The Process of Preserving Evanescent Life

I think there is a taboo on criticizing art, particularly when the critic is a novice artist, who is not even considered an artist by anyone.

However, I think that everyone is an artist, you just need to have the courage to call yourself one. So here I am, an artist, sharing my thoughts on making still lives. 

The assignment was to create a replica of grapefruit and a banana organized on cloth. The basic questions that really became important at the beginning were: What the heck is the point? I mean, a banana is a banana is a banana. What is so special about making a copy of this banana or this grapefruit, when I can just buy it? Second, if I work extremely hard on making my still life, would it not look like everyone else's? Therefore, what is the point of the artist? It seems like the students making this still life are like out-dated 3D printers- basically the type of 3-D printers that really are incapable of making the copy look anything like the original. 

But as I continued with the still life, I learned a couple of philosophical things: 

• What I observed: What we visually see is often very different from how things actually are. I would look at the fruit and cloth structure from one angle, and I would try my best to re-create it with clay, and when I got done with one part of my art, I would stand up to compare the pieces, and actually, what I created was very different from what the structure looked like. This was not because I am a terrible artist who could not mold the clay properly, but rather because I made what I saw, and what I saw was different from what the object actually looked like. It was not until I got up from my seat, observed the piece from other angles that I could realize my mistakes. I would then attempt to fix them, and repeat the observation again, and then repeat the whole process maybe 20 more times. This was the case with all the students. Often times, the problem was that I could see that my still life did not look like the structure, but I had no idea about what was wrong- I could not tell. 
• What I learned: There is beautiful symbolism in this process, which revealed that angle and perspective matter, in so many aspects of life. What we think is accurate, whether it is about how a structure physically looks, or about how the world works, is not always what is accurate, and is not always the best perspective. We must realize the importance of taking a step back, recognizing mistakes, looking at multiple perspectives, realizing our errors and learning the courage to accept our flaws and the courage to remold our minds and our art pieces to be more accurate and more all-encompassing. 

• What I observed: In the early stages of the process, and even as the day progressed, the still life created by each artist looked very different. Some students focused more on the specific details of the piece, starting at one area and working towards other areas, building the large piece by piece. Some students focused on the large aspects of the structure, making the overall structure first, and then working on the smaller specifics. Some students worked really hard to make the banana look perfect, while some worked hard on making the holes in the grapefruit look realistic, while others focused on making the curves of the cloth look realistic. 
• What I learned: We are all part of one species, and we look very similar, and generally have two eyes, one nose, two arms, very similar DNA, and yet, how we observe and how we interact with the world, what is most important to us, what our passion is and how we choose to prioritize our time according to what is expected of us is so varying- and therein lies the magic of human society- not the individuals capacity to shape this world and alter it, but rather in the collective effort of bringing our own perspectives and talents and passions, and together bringing this world into the future.

• What I observed: I wonder about when each student decided they were done. Was it when the time ran out? Why did some decide to come back later to work on the project more? Was it because they were ashamed of the outcome? Because they expected more from themselves? They want a higher grade? They love the smell of moist clay (that is probably why I spent like nine extra hours on my project)? It was a great way to procrastinate from other assignments? They really wanted to create an exact replica (I attempted, but definitely did not reach that goal)? What I noticed was that when we were reaching the time where the deadline was approaching, the students chose different ways to "finish" the assignment. I think everyone realized that the final project did not really look like the actual structure, but some tried to put finishing touches by making the structure look very smooth, even if the actual structure did not look like the copy. Some tried to poke quick holes into the grapefruit, hoping that the hole would make the still life look better, some kind of just simplified the cloth in their minds, and focused on the main curves, even if the proportions did not match. 
• What I learned: I am not so sure about the "philosophical" meaning of this, but I know that for me, this part was the hardest. How do I tell myself to stop working on something when I know that my still life did not look like the structure. I COULD NOT DO IT. And that was very frustrating to me. I remember coming and working on the piece for like six hours straight, and being frustrated because I could not get my still life to look like the structure. But I think at this point of just how beautiful nature can be. Each curve in the cloth, each dumb hole in the grapefruit, each "flaw" in the banana, were just natural beautiful occurrences, which make each banana special, and provided this structure with a special uniqueness that no other structure would probably ever have- I mean what is the probability of having a naturally grown banana look exactly like this one, and then have a grapefruit look exactly like this one, and then have the cloth folded this specific way with each curve and bent and dent? To quote Mauritius by Teresa Rebeck, "It's the errors that make 'em valuable." 

Well either way, I did not finish my piece before nature, with its evanescent quality, decayed, and I could not preserve it. 

The pictures of the process are below, along with my final, yet, unfinished product.

So now with some still life experience "under my belt," (honestly, what does that phrase even supposed to mean?) I think I woud finish by saying that I really loved making my still life, and I think I learned plenty, and I must say that I love my final product, even with its multitude of flaws. It means something to me because even though it is an attempt at replication, it came from me and from my efforts.

However, I still am not sure about whether to label my piece as art. It means something to me, and it attempts to preserve one combination of objects in a particular way- but can it mean something to someone else? I think that at most, it can bring me fond memories and can be fun to look at (and that might be a stretch), but can it move someone? Can it inspire someone? Does it represent me? I really am not sure. Unless I put something from my mind, onto this piece, unless I want to express something from within and show that in this still life, I am not sure this piece is of much value, at least in the contemporary culture of art, where the mind of the artist is valued much more than the specific quality of the piece.
I think good art has to be something that can move you. That doesn't mean that it has to mean something in particular, or that it has to be something beautiful or even something crappy or horrid looking. It just means that when you, the observer, observe this piece, that there is a romance between the art and the observer- a special and unique moment, where the artist and the observer speak through this medium. That is art. And I am just not sure that my piece has that potential, particularly because it is not anything from within me, just my observation and replication. And well, you can call the process of observation and replication of nature beautiful if you want, and you have a right to think that, I just am not sure this process is beautiful enough to be included into the wonderful label of art. Just an amateur artist's opinion.