Inspiration from Artists Wk 112 Bonus Artist Rodger McPhail

I like some of his wildlife paintings, but a lot of his work is too photorealistic for my liking.  Obviously a very accomplished artist, though.

When it gets to the point, as it does with some of the examples above, that you ask yourself 'Is that a painting or a photograph?', I find myself asking the question 'Why bother?'.  I do not wish to decry the undoubted skill, but I think it is often the imperfections that make a painting attractive, or for want of a better word "artistic".

I also like some of the wildlife studies. The four figures seated in the garden looks exactly like a photograph! Great skill obviously, but as Tony quite rightly says… why bother! You’ve got the photo, so what’s the point?

Incredible skills but for me also too much like photos, which is why I didn’t comment earlier, thought I’d wait to see what everyone else said! He is very good at capturing the poses of the hunt, animal and human, but they lack any real spirit and nothing left to the imagination. 

I thought this quote (by Mike Barr) in the latest issue of The Artist reflects what we’ve discussed before in this thread - “Good art is not so much about brilliance of technique, but the ability to make a scene with your voice in it.”

This is the work of a jobbing artist - nothing wrong with that, of course.  Provided you enjoy doing it; I've mentioned before a deceased colleague of mine who painted to commission, and hated it - then, there's a lot wrong with it. The hunting scenes sell, or sold, very well to hunting communities; to farmers, "country sports" enthusiasts: I dislike them intensely, but that's got nothing to do with anything beyond the subject, if that makes any sense: the draughtsmanship is superb - but I just don't want to see artwork which celebrates killing things, when you've stripped all the sentiment and romanticism out of it.   The family group in the garden - people are saying it looks like a photograph, but to me it looks as if it was paintedfrom a photograph - it's posed; it was a commission, designed to be a family piece and commemoration; and it needs to be judged in that light.   It means nothing to anyone outside the family, and that very much limits its value as a work of art.  But it's what the artist was paid for... You can go beyond the brief, as Lucian Freud did in his portrait of the late Queen - memorably described as making her look as though she were chewing a wasp.  Do that as a working artist without a stellar reputation,  earning their crust from painting people as they wish to be seen, and that's the last commission you'll get from them. My point - this gentleman is earning a living by his art, and if not exactly having to make compromises, is limited by the expectations placed on him.  I couldn't do that - not because I'm any kind of great or innovative artist, but simply because I would be so bored that I'd rather earn my crust sitting in an office - because that way, I wouldn't be doing something I loved to do, provided I could pick my subjects and approach, and selling what abilities I had to produce an acceptable genre of art.  I couldn't, but this artist can, and that's what makes him a successful professional. I really think that those many artists who want to become professionals have to realize this - it's very rarely about painting great pictures and hoping people with a bit of money will buy them.  You are exceptionally lucky if you hit that jackpot - if what YOU want to do marches alongside a popular mood.  I realized I couldn't go down that road when I was commissioned to paint a portrait of a woman who was frankly besotted by her own face and didn't realize that there were quirks and imperfections which could have been ironed out, as it were, but I didn't want to perform the work of Max Factor.   A real professional wouldn't have hesitated.  The portraitist who painted one of the royal princesses - I can never remember their names, I've given up trying to: was it Kate Middleton? - painted a very professional, and astonishingly tepid, portrait of a young woman who had done little, achieved little, was just TOO young for her face to display any character beyond general good will. That's what you've got to do if you want to establish a professional reputation unless your abilities border on or achieve genius.   I don't know if they teach you that at art school, but they should: not to discourage, but to ensure students have a realistic appreciation of what they might do with their careers.   Be a genius, in which case you don't need art college, or establish yourself as a professional, in which case you will have, to switch to a journalistic analogy,  to cover an awful lot of dog shows and village fetes before they let you loose as a Parliamentary correspondent with your own column and YouTube channel. Someone has got to do the professional, hard-working, taking individual challenges as they come, slog: they also serve, serve honourably, but if that's going to be you - understand that, hope for more if you like, but don't be like my late colleague and hate yourself for doing it.  I'm not for a minute suggesting that Rodger McPhail may not love what he does - his fascination with wildlife shows itself in his more informal sketches and drawings; but only a great deal of money would have persuaded me to attempt that family group painting, which I think stilted; whereas I'd be very happy to have his egret painting, and woodcock and magpie sketches, adorning my walls.  

Too long, but if just one person who wants to be a "professional artist" reads it, it might have served a purpose. 

You've opened up an interesting discussion, Robert.  I'd agree with you about the premise of hyper-realism.  But I'd prefer the partridge (?) sketch over the monochromes.   When I see such imitation of photos I'm reminded of my photographer uncle, who printed his portraits on canvas.  It achieves the same end?

Only looking at the images above, I would suggest that he is more skilled and comfortable at monochrome or coloured monochromes (Gondola & the wonderful hunting sketches). The portraits are more colourful but are less convincing. That's not because they look like photos, it's because they don't.  I may be projecting my own struggles with colour over the ease of pure value.

I see what you mean, Owen - on the other hand, the colour in the gondola, pheasant, deer, and stoat paintings is well judged; his portrait sitter in the scarlet dress looks oddly bored, but that's not an issue with the colour.  Well, you can analyse these things till the cows come home, but ultimately my conclusion is: I hate some of his subject matter, but his drawing of wildlife wouldn't shame the great Thorburn - and that has to be an achievement.