Observation, Memory, and Imagination: Realism Without Photography
By Joseph McGurl
That looks just like a photograph! Many representational artists often hear this “compliment.” The digital image has become the paradigm by which society now relates to reality, and most contemporary representational painters use photos to some degree. Does this matter? It depends upon whom you ask.
Though the paintings may possess superficial similarities, in reality, artists who use or don’t use photographs are creating very different kinds of art with different philosophies, methods, and technical requirements. Because a photograph of a tree has nothing in common with a real tree, the philosophical and methodological differences between painting from a photo versus painting from life are vast. As an artist who does not use any kind of photo reference, I would like to discuss some of the reasons why it is better for me to reach my goals by working from my observations, memory and imagination only. It is also wonderful that artists disagree with each other about philosophy and methods. Otherwise, art would look the same, and it would be a very boring art world indeed. I say this because it is important to realize that my goals are different from artists who do use photography, and I am not applying my goals and values to their art-making process.
My art is concerned with the relationship between reality as humans can experience it and the ultimate reality that permeates time and space. The plein air sketch forms the basis of my art making because it is a way for me to interpret what I am experiencing visually and emotionally. Despite the fact that many of my studio paintings are completely imagined scenes, they are informed by thousands of these sketches painted over a 30-year period. Working this way has required a significant amount of time meditating upon, observing, and desperately struggling to interpret nature in paint. Knowing that when I leave the field, the only reference for developing subsequent studio paintings is what I have studied and painted on site compels me to dig in and fight for every bit of information I can grasp. As I usually am able to render the scene before me with enough fidelity to meet my needs, a photo to make corrections is not necessary. Plein air painting without photographic reference as a backup is similar to that old cliché of walking a tightrope without a net. It requires one to concentrate at the highest levels.
I am attracted to the purity and also the challenge of sitting in a field with only my paints and my wits trying to record the entire experience. I am a painter, not a painter/photographer, and in this age dominated by technology, it is important for me to keep my art hand made with its attendant flaws and minimal technological intrusion. However, I don’t reject technology just because it is technology. My philosophy is similar to the Amish in this regard; if a particular technology doesn’t help me reach my goals, it is unnecessary, and I don’t want to invite it into my art-making process.
Time spent in the field also allows me to expand my imagination and creativity because I have developed a store house of knowledge that can be drawn upon to create completely imaginary landscapes. Artists working in this manner will become visual botanists, meteorologists, geologists, biologists, architects, physicists, etc. We are able to recreate environments in a convincing manner and not be limited by reference photograph availability. This gives great freedom to completely invent and rearrange subject matter.
Perhaps the most obvious reason photography doesn’t work for my particular type of art making is that I consider myself a modern version of the Luminist painters. This means that, in a way philosophically similar to the 19th century Luminists and Transcendentalists such as Emerson and Thoreau, I have a special interest in the inherent spiritual implications of the natural world and most importantly, of light. My interest in the nature of light has also led me to recognize its dominance in the realm of modern physics. For this reason, I must paint actual light rather than a photographic representation of it. Light is composed of photons, but as a photograph has no photons it is impossible to “paint light” from a photograph. If I were painting from a photo, I would be matching pigments to the photo image rather than interpreting true light. Staying with the physical aspects of my subject, my paintings are also a study of light, form, space, and color interpreted through the painted image. A photograph has only color, but no real light, form, or space. Again I would be matching colors as opposed to interpreting reality as we humans can experience it. Most importantly, the spiritual significance of light for Luminist painters is paramount because light provides a portal to the sublime. As photos have no inherent light, they cannot possess any of the spiritual significance of real light. For my physical and spiritual conceptions of light, using photos would be similar to idolatry where one worships an image rather than the real thing.
Physics is showing us that our universe has an ultimate reality that humankind is incapable of experiencing. However, each species can experience some slice of this reality in their unique way. For instance, because of its blindness and echolocation abilities, a bat’s conception of the world is much different from a human’s. A camera interprets what it “sees” in its own unique way which is also different from you and me. The way we experience and interpret reality is the very thing that makes us human. My art is concerned with how the human mind and our senses interpret reality, and I do not want it unnaturally influenced. Even using photos in a minimal way would incorporate a foreign element into my art, and it would distort my perceptions. By using only observation, memory, and imagination, I am creating art that has only one filter: me. The camera can see things that the eye cannot and vice versa. For example, we’ve all seen paintings of rippled water painted with great complexity and photographic accuracy. This type of rendering is impossible to paint by eye because the artist has chosen a split- second photographic depiction of water to work from. Our eyes see detail with the fovea centralis which is located at the rear of the eyeball and allows our eye to focus, but it is only able to focus on a very small spot at a time. Because of this, we see sequentially, and therefore cannot focus on the entire scene simultaneously. As ripples are constantly moving and are influenced by adjacent ripples, we cannot record an expanse of them the way a photograph can. Portraying water in this manner is impossible without the camera, and this way of rendering water did not exist before photography. Other examples of photography’s unnatural influences can be seen in the cropping, perspective, value ranges, and rendering of features in paintings where photographic reference was used.
As a realist, I am concerned with interpreting reality. Transferring the fullness of our multidimensional experiences in the real world into a flat two-dimensional painting which then communicates an idea through that image are extremely abstract thought processes. This is because the only relationship the painting has to the real world is that if you could eliminate all your other senses, close one eye, and squint at the subject, they look similar. If I were using photography, the camera would be doing some of this amazingly abstract “thinking and interpretation” for me because it would have already made a flat two-dimensional image of my subject. I would then be making a flat image into another flat image. This would eliminate the sense of magic that I experience when I transfer my real world experiences into a painting or drawing. This sense of magic is one of the reasons I knew at an early age that I wanted to be an artist, and I find it enormously rewarding still 
Though I attempt to achieve a high degree of fidelity to nature in my art, it
remains within the realm of my emotional and humanistic interpretation. By
keeping my process simple and the line to the source of inspiration as direct as
possible, I believe I am able to make a deeper and more individual translation of
the reality I am experiencing.
McGurl on Past Masters:
Joseph has written 12 short articles for THE OUTDOOR PAINTER MAGAZINE on artists from the past that he admires. Below are two examples. The full series can be found by following the link: http://www.outdoorpainter.com/tag/joseph-mcgurl/
McGurl on Past Masters: Sir Arthur Streeton
In this series, noted painter Joseph McGurl discusses plein air paintings by past masters that he finds instructive or inspiring. This week: Sir Arthur Streeton’s “The Purple Moon’s Transparent Might.”
Sir Arthur Streeton (1867-1943) is one of Australia’s most admired artists and was recognized for his contributions to the legacy of Australian art by being knighted in 1937. He was a member of the Heidelburg School, a group of dedicated plein air painters often painting in the Heidelburg area near Melbourne. Streeton painted “The Purple Noon’s Transparent Might” from under a tent over a period of two days of intense heat.
The effect of this heat is palpable. The vantage point and time of day chosen by the artist shows us the landscape in full sun; there are few areas of shadow to escape the sunlight. The colors are bright and intense in the foreground, gradually becoming modified by the atmospheric perspective moving into the distance. As well as portraying meteorology, Streeton gives a wonderful sense of space. Although it is a square canvas, there is a panoramic quality to the scene that is accomplished through the exploitation of linear perspective. In the foreground, most of the lines and shapes are vertical or diagonal; however, moving into the distance, they become increasingly horizontal. This leads the eye on an interesting journey from an up-and-down motion in the foreground to a completely side-to-side motion in the distance where we can imagine the plain extending beyond the picture frame. Ultimately, this change in motion gives the panoramic effect usually seen in horizontal compositions.
Because of the canvas’s large size, Streeton was able to give the impression of a great deal of detail and rendering. However, looking closely, he is quite economical and suggestive in his brushmarks. Most of the painting consists of color spots, but throughout the painting, there are minor accents that prevent the painting from becoming weak and formless. Though there is actually very little descriptive painting, by choosing just the right color, value, and shape, Streeton could paint less and convey a complete statement.
Streeton is also economical in his color range, creating a beautiful color harmony with just a few colors that complement and contrast, giving a realistic yet harmonious impression. The cool blue of the river contrasts with the warm bright riverbank, while the greens of the grasses harmonize with the warmer greens of the foliage. The colors dissolve into the increasingly monochromatic cool blue/gray in the distance, where our eye is able to rest before beginning its journey once again at the river in the foreground.
McGurl on Past Masters: William Trost Richards
In this series, noted painter Joseph McGurl discusses plein air paintings by past masters that he finds instructive or inspiring. This week: a sketch from one of William Trost Richards’ sketchbooks.
William Trost Richards was one of the leading American 19th-century landscape painters. He was a member of the Association for the Advancement of Truth in Art, which was the American counterpart of the English Pre-Raphaelite movement. These artists were heavily influenced by the English art critic John Ruskin and his book Modern Painters. Ruskin believed that fidelity to nature was paramount, and the work of God could be found in nature’s smallest details. Characteristics of Pre-Raphaelite painting include an accurate observation of the subject and meticulous attention to detail. In his quest to portray nature accurately, Richards filled numerous sketchbooks with landscape and seascape drawings in graphite, ink, and watercolor. This sketch was included in one of his books from his two-year trip to Europe in 1879-1880. This book contained 86 drawings.
In addition to carefully observed and rendered detail, Richards’ paintings often convey a wonderful sense of atmosphere, perspective in the recession of the landscape, convincing form in the topography, and a sense of movement in his portrayal of the ocean. Although this sketch is looser and more gestural, it contains many of the sensitivities of his finished seascape paintings. If we squint, the impression is of a carefully rendered drawing because the value shifts are so precisely recorded. Here we see an overcast day; the hazy atmosphere obscures the features, making them less distinct and paler as they recede into the distance. Richards accomplishes this effect by careful tonal and line control. All of the pencil marks in the foreground are bolder, darker and more aggressive than those in the background. The forms become more indistinct and generalized as they recede, gradually reaching the distant headland, which is defined by just two lightly drawn shapes and values.
Richards creates linear perspective by his use of overlapping headlands. He also uses the perspective of the ocean waves to help move us into the distance. The foreground waves are larger and overlap the waves behind. In the distance, we can only see the crest of each wave because the troughs are increasingly obscured by the crests. This stacking of the waves helps the plane of the ocean recede into the distance. However, as well as a receding ocean, Richards also creates a moving, dynamic ocean. His pencil marks representing the dancing wave peaks convey energy and movement. The strongest value shift is where the breaking wave meets the rocky shore. This creates an energy contrast between the foreground and the softly rendered distance, thereby reinforcing the difference between things that are close and things that are far.
Richards is also interested in examining the topography and creating a sense of form. By clearly delineating the lighted and shady sides of the rocky promontories and simplifying the overall shape, his depiction of those formations appears solid and three-dimensional. It was important for Richards to carefully observe and interpret the natural world, and by doing so, he was able to refer to these small drawings to aid him in creating his large, majestic studio paintings.
