“It’s all wrong!” declared my art teacher, glaring accusingly at the offending artwork.
To be honest, I can’t now remember what dastardly offence the artist had committed.
I do know that my art class was on a visit to the National Gallery, England’s treasure house of million dollar paintings. At the time we were gazing thoughtfully at Leonardo da Vinci’s Virgin of the Rocks.
Many was the time I had heard those words before. Painting industriously at my easel back at the local life class, I would quake as I heard our tutor’s well known footsteps approaching behind me.
“No, no!” he would bellow. “You’ve got it all wrong.”
I had, of course. Nevertheless, I did feel a good deal better about it now that I realised even such an illustrious artist was not immune to criticism.
No tiptoeing around and talking in hushed tones through these hallowed halls for our beloved teacher. Quite right too.
It’s all too easy to assume that just because a work was created by a famous artist and hangs in a famous gallery, it’s automatically perfect in every possible way.
Even the best statues can have feet of clay
As a matter of fact, the National Gallery version of The Virgin of the Rocks is unfinished. Behind the Virgin’s face there is also a hand, hidden for centuries but recently – and disconcertingly – brought into view under infrared reflectography. The work is painted on top of of a quite different drawing. Quite a mix-up for all its charisma.
The other version of Leonardo’s painting is in the Louvre. Hurrying to catch the Channel Tunnel train home one day from that revered gallery, I hastily snapped another artistic hodge-podge with my camera phone. I was eager to snatch a record of the owl in the hand of the Goddess Athena.
Unhappily the eighteenth century artist had added a marble head and arms to a Roman onyx body. They may have gone for that sort of thing in French Revolution France, but the more I considered this uneasy combination, the less I liked it.
Besides, the sculptor may have been a genius at goddesses, but he wasn’t much good at owls.
Ah well. Nobody’s perfect.
Tags: art, inspiration, learning, teaching
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Actually we all loved our art teacher – and we learned a lot from him.
I do wholeheartedly agree with you about imperfection in art. After all, imperfections can be the start of innovation.
Oh no! Art school flashbacks! Those art instructors do leave a lasting impression on the soul don’t they?
One of the things that I love most about art is its imperfection. Even the masters frequently redrew and painted over their work in the almost constant pursuit of perfection that can never be achieved. It can only be dreamed about, sweated over and stroved for. For me, art is a journey without a final destination, but hopefully some lovely trips along the way.
There is a myth around in art education for the young that getting it right first time is what happens! Years of drawing, throwing away, frustration and elation make an artist and even then there are flaws in every finished product.
Hahaha! What fun you are. And how well you write, my British friend. I’m sitting here in my northern Ohio home, watching the leaves dance about, and thinking how I’d love to jump on that under-the-channel ride with you to the Louvre. Count your blessings, Owl-buddy.
Oh, I quite agree about the owl in the hand of the goddess. Yours is far more believable.