The Art of Giving

I remember as a child, being very excited about Christmas. I was raised in a big Catholic family. So during the holidays, there was a lot of visiting and gift giving to celebrate the occasion. As much as your parents try to hammer in the true meaning of Christmas, it is all about the gifts to a healthy selfish red blooded American capitalist child. So, there is a lot of anticipation concerning what might be inside those gift wrapped boxes. Now as you all have experienced, occasionally you get a gift that is just so terrible and heart breaking you really do not know what to say. So bad it almost takes your breath away. Often this gift comes from someone that happens to share your last name. A beloved relative supposedly of the same gene pool. I don't want to name names, but we will call her "Grandma". This woman had held you as a baby, and watched you grow. Then you open that gift on Christmas Eve and pull out a sweater that would make a blind man vomit a lung. Looking at the sweater, even an 8 year old starts to think, "Maybe I should consider the Buddhist faith." You have been well coached to hold back the tears and robotically spit out "Thank You", and even hold it up for a photo op, but it is so bad as to taint the entire holiday. One can only hope it is the wrong size and will have to be returned. You also try to conjure a positive side to this "Well, I could use the box to make a cool fort for my army men. "

So, imagine you run a museum, and an artist comes along and says that he has a gift for you. It is a portrait he has painted of you. "Surprise!" He made it himself. No one helped him. Well, maybe a few people helped, but mostly he did it all by his lonesome.
Maybe this museum director was excited about this when he heard about this generous gift.

Then he uncrated it.

Photo: Bram Saeys

I am imagining the artist standing there as he opens it. He says, "So, do you like it? Don't you love it?! It looks so much like you doesn't it?"
"Did you notice I screwed some blue lighty up things on there?"

I mean, what the hell would you say when you got this and were asked to include it in your collection? You might even have a flash back and say, "Oh, thanks. Uh, it's great.... Grandma."

I mean really, try to defend this painting to me. Try to tell me it has any value other than the fact that is made up of stuff. Stuff smeared and screwed to other stuff and supposed to represent stuff that happens to be some guy.

Now, maybe the goal was to make it offensive to the eyes? If so, then maybe it works as a statement in that way. "I have painted you in such a hideous fashion so that whenever you look in the mirror you will feel good about yourself." It could be a statement about how vision is overrated for our understanding of the world. This is a painting you could stand a blind person in front of and say, "You know, being blind really ain't so bad."

If the goal is to make you want to scoop both eyes out with a dirty spoon, then I think he could have gone further. Why not offend the other senses? I could get behind this work if the artist was fully committed to it. You have to plug this thing in to get the lights to work, so you might as well add a siren that wails nonstop, at an ear drum destroying level. What if the painting gave off some rancid smell? Maybe when you look at the painting, trying to simultaneously hold your ears and your nose, it should repeatedly poke you with a sharp stick.
I left out the sense of taste, because I am sure if you licked it, it would taste terrible.

Just recently I read on one of the art news sites that this former museum director, recipient of this "painting", has decided to selflessly donate this portrait of himself to the museum.

Re-gifting at it's finest.

Metcalf Explosion

My good friend Carl Samson had two paintings accepted into the Lexington Art Leagues show on the Nude. Carl, Clem Robins and I drove down to Lexington for the day. In it's 24th year, this is an international show that now sports a cool name due to sponsorship by an internet provider, QX.net Nude 2010. Carl's paintings were light years better than the rest of the work. So much so, that they really looked out of place.
The show had about 100 pieces I guess. Only seven or eight of them were worth looking at. The rest were either boring, badly executed or just plain offensive. The organizers even had half naked models walking around the event painted with body paint to add to the overall coolness. Really classed up the joint. I may seem odd, but it made me uncomfortable to look at paintings standing near a guy in his underwear.
It was held in a wonderful old Lexington mansion that looked like a castle. Plus it had an open bar, so I was happy- eventually after a few.

Me, Carl and Clem standing with a lovely Julien Dupr'e painting.

The highlight of the day was going to the Museum at the University of Kentucky before the opening. This museum has a small but impressive collection. A show of contemporary English painters were being installed, so some of the permanent collection was in storage- including some Willard Metcalf paintings.
Carl called ahead to make sure we could get a look at them. It was a wonderful experience that had a lot to do with the museums registrar, Barbara Lovejoy. She was very knowledgeable and helpful with all of our questions. She just kept dragging out more stuff for us to look at- including 3 of his sketchbooks. My head almost exploded from the experience. Metcalf is in my not so humble opinion, the greatest Landscape painter in American art history. If you don't know about him, then you had better start reading. There are some good articles about Metcalf on the Stapelton Kearns blog. The Spanierman Gallery is has produced some books on Metcalf and is working on a catalog raisonne' (that is French for Big Ass Catalog).

Barbara let me shoot photos so I will post some of them here.
WILLARD LEROY METCALF (American, 1858-1925) Giverny, 1887 Oil on canvas 26 x 32 1/8” Bequest of Addison M. Metcalf 1984.19.10

Clem brought a copy of the painting he had done from a reproduction. Despite being pretty faithful to the reproduction, his painting was the wrong key and color. The original looked to be a different painting. It was definite proof as to how off any reproduction of a painting can be, in almost every way. There is nothing quite like seeing the original. If you looked at the reproduction and the actually painting together, you would say they had different centers of interest. Looking at the original, the barn or house was a major part of the focal point. In the reproduction the trees that form the V in the center are the definite choice, the barn sort of blending in with the background.
So keep in mind you can't trust these photos either. Not to mention I had my camera on the wrong setting, so I did some photoshop adjustments to these.

A few details of the painting.

Above photo is a bit purple. This barn was painted with piles of paint.This corner was stunning. It was interesting to see how thoroughly he studied and carved out that line of the shadow on the ground. He designed the heck out of it.

Here is a later Metcalf done about a year before he died. It definitely seems as though it was painted in one session. Not much fussing around. Painted by a confident man, after years of working before nature, quickly and directly. It has a much higher key, than the earlier work.

A close up view shows how much paint was applied to the canvas. We were surprised to see such thick paint in the background snow areas. Normally you would try to keep texture down in areas meant to recede.

This is a painting I was surprised to see. It is a work done very early by Metcalf shortly after being a student. It was roughly 24" x 18".
This is a watercolor Metcalf painted of his wife. A real charming piece of work.
It was about 12 x 9.

Next are a bunch of shots three of his sketchbooks. They were small, pocket sized books, with some interesting little sketches in them. It included notes and even some grocery lists.
First are some wonderfully sensitive pen and ink tree studies.

A lot of these sketches seemed to be a list of paintings that were already done, maybe sketches of them preparing for a show. They were numbered and had specific sizes. Titles were given and sometimes crossed off and changed. It is pretty interesting to see what he considered to be the important elements of the composition. These little sketches are much like what I suggest students do in their sketchbooks before committing to paint.




Below he listed some paintings he had sold. Including Goose Girl for $300. (He did at least two goose girl paintings, but both are worth a little more than $300 now)He spent some time in New Mexico and Arizona in the early 1880's. These sketches are from Chihuahua, Mexico.
Please note, that is my hand touching the Metcalf sketchbook. I have yet to notice if any of the magic has worn off on me.
The above image was a lovely charcoal. Sorry about the blurry photo.


This final sketchbook only had two portraits of a young child and a landscape sketch.


There were folders on Metcalf with letters and photos. Some I had seen in books on Metcalf. There was not time to go through all of it, but there is a serious amount of information here.

Finally I thought I would end with a photo I took of Clem Robins. I told him I wanted to shoot a photo of him with a statue in a park in Lexington. As you can see, he got too close and weirded out the bronze statue. Can't take him anywhere.

Artist of the Month

I was chosen to be Artist of the Month by Artist's Magazine. I was a finalist in their 26th annual painting competition in the still life division for my P, B, & J painting, and out of all the finalists they pick 12 artists for this honor. There is no word yet as to whether or not January will permanently be known as Richard Luschek Month, but I will let you know when I find out.
Click This if you don't believe me.


The magazine is already being flooded with emails and handwritten letters by children who are huge fans of this choice. Please feel free to do the same.
Above you can see a photo of little Kevin Jaffe' posing with his letter enjoying a delicious peanut butter sandwich inspired by my painting. Thank you Kevin.

Richard Luschek, Contemporary Pop Artist.

On Thursday I had the great pleasure of speaking to a lovely group about art. I then did a brief demonstration, painting a little still life I had set up.
The group is called the Welcomers Club. It is a social group of women that introduce new comers to the city to all things Cincinnati. Unfortunately we were hit with a few inches of snow so the crowd was somewhat smaller than expected. I think the talk went pretty well.
The event took place in the gallery of the Woman's Art Club facility in the refurbished Resthaven Barn in Mariemont. The first speaker was Jane McDonald. She discussed the barn and how it has been saved with the help of contributors, the Womans Art Club, grants and lots of hard work. After soup and sandwiches I got up to speak (the fanciest meetings with important speakers always have snacks).

The typical art talk usually involves a lot of touchy feely stuff. Often they are filled with the drivel you find in most art statements in which big words are connected together to make bad art look good and to make gibberish seem intellectual. Words like "Cathartic"or "ambiguity" will appear in there someplace. Please, if you are writing an art statement, don't use those words.

I decided to have some fun and do something a bit more controversial. Plus, I thought it would be more entertaining and I like to entertain.
Since I was riding high after winning the Golden Reader Award for my "hilarious" performance of one of my blog posts, I thought I would adjust it a bit and read it again for this group. I won't bore you with the entire reading but I will give you taste.
Keep in mind I am just posting notes from my speech, I did elaborate a bit adding much charm and handsomeness.

Normal “art talks” are much concerned with ‘expression’ and ‘freedom’ and ‘happy accidents’ and ‘love’.

I do believe in all of those.... except for the idea of the “happy accident”, however, these ideas in the wrong hands have led to what I believe to be the complete degradation of the art world for the past 100 or so years.

People get nervous when the discussion moves towards politics or religion even though they are often the most interesting topics. I personally get nervous when the discussion moves toward art.

When it comes to art, I am religiously political.

Of course, everyone has their opinion, everyone has their own taste, but in my opinion a lot of people have very bad taste.

My grandmother loves Thomas Kinkade. Some people enjoy going to the Contemporary art museum to oggle a piece in the gallery that is just a box of potatoes with a fancy title. To my eye, neither are good art. I don’t even think it is art.

Kinkade gives me cavities and I prefer my potatoes mashed or fried.

So, let me begin with a reading from my blog. It is a critique of some modern paintings.

Confronted by BS (click on the title to be directed to the original post)
pause for laughter, fainting or thrown tomatoes.

Let me cover just a few points to conclude. I could talk for hours on this topic.

Today, many terms associated with art have lost all meaning. Artist, Art, Drawing.

At subway you are a sandwich artist.

"Did you see the Monkey that draws?"

Assembling lunch meat does not make you an artist, random scribbles are not drawing.

Fine art is not Unlanguaged! It has a set of defined parameters. Admittedly, exciting things can happen when those parameters are pushed or the rules are broken, but there are rules.

If there are rules, then that means that one can learn those rules.

Talent is hugely overrated. It may involve some genetics, a touch of environment, but mostly I would say it is “Interest”. Painters are not born, they are created.

There is no real mystery to it, there are no secrets of the masters. The only reason we do not see contemporary Da Vincis or Michelangelos has more to do with lack of good training than some hokus pokus divine intervention.

When Duveneck taught at the Art Academy, teachers were all masters of their craft, all taught in the same way, each offered differing interpretations of basically the same information. If one worked hard, and listened, one would probably become a painter. It was not an "art" school as much as it was a school of Drawing and Painting. Most great artists were specialist. “Landscape painters, Portrait artists, Sculptors”. Now art students are bounced around from ceramics, to abstract painting, to figure drawing to basket weaving. They become a jack of all trades; master of nothing.

"Art" is not something you can teach, but you can teach someone how to draw. Painting is a visual language that can be learned.

For me, this is an exciting time. Years ago, when I was struggling to get the information I needed to paint, it was difficult to find a teacher. Now realism and beauty in art are rising out of the ashes. Great studio schools are popping up, great painters and teachers can be found in most major cities. This is wonderful new beginning for the arts.

It is my hope to open a school much like the one in which I studied. It would be a great pleasure to pass on what I have learned to a new crop of Cincinnati painters.

If we can return to a recognizable and universal artistic language, use new technologies, and take advantage of easy access to information, tomorrows artists will push painting in directions we never dreamed of.

So, how did it go over? Pretty well. I think most people appreciate being told the truth. I think people like it when someone finally says, "Hey! The emperor ain't got no clothes on!"
Must admit, I was a bit worried I would offend. I mean some people actually like modern art.

In the end it seems I only ruffled one person's feathers.
She even warned me ahead of time. She said "Just to warn you, there is an "artist" in the crowd"- as if she knew she was going to disagree with what I was about to say.

After I finished my speech, I asked if anyone had questions. Sure enough, someone asked about Picasso, saying, "Despite what he is know for, he was able to draw like the masters wasn't he?" (Why does he always come up? I wonder if his estate get money every time his name is mentioned?).
Anyway, I let loose that his artistic abilities have been greatly exaggerated. His 'realistic' student work was mediocre at best. Rather than paint a picture of a beautiful woman, he decided it was best to destroy them visually in his paintings- he also did a fine job destroying them in his relationships too- If I could say anything nice about him- he was brilliant salesman.
This was too much, and the hand of the "artist" in the crowd shot up. She asked why I felt the need to speak ill of other artists.

My answer was, and is, "Why not?"
We can say a movie sucks, a sports team is terrible, even that someone singing their heart out is painful to listen to. Right? The general public love watching no-talent hacks being torn apart on American Idol.
But, If someone says that "art" or an "artist" is bad, uninspired, ridiculous or confusing, there will be a hoard of "artists", gallery directors and fancy art critics coming to the rescue proclaiming that you have no right to your uninformed opinion.

After some more back and forth, she pointed at my Peanut Butter and Jelly painting hanging on the wall and shouted out, "You're a Pop Artist. You are a Pop Artist.......accept it!"

I sort of ignored that and moved on to my painting demonstration.
Now I would like to go on record to let you know why it was a silly statement. Pop Art is not what I do, even if you try to shoe horn me into it for insult inducing reasons. Admittedly, I occasionally paint known commercial products, but I put them in a context. My Peanut Butter and Jelly Painting is a scene of a childhood memory; a modern interpretation of the grand "banquet pieces" from the Dutch Golden Age of Painting . Pop Art takes these objects out of context and presents them alone. There is no story, there is no meaning other than "look at this! It's a Campbells® Soup can!"
I did think of some great comebacks on my drive home. For example: "Na uh, you're a Pop Artist!"
Oh well, next time.

You should learn something!

Happy New Year Everyone!
Can you think of a better resolution for the New Year than to improve yourself?
Is one of your resolutions to take classes with some amazing teacher to improve your painting? Maybe you decided that this is the year to spend more time with a scruffy but lovable curmudgeon.

Well, if you decide to take my class, you could satisfy all of those resolutions. It just so happens that I am offering a class in Oil Painting this winter at the Woman's Art Club. The class is filling up, so let me know soon.
I am showing this still life since it ties in with two of my resolutions- To paint more doughnut pictures, while eating less doughnuts.

Oil Painting Still Life with Me [Thursdays, January 14 - March 18, from 6:30pm to9:30pm]: A beginning painting course where the students will not only begin with the very basics of painting but will begin to learn how to see and study nature.The Student's own work is the forum for inculcating this knowledge through verbal instruction, demonstrations and hands-on critiques.
Focus of class is to provide introduction to principles of oil painting and its application in the design and rendering of still life.
Some points that will be covered in the class:
i. the conception of a visual idea for a painting
ii. arrangement and organization of values, hues and chromas
iii. the execution of a coherent, helpful charcoal drawing with which to compose the stuff within the picture frame.
iv. the execution of a lay-in or start in oil
v. what to consider while pressing on towards the finish
There will also be plenty of suggested reading.
Please contact me for a full supply list. Cost of the class is $250, ($50 deposit will hold your spot) ; supplies are the student’s responsibility. Limited to 11 students. Located in at the Woman's Art Club and Cultural Art Center, 6980 Cambridge Ave. in Mariemont, Ohio,

More info @ 513-479-3322, richard_luschek@yahoo.com, & http://www.richardluschek.com/.

Here is an action shot of me doing a demonstration for a class.

Guest Editorial

I am trying something a bit different in this post. My "friend" Clem Robins asked if he could do a guest editorial on my blog. It is written in response to one of my posts about my death.

So, just to make things more official:
Any views or opinions expressed in interviews or commentary are those of the guest writer and do not represent the views or opinions of the owner of this blog.

No Praise for the Dead
A Guest Editorial by Clem Robins

Mr. Luschek fancies himself a connoisseur of the fine arts, and writes glowingly about the painters he admires. Metcalf, DeCamp, Sargent, Weiss, Twatchman, Blum, Sisley and others seem to comprise Luschek’s pantheon of artistic merit. He is, of course, welcome to his opinions. Far be it from me to call his taste into question, or his prejudices. But his heroes clearly have just one thing in common, and if no one else has the courage to mention it, I have no choice but to do so myself, and let the chips fall where they may.
To a man, Luschek’s “great masters” are all dead.
Is this mere coincidence? I submit to you that it is not. Along with so many, Mr. Luschek seems to favor the dead over the living. In so doing he falls victim to a cultural prejudice which is rampant in the western world.
Call me an iconoclast, but I don’t like dead people. At the root of every tragedy in world history, you’ll find them at the helm. Hitler is dead. Atilla the Hun is dead. Saddam Hussein is dead. The apologists for the dead would have you believe that this is mere coincidence. It is my hope that they have underestimated the living. It is my hope that enough of us will take a stand.
Perhaps you have never given much thought to how completely the dead have taken over this nation. Please permit me to offer a few facts, which can be verified to your own satisfaction if you are willing to take the time. Believe me, their influence in all spheres of culture is as nefarious as it is widespread.
For example, exactly how much of our current economic malaise can be traced to the dead is an open question, but it’s clear that the dead laid the foundation for it. For example, many left-of-center pundits believe that rampant free market capitalism brought about the housing bubble and subsequent calamity; few of these are willing to note that the proponents of this system, from Adam Smith and de Tocqueville to William F. Buckley and Milton Freeman, are all dead. Other experts blame drastic government intrusion into the markets for the downturn, but they seem timid about mentioning that the architects of such intervention — Engals, Keynes, Veblein, Galbraith and on and on, ad nauseum, are just as dead as their supposed arch enemies. No matter how you look at it, if times are tight, you can blame the dead. Their culpability takes more concrete forms, as well. In a time of urban sprawl, the dead insist upon residing in the choicest open land in America’s cities, and in so doing drive up real estate prices to stratospheric levels.
Jittery about socialized health care? Perhaps you should take up the issue with the seven-term Senator who championed the cause for decades. Oh, wait. You can’t talk to him. He’s dead.
As obvious as these points may seem, just try and espouse them and see how far you get. The major media refuses to permit an honest airing of these ideas, and this should be no surprise. Adolph Ochs, Henry Luce, David Sarnoff, Bill Paley and others who built the print, radio and television empires which engineer what passes for news reporting in America, are all dead. In a nation whose Constitution enshrines freedom of speech as an unalienable right, the dead still make sure that the truth about them is ruthlessly suppressed.
Such repression even runs rampant in simple conversation. Expressions like “don’t speak ill of the dead” pass for politeness among people who never stop and consider that these expressions were all authored by dead people. What other protected class in America is given such immunity from criticism?
For my part, although mine may be a voice crying in the wilderness, I will not hesitate to speak ill of them. It takes courage to do so, but perhaps if enough courageous voices are heard, the dead can be defeated. All it takes for the dead to triumph is for living men to do nothing.
The dead ask much, and give little or nothing in return. They pay no income taxes. They produce no goods or services. And at a point in their existence when they have much wisdom born of experience to offer the rest of us, they remain curiously silent. Perhaps they are simply content to stand by while the civilization they have built is reduced to shambles.
Prejudice is prejudice, no matter how sanitized its image. Why do the dead get a pass from simple rules of honesty or courtesy? Why are the few fearless champions of sanity, such as myself, written off as crackpots, or called names, as if the cry of “necrophobe” is sufficient to end all debate?
As the 2010 elections approach, I urge all patriotic Americans to grill the candidates on their positions regarding the dead. This is a strictly nonpartisan issue. Remember, all the major political parties were founded by dead people. If we, and our elected representatives, can’t muster the courage to stand up to the dead, the time will soon come when we will all join them. The issue is that critical, and the time is now. In the words of Patrick Henry, “Give me liberty, and repeal all special privileges for the dead!”
Yes, let Luschek ramble on about his idols, but one thing is for sure: when a Chase or a Garber is sold, neither man is asked to surrender fifty percent of the purchase price to a gallery owner, like the rest of us.
Think about it.

Clem Robins is a Cincinnati based illustrator. His book “The Art of Figure Drawing” was published in 2002 by North Light Books, has been translated into Chinese, Spanish, French and German, and it is one of the few how-to books on the subject not authored by a dead man. When you purchase your copy, please be assured that not one penny of the royalties will go to the dead.

Winner of the Coveted Golden Reader Award

I will try to add some new posts soon about art, the history of art, the making of art, or some criticism of art- something that is about more than just how totally awesome I am!
I know I have been posting a lot about winning stuff, getting in magazines, and just generally being pretty amazing- but really it has been a pretty good fall.

Well, I have another big award to announce-
The Golden Reader Award!

Here I am in Clem's living room after receiving the award from the previous
winner Janet (on the right). Clem is the one looking envious on the left.

Clem Robins, a fellow painter friend of mine every so often has a reading party. I suppose the main goal of this party is to get folks together to read their own writings, or any literature that they enjoy, and then do their best to entertain and have fun. The contest is secondary really.

Who am I kidding? It is all about winning!
Did I mention it yet? I won.

The basic rules are as follows:
You get 90 seconds to set up your reading, and then three minutes to do the actually reading. At the end of the evening, everyone votes in a secret ballot on their favorite reading of the night. The votes are counted and the winner is announced. If you win, not only do you get the large tastefully spray painted gold plastic sculpture, you get ten full minutes reading privileges at the next party. More time to impress and entertain. Plus it is a chance to hold on to the statue. Though I must point out that no one has ever repeated and won with their ten minutes.

There was a nice mix of readings, ranging from 13th century poetry from Afghanistan to an article from the National Lampoon. Some wonderful stuff was read, and some of it was read brilliantly.
I decided to go with my favorite piece from this blog. It was the blog post from last year called Confronted by BS. I had to adjust it a bit to be able to finish it in 3 minutes- which is not easy, but I had an advantage of practically having the thing memorized.

I hate to end on a negative, but as Clem was nice enough to send some photos of the evening, there was one thing I thought I should mention. I discovered something pretty disturbing in the following photo. If you notice on the left of the photo, Clem's wife Lisa is looking at me as if she were wishing for my violent death. Now both Lisa and Clem did some fine readings, but I beat them fair and square. Click on the photo for a real good look.
Scary stuff really. I made some subtle adjustments in photoshop adding the heat and smoke coming out of the top of her head. In being totally awesome, one never means to negatively affect another person. I suppose it is something I am going to have to get used to----having people be jealous of my greatness.
All I can do is wish her luck for the next reading party. If I can offer some advice, I think you just need some intestinal fortitude and hard work to win something like this- It might also help if she reads a post from this blog.