Page 45 - Studio International - September 1966
P. 45
On figuration and the narrative in art
Lowell Nesbitt imagination. What and why—my speculation as the spec-
Boston staircase 1965 tator is not the same as the artist's. (Nor, in my picture,
Oil on canvas
80 x 60 in. is my speculation the same as the spectator's.)
I detest the condescension towards the 'theatrical' by
critics who know nothing of the theatre. Usually they
mean flashy. What I mean is the broken chord-string in
Chekhov; you have this real situation in a real place in
real daylight and then you have this sudden inexplicable
sound. The imagination vaults. The equivalent of this
extension of the imagination in painting is to my mind as
important as the extension of technique and formal lan-
guage. The attempts to make painting independent of its
a occasion have succeeded in extending merely its reper-
tory. It is the expressive possibilities of the imagination
which need to be extended.
Leather boy in a field is a real place but an imaginary boy.
The form of his outfit is made by pale highlights. To the
spectator perhaps both the boy and the field will seem
real, or perhaps neither. In this play you have the scene
and the character but no dialogue. It is this other
dimension, this gap which can be filled only by the spec-
tator's imagination. You can ask why and what, but he
can't tell you. q
Norman Toynton
One of the points brought up at the ICA at a discussion
of this subject was that most works or images, in one way
or another, could be read in a narrative way. The artist
mentioned in this connexion was Georges Mathieu. This
Norman Toynton
The figure in limbo 1965 aspect of narrative I do not wish to expand on, only as
Oil on canvas much as to say that a sequence of forms and images
29 x 29 in.
related to one another are bound to be narrative, just as
1 is to 2. Saying that, I will describe what the terms
`narrative' and 'figurative' imply to me.
Narrative implies a great deal more than I have sug-
gested. In many ways I do not see a great difference
(visually) between the two words—narrative and figura-
tive. One seems to suggest the other. If I start with a
figurative motif within a particular area of the canvas,
which has come about through an interest in certain
sources (i.e. personal experience or some item of litera-
ture), whatever else is put next to that image immediately
suggests a narrative sequence—it is already in the process
of relating a story told in picture form. It is also reflecting,
or attempting to refer to, external things, things beyond
the edge of the restricted area one is working on.
It is with this attitude that I see the difference between
art that is evocative of figuration as opposed to pure
formal painting. Whereas figuration deals with elements
taken from sources directly external to the painted area,
beyond the edge of the canvas, formal painting deals
solely with the problem of juxtaposing forms within the
given area, and involves the absolute acceptance of the
surface and its limits. Therefore, if we accept the premise
that all the imagery on the canvas refers to external things,
the canvas itself is of no vast importance. It is no more
than just a surface to paint on. The painting becomes a
kind of excuse. There is no feeling of excitement, of going
to a canvas as a sacred, holy surface; it is just something
to work on. I see it as a writer who doesn't have a
particular preference for what kind of paper he writes on,
as long as he has something to write on. Just as a story in
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