I recently joined the European Outsider Art Association   a fairly new organization established in 2009. (Thank you to Nita in Sweden for telling me about it.) Given the lack of dialogue about outsider art in Canada, I was delighted to discover the EOA and find a group of professionals with whom I could explore outsider art issues.

The EOA’s purpose is to strengthen the voice of outsider art by improving intercultural cooperation and dialogue across the European borders. Its objectives are to:

• create a favourable environment for those in this field willing to share experience, exchange good practice and set up partnerships at a transnational level
• collect knowledge and share out information on activities and movements in the international outsider art scene
• contribute to the shaping, development and implementation of national and European policies and legislation
• create a forum for promoting, exploring and debating the history and contemporary state of outsider art
• promote the rights of outsider artists

I will be attending a conference in Heidelberg in May (2013), called Ethical Issues in Outsider Art. The purpose of the gathering is to clarify what constitutes an ethically responsible approach to dealing with artists and artwork in the outsider art field. Because outsider artists are often not able to represent themselves in the art world or the art market, the curator, dealer, or buyer has an obligation to act responsibly.

In the past, psychiatrists typically claimed the work of their patients for themselves. But who actually owns the artwork? In many situations, the answer is not clear.

In speaking with the director of one open studio, I learned that it is common practice for organizations that sponsor the workshops or studios to claim ownership of the artwork produced there. This was described to me as an ethical and moral issue. It’s not just that; it is also a legal issue! Copyright remains with the artist unless and until the artist assigns it to someone else. You can imagine the difficulties that arise when the artists are mentally or intellectually challenged.

I am interested to hear what ownership views are among outsider art professionals, what practices are common, and how they can be standardized (and enforced) to protect outsider artists. I will report back from the conference.

Photos: Gregory Crewdson, August Walla,  Cindy Sherman

Sometimes people ask me about certain outsider artists. They comment that all his/her work looks the same and ask if the artist ever does anything different. I usually comment on the artist’s signature “style” and leave it at that. (But I certainly know what they mean.. some of it does look remarkably alike.)

One of my favourite photographers is Gregory Crewdson, who creates elaborately staged scenes of small town America. I recently saw a documentary about him, called Brief Encounter. When talking about his own work, Crewdson remarks that every artist has one story to tell and he tells it over and over again. The images may be different, but the story is the same.

Is this true?  I decided to watch some interviews with artists that I admire to see what they had to say about the body of their work. Kara Walker was quite explicit about the narrative of her work. Her silhouettes of Deep South slavery scenes are instantly recognizable, but she describes them as being about an exchange of power. And sculptor Kiki Smith describes her work as being about morbidity.  Walker talked about her experience of being an African American female artist and Smith talked about death masks of family members being around the house when she was growing up. It made perfect sense how and why their personal narratives were so integral to their artwork.

This pattern is even more exaggerated in the world of outsider art. I look back to Kuhler’s Roccaterrania where justice is done in his fantasy world. Darger’s children avenge evil adults. Morton Bartlett mourned the absence of children in his solitary life. The artists’ styles are consistent, and little is done to explore other ways to represent that theme. Why is that? Perhaps they are not interested in exploring other techniques. Or maybe it doesn’t matter to them. Their artwork is for themselves, not the public, so there is no need for Kuhler, for example, to find a new way to represent “justice.” The story is of primary importance, not the image.

I can only think of one outsider artist who has explored a variety of artistic methods – August Walla, an artist at Gugging in Austria. He collects and converts trash, he does calligraphy, and he paints. He installs symbols and signs in the landscape, on trees, and on roads. He poses for photographs in different places, with self-produced objects in different places. (Wait a minute, haven’t we heard this before? See photos above.)

What other outsider artists use a variety of techniques and styles in their work?

I just returned from a trip to Whitehorse, Yukon Territories, in Canada. For those of you who live far, far away, and don’t know the geography of Canada, I was waaay up north. I thought I was close to the Arctic Circle, but on closer inspection of a map, I realized that I wasn’t quite that far on top of the globe.  Anyway, I went there to find out what it would be like to be in a place that was dark all day and to see the Northern Lights. (Yeah, I know.)

The truth is often surprising. In fact, it was NOT dark all day, but the day was short. The sun peaked over the mountains around 10:30 a.m., which is a helluva good time to wake up anyway. The sun made a shallow arc through the sky, and set around 4:30 p.m. And the sky was brilliantly blue all day. For someone who craves sunshine, it was a good place to visit.

Tales are tall in the North Country. I seemed to have arrived in a “heat wave” and daytime temperatures were a moderate -12 degrees Celsius. It dipped to -27 degrees around 2:00 in the morning the night I stayed up to watch (look for) the northern lights. In my mind, I would experience a psychedelic light show every night, from the confines of a warm cabin with a fire, but alas, it didn’t happen that way. In fact, the lights are sometimes elusive, and all I saw was a white strip that grew across the horizon around midnight. When photographed, the light showed up green (for reasons that were explained to me, but didn’t understand). I have photographs of me standing in front of some version of the aurora borealis, but it wasn’t really like that in reality. I will have to return another time for the full blown experience. However, I did get to go dog-sledding and that, is something that EVERYONE should do at least once in their lifetime! It was more fun that I have words to explain.

I was told that the month before, in December, the temperature dropped to -57 Celsius in a near-by town, but another local told me that it dipped to -67 degrees! I have no idea if this was truth or hyperbole, but I was happy to have arrived in the tropical season.

What does this have to do with outsider art? Well, forever on the search for outsider artists, I asked a few locals if they knew of any people who were a little out-of-the-ordinary, and created artwork, in private, in their homes. This question always got a similar answer: “You’re talking about just about everyone who lives here!” I learned that Yukoners call themselves “the colourful 5%” because they are the 5% of the Canadian population who live up north because they don’t fit in with the rest of the population. Well, this is the perfect breeding ground for outsider artists, but I didn’t manage to identify anyone who was the type of artist I was seeking. But I know they live there.

So, if any of my readers can provide me with further details, I’ll follow up. Thanks.

Computer problems. Need I say more? Finally back on track.

After  learning about the Coast Mental Health Association’s art workshop in Vancouver, I wandered into the space – called the Art Room – to see what it was all about. There were about 6 men in the room, sitting around a large table. Several were painting, one was socializing, and one was flipping through magazines to get some ideas for a new painting. I was greeted warmly and invited to join the group. Professional artist, Jeanne Krabbendam, volunteers at the Art Room. She was available to answer questions, like how to paint shadows on a geometric design, but does not “teach” the group or guide their work. She had some curious onlookers when she picked up her own paintbrush and doodled a design on an old canvas. The atmosphere was pleasant and fun, and I got the impression that the group enjoyed being together as much as they enjoyed doing artwork.

I chatted with one regular artist, who dropped by for a visit. The others were quick to advise me that he was a talented  sculptor and carver. They kept saying, “You gotta see his stuff!” When I asked if this were so, he modestly agreed that he enjoyed doing his artwork and said that he had hundreds of pieces at his home. I asked if he had any pieces at the workshop. “No.” I asked if I might be able to see some of his work. “No,” but with a smile. I have had that reaction so many times that I wasn’t offended. So many “outsiders” are protective of their privacy and keep their creative endeavours behind locked doors. Maybe one day I’ll get to see one of his pieces. Or maybe not.

One artist, Leef Evans, was gathering some of his own work to take to an exhibit (photo above). I had seen one of his pieces before but was not aware that he was so prolific or so gifted.  Before taking up painting, Leef led a fragmented and chaotic life on the streets. His life was consumed by depression, which landed him in the hospital for long periods of time. He says that if he did not find the Art Room and this community of artists, he cannot imagine where he would be now. To meet Leef at this juncture in his life, it is hard to imagine what he describes of his past. He is open, kind, funny and dedicated to his art. Leef has a loyal and supportive group of collectors and has made quite a name for himself in the Vancouver art world. It is well deserved.

The long, long delay in postings is the result of getting my getting acclimatized to returning to university as a (very) mature graduate student. Yup, it’s true. My thesis, of course, will focus on Canadian outsider art.

My research will document what we know (not much) and don’t know (lots) about outsider art in Canada. My first line of inquiry is to define what outsider art means to Canadian art professionals. I have a feeling that this one question could take years to answer, but I am starting by looking at art workshops established by public organizations concerned with mental health issues. This is my first inquiry because in parts of Europe (like Germany, Switzerland and Austria) the definition of outsider art is still rooted in the world of mental health.

When I was in Berlin, I learned that Gallery Art Cru exhibits artwork created in studios specifically established for people with mental disabilities. In discussing this with gallery director Alexandra von Gersdorff-Bultmann, I discovered there was a  huge difference of opinion between North America and parts of Europe as to which artists are “in” and which are “out”. As we already know, the definition of outsider art in the USA includes just about everybody without artistic training who picks up a paintbrush, felt pen, or pencil and decides to create something. (OK – I exaggerate a bit.) But, really,
the genre is wide open, as you would expect in a country like the USA. The Germans were puzzled about how North Americans would work with such a vague and all-encompassing definition of outsider art. Good point. Personally, I think outsider art is defined more by its spirit than its roots, but I may be way off on that point.

My first step was to find out if Canada has open art studios and indeed we do. I had no idea. As far as I can tell, they work pretty much the same as those in Europe. Studios are open to just about anyone who has an interest in exploring art – those without a home, those struggling with mental or physical health issues, and so on. As in Europe, the studios are staffed by people who give some guidance on the use of art materials, but do not provide art lessons. I had the opportunity to attend an event sponsored by the Coast Mental Health Association. I met mentors and participants and got the same answer from all of them:

It is the creation of the artwork that provides the therapy, not the interpretation of it. It is not art therapy. It is art as therapy.

I want to tell you an important story about outsider artists in Los Angeles. For four years, a group of independent filmmakers in Los Angeles followed the lives and progress of several artists from LA’s Skid Row, which has the largest population of homeless people in the USA.

Some artists find their art supplies in dumpsters and draw on old paper bags. Many joined art workshops staffed by artists and social workers and are given paint and canvasses, as well as the creative support and guidance to create stunning and therapeutic works of art.  Some artists have gone on to show their work in downtown Los Angeles galleries.

The documentary shows us how art can change lives. One artist said that coming to the workshop was the only reason she has to get up in the morning. Another has been admitted on scholarship to the art school at the University of California, Berkeley. Sadly, his immigration status prevents him from attending. Art has given their lives meaning and us an opportunity to appreciate their talent.

The film is called Humble Beauty: Skid Row Artists. It has been shown at film festivals throughout the USA, and has won a long list of awards. The producers have been offered distribution on PBS stations, and they are thrilled that the film will not be available to millions of viewers. Humble Beauty will be shown on PBS on September 15th. Watch for it on your local PBS station!

The filmmakers are asking for our help. They do not receive payment for these broadcasts, and there are considerable expenses in getting the film prepared for PBS standards. It must be re-edited for time requirements, broadcast insurance must be bought, music rights must be extended and promotional materials prepared. You can help by making a donation (by PayPal) at their campaign website. I did.

This is a continuation of my interview with artist Leigh Cooney.

Question: Who decided to label your work as “outsider”? Tell me about when and why you changed your label from outside to pop-folk.

 Answer: Well this is a somewhat tricky question. In all honesty I can’t remember exactly when I got stuck with the Outsider label, but it’s something I’ve never shied away from… until recently. Originally what happened was this:

I started painting the second time around intending to scribble and scrawl and do everything in my power to fight the urge to focus on form. I wanted to get away from my inherent desire to paint like the masters. Attempting and failing repeatedly to accomplish something I simply couldn’t do was becoming disheartening. Of course even then I knew it was out of the question as I had never been to art school, and I had only attempted three or four paintings at that point. But patience has never been my forte. I simply wanted painting to be fun again, and originally I was inspired by artists like Basquiat, who seemed to me to embody exactly the freedom I was hoping to achieve. Of course what I’ve realized over the years is that Basquiat was actually very much in control, much the same way as Jackson Pollock was, despite how it may appear to the uninitiated.

So early on when I still considered painting to be a hobby, I started to post my paintings to certain Social Networking sites under the “Self-Taught art” groups. To my great surprise I got some very interesting feedback, and after certain comparisons started coming in, I began researching self-taught art. Naturally this search led me to discover the world of “outsider art” with which I became enamoured for the next couple years. Even in my ignorance of, and general disdain for art labelling, I understood even from the beginning that there was some controversy between the stringent European definition of Outsider or Art Brut, and the more encompassing North American definition, but I didn’t consider myself a purist, a critic, or an art historian, I just wanted to paint, and I had finally found what I considered to be a group of people who (whether it was deliberate or not) eschewed traditional guidelines to what made an aesthetically pleasing painting. There is a lot of what you might call “free-form” abstract style work in the world of Outsider art, but I was the most entranced by the figurative work of Southern artists, especially one piece in particular called “Remembering Rodney King” by Gerald “X” Thornton. Figurative paintings like these reminded me of another big inspiration of mine, which is certain Medieval and early Renaissance paintings, by which I mean, artwork wherein the spirit of the work seems to supersede the form. I was moved more by these paintings that were (to borrow a definition) in the naive style, in which traditional rules of proportion, perspective, and light source, are not employed.

So since I was self-taught, fairly oblivious to the art world, and painting in a relatively “naïve” style people just started to naturally associate my work with the Outsiders. Eventually I started to be contacted by collectors of Outsider art and small U.S. Outsider galleries that dealt with self-taught artists. I was never 100% okay with the terminology as some small part of me did feel like it confused matters to group all self-taught artists under the Outsider umbrella, when so many of us are clearly inspired by, if not a part of (to some degree or another) the mainstream art world. So therefore the purity which is limited to only the most isolated outsider artist is missing, and that is such a vital component of what makes outsider art unique.

So after giving it some thought over these past years, and after having argued countless times with people about the definition of Outsider art, and my place within it, I came to this conclusion: Although in general I find the labelling of groups of artists (especially without their consent) to be extremely arbitrary, I concede that the definition of outsider art should be reserved for that tiny percentage of artists that for one reason or another are completely indifferent and/or completely unaware of the ebb and flow of the art world. So I can only conclude that I am a purist when it comes to the definition of Outsider art… with a slight variance. Firstly, I don’t believe that Outsider terminology should be relegated to artists creating from within psychiatric hospitals, because there are some artists (I’m thinking specifically of Henry Darger or Raymond Thundersky) who lived relatively normal lives but were without a doubt “Outsider” artists by the otherwise strictest sense of the word.

Secondly, I don’t believe there is any harm in having a number of related terminologies for other types of self-taught art associated with the term “Outsider” including my own “Neo-Folk” and “Pop-Folk” terms. American Galleries, and global collectors that deal in outsider art have been very good to me, and despite the fact that my work is less and less of the naïve persuasion, I still live, work, create, and associate with only the fringes of the art world. Yes, I have a very rudimentary understanding of art history as well some contemporary artists that I find interesting, but I have never taken a course in art, nor have I ever researched how to paint. I simply paint as a way to deal with, and reflect the world around me.

Over the past four years I have given up trying to fight with myself over my inherent need to focus on structure and I’ve slowly become more form oriented as I find not only am I happier with the results of this work, but the trance like focus it takes to create it, frees me for a few moments from the foot tapping, jaw clenching, mind racing, distress of my ADHD. So it serves as a form of therapy, and that’s okay.

Question: How has the public responded to your current work? Has the public’s opinion caused you to change your style in any way?

Answer: Over the four years I’ve been painting my style has changed at an exponential pace. Therefore it is inevitable that I will alienate hundreds of fans who were interested in my earlier more naive work in any given year, while simultaneously making hundreds of new fans. That is only the natural progression that any artist.  I genuinely feel sorry for the artists I see every day who are creating more and more mediocre work as they desperately cling to past successes to continue making money. To me, that is the day I stop painting, for I will no longer be serving any purpose to which I would want my art aligned.

Question: Do you paint every day? Could you ever decide to stop painting and do something else? How essential is painting to your well-being?

Answer: I do paint every day, unless I’m away from my studio for whatever reason in which case no painting gets done. I’ve tried to paint outside the studio, but I’ve found that I can’t deal well with distractions and I just get frustrated. As I mentioned, the actual act of painting is very therapeutic for me, but as well as that the lifestyle of an artist is one of the only jobs I could ever picture myself having. I don’t deal well with the pressures of people in groups, and due to my
ADHD I have trouble communicating in conversations where I have to organize my words and thoughts into coherent sentences in a timely manner. To exacerbate this I have fairly low self-esteem and I’m a little paranoid about people’s intentions. So I prefer wherever possible to communicate either through my painting, or in writing (like in this interview for example) where I can pause and reflect on what I’m trying to say and type at the speed at which my thoughts make themselves clear, NOT at the speed at which a listener might WISH for me to deliver the message. A paragraph that you read here may have taken me ten minutes of mental wrestling and anguish to get down on paper, but the end result is what matters and we both end up happy. Well I do anyway, the reader ends up with pages upon pages of my blathering… but can you imagine that in person at a quarter of the speed and completely out of order? Anyway, I guess what I’m trying to say is that I don’t always feel comfortable in the world outside my home and studio, and I am perfectly content with not leaving the house for days on end. I was in the workforce for 11 years, and in that time I ran the gamut of awful soul-destroying jobs, from restaurants to recycling plants, and I’ve never been as happy as I am now. I don’t believe in heaven so I believe this is all we get, and I’ll be damned if I’m not going to enjoy every minute of it.

Question: When you get ready to start a new painting, do you have an idea of what you want to paint, or do you experiment until the painting reveals itself.

Answer: I always have a fairly good idea of what I want to paint before I begin, but details therein can be pretty vague, so although I don’t make preliminary sketches before I start to paint (I have no patience for that) I do use a pencil to sketch a quick outline of the intended painting on to the canvas  first. So when I start sketching these details the painting can sometimes take on a slightly different direction, but it is unusual (but not unheard of) for  the painting to take on a life of its own.

This is a continuation of my interview with Ontario artist, Leigh Cooney.

Question: Why did you decide to paint, as opposed to doing another kind of creative art? How does painting make you feel?

Answer: I’m a very complicated person. I was born with what I consider to be a broken brain and things have always just kind of rattled around up there. I tend to think things through until they’re so much more complicated than necessary, and I make life more difficult than it needs to be. So any chance I get to make things simpler, I take it. When it comes to painting I find it almost therapeutic to keep my materials to a minimum. So rather than being an adventurous artist trying out a lot of different materials and mediums, I stick to 5 tubes of paint and two or three brushes. I mix all my colours from the primaries and I don’t bother trying to make exactly the same colour twice.

Question: Were you trying to achieve a certain outcome or look, or were you just experimenting?

Answer: I did a couple of paintings in high-school when I was first introduced to oil paint and yes, I was trying to achieve something specific. When I realized I couldn’t accomplish this after 3.5 paintings I gave up all forms of art. I had no patience for learning, and I wanted to be “good” right away.  Not counting those, I sat down in front of my first canvas when I was 27 with a renewed idea of what made a “good” painting. When I was a teenager  I thought every artist had to paint like the masters or they clearly had no talent. It was my discovery of Jean Michel Basquiat (and Outsider art around the same time) that turned my life around slowly. I realized that there were forms of artistic expression that were an acquired taste, and their riches
weren’t always handed to you, they often required repeated viewings.

So I sat down at that canvas and I promised myself I would go against every pedantic impulse that came naturally to me and I would start and finish my first painting that afternoon. I wouldn’t try to adjust anything or envision how it would turn out. My very first painting from that time period was a socio-political one involving sex scandals and the nature of celibacy.  With my next few paintings I
decided to attempt to do with oil paint and canvas what I had failed to do for the past 27 years with mere words, I would show people visually what was happening in my head. My brain has always been feverish, and my thoughts come to me either muddled and out of order or tripping over themselves to get out first. It was only three years later that I decided to approach a doctor and do some tests. It turns out I’ve suffered for the past 30 years from a serious case of (the incredibly misunderstood) Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder, or ADHD.

Question: Did you show your work to anyone? What did they think about it? Did it matter to you if they didn’t like it?

Answer: As I mentioned, I painted three and a half paintings in high school before I quit. I hung three of those in a local used clothing
store at the advice of a friend and I sold my first painting that week for $50. I was 19. To me this was incredible, but not incredible enough to dispel my doubts about my skills. When I painted again at 27, I showed a few friends over drinks. I don’t think they liked them but they were too polite to say. A few months later however I uploaded them to Facebook (which was still brand new) and started sharing them on FB pages that dealt with self-taught art. I made my first real fans that way.

Question: Has your style changed over the years?

Oh yes. At first I was trying to paint freely the way Basquiat did, as I felt that was most reflective of my personality, but I just couldn’t fight the need to tighten things up. Eventually I decided to settle on something in the middle.  I don’t want to paint realist paintings, but I’ve realized that painting a lot of detail is conversely very therapeutic for me. My head might be full of firecrackers, but when I become engrossed in a painting I stop thinking about anything else and for a few hours my body becomes less tense and I become detached from the outside world that I feel so uncomfortable in. The firecrackers become more like popcorn, and that’s okay. I still only paint as much detail as I feel will benefit the painting. Once I start adding in additional details, the fever in my brain starts to creep back in and I find it difficult to finish the work.