nowhere to hide
As an undergrad art student, I was unprepared for the mind/body problem in art, and deviated in my studies into design drafting courses. I was already an adept dimension drawing draftsman. At the same time, it wasn't what I always wanted to do. I had (at the time) a notion of the architecture of ideas, of a metaphysical space, but a real place, one in fact. I resolved to make it real, to create it, not debate it.
It was a logical contradiction of formal opposition to the abstract/reality argument, intended to annihilate the dilemma, like Antimatter. De Chirico's Surreal space stood out as a prime example, but, it had already been done by de Chirico. I then began earnestly to look directly at the world, which, fortuitously for art, was a vital link to the classic "paint what you see" approach to making art. It might be a chimera I was pursuing, but I kept looking...
At that time, I was reading a lot of cultural anthropology, much of which had come to the ironic conclusion that reality is a consensus, that reality is like a contract (figuratively speaking), between people. Discovered in the analysis of the research of ethnographers, it was found impossible by theorists to exclude post-tribal civilization from the theory. The observer is a participant. Conceptually, it appeared to be the flip side of philosophical Idealism.
The theoretical anthropologist which made the strongest impression on me was Edward Hall, with his book, The Hidden Dimension (1966). A quick search of the original publication date brought to my attention the following context: "The book introduces the concept of 'proxemics,' which refers to space as a system of communication.” That statement is a satisfying synopsis of the real/metaphysical space I had in mind for art (as an undergrad.)
Hall's research makes trenchant commentary on the human condition, not least of which is (what Hall calls) the "behavioral sink," a dire state of social chaos, in which common decency breaks-down from over-crowding. It was demonstrated in the laboratory that when too many animals are confined to the same cage, a deviant fringe cohort emerges, existing both within-and-without the general population. The experiment was offered as a warning to humanity.
Leaping ahead many years, the discovery continues to be a concern, artistically, for the deviant behavior of homeless persons. Homelessness is not a lifestyle choice. It's a compulsion. That pretty much summarizes my artistic outlook in general. In so far as how I express myself artistically in particular, I also subscribe to the minor thesis, argued by Edward Hall in The Hidden Dimension, concerned the adaptation of verbal diction to physical space, to the meaning of the speaking and listening distances established by us, one-to-another.
Broadly defined, Hall's observation is that one doesn't speak to an audience in an auditorium in the same tone of voice with which one whispers sweet nothings in the ear of a loved one. That difference in tone of voice is, to be specific, that of grammatical diction. Anyone who has taken a foreign language as an academic elective knows what grammar is. It is the underlying structure of language. Some would go so far as assert it is the underlying structure of all that is meaningful, in itself. The argument has not yet been settled.
If viewers of my homeless paintings have not so far noticed, the viewer's proximity to the subject is central to the viewer's (and admittedly the painter's) point of view. The subject is never close enough to touch, but never so distant as to disappear into the background. The aesthetic repose of my paintings is in contemplating a provocative subject, while never interacting with it. I never pause for long before the real subjects of my paintings.
May I please be excused from being accused of heartlessness if I maintain that it is my sincere desire to help -without interference? My own contribution to the anthropology of Proxemics is in gauging the depth of painted detail, in its measure. Run-of-the-mill painters (like myself) agree that painting faces faithfully is difficult. The fast solution to the problem is to do what a respected painting teacher once told me to do, which is, "don't paint what you can't." Painting the homeless as faceless, both literally and figuratively, solves that problem.
I'm not being flippant. When painting figures I refer to an index of detail firmly established in the back of my mind. There are three proximities of facial expression. A group scene will barely provide enough detail for positive facial recognition. Look to museum masterpieces for examples. Without the painting's title, are you confident you could identify the hero of a never-before-seen historical composition?
Napoleon is the only exception that comes to mind. He spent many hours before the mirror perfecting his unique profile. Beyond the question of the identity of a single figure within a melee of figures, it is asking too much to expect viewers to read nuances of emotion in facial detail. At the other end of my scale is the intimate portrait. The portrait is almost always emotionally neutral -by design. A weeping portrait will not do, neither will laughter, a bad hairstyle, or incidental blemishes. A portrait is idealized.
It is my insistence that emotions ARE a variable in middle-ground scenes, where the viewer (if he were actually present), would be a participant in the scene. The viewer is invited to join the scene by interpreting visual cues, such as facial expression, in the painted details of the scene. In my paintings I have seized the opportunity to represent homeless persons (who are typically anonymous) and, more, to be a willing accomplice in their game of hide-and-seek, by selectively revealing, and concealing, distinctive, identifying facial features.
Call it guided empathy. A few astute viewers have commented on this feature of my art. It is (as said), my own development of social Proxemics, analogous to how we speak to one another across measurable distances, in measured tones of diction. With but few exceptions, it is my intention to conceal the identity of the homeless subjects of my paintings, to show them, but without exposing them to ridicule.
The Existential dilemma of homelessness is having nowhere to go. The suffering of the homeless is to have no privacy. They are admonished to make themselves unseen, to hide, if they refuse to be like respectable people, we who live conventional lives, in established dwellings. With nowhere to hide, the homeless no longer care if you look at them.