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WHEN IT’S ART & WHEN IT’S NART {Word play for a true story}
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Picture a Sunday in mid Spring, while entering Saratoga. As the mood of style and tradition takes hold. The time for change in painting as an art is shifting, once again. Were on the lawn of Skidmore College around 1960 for the big shows, it’s the days of schooled and known people setting up; with oil on canvas from $ 75 to $ 600 a considerable amount for that time. The word craft is unheard of. Today; the words Artist; conviction; and substance fill the air; with people believing in what they’ve done to the last stroke. The realists had landscapes; seascapes; or still life. The modern or abstractionists displayed nudes or shapes to suggest an idea for the viewer from the inventor. They came from N.Y.; that village people; in ponchos and Levis sandals and beads with hair a bit longer to raise question.
It was the post beat generation; between beatnik and hippies to come. The media will invent a label for style; or a group. They need to be clever. Aside from looks the paintings were the subject; a head or an arm didn’t have to look like one. A renaissance of sorts had slipped in to challenge convention some called it junk I saw a new face and a stretch; there’s nothing like controversy for change. Friction fuels the fire toward acceptance. In one afternoon on an outing with dad; a station wagon filled with paintings and easels on grass with people; or pictures like people was an instant education. The eye of the beholder will see something different and perhaps make a purchase. The title of this piece is an old sarcasm to suggest humor and give light to a heavy subject.