Trudi
Y. Ludwig
Artist
Statement
When I was a kid growing
up in Iowa, my mother wrote for the Des Moines Register and
Tribune and my two older brothers, who were at or near draft
age delivered it. I remember well coming downstairs first thing
in the morning to see several copies of the paper laying on
the kitchen table with a photograph of some grisly scene from
the Vietnam war on the front page, repeated again and again
and again. These images, repeated multiple times, lead me to
become a printmaker.
It’s the historically functional nature
of prints as an art form that I find so compelling: they have
served as teaching aids, devotional images collected as souvenirs
from pilgrimage sites, forms of protest, satire or propaganda,
and as instruments of social change. Beyond the fact that prints
may be decorative, aesthetically pleasing objects, is the sense
that they are ‘the people’s art’ that has
always impressed me most.
The idea that art is social conscience can be
traced through time and the horrifically beautiful prints of
Dürer, Holbein, Bruegel, Callot, Goya, Daumier, Posada,
Dix, Kollwitz, Shahn, Baskin, Frasconi, and Kentridge. Truly,
prints keep art—and art history—current, timely,
and thoroughly human. Images such as these expose the aspirations,
calamities, foibles and even humor of our species as we stumble
along through life wrestling with our personal angels and demons
on a daily basis.
A central feature of my childhood home was something
called the “Argument Shelf.” When one of us five
Ludwig kids asked a question, the answer was invariably, “Look
it up!” at which point we were directed to a magical arena
that contained The Reader’s Encyclopedia, Bartlett’s
Familiar Quotations, the Bible, the Koran, Cruden’s Concordance,
the Encyclopaedia Britannica (with its glorious see-through
overlays in the “Human Anatomy” section), out-of-date
and current world atlases, a thesaurus, and dictionaries in
English, French, German, Italian, Latin, Japanese and Indonesian.
You were expected to find the answers yourself. And of course
you’d get lost in time and space in these books, as you
felt the slip and spark of one image, idea or ideology rubbing
up against another. The information –the social conscience—contained
in these volumes served me well, and continues to grind away
in my prints now.
When I was twenty I used to worry that I didn’t
have anything to say, or wouldn’t have enough ideas for
my artwork. Now I realize there are too many ideas and not enough
time to grapple with them all. There is so much grist for the
mill, and so much more to figure out. I guess I’ll have
to keep looking up.
And if you want biographies, do not ask for those with the refrain
‘Mr. So-and-So and his times’ but for those on whose
title-page it should say
‘a fighter against his time.’
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