Painting history, painting‘abandonment’
Perhaps I will begin this piece by briefly unthreading the term ‘historic art’ because any painting capturing a contemporary event or moment in time, could in time, become labelled as historic art. This of course will be determined by those in future times.
The etymology of the noun ‘history’ derives from the Greek historia meaning ‘inquiry, narrative or account thereof’. Coupled with art, we can easily deduce that the term refers to pictorial accounts of important events.
Over many centuries, historic art was a significant and lucrative, yet probably onerous task, entrusted to innumerable skilled painters and illustrators. Obviously the majority of these painters rarely enjoyed first-hand observations and would have relied solely upon the contemporary accounts of others. With what accuracy these painterly chronicles can be held with any authenticity however is questionable, primarily due to the human propensity for interpretation, an impenetrable tapestry of cognitive biases, neurotic beliefs, personal motivations, status, and of course ego both of the artist and commissioner.
Until the advent of photography in the mid-19th century, and at least until the digital age arrived, artists were expected to create an objective frame of historical reference that was broadly recognised as truthful, albeit one often embellished with heroism for added weight and grandeur.
If we look at Théodore Géricault’s ‘Raft of the Medusa’ painted in 1819, it was originally seen as controversial and harrowing due to its gruesome narrative of death and survival at sea. Obviously the 27-year-old Gericault was not on the raft, not treading water, nor indeed anywhere near the ocean upon which this calamitous event took place. He would have relied exclusively on written accounts and general hearsay. Surely then, it was purely the imagination of this young and extraordinarily talented painter that created the vision from which his now familiar painting finally emerged.
Raft of the Medusa - Théodore Géricault 1819
I posit that we cannot truthfully observe life objectively anyway, and that all observation is built on a foundation of subjectivity. The oft used quote by 19th century anthropologist John Lubbock “What we see depends mainly on what we look for” is at the heart of all human observation.
So, within this context, any art created today could potentially become tomorrow’s cache of historic art works, but who actually determines this title, I cannot say. They might not even be alive yet.
We appear to live in an increasingly divided, fractured and dangerous global society, and notwithstanding the slow detonation of climate change, that’s for another time, I can think of fewer more divisive events than the unfolding carnage in Gaza.
Those of you familiar with my work, will know that I am primarily known as a neo-impressionist painter of landscapes and light, and to be honest, I rarely deviate from this artistic calling. I am also a sensitive, not in a delicate way, an empath, and emotionally aware of the suffering and plight of others. From my many years as a practicing psychotherapist, I am left with the ability to adeptly compartmentalise the gamut of human emotions and behaviour. This affords me with the ability to remain emotionally ring-fenced and observe reaction, and often hysteria with something of a raised eyebrow.
However, at some critical moment, and one that remains elusive to me, the threshold of a gossamer thin red line must have been breached, for I felt compelled to paint the feeling of anguish that I associated from my observations of the suffering and desolation of the Palestinian people.
There is no doubt in my mind, that part of the catalyst behind the inspiration for ‘Abandonment’ was a recent visit to the Musee D’Orsay in Paris, where my creative passion was once again reignited by the genius of Edouard Manet.
Manet was an extraordinary 19th century painter, great friend and supporter of the original French impressionists. He produced many powerful paintings of key historic events like ‘the Execution of Emperor Maximilian’ and was masterful in his direct ‘tache’ (touch) approach and use of muted colours. He once proclaimed, “one must be of one's time and paint what one sees”, although in the 20th and 21st century, I suggest that ‘what we see’ has been subverted by ‘what we feel’.
The execution of Emperor Maximilian by Edouard Manet 1868–69
An actual photograph of the execution illustrates the artistic licence taken by Manet
In ‘Abandonment’, originally titled ‘anguish and apathy’, until my good friend and fellow artist Anne Tilby suggested the adoption of a single word, I wanted to paint a universal truth that applies to all humans regardless of colour, culture or creed. In a sense, the central character, whilst readily observable as a Palestinian woman, is a metaphor for all people. And surely in the same way that we all declared ‘Je Suis Charlie’ in 2015, today we are all Palestinian?
If you are interested, this is what “I am Palestinian” looks like: أنا فلسطيني just don’t ask me to pronounce it.
The great existentialist philosopher, Jean-Paul Sartre once said “What would happen if everyone did what I am doing? The only way to evade that disturbing thought is through some kind of bad faith”.
Indoctrinated faith is of course, the catalyst at the heart of this unfolding brutality.
The motif of a single isolated woman, grimacing and twisting, hands cradling her head which perhaps faintly echoes ‘The scream’ by Edward Munch, is not simply a painting of a solitary woman. She is all of Gaza, she is all of mankind. Her sense of abandonment and isolation against a suffocating inferno represents a metaphor for all of humanity.
Abandonment by Lee Tiller 2024
Sometimes we painters must create art that avoids the necessity for commercial reward and resist the ever-present temptation of ego, and instead, and without becoming too metaphysical, respond to the muse that torments and whispers during the night.
As I write this article sitting in Killarney library, I am listening to the sublime ‘Lark Ascending’ by Sir Vaughan Williams, which whilst based upon the poem by George Meredith, was undoubtedly inspired from his emotional response to his experience of the first world war. I defy anyone to be unaffected by the soaring fluttering beauty of this dreamy composition. You don’t need to be a synesthete to experience this sublime orchestral music in an embroidery of shimmering colour.
When painting ‘Abandonment’ I had a number of very clear objectives together with an overall vision of the final painting. It was never intended to be ‘pretty’ but arresting. The gown worn by the woman is not ‘black’ but chromatic black created by mixing ultramarine blue and burnt sienna. I specifically wanted a comprehensively matt finish so as to absorb as much of the incident light falling on the painting surface wherever it is viewed.
This strong matt effect is achieved by breaking down the oil with solvent, i.e. turpentine, and if you’re a painter, you’ll know that due to the drying affects of oils, this renders the ‘fat over thin’ approach less spontaneous.
This ‘blackness’ is itself the forlorn absence of light and a mechanism that I hope adds to the sense of isolation. There’s a reason why we associate black with death. Actually, within this painting, there is no black paint used straight from the tube anywhere.
The faintest break of smoke-filled blue sky in the top right, provides a glimpse of something better tomorrow, and the inevitable truth that this anguish too will end. For now, she has turned away from any suggestion of hope and peace. No matter how desolate life seems, the secret of winter is that spring always follows.
The brightest and most chromatic area of the painting has been consigned to the region of fire. Rendering fire in oil paint is a challenging light effect to recreate. In a physical sense fire doesn’t exist and is merely oxygen and the release of heat energy from combustible fuel. In the past I’ve attempted to paint the delicate ethereal light effects of a rainbow, unsuccessfully I might add, and whilst fire presents similar challenges, I think in this instance it works.
According to my research, the term ‘abandonment’ reached peak usage in 1936, and we certainly don’t require the deductive powers of Sherlock Holmes to understand why. In this global arena, there are invested enablers on both sides, many apathetic and indifferent to observable human suffering. The influential tolerate and even facilitate the carnage to meet their own rapacious and avaricious needs. This mobius strip of endless irreconcilable religious entrenchment and macabre human behaviour strips us all of our sense of humanity. Our lives are governed by the elite, often psychopaths with guns and bombs, at once uncontrollable, yet ironically always in control.
“When the rich wage war, it is the poor who die” – Jean-Paul Satre
So, I paint my truth. Through my art, I express my understanding and subjective interpretation of the world.
Art is a strange thing. At once it can be a force to be reckoned with, confrontational and challenging, and at other times comforting and uplifting. As an artist I can only satisfy myself that my original vision has been realised, yet I don’t possess the authority to say if something is ‘good’ or worthy or indeed instantly forgettable. That’s a determination delegated to others.
So, who knows where ‘abandonment’ will finally rest. Maybe the painted flames will be consumed by fire itself, burned or possibly buried beneath landfill. Or maybe, hopefully, she will decorate a wall, and serve as a reminder. A fragment of our history committed to display, and a reminder to all, that we are one human family.
“We are all Palestinian” - Lee Tiller
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