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Preface
A
portrait of the model as the artist's Muse
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Tess was seven
when we met. I did not expect her, even in the everyday
sense of the word. My appointment was with her mother, an art
agent, whom I also had not met before. But as I came from the back
of my house to answer the door, I saw her, this young girl,
standing on my front porch, squeezed close to the screen door by
her mother behind her, peering through my open entryway. She wore
a light-red dress with miniature white polka dots, and shiny black
shoes with white stockings. Her hair was waist-length and
straight, golden and silver at the same time. But it was her eyes,
even through the screen, that held me.
Her physical
beauty is obvious to anyone who notices such things, but that is
only a part of her mystery. The graceful way she moves, placing
her hands just so, unselfconsciously. Her quiet confidence, born
of a high intelligence and a profound depth. Her expressive
features which have not yet learned to lie, unmatchable by the
artful visage of the finest actress.
For me, though, her
charm is not simply that of childhood innocence or unspoiled
potential. It is more, even, than her fairylike grace and the
enchantment of her voice. It is an ineffable quality that grounds
all these things, that makes them possible. It is who she
is.
Tess has been my greatest source of inspiration
over the past five years, and that I am grateful for that
inspiration. Together we have created over fifty drawings,
paintings, and sculptures, and many times that number of
photographs. I have kept these photographs to myself until now,
believing them to be an artistic device—one best kept secret
from my "audience." Frankly, I did not trust the
viewers' ability to differentiate between the qualities of a
photograph and the qualities of a painting. Photography has become
a standard for painting to the detriment of both. The most common
form of praise for a painting from life is that "it looks
just like a photograph." This well-intentioned comment puts
the problem into high focus. A painting whose goal is photographic
realism is superfluous. On the other hand, most people would
assume that if one chooses to paint objects, one would want to
paint them as "realistically" as possible. This leaves
the artist in the unenviable position of having to explain the
value of subjective, personal qualities in art at the same time
that he realizes that overanalysis will destroy that
value.
What's worse, in this book the photographs will not
be compared to the paintings but to photographs of the
paintings. There are many people who will not see this as a
meaningful difference, and it is for this very reason that most
artists would never allow such a comparison.
If my goal
were to sell as many paintings as possible or to be taken as
seriously as possible by the current batch of art critics, I would
suppress these photographs. But if such were my goals I would not
be painting what I paint in the first place.
This book is
meant to be a journal of my time with Tess, or her time with me.
It is a record of her experience as the artist's model, and of my
experience as the Muse's instrument. As such, I think it may be of
interest to some. The photographs, taken in lieu of sketches, may
not have the technical finish that some demand (although I must
say, in my defense, that I did not want ultra-fine grain
and a crisp clarity). Other purists will find fault that a
classical painter uses photographs at all. Nonetheless I ask that
the photographs and paintings be judged on their own merits, based
on what they are, not on what they aren't. For there is something
in them, I believe, that only those blinded by technical and
formal considerations can miss. Something extraordinary has
managed to sit still for me. And this is why I must share it:
because art is not about technique, or selling, or definitions, or
changing the world; it is about recognizing a gift when you've
been given it. Tess is such a gift; I leave her with you.
Statement
(to the publisher)
The Preface I
have included explains my intent in putting this book together. I
know nothing about the world of publishing, but in the last decade
I have bought and enjoyed the Aperture publications of Jock
Sturges and Sally Mann, among others. It therefore occured to me
that their audiences were ones I could see being my own, and that
Aperture might have a ready market for such a work as this
monograph on Tess (Treszka).
I am a well-known, though by
no means famous, painter who has existed so far on the margins of
Realism, not always comfortably. My work with Tess, the subject of
this proposed book, has been some of my most popular, since its
subject matter concerns a child. I will admit that it is probably
the most accessible, emotionally. She is an extraordinary model.
Her intensity reminds me at times of that famous photograph of
Boubat [Lela, Bretagne]—with a sadness and nostalgia in
her eyes that is shocking for one so young. For anyone. She is
also similar at times to some of Sturges' work. She reminds me a
bit of his photograph of C.—my favorite work of his.
I
have tried, in my printing, to make the black and white images of
Tess look antiqued, for lack of a better word. Not grainy, not
distressed, not blurry, but other-worldly. From a different age.
That is the feel I get from her, and it is the feel I have tried
to draw out in the photos, in the printing as well as the taking.
I have experimented with toners a lot. You cannot see this well in
the included images, I think, but the best of the B&W's look
distinctly 19th century. Every trace of modernity has somehow been
obliterated by her gaze and her pose. Enlarge the file Tesspic4,
for instance. This is the central image of the book, I feel. It
would make a good choice for the cover.
I see this book
having several potential audiences. That of Sturges is one. But
this book also overlaps two fields of interest—painting and
photography—and will draw readers from both fields. Not only
that, but many will find the process of photograph to painting
interesting. Few if any books have published paintings and
photographs by the same artist on facing pages, taken from the
same shoots. From an artistic point of view, it has always been
considered risky. But this element of risk will make it
provocative, I think. At any rate, it is a risk I am willing to
take, since I feel that both the paintings and the photographs
stand on their own. They therefore cannot do much harm, one to the
other.
It may also be interesting to the reader to see how
an artist can build a large body of work around a single model.
An obsession, as it were. I have now worked with Tess for over ten
years, and have drawn or painted her head almost 60 times. I still
go back to the early sessions, and paint from an image I have not
looked at in years, amazed at the gravity of that little 8 year
old. For several years, she could not produce a poor photograph.
All I had to do is let her be, and circle her. She knew what to do
with her hands; she knew where the folds of her dress belonged;
she knew everything.
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