Bupr1SsVPSzoiOLRMNgnCy_wdMjrxKPzp6hd8t6hCzEyTNhglR9ytiNkBuMKrKm7l-WmRZO9f_Ae0Q/s320/JuanCamiloCU.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
I feel this one is done... I had a different intention when I visulized what I wanted to do originally, and I swear I have no idea how it developed itself into a sort of traditional portrait, but what's most important, at least to me with this particular painting, was achieved. He had this look, this really specific look that I wanted to hint at (again, originally), because I didn't want to describe it. So god knows why I ended up describing the features, but I feel it was in an effort to go towards whatever I was hoping to communicate... (talk about being vague...) Aaaaanyways, it's done. Hope you guys like it.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPpekZ7PVBkP28cLUrBFJ0nR5lznJKfbkx4UjNxZJdVaZFs504sohpX781O4C1bNIdT6WEBywnLsmFAl5GXwthHz1w0mkDaPQDmWDq0b9UkzWo6hxRz_6Ytocck_UgQjKC4pL6IX38QDYY/s1600/JuanCamiloFinal_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPpekZ7PVBkP28cLUrBFJ0nR5lznJKfbkx4UjNxZJdVaZFs504sohpX781O4C1bNIdT6WEBywnLsmFAl5GXwthHz1w0mkDaPQDmWDq0b9UkzWo6hxRz_6Ytocck_UgQjKC4pL6IX38QDYY/s320/JuanCamiloFinal_1.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Nicolás Uribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127652490606687392noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191563409690633051.post-6848203290349196132011-03-28T09:59:00.000-05:002011-03-28T09:59:49.426-05:00WIP 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhabc7jzIPIZfx_dU42312Bt7mlBQyAvmrK6sTxMGvkqBBrUuyMhBnLGdBYzPXZykHBzbHFl4Eyjz10u6Kcg_yK_fdEeQIdQ20FgoEDx0TN4MJvRJU6ZlCE_XsjSD-xozwko8Ke7EVMKs_I/s1600/JuanCamilo2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhabc7jzIPIZfx_dU42312Bt7mlBQyAvmrK6sTxMGvkqBBrUuyMhBnLGdBYzPXZykHBzbHFl4Eyjz10u6Kcg_yK_fdEeQIdQ20FgoEDx0TN4MJvRJU6ZlCE_XsjSD-xozwko8Ke7EVMKs_I/s320/JuanCamilo2.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
Ok... sooooo... I would've wanted this to show that I had the balls to take more risks.... but... I don't know... there was something not working out. Seemed like I HAD to try and get that really specific look or the portrait just wasn't going to work...<br />
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I know I said I really liked this painting's start... It was one of those things, kind of like the drawing I posted before, that I think is cryptically personal. I guess I was the one who saw some sort of potential in those initial gestures, even though a lot had to be redrawn. But the energy was there... that was the important part. The intention of the painting was clear, and sometimes, many times actually, that intention doesn't appear after weeks or months of work. Many times it doesn't even appear at all...<br />
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I'll keep at it until I feel it's done. I should've done a more detailed WIP, but I was struggling a bit too much, searching a bit too much to be concerned with taking photos. Sometimes a painting just solves itself through decisions that denounce the struggle that was involved. Nicolás Uribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127652490606687392noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191563409690633051.post-62419612754697776452011-03-18T17:54:00.000-05:002011-03-18T17:54:14.509-05:00Start<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSJpugFIIgSeqnP_Nb1saHSJyj-7DZ0igWmqDN81lITd-I0mS9OG5baovOGwICBXprk_75wVtdVxwy5vgsAi1vjfVWIFrQSE-8L9PEzu5K3QyDXXU751AyErZgfqjfJv9t3yYgU3KgnoBc/s1600/JuanCamilo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSJpugFIIgSeqnP_Nb1saHSJyj-7DZ0igWmqDN81lITd-I0mS9OG5baovOGwICBXprk_75wVtdVxwy5vgsAi1vjfVWIFrQSE-8L9PEzu5K3QyDXXU751AyErZgfqjfJv9t3yYgU3KgnoBc/s320/JuanCamilo.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><br />
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I like this start... which is annoying because once you like something you're not inclined to risk ruining it. And if there's something I've found out about myself is that I have to feel like I'm right at the edge of messing everything up to really enjoy the act of painting. That's when my panic mode kicks in and when I truly feel like I'm doing something with paint.<br />
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Taking risks that ultimately pay off doesn't happen all the time obviously... more often than not, more often than I would like for it to happen, I take a safe way out of a problem. It's a shame...<br />
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BUT, I promise I'll take this small painting to see what I can do with it. I love this guy's expression, he's a student of mine... he's got an incredibly intense look... he looks like he could be a genius or a kid whose about to overdose... love it. I have to try and see if I can get that feel, not with small detail, but with shapes of paint. We'll see how it goes.Nicolás Uribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127652490606687392noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191563409690633051.post-74841847895656019232011-03-08T12:49:00.000-05:002011-03-08T12:49:37.409-05:00At least one...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAh60coimfWS_OHQRN9A9Ertuq93DaGA8iyBinhhKPm7f4-awacw2L5EDS3QSQ0yOwTP-fkT00nssd0Rwb7oIUJ1inDzlm6cqCuWU8OK-eXtkT3e8nisx4Lz0keXbgXy7OoQ6cgjVZI3jo/s1600/TimBurtonCU2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAh60coimfWS_OHQRN9A9Ertuq93DaGA8iyBinhhKPm7f4-awacw2L5EDS3QSQ0yOwTP-fkT00nssd0Rwb7oIUJ1inDzlm6cqCuWU8OK-eXtkT3e8nisx4Lz0keXbgXy7OoQ6cgjVZI3jo/s320/TimBurtonCU2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
When I'm done with a drawing session, I always feel that it was worth it if I find that one of the many drawings I did, was able to communicate what I was observing. Many times it doesn't even have to be one whole drawing, but a moment in a drawing. If I'm able to see that little bit of a drawing, and understand why it worked, I'm content with that whole session. And sometimes, it's not even a drawing session, but a whole sketchbook that produces that one little drawing. Now, other people may look at the sketchbook and feel that all the pages are consistent (I wish!), but I find that there's almost always one specific drawing that catched my attention and makes me feel that all those other drawings aided me in making that particular one.<br />
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So I drew this the other day, and I guess, for me, this is that little drawing... may be nothing specialto you folks, but to me it reminds me that when you're drawing and things come out well, it just feels like everything just falls into place. A line becomes a little puzzle piece that helps you do another line, and another and another, and when you're done, it was almost effortless. I wish this would happen ALL the time, but the truth is for every good drawing there are tens of bad ones.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje8294akWMvpQR_39RyDDe9Mi8c4_lGGFOYsC0goaf1y2i8uSry6ZdUcDLBNtrUmW6xdU648yMyvBqt6hRH-_uy6Av3qzvTQDP6YN3QLnBgYY-D3zmA1p44gGyOQPbpmZCHR0Tt64GHsS2/s1600/Dibujo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje8294akWMvpQR_39RyDDe9Mi8c4_lGGFOYsC0goaf1y2i8uSry6ZdUcDLBNtrUmW6xdU648yMyvBqt6hRH-_uy6Av3qzvTQDP6YN3QLnBgYY-D3zmA1p44gGyOQPbpmZCHR0Tt64GHsS2/s320/Dibujo.jpg" width="204" /></a></div><br />
I've always felt that while great artists are considered great because they're consistent, sometimes I wonder how many crappy drawings and paintings they did that are hidden from the publications and museums. Because, lets face it, we don't want to see a bad portrait when we open a Sargent book, and god bless him he's Sargent but he did plenty of, granted lets not say bad (that's blasphemy), not so good portraits. They were all human, some of us are more human than they were, but they had good days and bad. The important thing to remember is that the bad days always turn into something good in the future... may not be the next day, but if you feed enough of those crappy ass days into your system, something good comes out of them.<br />
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Btw, here's a painting I showed a WIP pic, but never showed the finished version...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAN7tfT6gOSki0DZshG_VBPYLbRjc7HtJ-xOVmMty0wpADPF9rVLy2dUxfUTCz11N2MOwPvSf6r0xQ8UAv_GXAPhAEPfN2ZBsv6zNOkms88QWD9vYM2Jm0ZXjMGj8w2130D49BTSFfsPTh/s1600/TimBurton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAN7tfT6gOSki0DZshG_VBPYLbRjc7HtJ-xOVmMty0wpADPF9rVLy2dUxfUTCz11N2MOwPvSf6r0xQ8UAv_GXAPhAEPfN2ZBsv6zNOkms88QWD9vYM2Jm0ZXjMGj8w2130D49BTSFfsPTh/s320/TimBurton.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> Nicolás Uribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127652490606687392noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191563409690633051.post-14984043779794576452011-01-12T09:20:00.002-05:002011-01-13T08:38:01.065-05:00Sin Pan y sin Trabajo<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLAj3RneUoS2wXF0DEqpjp23RlNTQH0PYzpYC5zFjrjj24-J5T2Nbd7tyajFsUstTGoEpQ66WNiBkn26hNYBBo8kVeTiCfPfrVxDuwcnKJ8Nnxo5pb1KK6nm1Zy5xbOahFbxnqoeHOCXHO/s1600/Pano.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="80" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLAj3RneUoS2wXF0DEqpjp23RlNTQH0PYzpYC5zFjrjj24-J5T2Nbd7tyajFsUstTGoEpQ66WNiBkn26hNYBBo8kVeTiCfPfrVxDuwcnKJ8Nnxo5pb1KK6nm1Zy5xbOahFbxnqoeHOCXHO/s320/Pano.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I went to Argentina for vacation... Buenos Aires, Ushuaia, Calafate and Bariloche. Simply amazing. Even though I am horrible at painting lansdcapes, I had a huge urge to just sit there and try and interpret through paint what I was looking at... When you think about it, it's almost a curse... being a painter that is, not vacationing. Everything we look at, we paint; at least in our heads we do. I sometimes find myself trying to let go of being a painter just so I can take in what is there in front of me. The truth is it's impossible, painter and person are the same person, and we have to accept that. I decided to take photos... a REAL painter would've painted, but I opted for my camera... and I have to say I love taking photographs. When done regularly, the process of composing starts to come from your gutt, and in my experience gutt is good.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtT4rt-bzyi9RBf4WeW8XoKRxLeKJoHjix9g_oepueWAn_wNf6QodhmwtqHhNHVWR3ChXrs60EuBswNPJ5hblqaOvxHb2X7SwQZIZaV_lkA0-ZIDBxYTh00R7fyLCYyv6Bu3OYtq8s0lx0/s1600/Glaciar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtT4rt-bzyi9RBf4WeW8XoKRxLeKJoHjix9g_oepueWAn_wNf6QodhmwtqHhNHVWR3ChXrs60EuBswNPJ5hblqaOvxHb2X7SwQZIZaV_lkA0-ZIDBxYTh00R7fyLCYyv6Bu3OYtq8s0lx0/s320/Glaciar.jpg" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRDCWebVLD63isf843ihUpVLvKTovBorNAbwnCHWWXpF4TUTn9gE_6TBkolNNhR7tjlXmIKecIsUU0ex3VyFrfZatiIngbOLfrlWBGe2hyphenhyphenA33ZzWaPqx14A9MJfAQ0Hn6cj9GpLaFAKgb0/s1600/Perito7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRDCWebVLD63isf843ihUpVLvKTovBorNAbwnCHWWXpF4TUTn9gE_6TBkolNNhR7tjlXmIKecIsUU0ex3VyFrfZatiIngbOLfrlWBGe2hyphenhyphenA33ZzWaPqx14A9MJfAQ0Hn6cj9GpLaFAKgb0/s320/Perito7.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijOpad7N5h_Ui-KElm6hZETLMKtI9UEbL-9d0XuUaiMLXDbZ62eyExcdGzOANOFS4hcnNm05Ba54pwS96bKAObaoIuj1ro7EHDqR_3iSrBtJeYEkVxtg_Dvc8PDysANgoN9Sm0MldAvrwr/s1600/Perito5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijOpad7N5h_Ui-KElm6hZETLMKtI9UEbL-9d0XuUaiMLXDbZ62eyExcdGzOANOFS4hcnNm05Ba54pwS96bKAObaoIuj1ro7EHDqR_3iSrBtJeYEkVxtg_Dvc8PDysANgoN9Sm0MldAvrwr/s320/Perito5.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu4JnmUjnAbPFqLqqMyMKoR_k4S_REd-BQELzjC24Ci6yXmg0IY0DqbReWUKAoH7xURbEMrtjtcP4BRNN10hGgyAQr9I2OGg4OzCHhyphenhypheno-H8FEHp-B5zZ_7E2nL0jVWFFd_XIORZMDgKnwo/s1600/LagosPano.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="73" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu4JnmUjnAbPFqLqqMyMKoR_k4S_REd-BQELzjC24Ci6yXmg0IY0DqbReWUKAoH7xURbEMrtjtcP4BRNN10hGgyAQr9I2OGg4OzCHhyphenhypheno-H8FEHp-B5zZ_7E2nL0jVWFFd_XIORZMDgKnwo/s320/LagosPano.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I was also in Buenos Aires, and had to go to the musuem of Fine Arts (MNBA). I knew they had a really nice Bouguereau (<i>The First Mourning</i>) and an emblematic image in Argentinian figurative painting, Ernesto de la Cárcova's <i>Sin Pan y sin Trabajo</i>, which always reminded me of Bramley's <i>Hopeless Dawn.</i> Now both Boug's and de la Cárcova's work are absolutely wonderful. Boug's is much more subtle than the reproductions I´ve seen, and surprisingly de la Cárcova's painting is somewhat impressionistic. There are blues and purples in the hands... bits of broken color that are intelligently placed. All this would've been fantastic, <b>if the museum would let people take photographs. </b>But nooooo, only the most important museums in the world let people take photos, but here in LatinAmerica we don't trust ourselves yet. The reason they gave me is that the museum owns the rights of the works that are displayed so if I wanted something I had to go to the store. So I went to the store, and they obviously had nothing of de la Cárcova's work, no reproductions of the painting, no postcards, nothing. Their argument made complete sense.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghyphenhyphenhbzYQmvM29fhC_acCREjdrlgRBt6sACLznbEDQ-fnQuoOWAq1K-1lrBPPbL30pGtYwJU21CREKezbQ3Fjl579So4_84Tqhu4g2o_E6akS3stuXOJleYY-AXwK1dIhBqhU_E87DrsIaj/s1600/Bouguereau-The_First_Mourning-1888.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghyphenhyphenhbzYQmvM29fhC_acCREjdrlgRBt6sACLznbEDQ-fnQuoOWAq1K-1lrBPPbL30pGtYwJU21CREKezbQ3Fjl579So4_84Tqhu4g2o_E6akS3stuXOJleYY-AXwK1dIhBqhU_E87DrsIaj/s320/Bouguereau-The_First_Mourning-1888.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJl7_WHEQ3MKQkwFxgAF7gH2LT-4tl6nACLpXEdaOeaZQMBXVAOIl42dXhrbM4IOJRuJT7pMzQCBE3rqk6dR9W4cVm5kIjagF5wPq6STlnNvwF2LqFf48yIzcCyxp2qr6vtJC8UCEfWhwY/s1600/Ernesto_de_la_C%25C3%25A1rcova_-_Sin_pan_y_sin_trabajo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="185" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJl7_WHEQ3MKQkwFxgAF7gH2LT-4tl6nACLpXEdaOeaZQMBXVAOIl42dXhrbM4IOJRuJT7pMzQCBE3rqk6dR9W4cVm5kIjagF5wPq6STlnNvwF2LqFf48yIzcCyxp2qr6vtJC8UCEfWhwY/s320/Ernesto_de_la_C%25C3%25A1rcova_-_Sin_pan_y_sin_trabajo.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGALBGhZKDrxa2dpKnqZjQkHPZ48eWtpYvP_dRuF0_BzoqGY6H-KB01u16kuYf_bR6pCvkDgm-PnOk2ht0f-oUW1Rj2zd5AjP3uzKl0iL7-STn2cUIMvU6Gotq6qSGZD1BAByRJNZysxUB/s1600/Frank_Bramley_A_Hopeless_Dawn_%2528detail%2529_%2528577399789%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGALBGhZKDrxa2dpKnqZjQkHPZ48eWtpYvP_dRuF0_BzoqGY6H-KB01u16kuYf_bR6pCvkDgm-PnOk2ht0f-oUW1Rj2zd5AjP3uzKl0iL7-STn2cUIMvU6Gotq6qSGZD1BAByRJNZysxUB/s320/Frank_Bramley_A_Hopeless_Dawn_%2528detail%2529_%2528577399789%2529.jpg" width="242" /></a></div><br />
So I realized that we hold on to whatever we can remember. Granted I could've taken notes on the painting, and sketched for a while... but I decided to look. And I stared at it for a looong time, and I tried to take everything in. I asked myself, not how he painted it (although that's an inevitable thought), but why it made me feel so connected to it... how and where is it that human emotion is so purely represented, that 100 years later, when the world is completely different than the one they depicted, I'm still connected to their image. And so I looked... and I guess looking is almost rhetorical... I didn't come up with any answers, it seems a bit intangible. I realize people may dismiss these sort of works as overly daramtic, almost kitschy, but I'm drawn to them. That's all I know, all I care about.Nicolás Uribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127652490606687392noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191563409690633051.post-10531387317311341232010-10-19T10:18:00.000-05:002010-10-19T10:18:30.832-05:00Gypsy Cab<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCMSsTL84Jsa79An5HGzTCzm7E5FxZV1LkadkEIqaBl6fDLHorYxEnlPN8DOLzNpGhSBCj7oy2-nxs0fMOP63R1T2s1SCMPAhyphenhyphenuiMpIx0fDFZTrfXWQdKJJ3UZdyvMw5IXh50DzPkOYdUL/s1600/GypsyCab1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCMSsTL84Jsa79An5HGzTCzm7E5FxZV1LkadkEIqaBl6fDLHorYxEnlPN8DOLzNpGhSBCj7oy2-nxs0fMOP63R1T2s1SCMPAhyphenhyphenuiMpIx0fDFZTrfXWQdKJJ3UZdyvMw5IXh50DzPkOYdUL/s320/GypsyCab1.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>I finally can post this painting. It was challenging in a lot of aspects... For me it was one of those images that tests my will to leave things as they are. It is soooo hard for me to not overwork something... I guess the urge to "finish" areas or arrive at detail has to do with the way I was taught, or even more so, it's the weight of traditional figurative painting. But I've come to understand, (in my particular process, I wouldn't want to generalize) that I absolutely love when things just work as they are. And I guess I use that word, "work", because I truly believe that every single element in a painting has a purpose. Every single inch of that image has to work in tandem to help communicate something more emphatically. The famous Duran quote always struck me as one of those things that is at the core of image-making - "En art tout ce qui n'est pas indispensable est <em>nuisible</em>" (In art, all that is not indispensable is unnecessary).<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht-5Kzb4yY4yzYiZbdStXGEqAF_wlkxqtBpx_rrbPFZLHwXRRKiY07d3EslzCdFPD4lCH-j8ZWJ5oVE1O9CJjfCsAOxNHyO1yy6dtLHZhjJBCmj1Y7nq8iYed_pRonEEj_JfYEDSEXirXj/s1600/GypsyCabCU.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht-5Kzb4yY4yzYiZbdStXGEqAF_wlkxqtBpx_rrbPFZLHwXRRKiY07d3EslzCdFPD4lCH-j8ZWJ5oVE1O9CJjfCsAOxNHyO1yy6dtLHZhjJBCmj1Y7nq8iYed_pRonEEj_JfYEDSEXirXj/s320/GypsyCabCU.jpg" width="320" /></a> </div><br />
I truly feel that this painting is helping me get on the "right" track... at least MY right track. I've always loved the idea that bigger paintings should look like blown up sketches, and even though my work looks nothing like what I envision (that is our curse after all), that's the path I want to follow. I think that this painting in particular is full of little moments that are just what the painting itself needed. Now, don't get me wrong, I don't want to sound presumptuous... I'm not sure if it's my best painting (who the hell am i to say what, if any, is my best effort), and I'm clearly not stating that it's a flawless image... I'm just saying that it's one of those images that I'm grateful for because I <i>needed</i> it. I just had to paint it and solve it in this particular manner because it meant that I was making a conscious decision to follow something. That "something" is probably different for everyone but in my case, it meant not touching things that I loved, even though every ounce in my body begged me to keep painting on top.<br />
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I've also been working on a bunch of portraits, together with some other bigger paintings. Here´s a pic of a painting that is currently more resolved but I have this older shot at the moment. I had done a previous Tim Burton one, and this one is Tim Burton revisited. Stripes = Tim Burton... that's how advanced my brain is... I started painting this after I bought (<i><b>always</b></i> buy, don't download or copy artist videos) the Michael Klein video. I wanted to see how much I could work in the same manner, without sacrificing my ways, and I think he paints beautifully, and I'm very glad he does because I can't for the life of me paint that way. Wonderful video, get it. I'm always eager to see how other people approach painting, but it clearle wasn't for me...<br />
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So after a while I said fuck it, and I couldn't stick to the drawing and I just had to move paint around and mess everything up.<br />
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Anyways, here's part of the painting, bad shot, but it gives you guys an idea...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYB816g6y44uWxNOzZ16Cksy-LmZlEPhAZwEMwUdio_A3XntA73XeWJzcZMA6RA6nFU1Kac-p5r8cG-_uHosfL3vPju3eGR8i-OPT-5wZzzzupdXJIN1KqIuPg3sxESNcL9rMoKCtbQlNH/s1600/TimBurton1_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYB816g6y44uWxNOzZ16Cksy-LmZlEPhAZwEMwUdio_A3XntA73XeWJzcZMA6RA6nFU1Kac-p5r8cG-_uHosfL3vPju3eGR8i-OPT-5wZzzzupdXJIN1KqIuPg3sxESNcL9rMoKCtbQlNH/s320/TimBurton1_1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
That's it for now... later!<br />
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Nicolás Uribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127652490606687392noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191563409690633051.post-10199527967980181142010-08-10T10:49:00.004-05:002010-08-10T12:13:59.218-05:00Why?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU634f7hS0JpC4wdbYwJt_9OzfoFTVWBKh_RVd-lNmKwAfunYPvM3tse7sDJcBVw6pUmJhyphenhyphenodhtxJkTnmbQkA4Elg8YxYEF945KScsqTpfz75-PaXTJVNEA2CWW76qokbgP_QkDp-sfDnY/s1600/JauneCu.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU634f7hS0JpC4wdbYwJt_9OzfoFTVWBKh_RVd-lNmKwAfunYPvM3tse7sDJcBVw6pUmJhyphenhyphenodhtxJkTnmbQkA4Elg8YxYEF945KScsqTpfz75-PaXTJVNEA2CWW76qokbgP_QkDp-sfDnY/s400/JauneCu.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503829481849913938" border="0" /></a><br />That seems to be the one question we figurative painters get asked a lot... why do we paint in this manner? Why? It almost seems that the works we create can't be experienced if this question is not answered beforehand. As if the act of painting can't justify itself solely with the finished painting. I wonder if the opposite could be true - if you looked at a painting and absolutely loved it and later, after learning the reasoning behind it, you absolutely hated it. I can't believe this scenario is possible, and I also can't understand the first one where an instruction booklet is indispensable in order to enjoy a painting. It is in fact a moot point because the image has <span style="font-style: italic;">already</span> been painted. I can imagine a conversation... well it never really feels like a <span style="font-style: italic;">conversation</span>, it feels more like an interrogation. So, I can imagine the interrogation ending abruptly:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Why did you chose to solve that problem through painting and not some other language?"</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br />"Well... the paintings are done and are hanging in front of us at the moment, so lets not dwell upon it and lets judge the work accepting that the problem was attempted to be solved through painting."</span><br /><br />Even if we don't want to accept it, we just try to find gentler ways if answering "because I want to." But the truth is that Art Schools and galleries and critics around the world will not accept such a simple answer. There has to be some sort of enchanting but intelligent reasoning behind such a daft act. Because we all know painting is something apparently ANYONE can do... it's so easy to comprehend, so quickly can one find its limitations, so rapidly can one bore one's self with painting, that it can never be a goal. <span style="font-style: italic;">Maybe</span> a capricious whim, but never an objective in life.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />"Oh, how cute, he made a painting."</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br />"Don't worry honey, he'll grow out of it."</span><br /><br />And I mention the word intelligent before, because it seems that as soon as a figure enters the realm of painting, it dumbs it down. Bouguereau's women might as well be blondes. I wonder if people have a checklist to establish how intelligent we are:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Semblance of good drawing..."</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><br />"Check."</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><br />"Atmosphere..."</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><br />"Check."</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><br />"Thorough understanding of paint manipulation..."</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><br />"Check."</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Harmonious sense of composition..."</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><br />"Check."</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br />"I'm sorry sir, 4 out of 4. You are legitimately stupid."</span><br /><br />Truth is, we can't do much about it. I think it's ridiculous to try and convince someone that I am intelligent, or educated, nor am I willing to accept that my paintings should be judged on how much theory I can cram behind them. As long as there's people out there that will not give themselves a chance to experience a work of art in the way it was meant to be experienced (lets not forget, painting is a <span style="font-style: italic;">visual </span>medium), we will be faced more and more with these sort of questions. What I have resorted to is blabbering the sort of answer the person wants to hear when they ask a stupid quetion. But in the end, just let them keep believing that dumb people are capable of making great paintings. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdXWDAjn4FxmpLLjiz8dSOFy2jPeGqtZNYpeXpRSLENJhW5J_cEC76xRJ0TpdJExvIFOAqHwnSYHGmKeWhH58bAT4lJU_7dIl9v48Y0KBOHKqYO-6gyEEJ_lJC_jdaWCGKJnlzJgtlMudX/s1600/BougKline.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 301px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdXWDAjn4FxmpLLjiz8dSOFy2jPeGqtZNYpeXpRSLENJhW5J_cEC76xRJ0TpdJExvIFOAqHwnSYHGmKeWhH58bAT4lJU_7dIl9v48Y0KBOHKqYO-6gyEEJ_lJC_jdaWCGKJnlzJgtlMudX/s400/BougKline.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503829791599462738" border="0" /></a>Nicolás Uribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127652490606687392noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191563409690633051.post-52986533132048771082010-08-03T09:17:00.010-05:002010-08-04T08:36:15.715-05:00"Just Portraits"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrMRmI_TmlbFr5bghrM0KuJHUpfQ_o6COmd1IL6xwLa3BG6RXPhlIP_7RQrojtiS0fMcYRTtYftW3cjdhFUOUKfextMUhJMOwxRlBbLz5JF4uT9mAwFidQrg-PMM5kVTJGm11EL7REhJSc/s1600/06034.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrMRmI_TmlbFr5bghrM0KuJHUpfQ_o6COmd1IL6xwLa3BG6RXPhlIP_7RQrojtiS0fMcYRTtYftW3cjdhFUOUKfextMUhJMOwxRlBbLz5JF4uT9mAwFidQrg-PMM5kVTJGm11EL7REhJSc/s400/06034.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501208664481358098" border="0" /></a>A couple of days back something happened and even though it didn't strike me as odd, it certainly made me realize some things. I was advising a student of mine on her thesis, and for her final work she decided to present some portraits. They were wonderful representations of strangers (strange being the key word here) based on pixelated images from one of her chatroulette sessions. She decided to represent what 20 minutes looked like. It was a really clever way to translate time into imagery, and not only that but she did an installation on the wall with the portraits based upon their geographic location. So it was space and time filtered thru a webcam converted into color theory and form thru painting. I honestly thought, even though it wasn't something absolutely avant-garde, that the work was brilliantly executed.<br /><br />When it was time to judge her work, her judges immediately, one could say with ill will, questioned the fact that she chose portraiture out of all the possibilities at her disposal. I was somewhat baffled by this attitude, because one could start to blindfully criticize anyone's work by stating that it could've been solved in a different manner. I find it a strange practice to think, when looking at a painting, that it would've been best solved if it was a video or a sculpture. I am one of those people who trusts that the artist's decision to chose a particular language and subject matter over another is an educated choice. I <span style="font-style: italic;">trust</span> that choice, and it is within those parameters that I am willing to experience the work of art. If that experience moves me or not is something entirely different.<br /><br />I find that this happens a lot with portraiture in painting. Granted, there's a myriad of mediocre portrait painters that don't help the cause, but I guess the same could be said for any other manner or subject matter. There are tons of mediocre films and film-makers, video installations, sculptures, photographs... god there's a lot of bad photos out there... and yet I would be an oaf if I beleived that wonderful things could not be executed thru traditional photography today.<br /><br />Portrait painting still carries the baggage of being wrongfully interpreted as an elitist-oriented, empty and superficial manner of describing and interpreting a human being. A generation after Freud and Bacon (both of whom have inspired and shaped thousands of figurative painters) people have become somewhat lost as to what to expect when looking for contemporary portrait painting. I fear they want novelty, but amusing and unfamiliar elements are not indispensable in creating great works of art. Humanity loves easily recognizable, iconic traits. They feel comfort when associating El Greco with elongated bodies, Caravaggio with chiaro-oscuro, Van Gogh with thick choppy brush strokes, Botero with an obese universe... I think that when people judge figurative work, they want to be taken into a new world, a world where they are presented (spoon-fed) with that new and identifiable characteristic, where there's no direct reference to Rembrandt or Sorolla or Freud or Bacon. Everything is new and delicious. It's as if we were constantly pressing a "refresh" button in the hopes of being finally surprised with a new flavor that will quench, even if momentarily, our visual demands. A Michael Bay gum.<br /><br />Well, to hell with novelty for the sake of novelty. And don't mistake this as a cry for stagnation. It's just that art solely depends on fascinating and reflecting human beings. When an interesting artist decides that he or she wants to paint a portrait, then it will be unique. And not because uniqueness was his or her goal, but because the "story" that was told, the way it was told, could have <span style="font-style: italic;">only</span> been declaimed by that specific person.<br /><br />And after the rant, (you can tell my discontent with the judging of my student's work) I just wanted to show some portrait work that I find inspiring. Are they proposing something new? I don't care to answer that. They just animate me, and that's good enough for me.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyRXBRzX1HuR48QiSWapoKm0cPL3v_gtHpd8f8n6SQOvM_1S-zAWKZvrEPziMWBlBfl1DXx085QxtGJX5DyitDjXFIRPVNnKb6y5bqqPeu24soH_QFfcwM8WAW5v5EIeXkpMeMJlhqI8KA/s1600/4520968052.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 327px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyRXBRzX1HuR48QiSWapoKm0cPL3v_gtHpd8f8n6SQOvM_1S-zAWKZvrEPziMWBlBfl1DXx085QxtGJX5DyitDjXFIRPVNnKb6y5bqqPeu24soH_QFfcwM8WAW5v5EIeXkpMeMJlhqI8KA/s400/4520968052.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501206822270443874" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn47ncENwEGek4NQj_N4UdU8NoZtovT7ChLJF6_eHO3d27P_ZsOem3O2og6qVopx0XZGIN6sTGQVipGyQqOzEfQQ__t8zFUDCaQ8rSjeZ-M9BOG7Eo28lFCUvvgaukRkoxkhBy7pEMQx6d/s1600/woman-no2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn47ncENwEGek4NQj_N4UdU8NoZtovT7ChLJF6_eHO3d27P_ZsOem3O2og6qVopx0XZGIN6sTGQVipGyQqOzEfQQ__t8zFUDCaQ8rSjeZ-M9BOG7Eo28lFCUvvgaukRkoxkhBy7pEMQx6d/s400/woman-no2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501209411921222642" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh62czLFNO3tp9TQ6QA9q8JMcFuD8IIrqbxvXiTyDEAVavSXTOcL5bDdqEGnO5e-BX_eqQ3HGOA2GfTjnkGCzFfMLnp0xqP6_xdlUTF7tfXuIPxKerpDg3GVoRct8ITdfOXf16NEuNAjja7/s1600/portrait2bof2bchantal2bmenard.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 322px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh62czLFNO3tp9TQ6QA9q8JMcFuD8IIrqbxvXiTyDEAVavSXTOcL5bDdqEGnO5e-BX_eqQ3HGOA2GfTjnkGCzFfMLnp0xqP6_xdlUTF7tfXuIPxKerpDg3GVoRct8ITdfOXf16NEuNAjja7/s400/portrait2bof2bchantal2bmenard.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501207305306447186" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8lGrU7WSXnBW5XXT5ft0uMP3pb3X5NGDQc3eiJCllO-fwSugn9SQYYFbGQZl8-Dn6rT4gZQpzydbSZlp4iKKVke0ULAXEWZZRavcBp3_wC8BOo5zCo2zFu7YgMQ4GANXeTevvJ7qLXKN2/s1600/AnimeEyes.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 398px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8lGrU7WSXnBW5XXT5ft0uMP3pb3X5NGDQc3eiJCllO-fwSugn9SQYYFbGQZl8-Dn6rT4gZQpzydbSZlp4iKKVke0ULAXEWZZRavcBp3_wC8BOo5zCo2zFu7YgMQ4GANXeTevvJ7qLXKN2/s400/AnimeEyes.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501207893032217666" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd-o-aJp5cfwNPnCOS2jZ7lxviOkmQxFB4KcxLS499VK30zQc7ZewdBOgqppBk5ElPXgVJI_CqJpfAAcblgK4UP_Hry1bBKsnzu7jFbM9JajXBnxDwyg9vV-Bn9fhfa7kQERZ7FId7VxuR/s1600/GAL-006-OM-lrg.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 338px; height: 396px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd-o-aJp5cfwNPnCOS2jZ7lxviOkmQxFB4KcxLS499VK30zQc7ZewdBOgqppBk5ElPXgVJI_CqJpfAAcblgK4UP_Hry1bBKsnzu7jFbM9JajXBnxDwyg9vV-Bn9fhfa7kQERZ7FId7VxuR/s400/GAL-006-OM-lrg.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501206572573910690" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiUfyg-uFk7FFBoiyli0yfLztYrCsmkACYgqv2kOfBvQ3YgjsIkVYJ2Wb5pT1GHxYS93LOYtJn_21e06o7iX7HAHGScr9LUfciBR5jIjxsjmauZr13JVqebqixaV15VXjKInPbWkoyhvRa/s1600/Pie-Fight-Study2009.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 334px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiUfyg-uFk7FFBoiyli0yfLztYrCsmkACYgqv2kOfBvQ3YgjsIkVYJ2Wb5pT1GHxYS93LOYtJn_21e06o7iX7HAHGScr9LUfciBR5jIjxsjmauZr13JVqebqixaV15VXjKInPbWkoyhvRa/s400/Pie-Fight-Study2009.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501206110858086610" border="0" /></a><br />Courtesy of (in order) RVK, Brendan Kelly, Sangram Majumdar, Sean Cheetham, Kent Williams, Anne Gale (bow down), and Adrian Ghenie (get his book, awesome).Nicolás Uribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127652490606687392noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191563409690633051.post-5788236913282368012010-07-20T07:42:00.004-05:002010-07-20T08:25:15.561-05:00Medusa Medley<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheoNTCsukb2urLxRigkDeON5uoKxHPYOm8zJ7FZE2H7w5s5QVIaRcIMta-yDE-21Um_VDBfVGVXn9mueqBWvCZhr14CkutGfka-Hb6pXY2kz_SxVkxF7wtqAXmDC7cJoS0FB6XaObiTrTt/s1600/MedusaMedley3.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheoNTCsukb2urLxRigkDeON5uoKxHPYOm8zJ7FZE2H7w5s5QVIaRcIMta-yDE-21Um_VDBfVGVXn9mueqBWvCZhr14CkutGfka-Hb6pXY2kz_SxVkxF7wtqAXmDC7cJoS0FB6XaObiTrTt/s400/MedusaMedley3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495978813402728098" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl9Vt7J2-i8PLtT9I9Wj_ST1nzvRqQd7RcYBYuyw5wWUG7eFB720BiMuhRq3HH-bOUK1IBC1uVh6fW3jJtIpjDP495RWYskpY-IS8tG4rKhyp8I8udU3gnoz3NEdsFB_e6BXTFvs0UeThl/s1600/MedusaMedleyCU.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl9Vt7J2-i8PLtT9I9Wj_ST1nzvRqQd7RcYBYuyw5wWUG7eFB720BiMuhRq3HH-bOUK1IBC1uVh6fW3jJtIpjDP495RWYskpY-IS8tG4rKhyp8I8udU3gnoz3NEdsFB_e6BXTFvs0UeThl/s400/MedusaMedleyCU.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495978624265568962" border="0" /></a><br />I can finally post this one... There were quite a few challenges that made the image difficult to resolve. Doesn't mean it's the best of paintings, but there's something to be said about sticking to an image and solving it until you can say it's done. I wanted it to be an unbalanced comp, top and bottom right heavy... there was a bit of a risk, since the top part has the portraits, the swirling hair and the striped pattern. But I thought the "empty space" where the carpet lies gave me the chance to make some diagonals that set the distorted perspective. Anyways, not the easiset of paintings, but I'm certainly glad I stuck to it.<br /><br />You know, there are times when a painting just paints itself and the end result is aboslutely wonderful, and you are shocked at how simple painting can be. And then there are other times, which are more recurring than one would hope for, where the act of painting becomes chaotic and unforgiving. I honestly think these are the paintings that truly make you feel like you're a painter.Nicolás Uribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127652490606687392noreply@blogger.com4