Art and Immigration

As an immigrant first to Europe and then to the United States, I cannot help but feel sympathy and empathy for immigrants, be they forced or voluntary. Uprooting yourself from your home surroundings takes courage, energy and faith in the future. I have, however, also realised that I am fortunate to have become a de facto citizen of the world, just as my mother and grandmother did before me, on different continents.  That state makes life infinitely more interesting.

Klotho Series 3 - Ethel Patricia Wright (my mother) - Yokohama earthquake to Africa,  silverpoint, Jeannine Cook artist

African Memories II - silverpoint-watercolour-foil, Jeannine Cook artist

As an artist, it also makes for complex influences that, willy nilly, show up in one's work. (Above, African Memories II). I think back to an interesting statement that Luisa Rabbiamade during her time as Artist in Residence at the Isabella Gardiner Museum, Boston. Talking during an interview reported in Art in America in June/July 2009, she mused, "In the past couple of years, I have been thinking about roots and the idea of carrying yourself as you travel. It is one thing to be the immigrant (to New York) and another to see others immigrating (to Italy). It gives you two points of view."

Mindful of the charged discussions swirling in the United States, all over Europe and even in places like Israel today, I feel that it is indeed true about the two points of view. But it is also true that in all the arts, cross fertilisation between cultures is enriching and stimulating. Each immigrant-artist brings to the new setting a heritage from which to draw inspiration, the sustaining roots that allow fresh growth in the adoptive surroundings. This country, for example, has seen enormous artistic diversity, thanks to immigrants. Think of John J. Audubon (from Santo Domingo), Willem deKoonig(from Holland), Arshile Gorky (from Armenia), ShirinNeshat(from Iran), CaiGuo-Qiang (from China), Louise Nevelson (from Russia) or Claes Oldenburg (from Sweden) as random examples.

Personally, I find myself drawing on my past roots as well as trying to absorb the world around me for my art. It depends on the moment, but there will suddenly be a stream that bubbles up, from some bye gone source far from today's world. That perhaps is one of the magical things about being an artist - one is free to use whatever inspiration or source seems appropriate. Just as with a tree, one's own roots are wide-spreading, branching from the primary root of one's homeland into a myriad secondary roots of other lands one grows to know. Those experiences, shared by countless millions around the world today, are valuable for the immigrants' adoptive lands. It is up to artists to give visual validation to some of these experiences.

Tuning into Drawings

A remark that was made by Andrew Lambirth in the Spectator magazine in mid-April has stayed with me. Writing about a recent exhibit at Tate Modern, Arshile Gorky: A Retrospective, he wrote, "One of the chief pleasures and revelations of this show is the drawings. The five works here, including 'Study for the Liver in the Cock's Comb', are rich enough to merit a couple of hours' study, and yet most people only glance at them en route to the paintings." (my emphasis).

The Plough and the Song, 1947, Arshile Gorky. (Image courtesy of Allen Memorial Art Museum, Oberlin College.)

These cursory glances at drawings en route to paintings in exhibitions make me sad. For many a long year, particularly in the United States, the average person has somehow retained the impression that drawings are very much a second class affair, unworthy of much attention and still less worth acquisition. Since drawing as a medium fell out of fashion during the time when abstract art reigned supreme, it is somewhat understandable. Yet drawing permits a depth of understanding, appreciation and - yes - delight in a viewer willing to pause and really look.

Drawings seldom are as commanding as a painting; their presence is more discreet, more intimate. Yet a drawing is not only a pathway to understanding the artist's paintings, it is also a porthole allowing one to see the artist's inner workings and concerns in the most direct and unadorned fashion. Drawing also allows such an enormous variety of approaches and methods that it makes painting - in oil, acrylic, watercolour, encaustic or egg tempera - seem positively staid. Take Gorky's drawings, with their extraordinary inventiveness of form and use of colour - many of them were the result of numerous repetitions and permutations based on drawings done in the fields and meadows of Virginia on his in-laws' farm. At the other extreme is the delicacy of a silverpoint drawing done by someone such as Koo Schadler, who works in classical media today.

There are - happily - more and more exhibitions of drawings, master drawings for the most part. The public which appreciates drawings is a minority, but a very appreciative and passionate one. Ideally, the task of every artist today is to convey to their supporters and collectors how important drawing is in the artistic process, whether it is a working drawing or a finished one which stands alone. If a viewer understands that a drawing is an "open sesame" to understanding that artist and his or her work, then the whole artistic experience is enriched.

That a drawing merits more than a glance - that's the goal! For each artist and then for each viewer.