“I usually begin with some sort of idea of what I want to do. Sometimes it is an image. I always want to see what it will make. Then I actually start working. During the process I don’t have any morality about changing my mind. In fact, I often find that having an idea in my head prevents me from doing something else. It can blind me. Working is therefore a way of getting rid of an idea.”
Jasper Johns
For the best part of a decade Jasper Johns explored the single motif of the “crosshatch”. The nature of the motif is, of course, barely relevant… it being simply the “armature” on which he hung all the ideas and issues he wished to work through. By far the greater majority of these pieces were constructed in a simple (structurally at least) mirrored diptych format. However, within this seemingly restricted format Johns managed to fashion a seemingly endless array of variations. For the images above I have taken the basic unit of my chosen motif (humble dog ends in a crosshatch pattern) and presented them in the same way… or at least as two examples of how, with even the most basic of means, variety is possible. Here I have simply used color/monochrome versions with some overall tonal variations added for good measure. Of course the game isn’t to actually produce the endless variations on this simple process but to actively select just two and present them here as sort of “base” images. From this the exploration of many other related issues become possible.
If a decade seems like an inordinate length of time to spend exploring one seemingly rather simple idea/motif then bear this in mind: as a painter, and one notorious for the slow pace at which his chosen processes (and temperament) forced him to work, Johns has had to produce by hand many large pieces. Add to this the fact that he is also among the most deliberate and cerebral of artists (there have been many pauses for contemplation) and it is easy to see how this is possible. Most of the painted pieces were produced using either oils or encaustic. Sometimes one half of a diptych would be executed in one medium, the other half in the other. Often the encaustic medium would be painstakingly applied slow stroke by slow stroke over collaged layers. So, just how many pieces? Well, you would have to peruse a complete Catalogue Raisonnée to ascertain that. Certainly more than you would ever see in one place together. Which brings me to my next point concerning the “handmade”…
For any artist, especially one with such longevity as Johns, it is vitally important to be aware of their full body of work in order to apply any judgement. Even major retrospectives will inevitably fall short here. As one of my very favourite artists I have seen much, if not most, of his oeuvre but very little of it “in the flesh” as it were. In this respect I have always been aware that looking at his work in print and “for real” in a gallery are two very different things. The truth is that for the most part I have not been looking at paintings at all. I have been looking at mechanical (and more recently digital, no doubt) reproductions; photographs that is. And more than that… as printed images I have, in effect, actually been looking at printed reproductions of photographs. No doubt my experience is not unusual. In fact it is by far the norm and is the case with the overwhelming majority of art as experienced by an overwhelming majority of people. So much for the “handmade”… for most viewers it is, in reality, little more than a notion.
However, contemplating the realities of the printed reproduction brings me to another point concerning Johns’ practice: that of printmaking (lithographic, screen etc. At one time or another he has explored pretty much the full gamut). This is where the artist has always been at his most freely experimental. No doubt this has been a function of the processes themselves which allow for much more rapid prototyping and production. And this has always been an integral part of Johns’ method; the place where many of his thoughts and ideas can be worked out before forging ahead. But not always… at times the prints represent not just an experimental or “sketch” stage but are complete pieces in themselves as refinements even of previous paint processes. Such pieces are among my very favourite of the artist’s entire output. In printmaking Johns would make much use of the concept of the variants and the potential for layering and blending separate elements on separate plates, variations in inking and application, substrates etc. It is this aspect of his work that attracts me too because of its close association with the digital methods I myself employ. It is a notion I have made use of before and intend to do so again here. Only I can prototype and produce at a rate that Johns himself could barely contemplate…
One could suppose that many (or at least some…) of the thoughts I have expressed above would be applicable to music too. I am no musician, however, so I shall leave that to those far better qualified than I to ponder (Marc Yeats?). In any case, I have selected for today a performance of my favourite of Bach’s 6 Cello Suites, No.2 in D minor, by Mstislav Rostropovich. And while you are listening and marvelling no doubt, as I do, at the sheer virtuosity, colour and tonal values coupled with the controlled but palpable emotion of the great man’s performance, you may like to contemplate this: the digital production (as opposed to recording and God knows there are many differing opinions on that subject!) of music has nowhere near kept pace with the advances in digital image processing and production; to the point where I could, if I so desired, more or less replicate, with much greater fine control, the look and feel of analog production – or “silver” (that for my friend Anna Lee Keefer!) if you prefer. Yes, I know replication isn’t exactly the point here and, yes, I know that those who still like to do it in the dark would no doubt like to disagree. They are just plain wrong. But I wonder if this will always be the case? Could electronically produced digital sound ever replicate the feel, nuance, colours and tones etc. of live performance? I don’t know… but history tells us this: if it can be done it will be done. And if it is there will be a predictable, if understandable, chorus of outrage. Initially. But musicians and composers will adapt just as they have always done. Maybe they will discover many new horizons too. Oh sure, there will no doubt be more than a few “hold-outs”. A few Cnuts (and no, that’s not a typo. See here). But he couldn’t stem the tide and neither will they be able to. The world will keep on turning in any case…
Johann Sebastian Bach, Cello Suite No.2 in D minor, Mstislav Rostropovich, cello
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