[Previous entry: "Alone With Stardust"] [Next entry: "Inverting The Onus"]

09/27/2007: "Lo Studio" by Alberto Sughi

Sometimes the painter’s studio looks like an artisan’s shop where friends as well as clients pay a visit or just come in for a chat. There are days indeed when those visits become almost too many and therefore not much time is left for painting.
This morning I had the coffee break with my art dealer who has come to Rome from Florence to talk about some future work projects. He was still in the studio when the printer arrived with a large folder and the proofs of some new prints of mine. The bell rings again. I go to the door myself and I ask the photographer if he could postpone our appointment till tomorrow. I beg my guests to forgive me but now I have really to go back to my work. But it must certainly be one of these days and I have only just put on my white coat when I hear that Sergio Z. and Renato Z. have just arrived. “Sorry Alberto we are a little bit early”. I let them in and as they take their seats I call my assistant. Please I tell her would you start to clean the brushes and take the canvas off the easel.
I still find the encounters with those friends of mine with whom I share a lifelong friendship very interesting and also useful.
Sometimes our conversations are endless.




“Alberto”, Sergio starts, “the question of knowing how to look, created for Art with a capital A, has not contributed much to its understanding. It has merely celebrated the already famous and accepted the already accepted, allowing no possibility for interference, meaningful additions or subtractions. The art critic’s categorization and the museum system has frozen the communicative aspect in an intangible, sacred, reality, made of exemplary rarities, and so on. Alberto was this the destiny of art? Does it only represent something that has already "occurred", for itself and around itself: in churches, museums, art foundations, private collections, exhibitions? Is it only history?”

I have to admit I agree with Sergio. The questions that this writer and friend of mine arises in fact are the same as those I myself pose, but I am also convinced, and I tell him, that, by now, any explanation is useless. “Nobody is ready to listen Sergio, and the state of things remains the same.”

Renato is pacing up and down in the studio. Now he takes his seat again and says “Alberto, do you know what Mallarmé said about pessimism? "Incredulity is not genius!"

“Mallarmé was right too. Pessimism can only be measured with itself... it has no rivals, and is prone to being renounced. But mine is only disenchantment.”
I can only note that in those many years our conversations have not lost any passion. And before leaving Sergio wants to know if I was reluctant to let go of a painting that doesn't entirely convince me.

To be honest, I tell him, I think I am. I try to work on it, to give it that light that it lacks. It is difficult to let go, to throw away a work that you have devoted days to completing. You tell yourself you have found a way of saving it, so you continue to work on it, and the more you work, the less you know how to detach yourself from it. And then you think that it would have been better to abandon it before, when you felt that something was wrong with it. But by now you have challenged yourself to “sail your painting into the harbour”. It would be better to call it your canvas since, after so many changes, almost nothing has remained of the first version. That harbour, at times, is too far: the painting is sinking, and you with it, when you pick up the paint stripper and delete everything.
But it is never only time wasted. You, the painter, in that unlucky adventure, have used all the resources that your skill had to offer, looked for original solutions, and have thought profoundly about the mystery of pictorial expression, have carried out a ruthless critical analysis of your work. Days of absolute devotion have passed. And, in the end, you have surrendered.
You have destroyed your painting, but you will also have attended a painting course that you have given yourself.

Then the friends leave and the studio gets quiet again. I start to turn off the lights. I stop once more to check the painting at the foot of the easel. And as I look at it I wonder how many paintings I have left under other paintings, and how should I know if they were all to be rejected.

Certainly it has happened more than once, I say to myself, and I don’t know whether I have always acted for the best. Not having the vanished painting to look at any more, I don't have the possibility of making any comparisons. The painting generally vanishes with the increasingly complex modifications that are made and that represent the dialectic relationship between the moment of creation and that in which the painting is analysed. It is like a thread that is unravelling and it makes the vanished image merge with the one that has replaced it. I could then say that the previous versions, the sinopites, in the end tell the history of a single painting.

With all those reflections in the air I think the day in the studio must really have finished now. Instead the telephone rings. A journalist from a daily Roman newspaper introduces himself. He has some quick questions on the art market. I would like to tell him that the studio is closed, that everybody has gone, but I tell him only to try to be quick as possible as I was on the point to leave.

“Without the market, how is the reputation of an artist formed? Who mediates between supply and demand? What is the role of the critic in making, concretely, the connection between the artist and the potential client? Or is good marketing simply enough? “

I try to keep my answer as short as possible. But it’s not easy. It’s late and I am very tired. So I try to say
“ The value of the work of a particular artist is only what the market dictates and it can go up or down just like any other item quoted on the Stock Exchange. So, as sometimes happens on the Stock Exchange, also in the art market, through particular operations, some groups are able to alter the value of certain products. The role of the critic tends, by now, to make the value of an artist coincide with his/her market value.
There are, thank goodness, seriously committed artists who, although almost ignored by the market, still find their own admirers and collectors. By a strange coincidence, these artists are also almost completely ignored by the critics.”

At the other end I hear a bit of silence but then I realise the questions are not over yet.
“Professore. I have one last question for you. What damage or benefit will an artist receive if, out of impatience, sense of freedom or arrogance, he or she refuses to follow the logic of the market?”
“If his value could be measured by a pure measurement of artistic assessment, I reply, it would not suffer any damage. However, since it is not known whether this measurement still exists, or even whether someone continues to believe in that kind of measurement, I think that the artist is more likely to be damaged than to benefit from it. “


“What opinion do you have of your relationship with your dealers?”
“Sorry it is really too late. Now I have to go.”
And I tell him I will try to answer this last question another time.

Alberto Sughi
For more info on Alberto Sughi see. www.albertosughi.com

Replies: 18 Comments

on Wednesday, October 24th, uffizien said

Would you like to discover the secrets and splendours of Florence, heart of the Renaissance? If you would like to walk down its medieval alleys and historical piazzas seeing its antique workshops, the homes of the artists, the basilicas and all the most important churches, then contact us!

on Wednesday, October 3rd, translation said

Response to Andrews
The love of conversation, of knowing how to distinguish that which enriches you from what isn't a part of our [artistic] research, is a quality to be cultivated. Sometimes it's even useful to listen to people with whom you share almost nothing; if it happens that I receive too many compliments from a critic with whom I don't concur about an idea, I understand that I've gone too far from myself, and should look more carefully at the painting on my easel. I remember with pleasure when you came to see me, and the ease with which we understood each other; we spoke of our work with simplicity and a clear intensity. Work well, Alberto

on Wednesday, October 3rd, Mark said

Alberto, I did not mean to critisize. It is just that the public at large already has a distorted view of artists. Most think we linger in out studios working half heartily as people drop by, that we live exciting lives full of the well to do and famous. Truth is, that is a rarity and not the norm. Most of us do not have assistants, or other hanging around to do our bidding (not saying you do). Most of us work alone, some of us who live in out of the way places do not even have many other artists to talk with (this fine with me) nor do we have dealers and buyers waiting for the next painting to be done and sold. Most of us just get buy. Sad perhaps but true. Creating is a life of being alone, but it is not lonely.

on Wednesday, October 3rd, Alberto Sughi said

(Alberto's answer to the comment of Andrews posted on Sept.30/07)
L’amore alla conversazione, sapere distinguere ciò che ci arricchisce rispetto a quello che non può appartenere alla nostra ricerca è una qualità che va coltivata. Alle volte è perfino utile ascoltare persone con le quali non hai quasi niente da condividere; se mi capita di ricevere complimenti eccessivi da parte di qualche critico di cui non condivido il pensiero, capisco che mi sono allontanato da me stesso e che dovrò guardare meglio il quadro che sta sul cavalletto.
Ricordo con piacere quando sei venuto trovarmi e la facilità con cui ci intendevamo; abbiamo parlato del nostro lavoro con semplicità e lucida intensità.
Buon lavoro , Alberto

on Tuesday, October 2nd, ellen said

Alberto-
Sorry I didn't get to write in in a timely manner: too many visitors....I love your blogs!! When my kids were small, my studio was in my dining room. There were paints, easels, etc. all over the house, as well. It was just a natural way for me to live. My parents were appalled by the "mess," but since I lived with my husband and not them, I continued. I thought that one day I would "grow-up" and have an "adult's" house: orderly, decorated, NEAT!! I still have my art in progress all over my house, although I now have 2 studios: one for painting in the vast attic and a photography studio on the second floor. I just incorporate all visitors, including delivery people into my art world. If I truly need to work/concentrate on a project, I go to a studio and shut the door.
Re brush cleaning: I met Yusef Karsh, the fameous photographer from Ottawa several times. Once I told him "Aside from your gigantic talent and genius, I envy you so the 2 men who travel with you to help you." He just smiled....he knew!

on Tuesday, October 2nd, BradMM said

Alberto,
In the old days of tray-processing Silver-Gelatin films and papers - where there were red, and amber lighting fixtures hanging about, and images on exposed paper magically appeared in the developer tray - I always felt it a thrill to share that experience with others. As I moved to the color print processes - developing color papers took place in closed tubes, and the overall experience was only enjoyed most by someone there to understudy. In the studio, as a sculptor, I never allowed company - only co-workers, or fellow sculptors engaged in another process of their own. Generally, sculpture in process, can become very dangerous to an idle bystander - who must also wear protective gear that I may, or may not, have for visitors. I'm not a painter. Painting, drawing, ink and paper work, are much more guest-friendly mediums - which in times, need the company of a model, or the visit of a patron full of curiosity - I imagine... My real reason to comment here, is to express my excitement of seeing this experience of bridging the gap between languages, and how this experiment of translations seems to be strengthening the dialog, and engaging a more communal effort as a result. Salutations!!!

on Tuesday, October 2nd, jose said

Alberto, I agree with what you have said, and I trust that you know that when I voice these strong opinions against the market and the 'establishment' I do not mean that they should be done away with or have no reason to be, I merely wish to emphasize the need for the artist of today to be more aware of the possiblities that are opening up to him, new possibilities that can offer him greater independence and self-confidence in relation to those market forces if he acts wisely. Thank you for taking the time to respond.

on Monday, October 1st, Odette said

Caro Alberto,

Io sono una pittrice messicana. Mi hanno invitato a fare una mostra a Roma nel anno 2003, e grazie a questo ho deciso rinunciare all mio lavoro ed essere 100% pittrice. In quel anno ho visto la tua mostra a San Sepolcro e sei stato per me una fontana d' ispirazione...allora che la mia opera ti piaccia é un onore cosí grande che non ho parole...

on Monday, October 1st, mario said

translations by mario#

replay to comment #3
Odette, I have spoken of the studio that becomes like an artisan shop when we are not able to protect it from the CHATTERING of the world we are immerSed in. The silence helps concentration and reflexion. I agree with you completely, though I don't have your determination and capacity to control who should enter or who should not. I visited your website and I admire your works.
Alberto

replay to comment # 4
Mark I know very well how necessary silence and solitude are for an artist’s work.My blog “lo studio” didn’t want to tell the story of one of my days. It wanted to describe the difficulty, for an artist, to live in the time of the commercialisation of art. This is why I have talked of a studio that resembles an artisan shop, where people come for chatting and where only exceptionally those few friends you want to talk to will come for a visit, a studio where the relationship with the art dealer is often full of illusion and hypocrisy. “Lo studio” is just and only a title. I wanted to talk of a situation that reminds me of a shaker that mixes together what is useful with what is not. The uneasiness of this situation is rooted deeply in me. My blog is a metaphor only.
Alberto

on Monday, October 1st, olivier said

Alberto,
What a nice image of the artist "sailing" a painting to the point of reaching the canvass. Sorry for the illusion of a capital letter isn't it the point to get back to harbor rich of new emotion - full of passion - anger of disapointment? Back like nothing happen? Thanks for the gentle ending, I experienced myself this little smile on the corner from time to time once on the harbor again. Having this little move I will have time now to prospect toward new chalenges.
Art with a capital letter become a world of heroes, where only divinities can access in my sense. On the contrary my dog become an artist if not my monkey. Sane - insane - that seems to always been true in art since the dealers are here to protect the investment of an elite.
My question is in a world of ART, how many are here despite the culture, the historical even the financial aspect to truelly understand?....what seems so understandable for me. And I have to confess I have been a dealer myself with quite some sucess but this is not to be said. I read I read the more I read the more confuse, then I start painting painting again.... Thank you for the sailing , another passion of mine, that will help me having more detachment.
Great Jose! It is really a pleasure to read you, Alberto, in Italian
sincerelly yours

on Monday, October 1st, Andrew said

Translation of responses 1 and 2
1. The relationship an artist shares with a dealer is a different thing than the one they have with a collector.
The dealer decides to have a rapport with a painter when he sees the possibility of making a profit. In fact, he buys to sell. If a dealer is good and believes in his investment, he works to make the artist known through exhibitions and publicity.
Now that the only measure of any commodity's value is the price it brings on the market, art itself has become a prisoner of rules which shouldn't apply to it.
The collector instead, acquires works for anything but this kind of reasoning, rather through admiration of an artist, and in finding a cultural and spiritual resonance with an artist's work, which leads him to support it.
But perhaps you're right, given that real collectors, uninfluenced by the market, are only still around in very small numbers.

2. Markus, if a dealer buys just so he can sell quickly for a modest profit, then certainly he isn't acting in the interest of the artist.

on Monday, October 1st, Alberto Sughi said

no. 4 Mark lo so bene quanto siano necessari il silenzio e la solitudine per il lavoro di un’artista. Il mio blog “lo studio” non volova raccontare una mia giornata , quanto descrivere la difficoltà, per un artista di vivere nel tempo della mercificazione dell’arte; per questo ho parlato di uno studio che assomiglia alla bottega di un artigiano dove si fanno chiacchiere , dove solo eccezionalmente arriva qualche amico con cui hai piacere di parlare, dove il rapporto con il mercante è spesso pieno di illusioni e ipocrisia. “Lo studio” è un titolo e basta. Io volevo parlare di una situazione che sembra un frullatore che rimescola insieme l’utile e l’inutile. Il disagio per questa situazione ha radici profonde dentro di me. Il mio blog è solo un metafora.

on Monday, October 1st, Alberto Sughi said

n. 1
Jose
Il rapporto mercante – artista è un’altra cosa rispetto a quello che si ha con il collezionista.
Il mercante decide di avere un rapporto con il pittore quando individua la possibilità di ricavarne un profitto , infatti compra per vendere. Se è un
mercante bravo e crede nel suo investimento si adopererà per fare conoscere l’opera dell’artista promuovendo mostre e pubblicazioni.
Oggi che l’unico metro che si adopera per misurare il valore di qualsiasi cosa sembra essere quello del prezzo raggiunto nel mercato, l’arte stessa è diventata prigioniera di regole che non dovrebbero appartenerle.
Il collezionista dovrebbe invece acquistare per tutte altre ragioni che sono poi quelle dell’ ammirazione per il lavoro di un artista e delle consonanze culturali e spirituali che lo portano a sostenere il suo lavoro . Ma forse hai ragione tu dato che collezionisti veri, indipendenti dalle indicazioni del mercato, ne rimangono davvero pochi
n. 2
Markus,
Se un mercante compra per rivendere subito accontentandosi di un ricavo sicuro anche se modesto, non fa certamente l’ interesse di un artista.
n.3
Odette, ho parlato dello studio che diventa come una bottega di un artigiano quando non hai saputo tenerlo al riparo dal chiacchiericcio del mondo in cui siamo immersi; il silenzio aiuta la concentrazione e la riflessione. Io sono perfettamente d’accordo con te anche se non possiedo la tua determinazione nel controllare sempre chi deve entrare.
Ho visitato il tuo sito e ho ammirato i tuoi lavori.

(Oggi pomeriggio rispondero’ agli altri due commenti. A dire il vero avevo gia’ risposto ma avendo dimenticato di salvare.... ho perso tutte le ultime due risposte che poi presto verranno tradotte in inglese probabilmente da Mario e Andrews)
Alberto

on Sunday, September 30th, Andrew said

Visitors to the studio are often a very pleasant experience, especially if they enable me to produce more work, to feel their excitement if they are drawn to a piece I have just finished, or if they make a comment that helps me to produce better work. Some of my most profound learning has come in a moment, where another person has enabled me to detatch myself from my inwardness, and see something from the point of view of someone else. There are also many more people who are a waste of time, who don't have the ability to see what I'm trying to do, and are unable to make any contribution whatsoever. There are the young, who often are blind to all but their own vision, or the one they have adopted from an idol, and the mature, who are immovable in the conviction that they have reached full understanding. Those who are mature and full of experience, yet still flexible, are the ones who inspire me. If there is one for every hundred who don't, it's still worth it. The others I learn from, too, if I let myself.

on Saturday, September 29th, Mark said

An assistant to clean brushes and remove a canvas. WOW! I should be so lucky. I clean my own brushes and pallet and handle my own canvas' and would not have it any other way. I niether want nor would like an assistant hanging around. Each to thier own.

Studio visitors? None. I live so far out that the likelyhood of studio/buyers (just passing by) is slim. I like that. My studio is a place for work not visiting, in fact there is only one chair in my studio, mine. Visiting, business, is better taken care of at a coffee shop or office or gallery, that way when I am ready to end the visit I can do so nicely and leave. Each to thier own.

on Friday, September 28th, Odette Farrell said

Alberto it was very rewarding to read you.

I once was in San Sepolcro and I was able to see your paintings and some of them really captured me.

The studio... for me it is my shelter. I don't have phone there and nobody can drop by unless I want it...

Regarding those sinking paintings, I ask myself if they are not maybe a part of us that suddenly reveals to us but that we don't admit it because we don't like it? I also don't keep those paintings, I prefer to destroy them because I don't dare to look at them...why?

on Thursday, September 27th, Markus Kruse said

The ancient dilema of not undercutting your gallery/dealer. There is always the issue of honesty with your gallery. It is not an easy one, of course and many have fallen apart over studio visits/sales. And, in the end everyone gets to hear where the pieces ended up anyway... but i fully understand your need to move the works that way. a double edged sword, if you have a very traditional representation.

on Thursday, September 27th, jose said

Alberto, If possible, which it is not, I would only like to reveal my work to visitors to my studio, the completed ones next to the unfinished ones in their different stages of unfinishedness. After all, it is where we feel most at home. It is there, after a nice long chat and maybe some wine and something to nibble, that I find greatest joy in showing and talking about what I am doing without the spectre of a sale looming in the air – that indescribable tension we encounter come showtime when our need to sell meets with the uncertainty of intent of those who have come to watch. I’m a bad sales-person at those times because, I have come to realize, I don’t do the sales talk – the work is on the wall and it has a price-tag and I talk of other things. For sometime now, Alberto, I have been thinking about whether the time isn’t upon us when we can start to invert the onus – with the help of tools such as the one we are using now – and attract a different kind of audience, a different kind of collector to our work. A time when 'we' don't need to show 'them' but ‘they’ will desire to come and see ‘us’. I am more and more set on going down that lane. I know it is completely utopian and does not fit in with the practices of the times, and most likely the critics will ignore me, but then, they already do [I guess I must belong to that category you mentioned]. What matters to me most is the possibility of such encounters in the studio like the ones you have described here, sooner or later a sale may happen and it will feel good, but the most important is the human element – a true rapport between artist and visitor/buyer, not a superficial encounter and transaction based all too often on the tendencies of the market.