Learn How to Print like Warhol… in five minutes?
That sounds like fun! My Saturday’s pretty open…
Yes, the short video demonstrations come with supply lists and step-by-step instructions, but without an existing fine arts background, you may feel more than a little bit daunted, pining for the sort of kid-friendly modifications that help second graders mimic famous artists with such aplomb.
Rather than relegate your freshly-purchased screens, roll of acetate, and economy-sized container of photo-emulsion to the same closet where your cross country skis, foreign language cassettes, and beer-making kit are currently spending eternity, we suggest that you not buy them at all.
Instead, appreciate the way these videos bridge “the gap between Art History and Art Creation,” in the words of one viewer.
So THAT’S how Warhol and untold thousands of other artists, including this segment’s guide Marianne Keating, make their prints! A lot of equipment! A lot of precise steps. Maybe some day you’ll take a stab at it.
’Til then… Keating picked former Jamaican Prime Minister Michael Manley as her subject. Who would you choose?
What would you paint?
Though before blithely slapping a second-grader rainbow on your vision and assuming you now know how to paint like Kandinsky (whether or not you know how to paint), check out the Tate’s description of the original:
Painted between 1910 and 1911, Cossacks is an expression of Kandinsky’s belief in the power of art “to awaken this capacity for experiencing the spiritual in material and in abstract phenomena.” The dynamic tension between abstract form and concrete content may be read as a manifestation of the wider conflict between the forces of political oppression – Kandinsky had been deeply moved by the strikes and upheavals in Odessa a few years earlier – and the hunger for spiritual rejuvenation consequent upon the rise of soulless modernity. Like his contemporaries Piet Mondrian and Henri Matisse, Kandinsky saw painting as an extension of religion, capable, as he wrote in his Reminiscences (1913), of revealing ‘new perspectives and true truths’ in ‘moments of sudden illumination, resembling a flash of lightning.’ The echo of the Ancient Greek writer Longinus’s notion of sublime speech, which similarly strikes like a bolt of lightning, is carried over into Kandinsky’s description of the spiritual mission of the modern artist. In his 1911 essay On the Spiritual in Art, he compares the life of the spirit to ‘a large, acute-angled triangle,’ at the apex of which stands the solitary artistic genius dispensing spiritual food to the multitudes below.
Pretty complex stuff!
Perhaps Picasso is a more straightforward proposition.
Reckon you could rope a friend into modeling for a Cubist portrait a la Bust of a Woman (1909)? If so, which friend, and what might you do for them in return?