Trudge: to walk with purpose.

Vincent van Gogh, with his passionate religious convictions wanted to be a pastor but his unconventional approach to being a missionary appalled church authorities and they dismissed him for "undermining the dignity of the priesthood." He worked in an art dealership for a bit but his resentments at how art was treated as a commodity got him fired. In the end, he tried painting. Before he died from a self-inflicted gunshot wound at 37, he managed to sell one of his masterpieces.

Up until now, I haven’t thought much about Van Gogh. I’ve seen his paintings and I am in agreement with those that find beauty in his work. I’m not sure why I chose to read about his tragic life, but by the time I finished absorbing the details of his story, I had tears in my eyes as I huddled over a desk in the quiet room of the east side library. I identify with many of Van Gogh’s thoughts and feelings. I feel grateful to have a chance to experience a joy that seems to have eluded him in life. I left the library reflecting on his work and the gift Van Gogh gave to many by striving to find his purpose through honoring his passion, whether preaching or painting, trudging through madness, he remained authentic and true to himself.

Being true to myself is the closest I’ve come to a purpose for my life. I’ve had many discussions with others about the purpose of life. It seems part of the human condition to ask and try to answer questions about our existence. Somewhere along the way I picked up the idea of spending my life doing the things that bring me joy. What brings you joy I ask myself? Two different minds, the left-brain and the right devour the question and spit out very different answers for consideration. Both sides seem to be lying to me. I ask myself again and again. I change the question. Why do you paint? Why do you write poems? It’s just what I do. Neither brings me joy. The feeling is something completely different. Both activities take me to a place where happiness, joy, and fulfillment aren’t even on my radar. I suppose that place is clarity and resolve. Creating takes life and maps it out in a way that I can understand it.

I’m heading back to school next year and there is a great deal of excitement as to the potential of my decision. Then there is the weight of making a commitment to a direction. As of now I’m not making any decisions. I may choose to remain in this place forever. I’ve given myself permission to do so. I’ve given myself permission to get more than one degree even if one has nothing in common with the others. I consider my process much like visiting a buffet for brunch and having scrambled eggs, mashed potatoes, and chocolate covered strawberries, leaving the table feeling satisfied but wishing I had saved room for a piece of cheesecake. I often worry about leaving the table of this life without sampling a little of all the things for which I have an appetite. This has me laughing at my greedy logic and lack of enlightenment. I think to consider once more the story of Van Gogh, a man who lived a life filled with despair and disappointment dying unaware of the gift he left behind and my appetite returns to being right sized.

Giclée: Using French makes you sound fancy!

Working in the field of Visual Arts, I’ve been asked many questions about art and artists. One of the questions I'm confronted with regularly is about the meaning of the term, “giclée”. Stamped on the tag of many a reproduction, it sneers at prospective art buyers, some of who have no idea what this fancy and intimidating word means. I hear them discussing it quietly with their friends so not to be overheard or embarrassed and often they become brave enough to ask, “What is a giclée?” Lately I’ve responded at first with a joke, telling them they are not allowed to say the word unless they are to use a condescending tone. This usually relaxes any uneasy feelings they may have about appearing ignorant. Their concern about appearing ignorant is what bothers me the most.

I like the concept of the arts as being accessible and inclusive. I’m not saying the word “giclée” will scare away potential art buyers without previous knowledge of the what the word means, but the more I read about the history and usage of the term, the more confused I became about how it is used to label the prints of today. I also started thinking about the way art is labeled and how it may be best to find a way to let folks in on the terminology in order to create a comfortable place for people to view and/or buy art.

What is a giclée? The term was invented in 1991, by a printmaker by the name of Jack Duganne. Jack needed a word to distinguish the inkjet-based digital fine art prints from the industrial prints or “Iris proofs” of his time. Searching for a word generic enough to cover the wide array of inkjet technologies of the present and hopefully into the future, he first found the French word for nozzle, which most inkjet printers use. The word: le gicleur then led him to look up the French word for “to spray” or gicler. In the end he settled for the feminine noun version of gicler which gave us a name for the fine art print some of us now know as giclée, (pronounced “zhee-clay”) or “that which is sprayed or squirted.”

Although the name was originally applied to the fine art prints created on Iris printers in the early 1990s, many artists and businesses of today are producing ink jet prints of their work and labeling the reproductions as a giclée. Of course there is a lot of controversy surrounding the use of the word and there have been attempts to set standards for what qualifies and what doesn’t.

The idea of art creating controversy usually gets me laughing, and this is no exception. I’ve overheard many serious discussions about what is and what is not a giclée. It has also been suggested in these discussions that making prints of original artwork is in itself something to be avoided. For many of the people I meet, buying art in our local galleries, the contents of the label are secondary to the work. The subject matter, the color and composition appear to be the focus. Often, like me, they are unable to afford the original and are pleased with the affordability of the reproduction.

I enjoy art, in all forms, reproductions and originals. I’m not certain I understand the controversy surrounding the definitions of things in general. I try my best to stray from too much intellectualizing when it comes to art and yet I can relate to the curiosity surrounding the basic terminology that defines it. I also understand the desire for quality when it comes to buying art. Too keep it simple, I recommend people look at a piece of art before buying it. If you like what you see, if you find it appealing, inspiring, and meaningful, my guess would be, you have made a quality investment.