James Chiang

“What would men be without women? Scarce, sir…mighty scarce.” — Mark Twain

Long overdue, this begins a series of posts dedicated exclusively to the often underrated and unsung women in the visual arts.

First off, women amaze me. Not only do they carry the burden of procreation, they’re most often the soul of the family unit and caretaker of children during their most vulnerable and formative years. Women can truly be said to be the foundation of society, one built on love. With all due to respect to my father, I know that I’d never become the person I am now without my mother. She tirelessly raised five children, worked full-time alongside my father building the family business (which was six to seven days of the week, usually seven), did almost all the cooking and cleaning and still managed to teach me what it meant to be human. She never spent a day not caring for or worrying about all us kids while helping others outside of the family in goodwill and charity. Almost my entire sense of what it means to be honourable, compassionate and generous comes directly from her. And she did all this with less than a grade three education and having to move the family from country to country across three different continents; I can’t imagine what she’d have accomplished with the privileges that I have received.

In the arts, and almost all fields in human history, women have been discarded, rejected and prevented from individual expression and creativity. Education and opportunity were severely restricted. It wasn’t even until as late as 1984 that the last state in America (Mississippi) would ratify the 19th Amendment allowing women to vote (which was officially passed in 1920). That’s the kind of suffrage women have had to endure, not to mention the psychological and often physical violence that accompanied a patriarchal society. That, of course, meant that we never saw much art, literature, musical, or acting accolades amongst the female sex. Still, there were women in history that refused to be imprisoned by such exclusion. The likes of literary giants like Mary Shelley, Jane Austin and Virginia Wolfe were proof of that as were great scientists like Marie Curie, Jane Goodall and (one of my heroes) Rachel Carson. Influential philosophers like Simone Weil, Ayn Rand and Hannah Arendt also bucked the trend. They were derided for doing so, but they did it regardless. That’s courage. In the art world, women’s roles in theatre were, for centuries, played by men while female designers and painters were rejected almost without exception, their talents squandered in limited supporting roles. But again, some would find a way.

In honour of the recent celebration of International Woman’s Day (which unfortunately has been superseded by our current crisis), here are some women in the visual arts who have shined despite everything, both in the past and now, even with the playing field still far from being level or fair.

Joan Mitchell, Painter

I love the art of Joan Mitchell. Her super-large scale paintings are filled with the brilliance of light and mastery of colour. As part of the second wave of abstract expressionists, she was one of greats of the modern art movement of the 1950’s and 60’s at a time when the big men of abstract art (Pollack, De Kooning, Mark Rothko, etc) dominated the fine art headlines, leaving most, if not all, women artists completely ignored. Her commitment to gestural abstraction was matched only by her same commitment to help young artists, as she generously took in young painters into her home and even after her death, left a designation in her will to continue to support individual artists with the Joan Mitchell Foundation.

Faye Dunaway, Actor

A powerful presence on screen, Faye Dunaway could do more with a look or a glance than most actors today could do with a line. The blond-haired actress develops empathy and deep penetration even when she plays to her icy good looks and strong persona. She can be powerful or vulnerable, often times both as she was in the Roman Polanski’s classic Chinatown. She can be fun and wild as she was in her sexually vibrant role in Arthur Penn’s Bonnie & Clyde. In Sidney Lumet’s masterpiece drama Network, she’s brilliantly cunning yet elegant as news producer Diana Christensen With Dunaway, you can’t wait to find out what she’s up to next. Actors who go all in and expose themselves so fully on screen are rare; those like Faye Dunaway make the movies they star in practically pivot around them.

Mary Blair, Concept Artist

A video tribute to the work of Mary Blair.

One of the most magnificent concept artists of our time, Mary Blair is responsible for the look of many of the brilliant designs and stylings of Walt Disney’s films and theme park creations. From Alice in Wonderland, Peter Pan, Cinderella and Song of the South to the magical rides It’s a Small World and Tomorrowland, Blair’s work illuminates the senses. She was a mastermind of creative ideas and brought modern art into a craft locked into circular shapes and rubber hose characters. Brilliant with shape, colour and composition, her artistry defined excellence in illustration and art direction. There isn’t a concept artist today who’s not influenced by her work.

Sofia Coppola, Screenwriter/Director

Sofia Coppola’s artistry is bold and fresh. The screenwriter/director has a great eye for moments. Like her famous father Francis Ford Coppola, her films have a distinct feel to them and they are uniquely her own. I loved Lost in Translation. Starring the irreplaceable Bill Murray and a young, yet to become famous, Scarlett Johansson, the movie explores beautifully the flowering of friendship, melancholy and nuanced romance. It’s a film the feels lost in time. In her most recent film The Beguiled Coppola showcases how far she’s advanced as a filmmaker, in particular her fine eye in direction and editing. Based on the novel A Painted Devil by Thomas P. Cullinan, Coppola turned the film on its dangerous edges, making the male-female dynamic of the story the center of attention and shockingly into a dynamite thriller. The film is lush, yet sharp, delighting the eyes while tearing at the tension bit by bit. It also made her only the second female director ever to win the Best Director prize at Cannes in 2017.

Jillian Tamaki, Illustrator/Graphic Novelist

Jillian Tamaki is a magnificent young illustrator working today in a field currently dominated by photography and digital wizardry. Yet her work continues to shine and shine far above them. Her artistry is whimsical, graceful and elegant. As creator/illustrator of Super Mutant Magic Academy, Skim and They Say Blue and illustrator of numerous magazines and books, she’s won the Eisner, the Caldecott Honour, Society of Illustrator’s Gold Medal and has received the Governor General’s Award — Canada’s highest honour for a civilian — twice. And her touching graphic novel This One Summer, co-written with her cousin Mariko Tamaki, is one of those special creations; a book of tenderness and truth, beautifully illustrated. It’s masterpiece that skips along and touches the heart at its edges and then penetrates with time. Looking at her drawings always charms and lifts one’s spirit.

This concludes the first in our series of Women in Art. More will be coming. In the meantime, please check out all the work of these great artists for you’ll be well rewarded.

A photo of my garden, where I spend almost every morning in deep reflection and quiet. The action to sit in silence, in rain, sun or snow, is not a habit but a ritual consciously chosen and attentively engaged.

“Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves.” — Henry David Thoreau, Writer.

In a time of crisis, like what has taken hold of the world today, it is difficult to think of or talk about anything else but the crisis itself.

As the modern world comes to a halt, it quietly presents an opportunity to stop and think — about our lives and the lives of everyone and everything else that represents sentient life. Modern neoliberal economics (an almost unregulated form of capitalism that entails a constantly growing economy, globalization and just in time supply chains) have brought with it an attitude dismissive of ecology, equality and the deep bonds of community and locality. It has changed the relationship between man and nature (as well as between man and man). It has also made clear the ease at which things can go so bad, so quickly, so extensively. It’s been a huge price to pay for accelerated material progress and convenience. And now, perhaps with the slowing down of everything, as painful as it may be for many whose lives and livelihood depend on a hustling economy, it might be a call to action, the kind of action that calls into question of what has become habitual about ourselves and our thinking, both individually and as a society. Why? Because what we do habitually is what we accept.

This video, uploaded in 2012 using 2009 statistics, shows the wealth distribution in America (Global figures are even more dramatic). As of 2019, the data differentials have magnified much more so, as three people alone (yes that’s not a typo) own more than half of the population in the United States and just 26 people globally now own more than 50% of the planet’s population per Oxfam studies. Considering that more than 55% of the world’s population still earns less than $7.45 USD per day* we have come to accept this new reality without much awareness or compassion and have quietly become blind to inequality. (*The World Bank, atrociously, still uses $1.90 USD per day as the poverty line.)

Is more still the answer to our problems? When or what is the meaning of enough? Is it possible to live with more connection rather than more stuff? How habitual have we become, reacting rather than truly paying attention to people or things? Can we re-align our focus towards action that is not habitual or mechanical, that which is attentive, clear and compassionate, action that is respectful of everything natural, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant.

“The mind is quiet when there is attention.” — J. Krishnamurti

It is a call to ask ourselves do we have any real love in our hearts? For love is necessary for real passion (and compassion). This is where our creative and innovative spirit merges from, and not, as some suggest, that it comes only out of competition and the greed for individual power and wealth, a mindset that is patriarchal and nationalistic and has brought with it thousands of wars in our brief history on this planet. The most brilliant creations, both artistic and scientific provide ample proof that innovation happens in spite of this violence rather than because of it.

Nikola Tesla was a brilliant scientist who created for creation’s sake and for the sake of the whole of mankind. He never did his craft for power or money and passed into history without little of either. It simply wasn’t as important.

Selfishness is ever so deceptive. The mind disguises it in the form of pride, ambition, security, or meritocracy. If we become habitually selfish, then there is no room for learning. We close ourselves (and others) off. We focus more on ourselves, our ego than our craft, more on our individual success rather than its potential benefit to the world. In a constantly competitive winners-take-all philosophy, a mindset that might be currently responsible for driving us towards a world filled with narcissism and hoarding of wealth (and then justifying it), there is little room for anyone or anything else. It’s astonishing how we forget that we are all in this together, and that we’re all intimately linked no matter how far apart we may be physically.

Van Gogh painted because he needed to. Passion alone drove him.

As mentioned often, habitual behaviour is a result of conditioning. Once conditioned it’s very hard to observe the world or even ourselves with any sort of objectivity or freshness. If we see with prejudice, we can’t see at all. This is true in the approach to our relationships with people and the world around us, as well as with ourselves and our art. When we get used to looking and reacting the same way to things whether it be our work and our relationships we begin to form identities and get used to seeing only the labels. We get used to (or grow tired of) our spouses no matter how kind or beautiful they might be. We get used to (or bored of) seeing our work, no matter how good or flawed. This explains blindspots in art and why we need honest feedback. It’s all too easy to become casually indifferent, dismissive, judgemental and violent. This is the danger of habitual thinking; we become heartless and mechanical. We become blind to reality.

“There is danger in every habit, the habit of smoking, repetitive action, in the employment of words, thought or behaviour. This makes the mind utterly insensitive.” — J. Krishnamurti, Philosopher

What about good habits we might ask? Is there such a thing? I personally no longer believe so. It probably explains why it’s so rare and difficult to build so-called good habits versus how easy it is to create obviously bad ones. This is true when it comes to our profession as well as in how we eat, speak, move and act towards others. In art, it’s very clear that doing something habitually means we’re not truly connecting with the task/object in hand. There is no honest relationship. Hence, it’s so hard to find any flow — that state of beautiful effortless harmony and maximum effectiveness — in our actions because flow is a result of a deep sensitivity, the kind of sensitivity that abandons us when we are selfish and excessively cerebral; focus too hard on the results and we ruin our chances for success. In life, the matters are much more insidious because we are seldom able to catch ourselves getting lost in routine and mindless disorder. To see everything honestly, as if it’s the first time, is perhaps the only way out. It’s also a reminder that unbiased truthful observation might be the most precious thing about living.

“I have realized that the past and future are real illusions, that they exist in the present, which is what there is and all there is.” — Alan Watts, Philosopher

Societies everywhere have become increasingly mechanical over the last century and a half and the pace of that change has been accelerating in the past 40 years. As we approach a crisis in attention, it’s no wonder humans all over this planet are filled with anxiety and or depression, living in constant attachment to desire and fear, psychological dilemmas often mistakenly redefined by the symbols of time and money. Studies show that up to 70% of people in modern cities regularly consume some sort of prescription, legal or illegal drug, and this is not including other forms of addiction or dependency such as smoking, alcohol, television, internet gaming or gambling we might use for placating or distracting ourselves. Slowing things down might be the perfect opportunity, if not the beginning of the answer to our plight. It is a chance to look inward while being fully cognizant of what’s happening outward.

Cartoon, courtesy of the wonderful Gary Larson.

As the mechanical world loses its steam temporarily – for how long, no one knows for sure — there lies an opportunity to use our minds not solely for diverting or suppressing our problems but to confront them directly. For each person to look within themselves and realize that it’s not all about themselves but about others. Being an artist has always been about that — our need for individual expression is a way of connecting our destiny with that of others. And as hard as things are now — and I have some understanding of this, as I’ve been quarantined twice in my life and made very sick do to a virus — we must always remember that “this too” will end, even if it only looks like the beginning.

I’ve never had much use for the word or idea of hope. But today, I hope that people everywhere can emerge from this crisis with greater consciousness, compassion and cooperation. And I’m sure our creativity won’t suffer because of it.