Five paintings by Julia Clift, with commentary

The artist comments on her own position vis-à-vis the Art World:

My recent education with the Norwegian painter Odd Nerdrum set me on a lifetime search for a way to place myself in the art world, as someone invested in traditional, representational painting. For now, despite all my skepticisms of the art world, I still call myself an artist.

A proper education

The sum of my educational experience at a respected art school had seemed to imply the following assertion: art is nothing if not conceptual in some capacity. To prevent a beautiful painting from falling into the category of “just a pretty picture,” its conceptual aspects must be emphasized, either in the mouth of the creator (through artist statements) or of the spectator (through theoretical writings, reviews, and criticisms). Once “concept” is proved to exist in a painting through these prosaic forms, the painting may transcend to “art” from “artisanship;” that is, respectively, something we are encouraged to take seriously, and something that we are not.

This is what I was taught and as a painter I am sympathetic to this view because I see it as an effort to ensure that painting stay relevant in the contemporary art world. How should a painting, especially a representational painting, hold its own amongst the objects of Jeff Koons and Damien Hirst?  “Concept,” as the overwhelming standard of contemporary art, has been adopted by painters to legitimize their works in a redefined art world.

I can’t help but wonder: does a representational, narrative painting really need the accompanying conceptual promises? So often, it seems the “art object” itself becomes obstructed by the elaborate, searching dance it draws out of its spectators, as critics and curators strive to penetrate the object’s meaning. Rather than “discovering” meaning, it often feels more like these voices are responsible for the very construction of the art object’s implications. The delineating power of theoretical writing can rob the art object of its vitality and of the necessity to speak for itself. Furthermore, while I think it’s important to keep representational painting in the art world, I’m not sure if it can really blossom if it must only be appreciated through this conceptual lens. Its natural accessibility separates it from other forms of art; it’s simply not the same thing as “conceptual work,” but it is no less relevant, or thoughtfully wrought. 

In Stavern

Directly after graduating, I went to Stavern, Norway, where I’d arranged to study with the contemporary “old master” Odd Nerdrum. A very large part of being a student of Mr. Nerdrum is simply listening. For weeks, I found this task to be the most difficult, for I couldn’t help but strongly disagree with him; he utterly rejects most traditions the art world has assumed since the time of Clement Greenberg. I have many contentions with the art world, but I still aspire to be a cog, the good cog, in its system…for my canvases to one day take a seat beside those of my heroes.  I dream of contributing good paintings to the art world, while Mr. Nerdrum feels the art world is too far gone, too corrupt to bother with. As he sees it (as do I), traditional, representational painting does not fit into contemporary “art;” it speaks too plainly. Yet rather than defining his canvases as art, he clusters them under the separate headings of artisanship, of “Kitsch,” and glorifies the category as “greater than art.” In placing himself in the art world, or outside it, Mr. Nerdrum ignores the now conventional spectatorial voices.

I’m sympathetic to Mr. Nerdrum’s philosophy. Its roots lie in a sincere belief that painting, freed from the constraints of the art world, can inspire and move people. The purity of his faith in painting, naked of contemporary conceptualism, is compelling. But I still call myself an artist.