The "retina-burn" factor
 

Last year I was at a parent-teacher event at my son's high school, and I was sitting across the table from the art teacher. He had recently won several awards at area shows, so I congratulated him on his good fortune.

"Oh, it's a c--- shoot," he said.

"But," I insisted, "you won several awards. There must be some method behind choosing what you are going to enter. How do you determine what's likely to win?"

He said that a teacher of his had once told him that, when the judges go around looking at all the pieces in a show, they are usually overwhelmed by the sheer number of entries, and they don't have time to look losely at each one, so the ones they choose are the ones with "retina-burn." Retina-burn is the power a work of art has to burn itself indelibly into your visual memory.

In your opinion, what factors give a painting "retina-burn?"What stops you in your tracks, grabs you and won't let go, makes you want to possess a particular work of art?

Please post examples if you like!

Good question, Alex.

I've come back to this Vermeer many times:

Garth

What makes me stand still and then walks me across the room is an extended, but not necessarily even, value range, because therein lies the illusion of depth, both physically and psychologically.

With time and the tools, you can learn to draw and you can learn to paint, loosely, tightly, this palette or that, and that's all very interesting for a limited time, but there's too often not any lingering story there for you to step into, no "Magic Eye" images-within-the-image promise that keeps pulling you back in, placing you in the scene. Color has a shot at it, but values get it done, for me.

Having an appreciation for the interplay of values -- particularly in strong contrast near the focal point of the work -- is what distinguishes the gallery wallpaper from the piece I want to take home, what makes me think, "I want to be there," or "I want to know her." I am at this instant visualizing two paintings at two different galleries nearby, each of which has this quality. I want them both. My accountant won't let me have them. I may have to get a different numbers guy. Or more numbers.

Just from seeing what "wins" at some events, you can't discount the flash of intense color, the startling composition, this year's Pet Rock, or the outrageous motif.

Unfortunately, the best examples at hand of what I'm thinking of are landscapes and interiors, rather than portraits or figures. I'll leave the door ajar and see what wanders in. All these heavy art books I've been moving across oceans for ten years must have some useful images in them.

Ha, Garth, a funny thing happened when I looked in my mailbox: I read your post, which of course had no images, and immediately I visualized the exact Vermeer you put up here. When I went on the Forum, there it was! That one has always been my favorite. The diagonal of the red hat is so daring, but I think it's the lighting and the shine on her open mouth that really grabs me. I feel like Vermeer did something daring when he painted that portrait: he saw a vision and had to paint it, even though it was a departure from his usual color and lighting.

Steven, I think your point about visual and psychological depth is brilliant. Of course we all have different taste and different reactions to the same painting, but I can definitely relate to what you are saying. The value contrast and maybe a crisply-painted edge near the focal point is something I've been paying more attention to lately.

There are so many Sargents with this "retina-burn" factor that it's hard to pick a couple. Here's a link to my husband's all-time favorite, Asher Wertheimer. Not only does Mr. Wertheimer look like his Uncle Alan, he says it makes him feel like his Uncle Alan is about to walk out of the canvas and say hello:

http://www.jssgallery.org/Essay/Arti...998-Left2.html

My favorite of Sargent's is the Boit Children, probably because I first walked into the room where it was hanging in the Boston museum when I was a college student. I knew very little about Sargent and this absolutely took my breath away. First of all, it's really big, 87" x 87", and it has an incredible sense of atmosphere and depth. I felt like I could walk into it, or that I was being pulled into it! It fueled my ambition to someday learn how to paint atmosphere.

Interesting question and interesting responses. To me, it's partly a factor of pulling you closer to the painting. Not just a peevish, peering "gee, how did he do that transition" but "gee, I want to be next to that, I want to touch that." So in addition to values and color there's a paint quality factor - a wall presence - that distinguishes a painting from a photo. I guess for me personally this is why I don't like overly-rendered paintings where every surface has the same degree of polish.

And let's not discount the sheer joy of something that is knock your socks off beautiful. That's pretty subjective, though.

I'm with you, Garth. I go back to that Vermeer many times - literally. I grew up in the DC area and every time I go to the National Gallery I make a point to see this and the three other Vermeers they have. When I was 14, I was wandering around the NG one day, taking in all the fabulous Rembrandts(!) and I turned into this little, poorly lit room, connecting two larger galleries, and I beheld for the first time, these paintings by Vermeer. I had never heard of him. I was BLOWN AWAY....by this one in particular. I wouldn't mind owning this.

The nice thing about this painting also, is how small it is (approx 7" X 9"). So it would be easy to hide if the cops came snooping around.

More recently, this one has caused me some severe "retina-burn."

I think it's got to be something magical. I see it happening like this: You (the artist) visualize a concept in your mind, and it is so strong and compelling, you have an overwhelming feeling that the painting is going to be good. Of course you have to have the skill to pull it off, too. The painting, aside from the usual technical problems to be figured out, paints itself, and the result transcends itself, somehow. It speaks to the viewer on several levels at once. It's beautifully painted, it has depth and color and focal point, but it also says something that you can't forget.

Here's a sculpture, for good measure.
 

Robert Fulton, by Jean-Antoine Houdon. 1803 Wow!

Garth

So funny you should say that. My wife still laughs about the first time I saw it. I was in the adjacent gallery and caught a glimpse out of the corner of my eye. I gasped loudly and turned on my heels. I just had to sit in front of it and gawk for a while. I think I could gladly pay the admission fee just to sit in front of that one painting for a day.

Edit: For those who haven't been there. The huge vases in the painting were given to the museum by the Boit family. They stand on either side of the painting. A nice touch.

Garth,
You hit my all time favorite sculpture. His sculptures of Louise Brougniart at the Met or Getty ( I forget which) and his Voltaire in Louvre are stunning favorites.