…Except that when the artist painted in obscurity his entire life in a small 8×8 foot studio and was therefore completely unknown his art cannot possibly become political or erotic or mystical. Unless his trove of thousands of paintings narrowly escape a dumpster when discovered upon his death. Because the order of his sister, who generously had supported him, that it should all go in the garbage was somehow strangely ignored by a cousin who was assisting with the clean-up.
Which miraculous Saving of the Art led to a curious close look by an art historian, who declared, “This wasn’t even a rediscovery. That connotes an artist who was once well known but has been forgotten in successive generations. This was an artist who was completely unknown.”
Which led to a monograph. And a gallery show at The Antiquorum Gallery in New York. And the bizarre reality that this artist’s work is suddenly making money after he has died. Which seems cruel. And sad. And unfortunate.
But is it?
Or do we somehow mistakenly think – if we are artists – that there should be some sort of discovery of, or remuneration for, our creative effort in our lifetime? van Gogh sold one painting when he was alive. If he had approached his life’s work as a financial goal he would have quit and done something else. Thankfully for us he didn’t.
And so, too, would have one Arthur Pinajian, whose name is now being mentioned alongside those of Gauguin and Cezanne.
Thankfully for us the strange coincidental existence of serendipity, curiosity, disobedience, rescue, art history and human interest in the creation of art.
I love the story of the discover of the art of Arthur Pinajian. And I post this today in honor of and support of the many, many visual artists on Google+, who I am sure wonder…
Is anyone noticing?
Does anyone care?
Does what I do matter?
When will my time come?
How long can I hang on to my dream?
When I am dead, will my family simply throw my life’s effort away?
…or cremate it with me out of respect for what I do, yet still somehow convinced it would never mean anything to subsequent generations…because they have no tangible proof of my talent?
To all of my fellow artists on Google+, whether of the visual or the word kind, I say, when you have these doubts, remember this:
“I don’t paint to live, I live to paint.” – Willem de Kooning
March 10, 2013 at 5:55 pm
Jake Kern you must never give up. None of us knows what is meant to become of our effort while we are alive. I think this is the part of life that is deeply mystical, which artists who “paint to live” are prone to plugging into and never let go of. And there is much to be learned from it. I think it requires trust in something much bigger than we are and I do not mean that in a religious or even a spiritual sense. I mean it within the grand realm of things that none of us can really understand, or explain…but which we can still sense. And it think it is this that propels us all forward, whether we know it or not. Here’s to you Jake Kern.
March 10, 2013 at 6:03 pm
I believe he was fortunate that his sister supported him, and he didn’t have to try and make a living out of his paintings. His whole body of work would have likely been completely different otherwise.
March 10, 2013 at 6:57 pm
+Giselle Minoli thank you for as always one of your thoughtful and informative posts. The N.Y Times story resonated with me on many levels not least of all because it mentions DeKalb avenue in Brooklyn and for a fee years I lived on DeKalb avenue in the Bronx. More to the point for many years I created sculpture just for the joy of creating it and giving it sway to friends as gifts with no thought of monetary compensation and never trying to exhibit it in galleries. An artist friend who painted bizarre works on cat litter was always dejected because he couldn’t get galleries to show hos work and couldn’t understand why I wasn’t interested in selling my work. I finally approached a gallery ( only to get him off my case ) and had my work shown ( but not sold ) and talked the gallery owner into giving must friends work a showing. I finally did sell one of my creations independently but got less satisfaction from the money then I did from giving it away as gifts to friends. Thanks for letting me ramble on and thanks again for sharing your post. (sent from my phone)
March 11, 2013 at 2:39 am
stuart richman it’s nice when the money comes in one’s lifetime. It’s nice to be financially appreciated. Creating art is work, just like working at any other profession is an investment of time, talent, energy…focus. If one were a lawyer or doctor and didn’t make a dime one would quit. But artistic people aren’t wired that way. I think there is often a strange shame in wanting to be paid for creativity. But the bigger problem is that it has to be viewed in some light by the outside – the buyers, the public, patrons – in order to take root in some way. This is not easy unless the buyer has an eye. So…I think you should take satisfaction in that money. Why not? Someone wanted to buy what you made.
March 12, 2013 at 10:40 am
We are living in a time when so much information is being digitized, saved, and stored, that we are practically drowning in it. While Arthur Pinajian died just at the edge of this era, it’s still fascinating that with uncountable gigabytes of “data” being stored every day, his work almost went in the trash, literally.
It must be difficult as an artist to shut yourself off from the noise of modern (digital) life — screaming at you to monetize every bit and byte of yourself because if you don’t Facebook, Twitter, Google, or Amazon surely will. 20 years from now, will it even be possible to discover another Arthur? Will it be possible to create anything “off the grid?”
Hopefully our artists’ need to create in physical media will never die, and there will always be a chance for a surprise like this to occur. And hopefully in the push to connect everyone and everything and every enterprise to one another in “the cloud,” we won’t forget our artists down here on the ground.
March 12, 2013 at 10:51 am
Good morning Brian Titus. I’m just about to get in the car for an interstate drive and your words are uplifting this morning, actually. I think they are worthy of a post on their own if there is anything inspiring you to that end. You are so right on. The saving of Pinajian’s was because of a series of happy coincidences – the cousin’s hesitancy to throw it all out (perhaps he himself lives more off the grid than on?) and an art historian’s curiosity about a physical media (there will always be such people, because there is a history of physical art, whether those on the grid are aware of it or not!), and the determination to tell other people about this man…for the future!
This paranoia that everyone has about All Internet All the Time is mystifying to me. I understand All Making Music All the Time, or All Dancing All the Time, or All Painting All the Time, but All Posting All the Time? No, I don’t understand it.
This man (and van Gogh) survived his life without the Internet. And so, unbeknownst to so many people, are millions and millions of others who are happily painting, drawing, composing…and writing away.
Your words are inspiring, Brian, because they are a reminder how crazy the internet is. It is not everything.
March 12, 2013 at 5:38 pm
Thanks Giselle Minoli; I hope your travels are going safely and well on this rainy (in the NE) Tuesday.
March 12, 2013 at 11:11 pm
Made it safely Brian Titus. Thank you. Dark, cold and overcast the entire route, but lovely sunset here, for which I am grateful. Internet connection down and connected through my iPhone. I love my technology.