I just read a great article from this Sunday's New York Times. The introductory line says it all. "Few modern myths about art have been as persistent or as annoying as the so-called death of painting." states Roberta Smith. (New York Times Art and Design section, It's Not Dry Yet, 3/26/10).
As a painter, I have encountered this argument multiple times, at least in art circles. As a graduate of a sculpture program I have this tickling sensation in the back of my mind...is it really useful, relevant to be a painter? To be a revolutionary artist, musn't I do something edgy, unexpected, attention grabbing...bold...and not painting. Despite these thoughts in my head, I still end up going to the studio and painting. Why? It makes me happy. And I find it connects me to something that is beyond my little self wandering around posting a status update on facebook, doing dishes, going to work, etc....Funny, this is the same feeling that has inspired artists, poets, musicians, to their craft for thousands of years. And I think that it is the same reason that painting still has life and vibrancy, despite its demarcation of "being dead."