Art Criticism 101 (Sid)

C. G. Jung(187 - 1961)  Retrospective  Edition

Alma had about 20 years of Réalités, the English edition of a slick French art, fashion, and culture monthly. She went so far as to have 5 years of the magazine bound. Réalités was one of her bona fides. She was artsy. Now and then she took up her oils and dabbled a bit. There wasn't much. The lifetime body of her work was less than 10 canvases. Not enough to qualify as a hobbyist or dilettante. Only a dabbler. In her old age she tried to up her output and always had an unfinished painting on the easel in the TV room. Not enough to criticize. I would hate to do that anyway. It was great that she was able to express herself.

I was her artsy kid. Neither Steven nor Marilynn had any interest. I was competent with a camera and brave (but bad) with a brush and had the eye. What is the eye? The eye means that I can remember a painting on your wall (if it is worth looking at) for ever. If I come back to your house once every 20 years I will know if you moved it. I can see unsolved problems in paintings. I can see mistakes. And I can see the good stuff. And I am rather insufferable about it (but I am trying hard to be nicer).

Way beyond being artsy, Alma was competitive. Above and beyond all ease, she had to be the winner. I won't bother with examples because I am going to assume anybody reading this knew her and can provide their own examples. I may have picked up a little bit of that from her, but not really much. It wasn't competition. My great joy in life was finding a chink in the armor. Any old body would do. Find the chink. Gently slid in the stiletto. The situation with my eye and her art was certainly my playground.

When she unveiled a painting, I gently encouraged her to take up clay work where she had an better feel for the medium.(Feel the thin blade?) “Well, what's wrong?” “I guess it's to do with the light. What time of day is this supposed to be?” (Ow! Is that a thin trickle of blood?) “Well I suppose it's afternoon. You know a nice Fall afternoon.” “Hmm. You see, that's the problem. The light is coming from nowhere. And, you see, shadows actually should have a color. You see, shadows aren't simply just darker. Shadows are illuminated by a different light source, you see. A different color light source altogether, don't you see?” It's not that the shadows are getting less light. The shadows are getting different light, you see?” (Ewwehh. That's a lot of blood.) “NO, I DON'T “SEE”. What are you talking about? What different light?” “Geez, Mom, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. Next time work a bit of blue into the shadows because the blue sky is the light source.” (Twist a bit.)

“Well other than that how do you like it?” “Golly, Mom I kinda hate to say now. You know I don't want to discourage you.” (Keep the blood flowing.) “What now!!” “Well the perspective, you see. Is that supposed to be a road or a river?”