Sean Scully, “Wall of Light Beach” (2001). Oil on canvas. 40”× 50”. Private collection. Courtesy the Metropolitan Museum of Art
In Robert Hughes’ The Mona Lisa Curse, there is a thoughtful exchange between Hughes and painter Sean Scully. Their brief conversation touches on many of the distinctions I have been writing about here over the years.
Hughes states his belief that painting is exactly what mass visual media is not—about specific engagement, not general seduction. And that, says Hughes, is its enduring relevance to all of us, how everywhere and at all times there is a world to be reformed by the “darting subtlety and persistent slowness of the painter’s eye.”
The way Scully positions his work is very simple. He sees a polarity that began in the 20th century between “making art that is like everything, and making art that is different from everything.” His work holds to the latter, creating a kind of sanctuary. He wants to make work that is “spiritually informed and powerful.”
These two polarities are in opposition says Scully. Art that is interactive can be striking and dramatic, but that comes at a great cost. Art is a place to to go, not an escape into entertainment.
I liked the way Scully described how paintings work:”The way a painting seems to work in the culture is very slowly and subliminally. It is almost dormant on the wall—you can walk right by and ignore it. But every time you come back to it, it lights up, it reengages.”
Incidentally, Robert Hughes first alerted me to slow art (slow painting and slow musing) with a quote my him that I found several years ago:
What we need more of is slow art: art that holds time as a vase holds water: art that grows out of modes of perception and making whose skill and doggedness make you think and feel; art that isn’t merely sensational, that doesn’t get its message across in ten seconds, that isn’t falsely iconic, that hooks onto something deep-running in our natures. In a word, art that is the very opposite of mass media.
You can view the Hughes/Scully video clip here.
Deborah – I watched this clip earlier and liked it a lot, too. I think there must also be the persistent slowness of the viewer’s eye to return again and again to a painting, always finding a part not quite remembered or amazingly seen for the first time after looking so many times before. This “deep vision” is something I seek in my own work both in the making and in the viewing afterwards.
P.S. I really like Sean Scully’s work a lot. Thanks for posting.
Nancy, that’s it for me too. Thanks for your words.
I wonder — in an era of “continuous partial attention” — how many people will even make or take the time to really look at or into a painting. Visit a museum and watch people race past the art and wonder why they are there. I love how a terrific piece draws you in and you can return to it, but this is becoming increasingly unlikely in a culture of speed and haste, no?
Great phrase–continuous partial attention. Many have written about that issue in regards to novel reading, but less gets spoken about its impact on experiencing art. Thanks so much for this comment.
I had the privilege of seeing a marvelous show of Scully’s work at the Phillips and of hearing him speak about his art. I’m totally drawn to his work, not the least because it so rewards time spent looking, whether the looking is for the first time for a long time or repeated viewing.
mmm vpleased to find your blog, a place to savour painting is to be savoured itself! I walk very quickly through galleries – until I find a piece I want to study, then I’ll spend 40mins with it, so don’t assume everyone is ignoring ALL the art, they may be rushing to a favourite! I will spend a long,long time with an Agnes Martin, and to be honest am glad lots walk by quickly, they don’t block my view…
[…] I came across this post recently, it reminded me (by contrast) of my experience at Yorkshire Sculpture Park, of momentarily not knowing the difference between art and non-art. some of this was arguably “art like everything”. Here Scully argues for an art “different to everything” Sean Scully, “Wall of Light Beach” (2001). Oil on canvas. 40”× 50”. Private collection. Courtesy the Metropolitan Museum of Art In Robert Hughes’ The Mona Lisa Curse, there is a thoughtful exchange between Hughes and painter Sean Scully. Their brief conversation touches on many of the distinctions I have been writing about here over the years. Hughes states his belief that painting is exactly what mass visual media is not—about specific engagem … Read More […]