After something of a “fallow” period, I have had several things on my mind lately. In no particular order, here they are:

I want to do something with Christians in the Creative Class.

I’m not sure what, exactly. But I think people like Ben Arment and Blaine Hogan and Sarah Cunningham are doing great work in that space. I’ve actually wanted to do something in this space for about 10 years now, before I even heard the term “creative class.”

Creatives are poorly understood in the church at large and more poorly ministered to, and I know they have great ministry potential.

Move toward abstraction in my fine art.

After seeing some really great abstract work online a few days ago — by an artist named Lee Shiney, mentioned on Alyson Stanfield’s blog — I want to move back toward abstraction. Less Edward Hopper, more Georgia O’Keefe.

Less concrete, more abstract. Yet grounded in reality, like O’Keefe. A more conscious effort toward abstract realism.

I have a book or two in me.

I just don’t know what, exactly. Or where to start. Some kind of manifesto, for sure. I love the physical properties of Seth Godin’s book Poke the Box. It’s small and portable. A very comfortable form factor.

My manifesto should be like that. A comfortable book that also challenges and inspires, the way a good friend should.

So—

I guess the key is more writing, drawing, painting, exploring.

Every day.

Recently I was listening to a podcast by John T. Unger where he was interviewing Mary Anne Davis with the theme of understanding your own art in terms of art history. The first thing I got out of it was mostly thinking in terms of what the artists before you have developed, and building on that. The second thing for me was to not retread what other artists have already done. A comparison was made to the world of physics: a physicist would already have an understanding of what, say, Galileo and Einstein have already done. And you either build upon your predecessors’ work, or you do something to prove them completely wrong. Either path is acceptable.

It got me thinking about my own art and the evolution of it (which I’ll post about once I get some college paintings photographed), and how my own paintings play into the broader scheme of art history. I suppose our tendency is to view art history as something that is essentially “dead,” since you don’t really think of history as happening right now. But history is happening right now. It helps to think of art as an ever-continuing conversation (although our forebears can’t directly talk back to us).

I know, it seems rather presumptuous to think of yourself in the same category as the giants that have gone before you. (On one hand, such thinking may be in fact what has gotten some artists to perform on that level.) But again I bring up the conversation idea.

To put Art History 101 really simply, most art movements, organized or not, are essentially reactions to or continuations of what came before. For example, Impressionism was a reaction against rigid Neoclassicism and the French Academy, and it evolved into Pointilism which later developed into Cubism. From there art went further progression toward abstraction and non-representation. From the 1970s on, art slowly and weakly returned to representation in a crazy mashup called postmodernism, and nobody can agree on what postmodernism is. That’s a gross oversimplification of 100 years of Modern art, but you get the general idea.

Painting has kind of floundered since Modernism essentially killed painting. Once you reduce painting to just a canvas covered in a solid, even coat of paint, how much more abstract can you get? Yet artists still paint, floundering and confused.

I have floundered and been confused, too. I’ve been influenced by Dalì, Van Gogh in the past and Hopper most recently, but I don’t want to retread what they’ve done. It looks like the YBA [Young British Artists} “movement” (if it ever was one) is pretty much over, too. (They aren’t “young” anymore, and the “artist” part is somewhat debatable.)

I guess we’re pretty much all floundering here. (Here’s an essay about the crisis in aesthetics as we’ve moved from modernism to postmodernism to whatever is next.)

If you’re an artist, what are you doing in terms of where art has been? Are you trying to reinvent or resurrect or otherwise revive an older tradition, or are you trying to do something that’s never been done before? Either one is OK in my book as long as it is interesting and well-made.

Congratulations! You’ve got a shiny new diploma that says you went through the rigors necessary to call yourself a Bachelor of Fine Arts.

Maybe you majored in graphic design, illustration, interior design, or fine art.

If you’re like me, maybe you majored in something a little more “practical” than what you’d probably rather be doing, which is fine art.

There’s nothing wrong with being practical. In fact, that’s exactly what I’m going to tell you to do. But probably not in the way you’d think.

See, ten years ago this month, I graduated with a BFA in graphic design. Sometimes I wish I could go back in time to tell myself to major in something else, or minor in something else (I actually didn’t have a minor. I had too many hours in my graphed design major to require a minor) to help fill in some gaps that would become apparent in a few years.

If it’s too late to change your major (ie: you just graduated) you can do this: make a plan.

See, I graduated in May 2001. The dot-com bubble had burst, and the economy was slowly tanking. Then a few short months later, some airplanes were turned into giant missiles that took down the Twin Towers in Manhattan.

I was on my way to a job interview on September 11, 2001. I still didn’t have a full-time job yet, and it wouldn’t be until January that I had a full-time position locked in.

I never will forget, though, what I told my dad after finishing an internship that summer, yes, after I had graduated. We called it an externship. I told him: well, if I don’t get a job, I’ll just paint.

He freaked.

And strongly encouraged me to get a day job working for some corporation. Which I did.

I can’t blame him. He bought the whole idea of the “starving artist,” as so many parents have.

Seven or eight years later, I realized what I did wrong: I didn’t have a plan.

I just said I’d paint, and that was that. There was no plan.

What I should’ve said was something like this: “Give me a year to build a body of work and start showing it to galleries, and then we’ll see if I need to get a corporate job.”

So, art majors, make a plan, even if it’s as simple as that.

Sure, my plan could’ve involved more marketing, but it was 2001, so there weren’t the same web marketing tools that we have now. Blogs were brand new. I don’t think they were even called blogs yet, and it would be 5 years until Twitter would exist.

The thing is, make a plan. Then do it. Then make a new plan. Do that. That’s all there really is to it. Simple, huh? Except the hard part: doing the work.

Don’t let someone else’s fears dictate what you do with your life and your dreams; make it your own, and embrace your talents. Just don’t forget to plan, and figure out a way to somehow appease the fearful.

Mitch draws comics for a living. He mentioned that the comic artists our generation (which is Y, apparently, sometimes called Millennials) have started employing a more minimalist, spartan approach that hasn’t been seen in decades. If you remember the comics of the 1990s, you’ll recall they were pretty much the height of grotesque anatomy, overly-detailed imagery, and complicated costumes. Artists like Mitch tend toward something of a reductive aesthetic inspired by the Golden Age of comics.

Keep in mind I had just seen the late works of Dalí exhibit at the High. Dalí incorporated Renaissance techniques and theme into his paranoiac-critical Atomic Age approach. Remixing, yes, but also a return to purer styles (although that’s what the Moderns were doing, too, in a different way, especially with Picasso incorporating “primitive” African masks into his paintings.)

It makes me wonder about what I’m doing as a fine artist. What’s my connection to the art of the past and the art of now? I’m not sure how it all relates, but I do know I have a responsibility to move things forward, or to make a connection with the past.

As much as I like artists like Edward Hopper I don’t want to ape them. But I have a feeling that I’m going to be experimenting with pushing my art to both realistic and abstract approaches and somehow incorporate typography as well as “Sacred” Geometry.

Here’s the thing: the generation you belong to doesn’t really matter. What are you doing to move art forward? Or even backward?

Because standing still will only kill you.

This is something that’s been rattling around in my head a long time, but hasn’t really solidified yet. That said, here is what I do know…

I want to show people the beauty inherent in things they typically overlook, especially if it is ordinary and grimy and about to be torn down. Things like that hold a particular fascination for me in a world consumed by slickness.

What are you fighting for? Or against?

Here’s how it used to look, a few years ago:

I guess it looks a little bit nicer now, but it doesn’t have the charm it used to. Call me old and cranky.

Photo courtesy of Ben Wilkins and his iPhone.

© 2011 Brad Blackman

MetroCenter Aircoil

Oil on canvas, 7 x 5 inches Number 25 in the Nashville365 series

This aircoil (whatever that is) is across the parking lot from Building D and Building E in MetroCenter. The only reason I know it’s an aircoil is I shot this photo inside the thing.

Call me superficial if you want, but I thought it looked cool. Here’s the original photo that I used as reference.

It turns out that this piece that has a small building that resembles the Batman Building is actually part of the Batman Building.

And on two paintings I referenced the wrong parking garage, being off by one street.

It’s probably not a big deal, but I like things like accuracy. :)

It’s been a while since I’ve done this, but I was inspired by Jeff Goins’ regular posts on his weekly reading list.

Now, I’m not saying I’ll read all of these books this week, or that I’ll finish any of them, but I’m trying!

• The Power of Less - Leo Babauta’s book on adopting a minimalist lifestyle in order to cut down on stress
• Strong Fathers, Strong Daughters - I have a two-year old daughter, and I want to be the best dad she could ever have. I want her to be a confident, strong woman someday.
• Trust Agents - If you’re a marketing type, you’ve no doubt heard of Chris Brogan and Julien Smith’s book, Trust Agents. Make no mistake: I’m interested in harnessing the power of the internet to sell art (I want to make a living and pay the bills doing what I love), but I think before I can do that, I need to get people to trust me.
• Making a Living without a Job
• I’d Rather Be in the Studio! - Of course, I’d rather be in the studio making art all the time. Alyson Stanfield shows us artsy types how to market our art. I like to think I know a thing or two about marketing (I’ve been in some form of advertising or marketing the past ten or twelve years after all) but personal branding and art marketing are different from marketing/selling books, hospitals, and air conditioners. Or not.

If you’re so inclined, friend me on Goodreads if you want to keep up with what I’m reading and my quick reviews. I’m afraid I don’t offer much insight there, but I do say if I liked a book or not. Watch me start a zillion books and never finish them! ;-)

What’s on your reading list this week?

© 2011 Brad Blackman

Downtown Door 2

Oil on canvas, 7 x 5 inches Number 24 in the Nashville365 series

This is another one where I’m not sure where I took the source photo, but I can tell you I enjoyed painting it. Grungy old brick certainly is expressive and fun to paint. Swirling various shades of reds together is fun when you learn to let go of all the detail between the bricks, and let them be a pulsing mass of color.

© 2011 Brad Blackman

Garage Rhythm

Oil on canvas, 7 x 5 inches
Number 23 in the Nashville 365 series

My love affair with the austerity of parking garages continues. I think this is the same garage where the ghost sign of “(PA)RK (H)ERE” is. I almost wish this part of the garage had the same ghost-sign-y goodness. That was fun.

While I think this works fairly well as a painting, I feel I probably could’ve simplified the composition a little as it’s a bit detailed. The composition as a whole is simple and balanced, symmetrical in the modern sense of each side mirroring the other. Yet I feel there’s just too much detail to cram into such a small painting. Perhaps this might work better on a large canvas?

See it on Google Street View

© 2011 Brad Blackman

Brentwood Sewer

Oil on canvas, 5 x 7 inches
Number 22 in the Nashville 365 series

I’ve always been intrigued with the idea of secret, subterranean passageways. Sewers aren’t totally glamorous, but they’re intriguing nonetheless. The rough, mildewy concrete and rusted iron hold a beauty of their own.

I think this is right under the culvert in front of Back Yard Burgers in Maryland Farms in Brentwood. If you’re from Nashville, you know Brentwood is where a lot of business is, and it has a reputation for being “new money,” as opposed to Belle Meade, which is where “old money” (and politicians) live. I’ve painted this before, and my wife is still disgusted that I went there on my lunch break one day, wearing my good shoes. This junction empties out into the park, and it forms a creek when there’s been a lot of rain.

There’s a surprising amount of light in there.

As an interesting side note, I was listening to Patrick Rhone’s episode of the Minimal Mac: Enough podcast where Patrick talked about his battles with bipolar disorder. Strangely enough this painting makes a nice metaphor for the subject: things may be dark, but there is hope, and a way out, even if you don’t see it right away.

View Larger Map on Google Street View:

© 2011 Brad Blackman

Bellevue Pipe

Oil on canvas, 5 x 7 inches
Number 21 in the Nashville 365 series

While this pipe connector on Sawyer Brown Road is not super-specific to Nashville per se, it’s in Bellevue, where I spent roughly 8 years of my life. I’ve always been intrigued by industrial-ish things like this, big reservoirs (or whatever it is) that stick out of the ground in the middle of a nicely wooded area, apropos of nothing.

From a painting perspective, I’ve gone back to the technique of toning the canvas a color that is complimentary to the piece’s dominant color. Since the dominant color to this composition is green, I went with a lavender color. I think the secret is in picking the right brightness of that color and not trying too hard to make sure bits of the color underneath show through.

I’m also embracing a simplicity of composition. Another painting that is coming up is way more complicated than it needs to be, especially for such a small canvas. Sure, “complexity adds interest,” but in today’s increasingly complicated world, I think we could all do with a little bit of simplicity.

Check it out on Google Street View:

© 2011 Brad Blackman

Building D

Oil on canvas, 9 x 6 inches
Number 20 in the Nashville 365 series

A companion to Building E, this captures a sister building in the same architectural style, with the same dramatic sky. I probably should’ve eased up on all the car detail, but other than that I’m pretty happy with it. I’m starting to learn just how much detail these small canvases can take, as well as my own tolerance for it. Original photo here.

This is the same Google Map as on Building E, and it looks like you can only see the other side of the building from here.

While there are a few paintings I did this week that need to post, I’ve been brushing up on my WordPress and blogging chops with the quadruple goals of 1) getting my art career revved up, 2) making this blog easier to use both for you and for me, 3) building a new WordPress-powered site for my freelance design business, and 4) building up business for Chrome47.

So to that end, I’ve updated and streamlined some things for subscription options for this site:

• cleaned up and optimized the Feedburner RSS feed, including changing the name of the feed from BradBlackmanVizjrnl to BradBlackmanArt
• added an option to get blog updates in your email
• added information about my upcoming email newsletter

Finally, I wrapped it all into one page listing out a bunch of subscription options which also includes some social networking links if you get the urge to connect with me elsewhere on the web.