Like every heart broke and anticipation weary Flyers fan out there, I’m eager and antsy for the arrival of Matvei Michkov. The mad Russian. The team's 2023 first draft pick, and our vessel of hope for a Cup in the foreseeable future. He's wrapping up his KHL contract, and we’re watching highlight reels, and watching social media tea leaves foretelling his arrival.
Yesterday, I watched a video of Michkov scoring Michigan goals, one after another. Ahh, the Michigan. A hockey move in which, from behind the net, you use your stick to scoop up the puck (à la lacrosse), reach around, and slip it in over the goalie’s shoulder. Named for the goal a Michigan Wolverines player scored in a 1996 NCAA tournament (see it on YouTube, a real thing of beauty), it‘s become a sure fire highlight reel move. Elite players pull it off, and the rest dream of someday pulling it off.
When we were kids playing hockey, we wanted to be sprawling power forwards. Smash someone with your shoulder, split the defense, and blow a hole in the back of the net. Pickup games inevitably devolved into slapshot contests, or hockey ‘fight nights’.
The game has changed. Kids in rinks today play for finesse. They practice trick shots and sleight of stick. The Michigan is slippy, efficient, and beautiful. It takes cajones. It cuts the gordian knot. Why pass the puck around for a play, if you can just pick it up, and put it in the net? You do it with flair and panache. And jaws drop.
For a while, I've been rolling around an idea of an artistic analogy to the Michigan goal. What is that adroit move? A maneuver someone made which refocused everyone's aim?
Somehow, my mind first moves to the editing process. I think of Goodfellas. One of those perfect movies, it's boldly efficient. Everything unnecessary chopped out. Not a moment wasted in getting to that emotional core. And it's slick too. Something like - you've been along for the ride before you realize you’ve gotten on the bus. And ever since, so many movies have tried to pull off that Goodfellas style.
I think of Hemingway. Famous chopper of extra language. You’re reading his book. He told events. Newspaper style. But, before you know it, you're all in for the love, for the longing, the heartbreak, and the machismo. Confident, and quick, and wrapped up with time to get home for martinis.
Cory Stoll played Hemingway in Woody Allen's Midnight in Paris. His lines, over the top, goony, funny, and nail on the head.
“It was a good book, because it was an honest book.”
“You’ll never write well if you fear dying.”
“If you're a writer, declare yourself the best writer.”
You're watching, asking yourself what's going on in this silly movie. Before you know it, history is framed. You’ve gotten something thoughtful, romantic, and heartfelt.
I also think of The Ramones. In my head, sometimes, they’re adjacent to the Beach Boys. Summery and fun. But, in this context, may be more like Buddy Holly. No extra syrup. Short songs. Catchy and simple. Tough and dumb. Just punk rock. These guys don't even need the knees in their jeans. Now, the ‘Ramones thing’ is emulated endlessly.
But, then there’s Bach, and his cello pieces. They're the Michigan too. Nimble and quick and perfect. Yo-yo Ma playing Bach, a human achievement if ever there was.
Chopin. To listen is astonishingly effortless for the complexity of the compositions. Nocturnes flowing like water, but incredibly difficult to play. Masterful puck handling along the boards, behind the goalie, and the point scored with a daedal flash too quick to see.
So, there’s more to it than just editing. Goodfellas, after all, is not only an efficient movie. It is also a symphony. Intricately built. A detailed vision from the outset, and distinct achievement in the end. There’s practice, fitness, and hard work put in long before the goal is scored.
There’s something like this symphony/punk dichotomy in great painting too. Sharp, efficient painting method paired with great faculty for idea development.
I think of Albrecht Durer. His painting Hase or Hare, a plain masterpiece. A hare, seen and drawn with acute skill. The date ‘1502 AD’ calligraphically penned below. Both dramatic and simple, and showing masterful prowess.
Or Durer’s Portrait of the Artist Holding a Thistle. Deadpan, poised, and well constructed. The transition, eye to nose to eye, is notoriously tricky in this type of ¾ portrait. But this whole picture is kind of wonky, isn't it? The eyes and nose, the hands, the shoulders, the hair. They're all kind of out of whack.
Yesterday, I watched a video of Michkov scoring Michigan goals, one after another. Ahh, the Michigan. A hockey move in which, from behind the net, you use your stick to scoop up the puck (à la lacrosse), reach around, and slip it in over the goalie’s shoulder. Named for the goal a Michigan Wolverines player scored in a 1996 NCAA tournament (see it on YouTube, a real thing of beauty), it‘s become a sure fire highlight reel move. Elite players pull it off, and the rest dream of someday pulling it off.
When we were kids playing hockey, we wanted to be sprawling power forwards. Smash someone with your shoulder, split the defense, and blow a hole in the back of the net. Pickup games inevitably devolved into slapshot contests, or hockey ‘fight nights’.
The game has changed. Kids in rinks today play for finesse. They practice trick shots and sleight of stick. The Michigan is slippy, efficient, and beautiful. It takes cajones. It cuts the gordian knot. Why pass the puck around for a play, if you can just pick it up, and put it in the net? You do it with flair and panache. And jaws drop.
For a while, I've been rolling around an idea of an artistic analogy to the Michigan goal. What is that adroit move? A maneuver someone made which refocused everyone's aim?
Somehow, my mind first moves to the editing process. I think of Goodfellas. One of those perfect movies, it's boldly efficient. Everything unnecessary chopped out. Not a moment wasted in getting to that emotional core. And it's slick too. Something like - you've been along for the ride before you realize you’ve gotten on the bus. And ever since, so many movies have tried to pull off that Goodfellas style.
I think of Hemingway. Famous chopper of extra language. You’re reading his book. He told events. Newspaper style. But, before you know it, you're all in for the love, for the longing, the heartbreak, and the machismo. Confident, and quick, and wrapped up with time to get home for martinis.
Cory Stoll played Hemingway in Woody Allen's Midnight in Paris. His lines, over the top, goony, funny, and nail on the head.
“It was a good book, because it was an honest book.”
“You’ll never write well if you fear dying.”
“If you're a writer, declare yourself the best writer.”
You're watching, asking yourself what's going on in this silly movie. Before you know it, history is framed. You’ve gotten something thoughtful, romantic, and heartfelt.
I also think of The Ramones. In my head, sometimes, they’re adjacent to the Beach Boys. Summery and fun. But, in this context, may be more like Buddy Holly. No extra syrup. Short songs. Catchy and simple. Tough and dumb. Just punk rock. These guys don't even need the knees in their jeans. Now, the ‘Ramones thing’ is emulated endlessly.
But, then there’s Bach, and his cello pieces. They're the Michigan too. Nimble and quick and perfect. Yo-yo Ma playing Bach, a human achievement if ever there was.
Chopin. To listen is astonishingly effortless for the complexity of the compositions. Nocturnes flowing like water, but incredibly difficult to play. Masterful puck handling along the boards, behind the goalie, and the point scored with a daedal flash too quick to see.
So, there’s more to it than just editing. Goodfellas, after all, is not only an efficient movie. It is also a symphony. Intricately built. A detailed vision from the outset, and distinct achievement in the end. There’s practice, fitness, and hard work put in long before the goal is scored.
There’s something like this symphony/punk dichotomy in great painting too. Sharp, efficient painting method paired with great faculty for idea development.
I think of Albrecht Durer. His painting Hase or Hare, a plain masterpiece. A hare, seen and drawn with acute skill. The date ‘1502 AD’ calligraphically penned below. Both dramatic and simple, and showing masterful prowess.
Or Durer’s Portrait of the Artist Holding a Thistle. Deadpan, poised, and well constructed. The transition, eye to nose to eye, is notoriously tricky in this type of ¾ portrait. But this whole picture is kind of wonky, isn't it? The eyes and nose, the hands, the shoulders, the hair. They're all kind of out of whack.
Artists don't work in a vacuum. Someday, hockey goalies may wear differently shaped shoulder pads, or, who knows, rearview mirrors on their helmets, to see Michigan goals coming. The trick shots will evolve to accommodate some aspect of the game we haven't imagined yet. And then, the game will evolve to accommodate trick shots we haven't imagined yet.
I think the wonkiness in Durer's portrait comes from his strategy of rendering the figure to show depth. Before the Renaissance, depth of space was typically shown with linework. Picture a simple line drawing of a straight road with telephone poles descending to a point on the horizon. Durer's portrait doesn't show space this way. Portrait of the Artist Holding a Thistle is shallow, but Durer showed depth by rendering and rounding the forms on the figure. That rendering, made possible by Renaissance era advances in paint technology, was the crafty new shot. I think, possibly, at the time, your first exposure to a painting like this, may have felt like our first time seeing a 3D movie, or an IMAX.
And that's why we call it a renaissance isn't it? Painters solving age-old puzzles of picture making. Cutting through knots. Artists began using paint as constructive material. Layering and pushing the medium to create pictorial space. Paintings started to look more like the real thing, and in doing so became much more. Painters were working in a new realm. Ever since, if they want to compete, realists must keep some Renaissance methods in their tool bag.
For badass editing, I think of the modernists. Cut all the fat to get to the emotional core. Why pass the puck around for a play, if you can just pick it up and put it in the net? Robert motherwell. Cy Twombly. Punk rock. It’s in the gut. Paint smacked on the canvas, like a cough that wakes you from a dream. But, still, sit in Cy Twombly’s Fifty Days at Iliam room at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, take the paintings in deep, and tell me they're not symphonic. It's a different kind of symphony. It's a different kind of trick shot. And so, come modernism, artists had to add those techniques to their bags too.
I think the wonkiness in Durer's portrait comes from his strategy of rendering the figure to show depth. Before the Renaissance, depth of space was typically shown with linework. Picture a simple line drawing of a straight road with telephone poles descending to a point on the horizon. Durer's portrait doesn't show space this way. Portrait of the Artist Holding a Thistle is shallow, but Durer showed depth by rendering and rounding the forms on the figure. That rendering, made possible by Renaissance era advances in paint technology, was the crafty new shot. I think, possibly, at the time, your first exposure to a painting like this, may have felt like our first time seeing a 3D movie, or an IMAX.
And that's why we call it a renaissance isn't it? Painters solving age-old puzzles of picture making. Cutting through knots. Artists began using paint as constructive material. Layering and pushing the medium to create pictorial space. Paintings started to look more like the real thing, and in doing so became much more. Painters were working in a new realm. Ever since, if they want to compete, realists must keep some Renaissance methods in their tool bag.
For badass editing, I think of the modernists. Cut all the fat to get to the emotional core. Why pass the puck around for a play, if you can just pick it up and put it in the net? Robert motherwell. Cy Twombly. Punk rock. It’s in the gut. Paint smacked on the canvas, like a cough that wakes you from a dream. But, still, sit in Cy Twombly’s Fifty Days at Iliam room at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, take the paintings in deep, and tell me they're not symphonic. It's a different kind of symphony. It's a different kind of trick shot. And so, come modernism, artists had to add those techniques to their bags too.
Kids started practicing crafty shots after the Michigan. Painters started layering oil after the Renaissance. And everyone wanted to break molds after the modernists. The art world, for better or worse, has been searching hard for the next big mold breaker ever since. And, as artist, like it or not, you must spend time in that vein.
I think of Henri Fantin-Latour, The Drawing Lesson. Probably not a game changing painting, but it shows something. Deep knowledge of past methods on display. The still life prop, a classical bust, front and center. In the studio learn and practice. And practice and practice and practice. Make one drawing after another. On your easel, on your lap, build muscle memory.
Or Fantin-Latour’s The Reading. A similar, but, in my opinion, better, painting to The Drawing Lesson. A beautiful piece. Again you must gain knowledge. You must do your homework, and put in the practice before you can pull off the perfect move. With this painting, Fantin-Latour pulls it off. It's a goal you don't see coming. Adept painted patterns. Table cloth. Flowers. Composed and balanced blocks of color. Dark dress shapes. Light architectural background. Shards of paint rendering. Chair backs. Book pages. Reading, and painting. The scene is as real to the artist's eye as it is to his hand. Cajones and achievement. Goal scored.
I think of Henri Fantin-Latour, The Drawing Lesson. Probably not a game changing painting, but it shows something. Deep knowledge of past methods on display. The still life prop, a classical bust, front and center. In the studio learn and practice. And practice and practice and practice. Make one drawing after another. On your easel, on your lap, build muscle memory.
Or Fantin-Latour’s The Reading. A similar, but, in my opinion, better, painting to The Drawing Lesson. A beautiful piece. Again you must gain knowledge. You must do your homework, and put in the practice before you can pull off the perfect move. With this painting, Fantin-Latour pulls it off. It's a goal you don't see coming. Adept painted patterns. Table cloth. Flowers. Composed and balanced blocks of color. Dark dress shapes. Light architectural background. Shards of paint rendering. Chair backs. Book pages. Reading, and painting. The scene is as real to the artist's eye as it is to his hand. Cajones and achievement. Goal scored.
I think of Egon Schiele. A favorite artist of mine from way back. Schiele is often a favorite of young painters. I think, maybe, it's because his straight forward pictures are so explicitly intelligible. But still you are jaw dropped about how he pulled them off.
Try to make a picture like an Egon Schiele. It looks so effortless. Sketch, scribble, and then just add your feelings, right? But try, and you realize it's near impossible. Behind the seeming simplicity, is his perfect skill and talent. Paint and drawing handled effortlessly. Like breathing. You haven't gotten past how fearless and sexy his pictures are before you’re consumed by the emotion in them. Anger, love, lust, hopelessness. Symphonic, and perfectly tuned. Also, cunning, rock and roll, and badass. Mother and baby. The crowd will love it.
It's hard. Once you get going like this, so many great artists, and great pieces come to mind. Painting has a long history. There are many awe-striking moments in art. And, well, deal with it how you will, this is how we’re taught art history. Pre-renaissance, pre-raphaelite. Post-impressionism, postmodernism. You must be careful in this. There are going to be some inevitable pitfalls that come with always defining the game by each new strategy. But damn if the new tricks aren't fun to watch.
So what is the ‘Michigan goal’ of art? After this brief rumination, I still don't have it figured out. I’ll keep thinking about it. But I know, seeing a good Michigan is akin to looking at a masterwork. A practiced expert doing their thing. Skill and talent. Balls and brains and finesse. Inspiring to see. And, afterward, you see things a little differently.
I don't remember where I heard this story. Maybe it was about Wayne Gretzky, I’m not sure. Near the end of a close game, he skated by his bench telling his teammates he wouldn't stop for a breather. Instead he’d go up ice, get the puck, score a goal, and win the game. And that’s what he did. Put the game in the bag.
I think that's what I’ll do tonight. I’ll swing by the studio, and put something down on canvas. It will be honest, and beautiful. It will sneak in and change the game. It will be perfect. Then I'll go home, and have a cold martini.
Try to make a picture like an Egon Schiele. It looks so effortless. Sketch, scribble, and then just add your feelings, right? But try, and you realize it's near impossible. Behind the seeming simplicity, is his perfect skill and talent. Paint and drawing handled effortlessly. Like breathing. You haven't gotten past how fearless and sexy his pictures are before you’re consumed by the emotion in them. Anger, love, lust, hopelessness. Symphonic, and perfectly tuned. Also, cunning, rock and roll, and badass. Mother and baby. The crowd will love it.
It's hard. Once you get going like this, so many great artists, and great pieces come to mind. Painting has a long history. There are many awe-striking moments in art. And, well, deal with it how you will, this is how we’re taught art history. Pre-renaissance, pre-raphaelite. Post-impressionism, postmodernism. You must be careful in this. There are going to be some inevitable pitfalls that come with always defining the game by each new strategy. But damn if the new tricks aren't fun to watch.
So what is the ‘Michigan goal’ of art? After this brief rumination, I still don't have it figured out. I’ll keep thinking about it. But I know, seeing a good Michigan is akin to looking at a masterwork. A practiced expert doing their thing. Skill and talent. Balls and brains and finesse. Inspiring to see. And, afterward, you see things a little differently.
I don't remember where I heard this story. Maybe it was about Wayne Gretzky, I’m not sure. Near the end of a close game, he skated by his bench telling his teammates he wouldn't stop for a breather. Instead he’d go up ice, get the puck, score a goal, and win the game. And that’s what he did. Put the game in the bag.
I think that's what I’ll do tonight. I’ll swing by the studio, and put something down on canvas. It will be honest, and beautiful. It will sneak in and change the game. It will be perfect. Then I'll go home, and have a cold martini.