(Private Collection)
As a Visual Arts Studio major in college, I was required to take a two-semester Survey of Art course, which was an art history course that provided a cursory overview of the history of Western (mostly European) art, beginning with the cave paintings in Lascaux through some of the art movements of the early 20th century, including Cubism and Surrealism. What I remember most from that course was that we spent an inordinate amount of time studying the architecture of churches and cathedrals. I also had the opportunity to take two additional Art History elective courses. One was a small, seminar-style course on Northern Renaissance Art, and the other was a Modern Art course, which covered the major art movements of the first half of the 20th century. I wanted to take a course on Baroque and Roccoco Art during my last semester, but as a Studio Art major, I was not permitted to take more than four art history courses. My advisor suggested that I talk to the instructor about the possibility of auditing the course. He told me that there was not enough space in the classroom for an additional desk, but he needed a work/study student to operate the slide projector. So I was able to sit in on all of the lectures whilst getting paid for it! Win. Win.
Looking back, those five undergraduate courses probably account for less than 1% of all of the art history that I have studied. I started collecting books about art when I was still a student and it continues to be an obsession. I have hundreds of art books in my house and studio and, with the exception of the pile of recent acquisitions in my living room, I have read and studied all of them. I often refer back to many of my books for inspiration, to revisit topics, or to give students actual of examples of concepts that I am teaching them, or to see how one of the masters may have solved a specific visual problem that I am struggling with.
I believe that artists have a responsibilty to know as much as possible about the history of their craft. This is a lifelong study. We can learn a great deal from the artists of the past who have struggled to find creative solutions to many of the same visual problems that all of us face regularly. Oftentimes, such solutions became new ways of working and seeing, and they can inspire us to persevere in the face of seemingly insurmountable visual obstacles.
As a Visual Arts Studio major in college, I was required to take a two-semester Survey of Art course, which was an art history course that provided a cursory overview of the history of Western (mostly European) art, beginning with the cave paintings in Lascaux through some of the art movements of the early 20th century, including Cubism and Surrealism. What I remember most from that course was that we spent an inordinate amount of time studying the architecture of churches and cathedrals. I also had the opportunity to take two additional Art History elective courses. One was a small, seminar-style course on Northern Renaissance Art, and the other was a Modern Art course, which covered the major art movements of the first half of the 20th century. I wanted to take a course on Baroque and Roccoco Art during my last semester, but as a Studio Art major, I was not permitted to take more than four art history courses. My advisor suggested that I talk to the instructor about the possibility of auditing the course. He told me that there was not enough space in the classroom for an additional desk, but he needed a work/study student to operate the slide projector. So I was able to sit in on all of the lectures whilst getting paid for it! Win. Win.
Looking back, those five undergraduate courses probably account for less than 1% of all of the art history that I have studied. I started collecting books about art when I was still a student and it continues to be an obsession. I have hundreds of art books in my house and studio and, with the exception of the pile of recent acquisitions in my living room, I have read and studied all of them. I often refer back to many of my books for inspiration, to revisit topics, or to give students actual of examples of concepts that I am teaching them, or to see how one of the masters may have solved a specific visual problem that I am struggling with.
I believe that artists have a responsibilty to know as much as possible about the history of their craft. This is a lifelong study. We can learn a great deal from the artists of the past who have struggled to find creative solutions to many of the same visual problems that all of us face regularly. Oftentimes, such solutions became new ways of working and seeing, and they can inspire us to persevere in the face of seemingly insurmountable visual obstacles.
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