LEONARD LIKAS
St. Mary's Project
Artist Statement
"There is no longer any use in comfort; his longing goes
beyond a world after death, beyond the gods themselves; existence
with its glittering reflection in the gods or in an immortal beyond
is abjured. In the consciousness of the truth once perceived,
man now sees everywhere only the terror or the absurdity of existence;
now he can understand the symbolism of Ophelia's fate...and he
is filled with loathing. But at this juncture, when the will is
most imperiled, art approaches, as a redeeming and healing enchantress;
she alone may transform these horrible reflections on the terror
and absurdity of existence into representations with which man
may live. These are the representation of the sublime..."
-Friedrich Nietzsche
My art is a reaction against the prevailing values of a deceptively
stable society. I wish to express the alienation I feel from the
self-satisfied material culture that permeates American life beneath
its mask of prosperity. I am concerned with the natural world,
history, human experience and psychological states, myth, mysticism,
the non-rational, the Dionysian, and the tradition of the sublime.
I am driven by an inner need to utter personal feelings and emotions
and to project unresolved conflicts I have with the society of
which I am a product. The subjective experience of the sublime
-- man's contemplation of his insignificant mortality against
the infinite vastness of the void of time and space and a need
for communion with nature and transcendence are of importance
to me. Through the creation of my artworks I enter a forum of
emotional catharsis, exploration, meditation, and concentration
where I struggle to come to terms with the nature of all existence,
most importantly my own.
I am a painter of metaphorical landscapes. When I speak of landscape
I intend to include all visible and invisible aspects of nature
as well as expand the concept beyond the traditions of visual
representation and passive decoration. My paintings are usually
very large and encompassing. Human presence in the form of the
figure is entirely absent from these works. However, I intend
my paintings to be intimately and deeply human, reflections of
life.
I feel that I need to work with a mixed vocabulary of abstraction,
the imagistic, and conceptual ideas. No limits can be placed on
my expression. My artworks are a part of me, inspired and created
during spells of overwhelming emotion and intense passion. I liken
my process of art-making to an ongoing ritual, the components
of which are constantly evolving and changing and comprised of
both creative and destructive acts.
I use a host of local materials, both natural and man-made, and
organic and inorganic, as part of the artworks. I intend this
material presence to function on multiple levels: to serve as
metaphors and generate content, to create unique and complex surfaces,
as well as gradually dissolve over time reflecting natural forces
such as erosion and entropy.
The subject matter of my recent artworks has primarily been concerned
with natural cycles of life and death, rebirth, transcendence
and dissolution from one state of being to another. The change
of seasons affects me profoundly by heightening my senses and
extending my consciousness. My preoccupation with natural cycles
is hallmark of a deep spiritual relationship with nature that
resonates from the depths of my being. My soul (for lack of a
better word) is in constant communication with nature. I live
in the country on top of a hill in the middle of a large tract
of forested land. This is where I find inspiration and make art.
I find inspiration for my artworks almost every time I walk outside.
Sometimes I feel intense anxiety, wistful sadness, or deep and
depressive feelings -- feelings of loss, alienation, isolation
and entrapment are common. The ethereal and mysterious experiences
of the nightside are especially interesting and are a consistent
theme for the imagery in my paintings.
I begin my art ritual by applying paint, dirt, stones, leaves,
twigs, lead, glass, glue and sometimes wax onto the surface of
a wooden panel, preferably very large in order to emphasize the
monumentality of my themes. These materials (minus the panel and
paint) are from my backyard and local environment exclusively.
The use of the various natural objects as medium is very important
to the work. They serve as symbols, to convey metaphorical content.
I throw these elements onto the panel with reckless abandon: sometimes
gently sprinkled, sometimes violently hurled, the paint dripped
and splattered with a stick or liberally applied with a brush.
With the seemingly chaotic appearance and randomness of this particular
component of my method I hope to evoke the complexity of nature
and the universe. Perhaps there is some unfathomable order to
it all, but in our infinitesimal sphere of experience this is
the only way I feel the sensation of the infinite can be captured.
I like to think that I am creating some sort of cosmological model,
the creator of a universe. I work out of doors even in the cold
winter months, finding special inspiration from the moonlight.
I feel that the direct experience of nature facilitates and purifies
the communication between myself and the artwork in progress.
Thus, I, the acutely sensitive artist serves as some sort of conduit
or processor/interpreter with the driving need to find a language,
through the image or other means, of expressing that which cannot
be expressed with words.
In formal terms, this part of the painting process is a distillation
of a felt experience of nature through the embrace of the unique
qualities of materials and the spontaneity of action painting.
The experience of my surroundings and nature is an inseparable
condition of my own existence. I enter the artwork, so to speak,
expressing myself in the very method I execute the work. My emotion
becomes a tangible presence in the medium. Paint and various natural
materials are applied with wonderful spontaneity. The direction,
rhythm, and passionate emphasis of the brushwork heighten and
reinforce the visual surface of form and color while at the same
time adding intensity of expression to parts that may coalesce
and come to serve as imagery.
The next stage of the process is the imagistic painting -- which
can be explicit representation such as a detailed rendering of
the moon, but has more commonly been implied imagery derived from
the association made in my mind after observing the forms created
from the materials during the opening stage. I intend to create
a description of the natural world derived from my own visual
processes, executed in a painterly style.
I use images as symbols. I choose to present the viewer with widely
recognizable image-based symbols like trees, terrain formations
like hills and mountains, and the moon. These symbols are used
in conjunction with real objects, often the same kinds of objects
that are being symbolized. I seek to intensify the subjective
experience, as well as generate content by creating a fiction,
an illusion, in conjunction with the reality of the material presence.
The viewer's subjective experience of the artwork will undoubtedly
evoke memories/recollections and stir unique emotions within them.
I always depict the earth below in contrast to the sky above.
The contemplation of the horizon is an integral component in conjuring
the sublime experience.
A primary concern of mine in respect to my painting is achieving
the sublime in visual experience. To define the sublime experience
is difficult because of its broad use in the context of art history.
I define the true experience of the sublime as a universal condition
deep within man, releasing an impulse of pure and primitive emotion.
The painter Mark Rothko saw the sublime as a way of "...expressing
the basic human emotions -- tragedy, ecstasy, doom...."1
The 'sublime' can be described as an interpretation of nature
that embraces the irregularity, rawness, grandeur and indifference
of cosmic forces. It is man's realization of his smallness and
impermanence in the face of the reality that lies beyond sensual
comprehension. Ultimately, the sublime intimates a hierarchy,
dividing the experience of our earthly plane below from the infinite
distance and mystery of the sky above. I feel the essence of the
sublime can only be grasped by intuitive responses, but I must
add that it is not something that can ever be grasped, so to speak.
The next stage of my painting process begins with the purification/consecration
of the work by fire. This component of my process is not always
necessary or desired -- sometimes I chose not to commit these
acts of conflagration. But when I do, the sacred fire purifies
and sanctifies the work, imbuing the organic surface with additional
qualities and characteristics of nature. The fire consumes the
work and bonds the disparate elements - it is the sole communion
between matter and life. The stones and dirt of are left untouched
by the flames, except for places where the hot, viscous paint
or wax drips or melts over top, subsequently obscuring the earth.
This explores notions of cause and effect and unpredictable occurrences.
I see the process of art making as being comprised of both creative
and destructive acts.
Some of the leaves and other plant matter are reduced to ash when
exposed to the flames, while other sections are left untouched.
The plant matter invariably decomposes over time. The ash may
blow away in the wind or remain stuck in its reduced state while
the unburned leaves gradually rot; thus, the artwork itself changes
with the natural progression of the materials to different states.
In addition, anything that happens to the work as a result of
some unforeseen outside stimuli must be accepted, though not necessarily
appreciated. It could get rained on, it could tip over, or it
can erode in some other way. These cataclysms would create significant
changes in the surface of the work in a way not unlike a comet
hitting the earth or myself getting hit by lightning. In this
manner, the work echoes the passing of geological time and the
uncompromising forces of nature. The piece is constantly in a
state of flux. The materials constantly changing and dissolving,
all the while imagistic content remains frozen. What once was;
and shall forever be, I suppose.
The notion of art comprised of metaphorical, symbolic materials
and needing to echo natural processes was central to the work
of the Arte Povera movement, Joseph Beuys, Robert Smithson and
the German painter Anselm Kiefer of our present. Kiefer's paints
expressionistic landscapes with complex surfaces and metaphorical
materials, such as lead and straw. These landscapes are recognizable
reflections of the psychological self -- echoing or embodying
states of mind, feelings, and deep spiritual yearnings. Kiefer
combines both the physical immediacy of abstract expressionism
with the conventions of narrative present in earlier expressionistic
landscape painting and history painting -- uniting the scale and
visual richness of abstract expressionism with meaningful subject
matter, thus bridging the gap between the formal and conceptual
poles of art.
Kiefer's paintings are enormous, reflecting the monumentality
of his themes. Kiefer employs local German scenery, sometimes
photographed and then painted over, to explore his personal and
cultural identity as a German. He explores the vast expanse of
history as subject matter: religion, philosophy, and world mythology
are reoccurring themes in his works. Kiefer and I share a common
idea about art-making and the function of art, manifest in our
similar approach to creating artwork. We both seem to have the
impulse to balance pessimistic feelings and apocalyptic themes
with transcendental urges.
Often, I meticulously plan my paintings before I commit myself
to their completion, sometimes by using sublime and expressionist
paintings from the past as models. The overall composition of
my untitled landscape triptych is based on Otto Dix's War triptych,
which was, in turn loosely based on parts of Grunewald's Isenheim
Altarpiece. By choosing the triptych form, I intended not only
to imbue the painting with religious resonance and references
as a statement of the central truths of life, but to exploit the
art historical reference. Dix is an important artist to me because
of his impassioned expression and depiction of blunt, often cruel,
reality. He was a modern artist with a deep social commitment,
who created art for his own self-realization and in protest of
the decadence of German society in the years after World War I.
I intend my triptych to be about life, death, and my own personal
feelings toward these truths in response to my personal life experiences.
I feel that this notion is analogous to Dix's intention toward
his triptych. Dix chose to manifest the cycle of life and death
in the specific phenomenon of war that he himself experienced
as a soldier in World War I. My piece is about contemporary life
and my experiences with others. Sometimes I feel like I'm at war
with the world and everyone in it.
I intend my untitled triptych to be viewed as a narrative from
left to right. Given this reading, I find the overall effect to
be reminiscent of Wagnerian opera. It starts simply enough, rises
to a wonderful crescendo of confusion and then ends all too abruptly.
The first panel, entitled Fuck You, Let's Rodeo, is life, Eros,
vitalism, dusk, suffering, the road to Calvary, the setting of
the hot Apollonian sun into the cold fertile earth, autumn, civilization
and progress, every man for himself, moving upward to an end....but
what end? There is no close foreground, only a middleground, which
is a hill of paint and other materials that leads the eye diagonally
from bottom left to top right, drawing us into the scene and eventually
the center panel. This movement was adopted from the column of
soldiers marching upward into battle from left to right in the
left-hand panel of Dix's triptych. In my painting we are moving
up (progress?) from the wilderness of the desert into the wilderness
of the forest. All the land in the background symbolizes the peripheral,
the distant, perhaps the inconsequential. The red sky, in conjunction
with the cloud formation that bares a vague resemblance to a vagina
functions as a counterpoint to Platonic thinking and notions of
progress. Specifically Plato's allegory of the cave proposes a
transcendent rise toward pure light as an escape from the bonds
of the senses and the body; this escape from the cave is clearly
meant to signify birth from a womb. The womb in my painting is
the cloudy sky, and the light that allows its form to be visible
is not pure, the sun has already set and the scene is dimming.
Thus, Platonic enlightenment and revelation becomes birth into
this worldly sphere from the unknown void of space. The 'reality'
of the upward climb up the heavily forested mountain is emphasized
by the actual natural materials present on the painting. Passing
through the threshold we will find no pure light. We are simply
born into this world of uncertainty, fear, and suffering and that
is all. The only thing we can be certain of is the bonds of the
senses and the body--which cannot be escaped, only embraced.
I believe in the sovereignty of the psychological self over the
willful actions of the body, but even the great self is deeply
involved in a complex relationship with the body, being subject
to biological drives and needs. As well, the body is subject to
nature's forces and predestined life cycle. I see autumn as a
metaphor for the conscious intellect trapped in the impermanent
confine of the body - for human existence. More universally applicable
to what we moderns and our science and rationality know of our
human existence, autumn as a singular season represents our gradual
aging and eventual death. World religions may have us seek solace
in the possibility of an afterlife where we dream our consciousness
will remain, or in the promise of rebirth. Some may see life and
the continuous cycle of the seasons is a positive metaphor for
the promise of new life and regeneration. But for me, these promises
are blind and hollow, shallow and empty.
When I painted the swirling red sky I was obsessing over Edvard
Munch's The Scream. During this time I was filled with horror
and anxiety, depressed to the point of tears over sordid experiences
with the world and other human life. Munch's famous quotation
about the bloody red sunset that inspired his painting spoke to
me. I knew that I needed to paint a coagulated sky, rich with
fresh blood, swirling and vital, filled with pulsing life...and
agony.
The central panel, entitled Everybody Has to Believe in Something
- I Believe I'll Have Another Beer, is a transitory state, dying
or transcending, anxiety, insanity, the Crucifixion, Dionysius's
theory of orders, spiraling and forever in motion, the unavoidable.
It reminds me of a view of Yosemite. The composition of this panel
is again based on Dix's triptych, specifically the vortex of motion
from the top left spiraling down and around into the center of
the work. The vortex was created through dripped action painting.
I stood on top of the panel making countless passes dripping paint.
I danced around in circles into the center following the movement
of the vortex. The visible energy of action painting was perfect
for the powerful forces I wanted to suggest. This method of painting
was developed by the 20th century's premier abstract expressionist,
the American Jackson Pollock. Pollock was concerned with revealing
universal truths and profound human experience through the individual
creative act. His art was the ultimate expression of his individuality,
a reflection of himself in the physical action of painting. These
paintings are large, dense and coloristically rich paintings.
Through overlapping layers of dripped and splattered paint, Pollock's
process of creating the piece is readily apparent and free of
explicit illusion. Thus, the energy of the process is the subject
matter, allowing the work unequivocal immediacy. Yes, I too, am
nature.
The interface between the physical materials and the imagistic
painting of the central panel of the triptych is integral to the
meaning of this sublime painting. The land formation is comprised
of dirt, twigs and branches, tangible earth. As the land moves
along the downward spiral inward to the center, these materials
begin to dissolve and disappear into the action painting, where
the energy of my physical being is apparent, disappearing into
infinity and an imagistic sky. I get the sense that I am in some
way attempting to conceptually enact my own crucifixion.
The final panel, entitled Live to Ride...Ride to Die, is Thanatos,
Descent from the Cross, life's toll, emptiness, a winter of emotions.
My painting is based on Norwegian painter Erik Theodor Werenskiold's
Peasant Burial(1885). His painting is a brightly-lit daytime landscape
with figures in the foreground clustered around a simple grave
in the earth. Werenskiold based this painting on Gustave Courbet's
Burial at Ornans(1849). It is important to me that my triptych
incorporates compositional elements from the past. It is my way
of extolling the brilliance of dead masters, and adding formal
weight and strength to my own work from proven formulas echoing
Dix's statement: "In the midst of life, we are surrounded
by death.."2
Like, Courbet, Werenskiold believed death to be a natural rather
than a transcendental experience. For me, meaningful content is
generated in my work from the beliefs of the artist who's works
I am quoting. The eight figures depicted in Werenskiold's scene
seem stoic and accepting of death. The inevitable cycle of birth
and death seems to be symbolized by their range of ages. Peasant
Burial is humble, low(hierarchy), and ordinary, while my interpretation
transforms the borrowed scene into the sublime while still conveying
the same sentiment. The truth is still there, just mysterious
and under the surface, reflecting my notions of the state of non-being
after death. The barrenness and emptiness of the scene is also
important in relating this content. I replaced the figures with
trees in my painting, which is a nod to obscure German Romantics
Carl Gustave Carus and Moritz von Schwind. Trees are associated
with growth and decay, in addition, I believe the growth rings
of the tree unite the cycles of vegetal and human evolution.
I placed this borrowed part of the composition higher on the picture
plane. The placement of the trees toward the top was inspired
by Robert Raushenberg's Bed as it appears photographically reproduced
in art books. I like his idea about the self perpetually reconstructing
itself in the process of adapting to one's encounters with the
world. Thus, I decided to work from my only experience with one
of his works that happened to be a three-dimensional piece represented
on a two-dimensional plane. As well, we sleep in a bed, compared
to the eternal sleep of death in the grave.
Overall, the painting is a moody, atmospheric scene of snow drifts
with distant trees shrouded in mist on a gray winter day. It reminds
me of the premier German Romantic Caspar David Friedrich's paintings
of the early nineteenth century -- from the imagery as well as
the absence of materials on the surface. The absence of materials
further conveys the notion of an unknowable afterlife unconcerned
with the physical realm we know in life. Although Friedrich was
a Christian and I am not, the way in which he addressed his belief
system through his art resonates with my own ideas about life,
death, the artist and the function of art. He was compelled to
interpret the visible world in response to emotional sensations
aroused by the contemplation of nature, with the end result of
intimating the invisible or supernatural. In this way Friedrich
is possibly the most influential artist for me.
I am a painter of sublime, emotionalized landscapes for the personally
liberating creativity of the act, the satisfaction it brings me,
and the protest that this act enters concerning the enveloping
permeation of technology and modernity. It is not necessarily
my intention to teach people with my art, but if someone comes
to some deeper level of experience from an encounter with my work
(perhaps a new found respect or deeper understanding of nature
and man's place therein) I would be happy. It is important to
remember that ideas are constantly threatened; whether religious
or ethical, values are all vulnerable. I do not seek to assert
myself with the charge of uncovering universal truths that may
bond humanity together, bringing about a new epoch of peace and
harmony. Anyone who would make a claim like that is a fool. I
don't believe that my art can change the world. In fact, I'm not
even sure to what degree I would want it changed, if it were at
all possible. Perhaps mankind's destiny is the void and the throes
of extinction.
1 Mark Rothko quoted in James Twitchell's Romanitc Horizons (Columbia;
University of Missouri Press), p. 203
2 Otto Dix carved this statement into the back of his painting
entitled Triumph of Death (1934).
Otto Dix: 1891-1969. (London, Tate Gallery, 1992)