The Challenge
The works of the four bird artists thus far mentioned were distinct in terms of style, with Terry Shortt’s showing the most variety. And all four had, assuredly, reached a pinnacle of expertise that met my youthful definitions and concepts of what constituted what I, myself, passionately wished to achieve. As in any art form there were parameters to be adhered to, or not. For me the only steadfast “rule” was – with allowance for the vagaries of medium and, in the case of illustrative work that was what I almost exclusively had access to via illustrations in books and elsewhere, reproduction – the actual figures must be ornithologically accurate but also, in illustrations, must take into account the needs of the client and the limitations of mechanical reproduction. For example, one guideline was that best results were obtained if the original art was exactly twice the size (four times the surface area) of the reproduction. Another was that colours should be applied with the knowledge that there would be a ten percent loss in their brightness, when reproduced. Of course that was then and now the mechanics of colour reproduction are greatly improved.
But above all else, within such limitations, biological accuracy was, for me, imperative.
Accommodating the needs of art editors is not only often difficult, but, accuracy, whether “art” or “illustration” or both, is rarely valued by the fine art world (discussed elsewhere) and is usually, as applied to wild birds, not recognized, sometimes even by birders and ornithologists.
But, inherent to the job of being an artist is the need to meet market demand if one is not independently wealthy and yet wishes to maximize the practice that, in art, and especially in realism, makes perfect. It is very much a Catch-22, and not to overstate the issue, the conclusion it took me a long time to reach is that the more successful artists are in reaching the objectives I then craved so much to attain, they must do that which provides the necessary rewards. If the two coincide so much the better. But it seems to me that while it may border on the facile to say so of the four artists mentioned here, the one who came closest to ornithological accuracy without sacrificing artistic originality or qualities, Terry Shortt, was possibly the least successful commercially, or in terms of name recognition. In terms of style, Roger Tory Peterson’s is the most distinctive, although possibly tied with the very different but equally distinctive and identifiable work of Brooks. Both of the two men I personally knew and had many a talk with had, Terry and Roger, had, in my perhaps naively youthful view, something of a melancholy air about them in that what they achieved did not meet their expectations.
Of course, I could not know Brooks or Fuertes but according to their respective biographers, both were somewhat frustrated that market demands for illustration put barriers around “art”. Fuertes, at least, was in the center of marketing and promotional opportunities while Brooks struggled to make ends meet.
When Terry advised me not to try to earn a living as a bird artist, I thought, at the time, it was simply because of the economic factor, but given that there are economically successful bird artists and wildlife artists, I came to understand that it was more than that; the trick is to avoid the trap of having to paint that which the market demands if your interests and passions don’t always coincide with such demand. The catch is that in staying independent one cannot devote the time required to hone the craft aspect of art, minus, of course, the factor of inherent talent. Nor, of course, can one exercise promotion; for that you need a high enough demand to balance the costs and generate profit.
My views changed, or rather, became more modified and nuanced, through the years, but this section is strictly about the influences on me during about the first two and a half decades of my life, and what follows is based, therefore, mostly on bird artists of the era when I was most impressionable, feeling my way, studying and learning that which was available in terms of reproduced art, and what I was observing of my subjects, nature generally, and birds most particularly.
David Sniderman changed his name, hung around the edges of show business, became a drug dealer, gained some notoriety as the person who turned in Keith Richards for drug use, and died. I lost track of David McKinnon. I am still drawing and painting birds.