Untitled Faces
In 1978, I began my freshman year as a visual art major at Purchase College. There I was required to take a foundational drawing class and painting class, both with professors who were quite challenging. The drawing class was taught by a woman named Joan, who made it clear from the beginning that a successful artist need not be exceptionally skilled at drawing – for drawing is a skill, which anyone can learn with practice and careful observation. Rather, a successful artist must learn to think visually and conceptually. We were encouraged to experiment with drawing surfaces, media, perspectives, and various techniques.
During a class critique one day, Joan recommended to me that I learn printmaking. She felt that the discipline of hand-printed graphics would force me to take responsibility for my images. Young artists often attempt to “fudge” their subject matter, overusing the power of suggestion and creating a sloppy outcome. Printmaking – such as linoleum block printing, woodcuts, etchings, monoprints, and lithography – do not allow for mushy outcomes. My curiosity was piqued.
A few months later, I walked into the printmaking studio at the Art Students’ League of New York. There was no instructor – only a studio monitor named Sylvie, a tiny Parisian woman who helped me get started with etching. I quickly learned how to use the resinous grounds, the acid baths, the etching needles, and the massive printing press. I tried different papers, pressures, and techniques for hand-coloring my prints. Most of all, I learned how to think backwards from my desired outcome. Joan was right – the two years that I spent at the ASL catapulted my art into a whole new realm.
Most of my etchings were lost in the many relocations of my late teens and early twenties – but I recently came across this one, above. I cannot recall the title of this assemblage of faces. In those years, I remember feeling quite lost in our modern society – alarmed by the superstores that were springing up at the time, the city crowds, the mass marketing that dominated TV and newspapers. Like many young people, I struggled to find my place in this world. Clearly, I was trying to express my teenage malaise in these staring, disconnected faces.
The drawing itself is not so interesting, but remembering Joan’s words, I enhanced the basic concept by printing the etching in three different colors, then hand-tearing and painting the edges into three concentric squares, which I assembled into this printed collage. This is a simple example of how art can be more than the sum of its parts. Not just what you depict but how can make all the difference.
Looking back almost half a century at this early work of art, I wish I could talk to my younger self. I would say, “I’m so glad you kept going! Art isn’t easy, but with patience and persistence, you can learn to draw upon life, find your place in this world, and express it in creative and original ways.”
I encourage young artists to do the same. After all, art allows for unlimited trial and error . . . isn’t that what it’s all about?
A good week to all!
D. Yael Bernhard
https://dyaelbernhard.com
Have you seen my other Substack, The Art of Health? In addition to being a visual artist, I’m also a certified integrative health & nutrition coach with a lifelong passion for natural food cooking and herbal medicine. Now in its second year, this illustrated newsletter explores cutting-edge concepts of nutrition. I strive to make relevant information clear and accessible, and to anchor essential health concepts in unique images. Check it out, and if you like it, please subscribe and help spread the word. Your support keeps my work going!