Robert K. Abbett - The Art of Restraint -

Have you ever looked at a painting that just plain showed you too much - that had too many subjects, perhaps way too many details or a runaway color scheme? Did it not bother you in some vague way, or at best leave you rather disinterested? We’re talking here of artistic indulgence which is the negative aspect of, and much easier to explain than, artistic restraint - also known as artistic economy. Of all the deadly sins to which we artists are vulnerable, indulgence is one of the most insidious. Indulgence is painting a locomotive and a stag and an eagle and a waterfall - all in the same picture. Restraint is feeling good about just painting the eagle and doing the best gosh darned job of it you know how to do.

Artistic restraint is the process of sober, quiet selection; of establishing priorities and of judiciously choosing the elements, colors, style and spirit of the painting and practicing some limitation in their presentation. This self-limiting should certainly embrace the spirit of good taste while at the same time including the practice of eliminating all that which doesn’t serve the particular painting. It disputes the rule that more is better. Painting six or eight ducks can usually tell the same story as showing a hundred, and to me will probably tell it better, no matter what technique the artist chooses to use.

Artistic indulgence knows no boundaries between the arts, and is easily noticed in some of the others. The movie industry is a fine example, and beyond the obvious scenery chewing enjoyed by certain actors, the final reel of so many films seems to be its richest depository. Lassie not only survives the earthquake but Bubba and Mary fall in love, Gramps gets his feed store back and the bad guys are arrested in the water tower where Lassie has kept them cornered until the sheriff could get his transmission fixed. And if you don’t think that is indulgent, try some of the TV soaps. I’m also reminded of the country and western entertainer of some years ago who added a grace note to almost every regular note he played . . . ’dah b’dah b’dah b’daaah . . .

Getting back to our own realm of wildlife art, I believe one of the true masters of artistic economy in our time is Robert Bateman, who shows us a great deal about his subjects with often a minimum of supporting elements. He obviously employs great skill in picking out just those those pieces of habitat which are not only authentic and interesting, but which give the illusion of even greater scope than is actually depicted. I would suggest this selection process, if practiced by any artist, should enhance the clarity and readability of their paintings, and certainly viewer interest ought to increase in this more digestible atmosphere.

Compatibility - the comfort and pleasure of living with a painting day after day in one’s home or work place can also benefit from artistic economy. A painting must issue its statement with a certain calm but insistent confidence in order to engage us for more than ten minutes, not to speak of many years.

A lack of such confidence is undoubtedly one cause of indulgence and its helter skelter results. The worst (best) case of AI (artistic indulgence) in my experience was a young lady in my college writing class. As she read her
short story to us, it dawned on me that she had not written a single word about any one but herself. Each sentence was awash with descriptive
adjectives, each revealing her personal ‘literary depth’, repeated by constant side roads shooting off to yet another reference to the extent of her knowledge and self appointed taste. On the other hand, as Ernest Hemingway described, when you truly know your subject, you’ll not need to overwork your piece as typically happens when you don’t.

Likewise, the late Ben Stahl, a truly fine painter, a charismatic teacher and a strong advocate of artistic economy, held that if you got just one thought across in a painting you were doing well, and that each square inch of the painting should work to promote its appointed theme. As viewers, we can more easily join in the artistic process and supply some of our own experiences and feelings if everything in sight has not been included in the painting. Even if our participation is sub conscious, we’ll still come out feeling better about it.

A common pitfall is, sometimes understandably, wanting to show all the things we’ve learned - like the girl in the writing class. But art is more than a visual catalog of our personal knowledge and skills. Art is a medium of exchange whereby we express. transmit and share emotions, interests and information and it is my thought that using the artistic understatement will help do just that.

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	Behind the Easel The Art of Restraint - The Sin of Indulgence Published in Wildlife Art
	Have you ever looked at a painting that just plain showed you too much - that had too many subjects, perhaps way too many details or a runaway color scheme? Did it not bother you in some vague way, or at best leave you rather disinterested? We’re talking here of artistic indulgence which is the negative aspect of, and much easier to explain than, artistic restraint - also known as artistic economy. Of all the deadly sins to which we artists are vulnerable, indulgence is one of the most insidious. Indulgence is painting a locomotive and a stag and an eagle and a waterfall - all in the same picture. Restraint is feeling good about just painting the eagle and doing the best gosh darned job of it you know how to do. Artistic restraint is the process of sober, quiet selection; of establishing priorities and of judiciously choosing the elements, colors, style and spirit of the painting and practicing some limitation in their presentation. This self-limiting should certainly embrace the spirit of good taste while at the same time including the practice of eliminating all that which doesn’t serve the particular painting. It disputes the rule that more is better. Painting six or eight ducks can usually tell the same story as showing a hundred, and to me will probably tell it better, no matter what technique the artist chooses to use. Artistic indulgence knows no boundaries between the arts, and is easily noticed in some of the others. The movie industry is a fine example, and beyond the obvious scenery chewing enjoyed by certain actors, the final reel of so many films seems to be its richest depository. Lassie not only survives the earthquake but Bubba and Mary fall in love, Gramps gets his feed store back and the bad guys are arrested in the water tower where Lassie has kept them cornered until the sheriff could get his transmission fixed. And if you don’t think that is indulgent, try some of the TV soaps. I’m also reminded of the country and western entertainer of some years ago who added a grace note to almost every regular note he played . . . ’dah b’dah b’dah b’daaah . . . Getting back to our own realm of wildlife art, I believe one of the true masters of artistic economy in our time is Robert Bateman, who shows us a great deal about his subjects with often a minimum of supporting elements. He obviously employs great skill in picking out just those those pieces of habitat which are not only authentic and interesting, but which give the illusion of even greater scope than is actually depicted. I would suggest this selection process, if practiced by any artist, should enhance the clarity and readability of their paintings, and certainly viewer interest ought to increase in this more digestible atmosphere. Compatibility - the comfort and pleasure of living with a painting day after day in one’s home or work place can also benefit from artistic economy. A painting must issue its statement with a certain calm but insistent confidence in order to engage us for more than ten minutes, not to speak of many years. A lack of such confidence is undoubtedly one cause of indulgence and its helter skelter results. The worst (best) case of AI (artistic indulgence) in my experience was a young lady in my college writing class. As she read her short story to us, it dawned on me that she had not written a single word about any one but herself. Each sentence was awash with descriptive adjectives, each revealing her personal ‘literary depth’, repeated by constant side roads shooting off to yet another reference to the extent of her knowledge and self appointed taste. On the other hand, as Ernest Hemingway described, when you truly know your subject, you’ll not need to overwork your piece as typically happens when you don’t. Likewise, the late Ben Stahl, a truly fine painter, a charismatic teacher and a strong advocate of artistic economy, held that if you got just one thought across in a painting you were doing well, and that each square inch of the painting should work to promote its appointed theme. As viewers, we can more easily join in the artistic process and supply some of our own experiences and feelings if everything in sight has not been included in the painting. Even if our participation is sub conscious, we’ll still come out feeling better about it. A common pitfall is, sometimes understandably, wanting to show all the things we’ve learned - like the girl in the writing class. But art is more than a visual catalog of our personal knowledge and skills. Art is a medium of exchange whereby we express. transmit and share emotions, interests and information and it is my thought that using the artistic understatement will help do just that. -30-