Art & Critique » Vic Vicini

Vic Vicini: Classic Cars

elijah — Wed, 27 Feb 2008 19:27:33 +0000

Reading about classic Chevrolet cars I learned that there is a consensus about the flamboyant, excessive automobile designs of the late fifties. A 57 Chevy calls for a stylish match in terms of pictorial representation, and Vic aptly offers grotesque viewing angles and close ups that emphasize the magisterial metallic bodies, which have long been lauded to epitomize an entire era in post war America. That these cars are now sought for collectibles reflects a nostalgia for that era — and the artist probes into the collective sentiment, as well as partakes in it: his paintings remind why these machines are so irresistible, and how much care and affection they elicit from their owners and admirers, in either actual or painterly form.

Paradoxically, these are the artist’s “slower” pieces. An atmospheric patina of in detailed introspection distances the viewer from the images, in a way disclosing the narrow specification of the subject matter but, simultaneously opening a pathway into a world of mechanical and engineering complexity — as a reward, for those who would be willing to claim it. There is an interesting parallel between the process of restoring and painting a classic car: besides painstaking execution, both reproduce an iconic model, nearly from scratch, both involve manual labor and getting the hands dirty, either with grease or paint and, finally, the result in both consists of a shiny new auto.

The difference, of course, is in the number of dimensions. Painting only replicates restoration, just as art imitates life, but in this particular case, the common cause of paying a tribute to the theme brings the two spheres closer together. I think that a series of paintings does even further in that direction: almost every piece focuses on a single detail or part, as if recording an actual restoration in progress. Surely that would be a very laborious recording (compared to photography, for instance) but, surprisingly, it would make sense — everything about these cars is excessive — and such an artistic finale brings about a logical conclusion to the mechanical melodrama.

In conclusion I would like to discuss how composition here differs from the artist’s food and other still life works. If in those paintings he sought to include and unify, here the objective is almost proportionally opposite. The close-ups exclude the rest of the body and, they literally exclude the uninitiated (consolidating the camaraderie of the experts). He lingers on the separate parts in a display of what I find no other term for but “analytical painting,” so elaborate and accurate is the rendering. Indeed, the next step for the viewer would be to “induce” the entire car from the depicted detail. And is there a more direct way to engage our imagination and mind?

Vic Vicini: Food Paintings

elijah — Mon, 25 Feb 2008 19:32:24 +0000

I once bought a carton of unusual eggs. They were chicken’s alright — the anomaly went in a different direction: every other time after breaking an egg, I ended up with two yolks in the pan. I have to admit that I felt a slight pang of regret and otherwise inexplicable emotional response at the sight of this memorable phenomenon — hypothetical twins floating in the limpid liquid. After the second occurrence I felt strangely unsure, my hands were trembling and light, I was nervous. “Should I be sorry?” thought I, “And ponder the what-ifs?” I did when I had a whole chicken on Passover last year… Well, for me, these paintings transcend their own visual power to evoke such seemingly trivial memories and perhaps even force a reassessment of them as more meaningful.

But I’m slightly off track here. These water-mouthing images will make anyone hungry; straightforward replications of hearty breakfasts, they understandably find a responsive audience in the face of restaurant owners and their customers. A series of such paintings would inaugurate a visual food-fest (especially with paintings of other types of food included) and encourage some of us to appreciate the artistic element in cooking and presenting the results. By his work, Vic in a way vouches for gastronomy and the culinary arts, highlighting the entire process as a serious occupation that reaches far beyond the mere satisfaction of a basic need. In other words, in these pieces we witness a dialog of two art forms.

When compared to kitchenware, the still life with food items displays a notable compositional development. The theme calls for a parcelling to smaller and more numerous objects, and a complication of composition inevitably ensues. Retaining unity becomes a more demanding, if not a burning challenge; I think that the artist recognizes and stands up to it gracefully and, which might be even more important, discreetly. He doesn’t aim at radical stylistic overhaul but builds up a generic change by fine tuning, gradually creating an alternative set of painterly principles (involving angle, tint variation and other parameters), perfected for these kinds of subjects.

It would be interesting to follow a shift in an opposite direction in the artist’s car paintings, where he concentrates on a single detail of the bigger image. Here I would like to restate that reaching these conclusions would be impossible without browsing Vic’s extensive library of reproductions on his websites. I am very enthusiastic about the benefits of publishing artwork on the Internet and would like to encourage artists to start art blogs. It is never too late. And it is not incidental that Vic’s blogs were named a “studio” and a “gallery” — because it is precisely what they are, allowing an in-depth inquiry into various aspects of his artistic process.

Vic Vicini: Kitchenware

elijah — Fri, 22 Feb 2008 18:41:03 +0000

Vic Vicini is an American artist (see more of his work on this website and on this and this blog) who paints primarily still life, with exquisite realistic detail. His subjects include kitchen utensils and appliances, food, florals and cars, among others. Studying his paintings one comes to a realization that the artist harbors a particular fascination with reflection: metal objects of all sorts trap light and mirror the ambiance; they are so deliciously bright and shiny that a comparison to a crystal ball (especially with the round shaped kettles and pots) sneaks into the viewer’s mind — implying a clairvoyance of the simple kind, that of a dedicated homemaker doing his or her magic in the kitchen.

But it is not the future, rather the distant past that the kitchenware evokes so uncannily. Fire and water as elements underlie the cozy scenes: the stove as the source of heat and the metallic containers as a supply of the life bearing liquid. The kitchen is nothing but a modern cave, with close at hand facilities and separate sources of light and heat. Either you marvel at the displayed cleanliness, or secretly resist it as a not particularly tidy cook, the thought of the infinite fragility of the situation eventually floats to the surface of consciousness, prompting to accept and embrace this idealized part of home as a welcome progress from remote perilous times.

Vic’s paintings may also function as illustrations: smooth and cheerful palette bordered by dark contouring positions his artwork comfortably between the two trends. They remind me of old school hand drawn and painted animation, from the fifties, only with more luster and zest. And there is something naive and traditional about them, in the best meaning of these words — a warm reminder of domestic familial comfort. Straightforward and clean compositions entertain the eye without diverting it to unnecessary elaborations, and manifest disarming honesty. This still life is both a celebration of unpretentiousness and an ingenuous indulgence in the abundance of light and color — good life, some would say.

However, I would like to return to the reflections, as some of them present an endless source of marvel. Near hallucinatory distortions of line and color will hypnotize the susceptible viewer… well, maybe. Contrary to the common belief that staring at the kettle won’t make it boil quicker, getting lost in these colorful swirls can prove to be an effective time machine, transferring us right to the boiling point. (The click or the whistle terminates the stupor… not to worry). Eventually, in pieces where all of the mentioned qualities intermix particularly harmoniously, reaching a critical mass, the master definition of a “classic” emerges as eminently suitable, many other works being very close to that description.

*This article has been re-edited

Art & Critique » Vic Vicini

Vic Vicini: Classic Cars

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Vic Vicini: Food Paintings

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Vic Vicini: Kitchenware

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