The Online Photographer

A couple of Sundays ago I voyaged to remote rural Dansville, New York, a village of 4,433 souls, to visit my friend Geoff Wittig. He deserves to be called "our" friend too, because you might know of him—he's been commenting for years, and wrote a number of excellent book reviews for the site in the past. (Here's a portrait. And he's a category in the right-hand sidebar.)

I've long wanted to visit him in person to see three things—a sampling of his photographs; his library; and his paintings. Like an increasing number of old friends as well as old friends o' TOP, he's made an elemental shift away from photography as his main artistically-oriented hobby. My friend Nick Hartmann, for instance, after trying piano and a few other things, settled on ceramics. And I love his work, although I only own one piece so far. He's objectively good IMHO. There's a short interview with him here, and at the bottom of that is a link to his own gallery.

Geoff decided, a while back, to learn how to paint. He's a figurative (realistic) painter. The Wikipedia article "Figurative art" will give you a nice short grounding in that subject. The Tate Modern definition is "any form of modern art that retains strong references to the real world." Geoff has taken a number of workshops with leading American representational landscapists, and practices a form of plein air painting. As you probably know, plein air is a French term that means "in the open air" and refers to painting outdoors, directly from the subject. Geoff follows a practice by which the painting is supposed to go from conception to completion in one sitting.

He came to painting as an accomplished landscape photographer, and his photographs, although classic in conception, are well seen and well executed (although, as is typical of creators, he could point out flaws that I hadn't noticed), with a detectable personal style that doesn't call any attention to ego. The offices of the medical practice he shares with several other doctors doubles as a museum for his work—many of his photographs, printed large and tastefully mounted, line the hallways and the adorn the waiting rooms.

But back to the paintings, which, framed, are stacked one in front of another in various locations in the house. Geoff points out that figurative painting and "the art world" occupy two different universes. The top figurative landscapists working today might fetch $60,000 or $80,000 for a painting, with an occasional peak vaulting above $200k, whereas that's sort of "entry level" for the art world (what I call haute art as a play on haute couture), as you might know if you read that wonderful and somehow still shocking 2012 book The $12 Million Stuffed Shark by Don Thompson. For comparison, the former tennis star John McEnroe, an enthusiastic art collector, bemoans the fact that he is effectively limited to a ceiling of a mere $500,000 per acquisition, because his net worth is "only" around $100 million, putting him at the impoverished end of the spectrum among haute art collectors. It's why he still works: more money for art.

Although I liked Geoff's paintings—several of them stick in my mind—it struck me that perhaps Geoff doesn't entirely paint for the product; the paintings might not be the point, or at least not the whole point. He paints because it's fascinating to learn the craft (there being a great deal to learn), a challenge to hone the needed skills, and, not least, because it's a lot of fun both to learn and to do it.

The library
If you can tolerate a little slip-slide into autobiography, I'll mention that when I was 14 I decided I wanted three material things in life: a small personal library, a pool table, and a nice stereo. Fifty-three years later and here I am having only achieved one of the three. (Oh well.) The pool table is one of the best purchases I've ever made, though, even if it provoked a number of readers into cancelling their Patreon contributions. I use it almost every day, and, even though I don't practice per se, I'm learning more and getting better all the time, even outpacing my physical decline to a respectable degree. I'll venture to claim it's as diverting for me as ceramics is for Nick or plein air painting for Geoff.

Well, Geoff has a glorious library. A place of magic and riches like a paladin's palace. More, and more luxurious, than my teenage daydreams. It's a large man-cave above his garage with beautiful custom-built shelving everywhere, much of it sized properly for coffee-table-sized art and photo books. There's also a respectable satellite collection in his office at work. In person the main library is not nearly as chaotic or overstuffed as he has described it on various occasions, and to call it disorganized would be like the man in the glass house energetically flinging large stones about. Not only that, but Geoff and I seem to have a taste in books that is uncannily similar—not only art and photo books, hardbound classics and examples of fine bookmaking, but he even has a generous section on bookmaking, typography, and bibliophilia. Many of which were old friends to me.

Geoff's lair. Er, library. I had to show the printer-beastie on the right; I forget, but I think Geoff said it took eight strong men, chains, hydraulics, and a sledge to get it from the curb to where it now resides. You can see two of his paintings beyond the footstool, and the corner of the print in the picture below is barely visible at the bottom left.

The print-inspection table is a gas woodstove,
if that isn't an oxymoron

Anyway, it was a great day and I really enjoyed the visit. My brother Scott used to say that I do better as a writer when I get out and do things and report back; I'd say I should do more of that, except I know I won't. I have enough to do keeping body and soul together back at the old homestead. But it shouldn't have taken me so long to get to Dansville, I'll say that much! Many thanks to Geoff. Next up for us, I hope, is a visit to the Nathan Benn exhibit at the Rockwell Museum in Corning—a museum that shows figurative art almost exclusively, much of it related to the American West during frontier times. If we make it to that, I'll tell you all about it.

Mike

Original contents copyright 2024 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved. Links in this post may be to our affiliates; sales through affiliate links may benefit this site. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases. (To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below or on the title of this post.)

Featured Comments from: