Tender Brutalities: Paintings and Installations by Ran Ortner
by: Phillip Barcio on November 18th, 2009 | 5 Comments »
“Life’s beauty is magnificent as it hangs at the edge of death, insisting upon its relevance.” – Ran Ortner
The sea is not art. It is utilitarian and free. It exists with or without us. Although it can be (and is being) altered by human activity, it has no need for us to comprehend it. It will be here after we are gone in whatever manifestation it can muster.
A painting of the sea is different. It is a monument. It is representative. Like any painting, it holds its own meaning beyond the nature of its subject. There are reasons to view a painting of the sea besides just wanting to look at waves.
Open Water No. 24, a painting of the sea by Ran Ortner recently won the $250,000 grand prize at Art Prize, the world’s most lucrative competitive art show.
(To see more of Ran Ortner’s work, visit the Tikkun Daily Art Gallery.)
Is it surprising that a culture that trashes the ocean would pay handsomely for an artist to paint it?
What is it about Ortner’s painting that resonated with the Art Prize voters?
When I view Open Water No. 24, I become overwhelmed by the power, majesty, and massiveness of the sea. It seems inexhaustible. Then I consider the devastated fish populations, the whale species hunted to extinction, the floating Pacific garbage patch the size of Texas, the oil spills, the chemical runoff, the jellyfish population explosion, the genocide of sea turtles by shrimp trawling nets — (I could go on and on and on) — and I acquiesce that the sea is not a giant. It is a hundred trillion pipsqueaks being picked off one by one.
This dichotomy I feel between the generous, nurturing resource the sea could be and the demon we are making it into is what is most powerful to me about Ortner’s work.
Whether the ocean remains a loving mother or becomes a monster, it will retain certain inherent qualities. It will be massive. It will be powerful. It will flow. It will crash. It will run the planet and dictate history by virtue of its sheer size.
Dust to dust is revisionist. The truth is that we were born from the sea, and it can take us whenever it wants.
In his installation work, Ortner continues his exploration of the fragile, unrelenting forces of nature.
By exposing hundreds of pounds of sand to gravity, light and wind, Ortner collaborates with nature in the creation of dynamic microcosms of earthly beauty.
Wind blows dust and gravity holds dust in place and the interplay of shadow and light makes hot spots and cold spots, darkness and light.
This is an art show and a science show in one. Look at the beautiful dust. How much of it gets deposited where, and how much of it is hot or cold, light or dark, is the difference between life and death for creatures like us. Change the wind, alter the light, raise or lower the temperature, and everything else will adjust in turn.
Art Prize has plenty of critics, some of whom have insultingly called the voters and their picks the voices of “low culture.” But as John Steinbeck pointed out, man and “group man” are different organisms (antiquated gendering aside).
As a group, we have a different outlook, different goals, and a different biology than we do as individuals. Our collective agenda is the survival of the group, not the individual.
The group of voters at Art Prize 2009 revered Ran Ortner’s image of the sea as the ultimate example of art at this moment. They held the earth’s ocean to be precious and valuable. Individually we might have each chosen differently. But maybe this is one time when it would be wise to go along with the group.
Visit the Tikkun Daily Art Gallery for more work by Ran Ortner, or visit Ran’s website here.)
I recently heard a convert to Islam describe her experience of Allah as akin to submergence in the ocean. I agree with Phil Barcio that even the great and vast ocean is being “picked off” bit by bit, and yet Ortner’s painting awakens a primal awe. What is tender and brutal at once? The Sublime.
These are impressive paintings. Thanks for the introduction to them.
When at rest, water and sand seem kind and nurturing, inviting us to relax in their embrace. But when stirred to exhibit their horrible might, they become impervious to our attentions and to our very survival. Then we can then only stand in awe of their unrestrainable movements, dwarfed by their inconcievable overpowering expansiveness. Phil, thanks for showing your readers how Ron views and portrays the might of these two natural wonders. Viewing his paintings and exhibits, I am forced to admit that it is only by the seeming indulgence of these majestic forces that I continue to share the planet with them.
I’m reminded by the comments here of how we in the West saw nature not so long ago. In the 18th century, nature was viewed as terrifying. Awe was commanded by nature’s ravenous and destructive nature. That has changed, and in part, that’s positive, because we want to control or destroy that which threatens us. However, in forgetting the vastness and power of nature (whether it be the ocean, the desert, or other natural phenomena), we also forget the humility and expansiveness that it should awaken in us. Humility, because in the face of these vast natural forces, our little problems fade to insignificance, even if they are the problems of the entire human race. And expansiveness, because we are a part of that vast panorama, because, we, too are a part of nature.
This picture reminds me of “SWIMMING IN THE SEA OF TALMUD”. It will help transform a perplexing, overwhelming experience into an enriching, life-enhancing one if we analyze the picture instead of looking at!.
Oh My! Magnificent painting! Yes, it is art, it is the creative interpretation, in oil on canvas, of something much more grand, powerful and alive than any art piece. A painting of the ocean may be masterful but it neither gives, supports or nourishes life. It is like the ashes of an epiphany. To quote Mimi in the opera La Boheme, “but the flowers I embroider have no fragrance, alas!
To call the ocean “utilitarian” underlines the unfortunate human tendency to believe that our reactions to, our discourse about and our memory of reality is more significant than that to which we are reacting. Alas!
Our experience of the wind is not the wind.