Pseud’s Corner?
Light Red Over Black. Two dark rectangles under an orange bar, hanging in a scarlet void. Black below orange, above brown. The black is burning, bordered with blue, pullulating at the edges. An oblong wedge of anthracite, so hot that its fringes lose their definition and sublimate into the carmine deep. You have the impression that your own eyes are losing focus. Your grip loosens and you drift upwards again.
Brown below, black above – but the black is too uniform. It is Yin. Is there enough? Anxious eyes range over the near-emptiness. The insanity of a perfectly smooth, white wall. Gratefully, they find texture in the brown. Hanging fabric in an endless fire. Heat of the end of the world. Sun setting over a dead land. But there is movement in the silence. The motion of inanimate things. A car tail light descending into a littoral of tarmac. And flickering over all the deadly heat of an iron bar fresh from the forge-fire. Unyielding, unmerciful. The Governing Principle exposed, briefly, before the ego reasserts itself.
The Matter
Lewes is the county town of East Sussex, cosy home of artists and “makers” in the affluent south east of England. We are walking towards Harvey’s Brewery, past Tesco’s sham cathedral and the exposed endoskeleton of a new housing development. Under the Phoenix Causeway bridge, some young product of the bourgeoisie has defiantly rendered “ART HAS NO RULES” in bold, irregular capitals. Apparently a nose piercing and penchant for anime was not enough: they had to try their hand at graffiti too. Now we all have to suffer this non-statement whenever we take the scenic route into town.
Obviously if there are no rules then there is no art and no argument. Art must obey rules, even if it is sometimes difficult to agree on their exact number or the manner of their expression. We can start from a dictionary definition. In the English and French languages, then, art is:
“…the expression or application of human creative skill and imagination, typically in a visual form such as painting or sculpture, producing works to be appreciated primarily for their beauty or emotional power.” [1]
“…the making of objects, images, music, etc. that are beautiful or that express feelings.” [2]
“[l’é]xpression d’un idéal esthétique; ensemble des activités humaines créatrices visant à cette expression.” [3]
“Chacun des modes d’expression de la beauté.” [3]
Some of these definitions involve beauty, while others simply state that art is the physical expression of an emotion. Taken in its most expansive, dilute and inclusive form, art therefore needn’t be beautiful nor require any great technical skill to produce. It is this vision of art, otherwise known as conceptual art, which is in the ascendant. Since the emphasis is now on “ideas” rather than a physical product, appearance and execution are subordinated to the artist’s “intentions”. Essentially the late-stage metastasis of political correctness and inclusivity politics, it allows anyone to identify as an artist whether or not they are actually capable of making anything themselves. Often the word “conceptual” is deliberately confused with “cerebral”, insinuating that if you don’t see anything significant in a turd then it is somehow your own fault, either because you haven’t appreciated what the artist was trying to achieve (requiring you to read the foot-long gallery text, written in desperate and meaningless jargon), or because you are a snob who is denying someone’s human right to be perceived as a “creative”. When the onus is entirely on the viewer to appreciate an artwork, there is no way to distinguish between art and any old object, an artist or a charlatan. But now we are flying high, way above the Turbine Hall. What seems to be keeping conceptual art alive today, at least in the public sphere, is exceptionally humble and can be found in an ordinary conversation in an ordinary context: a café, or perhaps better a botanical garden, with big band music floating over pigtails and dungarees. The argument goes something like this…
Bourgeois Dialectic
Two Morlocks debate a difficult point of philosophy.
Proteus: Wonderful how the Eloi have so many outdoor events: free activities, music… They are a very culturally sensitive race. You can feel that they really value their traditions and invest in beauty for beauty’s sake – which is great – even if it makes them a little vulnerable to their own bullsh*t.
Pangloss: I don’t know that art is better appreciated here than in Morlock-land.
Proteus: Sure it is…! Try going to a vernissage. Everyone is there: young and old. It is a serious social event. They have a party with a DJ. They like to consider things intellectually. But there’s a lot of sh*t over here too. Art, I mean. There’s sh*t art everywhere, but maybe there’s a higher tolerance for it here.
Pangloss: I’ve seen a lot of good art over here.
Proteus: Well there is an awful lot of terrible guff too. Feeble daubings on the lids of wine barrels…
Pangloss: It’s not necessarily bad, though. There is that painting… It’s just a red square. I think it’s by Rothko. Or Malevich. Thousands queue to look at it.
Proteus: Granted, but you can’t compare something like that – a square – to the Mona Lisa. There just isn’t enough there.
Pangloss: I don’t know… You can look at a red square and feel a powerful emotion.
Proteus: Yes, but you can look at a flag or a kitchen utensil and feel a powerful emotion too. I think there is a minimum level of complexity required for something to be suggestive. Otherwise you can just say anything is good because a certain person – perhaps a highly intelligent, sensitive person – managed to look at it and extract something of emotional aliment.
Pangloss: I disagree. If someone scrunches up a napkin and calls it art then it’s still art. It’s their art.
Proteus: That doesn’t mean it merits being called art. I could pluck a turnip from the ground, put it on a plinth and call it art but it doesn’t make it good and it doesn’t make it art.
Pangloss: It sounds like you want all artworks to be beautifully crafted and highly complex, but you can have simple art too.
Proteus: Of course. Art doesn’t necessarily need to be intricate – you just need a sufficient degree of complexity and aesthetic quality. That is what creates depth. It is the same with poetry and music: too pure and the thing is ridiculous. You cannot compare a red square to Mozart. It’s more like John Cage’s 4’33”.
Pangloss: Hah! “Sufficient”…
Proteus: Well, you can never make the thing quantitative. The problem with your argument is you want me to demonstrate a perfect set of seven rules with fixed definitions. And if I can’t deliver them then you say I shouldn’t make any judgements at all.
Pangloss: It’s you who wants to be quantitative because you want to make rules about what is and isn’t art. Look at science: there are infinitely many ways to do it. There are some scientists who construct grand theorems after years of study and then there are others who just fall over a discovery in the lab.
Proteus: That’s not an equivalent situation at all. The guy who discovered graphene discovered graphene. It doesn’t matter how. You are essentially insisting that if I can’t say this piece is 20% better than that piece and there is a cap where art begins at 30% of a Mona Lisa then I can’t say if anything is art or not.
Pangloss: I wouldn’t want to ban art that I don’t like. Going back to the scientific analogy: some scientists just scrape some numbers off the floor and put them in an article and publish them. I hate that sort of thing but I wouldn’t want to block them from doing it.
Proteus: Sure. Fair enough, but they don’t get published in reputable journals because the quality isn’t good enough. You have to apply some standards. There is the arXiv online repository where you can publish anything you like, but we all agree that publishing on arXiv is no evidence of a paper’s value because there is no peer review process.
Pangloss: Well, I think there’s room for all types of art. I love looking at really complex paintings with lots of layers of detail. I can lose myself for hours. But sometimes I’m happy to just look at something simple too. If there are thousands of people who love to go look at Malevich then how can you say it is bad?
Proteus: If hordes of tourists go to look at some blank canvas or virtually featureless red square by Malevich then it is more likely because it’s exhibited in a big, important gallery than because it is actually good. Sometimes the cognoscenti are just wrong.
Pangloss: Hahaha! You want there to be just one man who says “This is good”, “This is bad”, “That is not art”…!
Proteus: Well clearly that isn’t actually how it would work. People make quality judgements about art all the time. If you want to get into the Summer Exhibition at the Royal Academy then your work must first be judged by a panel of experts. If you want your work in an ordinary gallery then the gallery owner first appraises its quality and then decides how it might fit into the rest of the works on display. The problem is that there are now lots of people who share your opinion that no matter how fatuous or non-existent the composition the thing can still be called art. A scribble by Tracey Emin, for example.
Pangloss: How can you judge that the people are wrong?
Proteus: Well frankly, if we reach the point where, in all seriousness and honesty, the majority of people say they get more out of contemplating a red square than the Mona Lisa, then I think we have reached the end of civilization.
Pangloss: The Impressionists were considered not to be real artists in their time. They were banned from exhibiting in salons.
Proteus: There is a clear difference between the level of intellectual and technical accomplishment inherent in a Monet and a turnip on a plinth. Although, it is important to add, not one that can be quantified… I agree that it can be important to push the boundaries of an art form. You can do it with novels, we see it in architecture, but there is no guarantee that what you produce when you have pushed out the boundary is any good.
Pangloss: Well I agree that I hate a lot of modern architecture too. I sort of agree with what you saying. Basically you would like an ideal world where everyone is highly educated and appreciates looking at art. Then the quality of art would increase.
Proteus: I suppose, yes. Sort of. Perhaps “highly sensitized” rather than “highly educated” per se, but yes. That is what we are aiming for as a society after all.
Pangloss: I just don’t think you can say that a red square isn’t art. It annoys me when I see the millions of dollars made by Marvel films, but it is still art.
Proteus: The old Marvel vs Bergman problem. Well… I suppose it’s just another example of how the number of people that like a thing aren’t always a good indication of whether it is good or not. A certain degree of knowledge and sensitivity is required to appreciate a work of art. Popularity is also a function of cultural pressures…
Pangloss: I hate Marvel. Marvel is close to where I would say it is not art.
Proteus: I would probably call it sh*t art. Or propaganda. So you accept that there is a boundary where art ends?
Pangloss: No. I think there is really bad art, like Marvel, but you can’t say something isn’t art.
Proteus: You want there to be no rules. But if there are no rules then your definition is meaningless. Art is everything and nothing.
Pangloss: There are rules. Art should be created by man and intended to elicit an emotional response.
Proteus: Two rules then. Okay. But not enough to distinguish art from a turnip on a plinth, or political propaganda. You think that just because the rules cannot be written in stone then they do not exist. But the rules of art are like rules of morality. I agree there is a grey area at the extreme ends, where exceptional crafts might be called art. There is always this fuzziness… Well we’re not so far away from each other, perhaps. We just disagree on-
Pangloss: …Whether something should be called art or just bad art.
Proteus: Yes… Not so important I suppose.
Pangloss: No.
Afterword
And lo, our spade has struck ideology: a sprawling subterranean belief system responsible for much of the flimsy nonsense present in galleries and degree shows today. Conceptual art may have been born as people tested (sometimes ironically) the limits of what art could be, but it now survives in the middle class consciousness primarily as an extension of inclusivity politics. Anything labelled “art” is art and there is a general reluctance to call out bullsh*t in case someone is offended or it was made by a “disadvantaged” person.
The first, glaringly obvious objection to conceptual art is that it would be better rendered in essay form. Indeed it often is, if you compare the length of time people spend reading gallery text these days compared to actually looking at the artwork. Writing down their ideas would force the artist to confront the subject seriously, instead of settling for something easy that is visually and spiritually unsatisfying. Calling an artwork “conceptual” is often just an excuse for mediocrity.
Physical craft is an important – possibly essential – element in the creation of art. Humans have old brains and nervous systems. If this ever ceases to be the case, and we start to merge significantly with technology, then we will no longer be human and the whole purpose of art will change. Plastic artworks are made compulsively, as a sensitive reaction, and craft has always been integral to the process. This is partly because the limitations of the medium breed inventiveness – they add sensual information to the artist’s neural palette – but also because the artistic process is non-linear. The artist improves gradually as they grow familiar with different media. Beauty isn’t disgorged spontaneously by a timeless soul; there is constant feedback from the words on the page or the paint on the canvas.
When the observer is asked to focus more on an idea than a physical object, not only does the point of art start to evaporate but the frame risks becoming more important than the art itself. Even the fact that the object has been placed in a gallery can be seen as an achievement. It is certainly true that context is important in the perception of art. One thinks immediately of the work of Andy Goldsworthy and Antony Gormley, or the social experiment where virtuoso violinist Joshua Bell busked in the New York metro for forty three minutes with virtually no recognition from the public. Clearly the exhibition space and psychological state of the observer has some influence on the impact of an artwork, but it would be ridiculous to say that a blank canvas suddenly becomes valuable because of the context it is exhibited in.
In the “hipster” corner, support for conceptual art probably comes from a misinterpretation of Eastern philosophy. Well-versed in self-help literature and long-form, toothsome podcasts, hipsters are (at least superficially) familiar with a whole host of Eastern-inspired principles and craft techniques. There are wabi sabi, sashiko and kintsugi, which emphasise the beauty of the passing of time and material imperfection that builds narrative texture in objects. Taoism and Zen Buddhism try to teach people to appreciate the beauty of finitude and limitation, or how to convert the “dross of the workaday world… into sheerest gold”, as Enderby-Burgess memorably put it. They show that all manner of things can be beautiful or poignant – even the very simple or mundane. The crucial point, however, is that these ideas are supposed to apply to ordinary objects rather than works of art. The appreciation of imperfection, as an observer, is opposed to the artist’s personal striving for excellence. This is the difference between contemplating a plastic bag and watching the plastic bag sequence in American Beauty. Both can be meaningful, properly considered, but only one of them is art. It also helps us to distinguish between the baffling, shapeless ceramics peddled in high street candle shops (sorry – homeware stores) and authentic Japanese raku bowls. Both are examples of craft objects, but where one is the product of a skilled artisan who has left small imperfections as a kind of visual accent, the other is a lazy attempt to make money out of shoddy workmanship.
Tolerance1 of conceptual art is (perhaps unsurprisingly) common among science graduates and the comfortably Left. These people generally have greater technical nous than aesthetic sensitivity and they assert that, because they personally know nothing about art and one’s emotional response is anyway subjective, nothing negative can be said about an artwork. But there is an asymmetry here: they label your judgement too hasty or extreme – insufficiently plural – when moments later they mount their own excoriating critique of the Game of Thrones series finale, or something else that they personally find aggravating and worthy of derision. Essentially they are not really interested in art, so they don’t try to engage with it. But this is just philistinism disguised as egalitarianism and anti-snobbishness.
Another common pitfall is to confound the subjectivity of art criticism with identity politics or freedom of expression. This means that if someone has a political grievance then they are automatically an artist – independent of technical ability. Criticism amounts to an almost visceral attack on this person, who must be protected on account of the depth of their conviction, exceptional neurosis or underprivileged personal background. Perhaps the tired old truism bears repeating: you can respect a person without accepting their point of view.
It isn’t kind to defend an artist’s work if it is manifestly cr*p. It will not help them to improve or contribute anything to the zeitgeist. Obviously there are times when it is considerate to hold one’s tongue and offer some choice words of encouragement. It is, however, disrespectful and patronising to defend appalling work because you think the artist should be protected, or you are afraid of committing thoughtcrime. Paying to go and see it – much as going to see the latest Hobbit or Marvel film in the full knowledge that it will be terrible – is a tacit signal of approval to the rich and cretinous who rule the contemporary art world.
- I say “Tolerance” rather than “Love” because there are few people sufficiently passionate about conceptual art to consider actually buying it themselves – to hang in their own homes, for example. ↩︎
References
[1] Oxford English Dictionary.
[2] Cambridge English Dictionary.
[3] Le Robert French Dictionary.
Further Reading
Will Self has written an entertaining short essay called I Know What I Hate (An Excursus), which was first published in:
L. K. Jones, A Hedonist’s Guide to Art, Hg2 (2010)
It can also be found here: http://www.artnet.com/magazineus/features/self/I-know-what-I-hate1-3-11.asp
Philip Bradford 