Jillian Steinhauer nails it in an article posted yesterday at Hyperallergic, titled "Georg Baselitz Is a Sexist Grump."

Steinhauer's article is in response to another article (article within an article within an article...). Georg Baselitz is a successful 75 year old German painter interviewed by der Spiegel, credited in the article's introduction as "one of the world's most important painters." And, in the somewhat stereotypical fashion of a cantankerous old white guy, he spends most of the interview grumbling about museums and the media (because they don't give him enough attention, you see) and proclaims that in the art world, "women simply don't pass the test,"

and (drum roll please),

"Women don't paint very well. It's a fact."

Despite hearing this before, I still found  myself shaking my head, then chuckling in solidarity when reading Jillian's deliciously satirical introduction:

All it takes is a quick run through art history to see the imbalance between the success of male and female artists, particularly in painting. While there are several exemplars (Elizabeth Murray, Helen Frankenthaler, Elaine de Kooning, Jenny Saville, Judith Godwin, Joan Mitchell, Agnes Martin, Lee Krasner, Anne Truitt, Paula Modersohn-Becker, and to go even further back, Artemisia Gentileschi--remember the scene of Judith Slaying Holofernes? You go, grrl) it is an undeniable truth that despite their accomplishments, women painters are rarely given the same recognition as men. Their paintings are sold or auctioned for much less, and to obtain a solo show as a woman? Probably a much easier task if she were not a she.

Baselitz comments that it's because women lack a "necessary brutality."

Oh, come off it.

Some delightful Tweeted responses to the interview are included in the Hyperallergic article, bringing many valid points to the table, particularly how the art world seems to reward this type of macho, attention-seeking pissing contest. Steinhauer wraps it up by saying, "All I can think of to really deal with Baselitz and his idiotic comments is to  ignore him," and she's right.

Here's hoping that we can continue to prove such mindsets wrong, to others and to ourselves. Women, keep creating.

As I continue to revise my artist statement (because it has certainly gathered some dust since graduation), this article at HelloGiggles came at a perfect time.

I admit to often letting unnecessary words, usually "artspeak," clog the statements of intention behind a piece or a series. It's a habit I am determined to break. The goal is not to impress or mimic others, the goal is to communicate- in a firm and sturdy way- why and how I made the artistic choices I did and how this is important to me.

As much as I love to ramble, my artist statement isn't the place to do it.

How do you feel about artist statements? What should they include?

Another thing to work on in the new year: I might be a little behind when it comes to keeping up with current art criticism. I just read an article by Sharon L. Butler titled ABSTRACT PAINTING: The New Casualists published over at The Brooklyn Rail website in 2011 (wow, Megan). Regardless, it has done a phenomenal job of throwing a big ol' wrench in the way I look at and respond to contemporary paintings. Admittedly, I do not instantly cozy up to such wrenches, but after a few rounds I am seeing how necessary and well-timed it all is, and if you create things, any thing: paintings, drawings, photographs, sculptures, musical compositions, the written word, etc, you should give this article some time, too.

It begins by discussing abstract art and its pioneers in the 20th century, mentioning the philosophies of Cubists, Abstract Expressionists, and Minimalists in particular, saying "in the competitive maelstrom of 20th century art, those philosophies became dogmas, and the dogmas outright manifestos. In the new century, many abstract painters are saying goodbye to all that didactic thinking and exuding a kind of calculated tentativeness."

I'm not going to summarize the thing, because it's really worth your time, but it essentially discusses how contemporary abstraction in particular now displays (or it did in 2011, anyway) an overall concern with the imperfect and the "not-quite-right," and many contemporary artists are abandoning the structures and strategies taught in art school for more "playful, unpredictable encounters." Butler writes that the things artists are taught in 2D foundation courses are now being reassessed in order to discover "unexpected outcomes over handsome results."

And this is what caught my attention.

I have been asked by those who are not painters, "Is that a good painting?" as they point to complex and confusing canvases. Often I do not know how to respond, other than by asking them how they define "good painting," and by doing so they end up answering their own question based on their own criteria. (Either that or I ask, "Is it copping out to say it's all relative?" Commence friends' eye-rolling.) Suffice it to say I would like to revisit those paintings and respond to their question again as a do-over, keeping this article in mind and looking at the works with fresh eyes and a new perspective. Things I have been taught to avoid as a "fine" painter-- visible staples on the canvas edge, drastically- thinned paint, awkward or messy compositions, or even leaving a work incomplete-- are now acceptable, even relevant.

I have a lot of thinking to do.

This leads to a broader question about art in general. What makes it "good" and what doesn't? If you are an artist, what kinds of criteria do you keep for your work? Sharon Butler writes, "If the viewer leaves a show of their paintings agitated by their abrupt shifts, their crosscurrents, and their purposeful lack of formal cohesion, the work has  succeeded. " How do you decide when your work has succeeded?

Allow me to begin by saying that I could not have asked for better weather on a Monday. It rained most of the day, and when it wasn’t falling from the sky, water was so heavy in the air that I still found myself with damp hair despite the brief absence of raindrops. Usually, I would chime in with the crowd of whiners that clog my Facebook newsfeed: “Ugh this weather, ugh it’s Monday, ugh my life,” mentally adding my own list of grievances. But as I woke up and slowly prepared for my only day off, I realized that I had to make it count. Yes, days like today are good for so many things-- continuous cups of tea, installing exhibitions, power napping, keeping the Thickfreakness album on repeat (all of which I did)-- but they are particularly perfect when it comes to squeezing some creative juices. I’m talking about logging hours covered  in pastel dust, folks.

Work in progress. Watercolor, charcoal, and pastel.

I love being an intern here. That is all.