Untitled (from the Thunder, Lightning series)
by Milo Roy and James M. Roy
acrylic, watercolor, and pencil on paper
#createarteveryday
Showing posts with label painting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label painting. Show all posts
Boom, Crash, Roar!
Untitled (from the Thunder, Lightning series)
by Milo Roy & James M. Roy
acrylic and pencil on canvas
#createarteveryday
Collection
Collection
1954/1955
Oil, paper, fabric, wood, and metal on canvas
80 × 96 × 3 1/2 in
© Robert Rauschenberg Foundation
San Francisco Museum of Modern Art (SFMOMA)
A “Combine” is neither a sculpture nor a painting but
rather a hybrid of the two. Robert Rauschenberg developed the term to
describe a series of works he began in 1954 that eluded traditional art
media categories. Collection (1954/1955) is the artist’s first
“Combine painting,” an early type of Combine that hangs on the wall like
a traditional painting but reaches into three dimensions with various
elements attached to the work’s surface—such as the silk veil over the
mirror attached just off-center and the found wood scraps along the top
edge. This work also marks a new approach to color. In a decisive move
away from the experimental monochromatic series of white, black, and red
paintings he created between 1951 and 1953, Rauschenberg began Collection by
covering three panels with red, yellow, and blue fabric and layering
them with innumerable collaged, drawn, painted, and sculpted elements.
The same year that Rauschenberg began Collection he started to
experiment with extending the three-dimensionality of the Combines,
incorporating both wall and floor components and even creating fully
freestanding works, such as Untitled, in the Panza Collection at the Museum of Contemporary Art, Los Angeles.
Collection is distinctive for the range and variety of materials it incorporates. In contrast to the approach seen in his Red Paintings (1953–54) and his Black paintings (1951–53), where the collage papers and fabrics typically play second fiddle to the painted passages, here Rauschenberg gives everyday objects the same prominence as conventional art materials. Comic strips, squirts of oil paint, art magazine illustrations, and a host of textiles jostle for attention, and gestural paint strokes drawn directly from the vocabulary of Abstract Expressionism carry the same compositional weight as newspaper clippings of car thefts and department store advertisements. Rauschenberg creates a sense of equality across this diverse visual field in part through the work’s structure. The three vertical panels, in addition to referencing the traditional triptych format, appear to be horizontally subdivided into three regions: a relatively quiet area along the top, bordered by a long squeeze of red paint that crosses the surface from left to right; a densely layered strip across the center, where the majority of the collaged elements are concentrated; and a band of brightly colored stripes that fills the bottom. The resulting three-by-three grid both consolidates and unifies the work’s otherwise chaotic surface.
During preparations for Rauschenberg’s 1976 retrospective at the National Collection of Fine Arts (now the Smithsonian American Art Museum) in Washington, D.C., organizing curator Walter Hopps approached the artist about naming several Combines that until that point had remained untitled. Rauschenberg’s choice of Collection as the title of this work can be read in a number of ways. Hopps suggested that the artist was paying homage to the National Collection of Fine Arts, the first venue on the retrospective tour. Interpreted more literally, the title could reference the collection of wayward scraps scattered across the composition, from the tiny fabric reproductions of masterpieces by Vincent van Gogh (1853–1890) and Pierre-Auguste Renoir (1841–1919) to the print of Nicolas and Guillaume Coustou’s bas-relief Le Passage du Rhin (ca. 1733) and the Re Umberto Brand food packaging in the upper left corner. Through such acts of gathering and combining, Collection bridges cultural references high and low. It also links Rauschenberg’s early artistic explorations with a new phase of experimentation. The Combines brought Rauschenberg international success, and their innovative approach to blending materials and categories remains one of the most significant developments in the history of twentieth-century art.
Collection is distinctive for the range and variety of materials it incorporates. In contrast to the approach seen in his Red Paintings (1953–54) and his Black paintings (1951–53), where the collage papers and fabrics typically play second fiddle to the painted passages, here Rauschenberg gives everyday objects the same prominence as conventional art materials. Comic strips, squirts of oil paint, art magazine illustrations, and a host of textiles jostle for attention, and gestural paint strokes drawn directly from the vocabulary of Abstract Expressionism carry the same compositional weight as newspaper clippings of car thefts and department store advertisements. Rauschenberg creates a sense of equality across this diverse visual field in part through the work’s structure. The three vertical panels, in addition to referencing the traditional triptych format, appear to be horizontally subdivided into three regions: a relatively quiet area along the top, bordered by a long squeeze of red paint that crosses the surface from left to right; a densely layered strip across the center, where the majority of the collaged elements are concentrated; and a band of brightly colored stripes that fills the bottom. The resulting three-by-three grid both consolidates and unifies the work’s otherwise chaotic surface.
During preparations for Rauschenberg’s 1976 retrospective at the National Collection of Fine Arts (now the Smithsonian American Art Museum) in Washington, D.C., organizing curator Walter Hopps approached the artist about naming several Combines that until that point had remained untitled. Rauschenberg’s choice of Collection as the title of this work can be read in a number of ways. Hopps suggested that the artist was paying homage to the National Collection of Fine Arts, the first venue on the retrospective tour. Interpreted more literally, the title could reference the collection of wayward scraps scattered across the composition, from the tiny fabric reproductions of masterpieces by Vincent van Gogh (1853–1890) and Pierre-Auguste Renoir (1841–1919) to the print of Nicolas and Guillaume Coustou’s bas-relief Le Passage du Rhin (ca. 1733) and the Re Umberto Brand food packaging in the upper left corner. Through such acts of gathering and combining, Collection bridges cultural references high and low. It also links Rauschenberg’s early artistic explorations with a new phase of experimentation. The Combines brought Rauschenberg international success, and their innovative approach to blending materials and categories remains one of the most significant developments in the history of twentieth-century art.
Dam
Dam
by Robert Rauschenberg
1959
by Robert Rauschenberg
1959
Oil paint, photomechanical
reproductions, cloth, and metal on canvas.
© Estate of Robert
Rauschenberg/Licensed by VAGA, New York, NY.
From the Hirshhorn’s
collection
Monogram
Monogram
by Robert Rauschenberg
1955-59
Oil
paint, printed paper, printed reproductions, metal, wood, rubber heel
and tennis ball on canvas, with oil paint on angora goat and tire on
wooden base mounted on four casters
Moderna Museet, Stockholm
One of Rauschenberg's most famous works, Monogram, pushed the art world's buttons by further merging painting and sculpture as the combine moved from the wall to the pedestal. While he began with traditional materials - an abstract painting executed in oil on stretched canvas - he abandoned tradition by adding an assemblage of found objects on top of the painting to create a canonical, three-dimensional combine painting. Rauschenberg often acquired materials for his artwork on his meanderings about New York City, allowing chance encounters with found objects to dictate his artistic output, and Monogram was no exception. In one of his wanderings in the early 1950s, Rauschenberg found and purchased a stuffed angora goat from an office supply store and later encircled it with a tire he encountered in street trash. He applied paint to the goat's snout in gestural brushstrokes that quoted Abstract Expressionism. On top of the canvas, Rauschenberg surrounded the goat with a pasture of more detritus strewn about its hooves - including a tennis ball, a wooden plank, and several found and reproduced images.
Similar to his earlier combine, Bed (1955), Monogram is a work that engages the viewer on multiple levels, as they look at, down, and around the interwoven elements of the work all vying for the viewer's attention at once. However, despite many varied interpretations, Rauschenberg refused to hint at any predetermined meaning of the different symbols within the work, instead allowing viewers to create their own associations between the objects and images. Despite Rauschenberg's insistence against specific meanings of the work, often critics interpret the tire-ringed goat as a symbol of the artist's sexuality, as well as his role within the art world, trampling over tradition with his own artistic monogram.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall
Mirror Mirror on the Wall
Mirror Mirror on the Wall
Mirror Mirror on the Wall
oil on canvas
11" x 14"
José Rodolfo Loaiza Ontiveros
José Rodolfo Loaiza Ontiveros
José Rodolfo Loaiza Ontiveros
Robert Rauschenberg
Robert Rauschenberg has been one of the biggest influences on my art. Frankly, I have been accused, without my protest, of ripping him off. I call it homage. He is amazing and I stand in his shadow.
This is the first piece of his that I ever encountered. And the rest is art history.
Untitled
by Robert Rauschenberg
This is the first piece of his that I ever encountered. And the rest is art history.
Untitled
by Robert Rauschenberg
Create art. Everyday.
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| My son and our first joint effort to #CreateArtEveryday. |
I want to am going to start to create art everyday. I am going to do it alone. I am going to do it with my son. I am going to do it.
I used to be a painter, that is, a full-time painter. Dare I saw that I used to be an artist. Today, not so much. I have become a whiny bitch of a Sunday painter. And even then, not a whole lot of work to show for it. I don't know what I want to paint. But I have to do it. It is the only thing that truely relaxes me - that centers me.
So, what to do? What to do? How about I just create some art. Any art. Anything. The mere act of crapping out some random strokes on paper will lead to crapping out some deliberate strokes on a canvas. To call up the change agency philosophy that I use in my day job, you cannot dictate innovation. Short of being Marcel Duchamp, you cannot point at something a make it art. Therefore, you need to find yourself in an environment that fosters creation and it will come. Establishing this frequent regiment will keep my artistic ability well exercised and viable.
Stay tuned for more.
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