the art world

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At the New York times, an article on a show exhibiting modern interpretations of Rockwell’s “Four Freedoms.”

These are posters depicting subjects such as bird pooping “democracy” onto the earth and an obese person with the caption “this is abuse of the freedom from want.”

I hate this kind of pseudo-ironic, self-absorbed, visual bloviation. Because the academic art establishment is just about entirely leftist, this kind of art almost always presents ideas of the political left. I’m very very independent politically, but I hate this kind of stuff regardless of whether I am in agreement with (or indifferent to) the ideas being expressed.1

Elliott Earls’s reinterpretation of Norman Rockwell’s “Four Freedoms” practically screams. A little girl seems to be crying, her eye bruised, with an American flag in the background and two words framing her figure: “Liberty Weeps.” The color scheme is red, white and blue, but patriotic pride has been supplanted by sadness.

How tiresome.

My reaction to anything like this is one of visceral contempt. Art like this likes to pretend that it is “dangerous.” Yet none of the “artists” participating have any fear of having the government take any interest in this work. They aren’t going to be carried away in the night and never seen again, as an artist expressing “inappropriate” ideas might have been in Soviet Union, Nazi Germany, or nowadays in a place like North Korea. (This is particularly well illustrated by the picture by Chip Kidd, depicting a burnt U.S. flag and the caption, “Freedom of Speech”—made with the full understanding that no one will ever consider censoring it.) No one who might affect their careers is going to refuse to hire them, because anyone who might hire a political artist is going to at least pretend to like this kind of crap. Instead of having their careers destroyed by bravely “speaking truth to power,” these mediocre hacks get written up in the New York Times. They are expressing entirely mainstream ideas, better expressed in other ways. This work adds nothing to discourse on freedom in modern society. Yet these artists, and the writer of the article, indicate surprise and disappointment that the show doesn’t garner much attention. People just walk by and ignore it. They are demonstrating not a dislike of art, but a disinterest in vapid garbage. Good for them.

I would hate any picture that depicts George Bush looking into a mirror and seeing Adolph Hitler. I would hate any picture that depicts Barak Obama as a hand puppet of Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. It doesn’t matter what the politics are. Such pictures are banal, idiotic rubbish. They require no thought or creativity. If you seen one, you can think of all possible variations on the theme in about five minutes. They are political cartoons—bad political cartoons. They are not art.2 They are not even interesting.

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Do you agree? Disagree? Are there kinds of political art that are good? If so, what distinguishes good from bad? Feel free to comment.

Note: there’s not going to be any discussion of politics here; just the badness (or not, if you want to disagree with me) of this clumsy approach to political art. Any explicitly political comments will be deleted. If you want to discuss politics, you won’t have any trouble finding places on the web for that.


1 I might respect an artist slightly more if he or she were demonstrating a little bit of chutzpah by making non-leftist art and presenting it to the leftist art establishment. But not much.

2 I don’t mean to imply that a cartoon or illustration cannot be art. It is only to say that this specific kind of cartoon, by and large, is nowhere near to being art.

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Welcome again - David and the readers of the ATSH. Today briefly, but I hope to encourage you to shower this site with, as always, some interesting comments.

I know, that ‘Art Therapy’ subject is quite loaded with different meanings and, probably, not free from controversies too. Yet, from what I can see browsing the relevant pages, this kind of psychological (medical) therapy has flourished in the US, with AATA (American Art Therapy Association) looking quite fit and professional.

At the same time it remains relatively exotic in Europe and especially in Ireland. My college was first in this country to introduce Art Therapy MA degrees (based on BA Hons. in Fine Art) - they are available from 1998, became quite popular, yet it’s still far from ordinary to see Art Therapist working in institutions, schools or hospitals.

I haven’t personally met yet with any sort of this practice and know nothing about its factual effectiveness. I’m interested especially in any record, experience related to the ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder), since one case of it has been diagnosed in my family. Have you met with an art therapy “in action”? Are you yourself qualified and practicing? Do you have any opinions, thoughts or experiences on that subject, on how it works (if at all) on autistic children? Thanks for sharing.

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Quite recently I’ve got an interesting, half-an-hour talk about nothing. It happened to be focused on modern art, modern human condition, place for beauty and ethics within it and, after making a heroic round in escaping its inbuilt vacuum it came to the point of an inception - to a rather corny remark that “nonsense” seems to be a surname of today’s existence. How to make art in the modern chaos and to remain sane? Although Louis Bourgeois wrote in her painting that Art is the warranty of sanity she wrote also I’ve been in Hell and back, and let me tell you - it was wonderful. Going to Hell is the condition of the modern artist, whether s/he comes back and is ready to admit that it was wonderful is a quite another, usually very personal story.

Since my partner in the above-mentioned chat was far from being an average, junior, intelligent guy who finds “fashionable” to talk post-modern slogans (no matter how out of place they are), we’ve managed to make a way for some deeper observations. Yet everything seemed to slip through our fingers - any sense, any understanding of each other. Why is it so difficult to communicate on a level, where any social game must to disappear in the presence of truth? Why in the age of gutsy exhibitionism, omnipresent “display” of human “values” we are mute and/or extremely amateurish when it comes to formulate, understand and convey basic reflection on our existential condition? I wonder what was that ancient Greek spoke about, or people of 18th century France, or even contemporaries of Hemingway, Kafka, Dostojewski? Have they been taught the art of communicating oneself to others or maybe times they lived in encouraged it in the most natural fashion?

So we talked about beauty which became something terribly old-fashioned, neglected and misunderstood. After Picasso and the modern rest ridiculed classical rules of harmony and pleasure it seems to be quite trendy to make art that disturbs, wipes out smile and joy; art of dark colours, sad faces and deliberately nonchalant in appearance. Even if beauty occurs it’s very often accidental, has nothing in common with beliefs and aspirations of an artist. Majority of work in my college is like that, my own work oscillates between “blue” and darkness of being alive here and now… What a waste of a pair of healthy hands. Why not to aspire to be the next Cezanne or Canova? Why not to aspire to make the happiest, the most beautiful paintings/sculptures ever? Why even these questions sound ridiculously?

It was the eternal beauty of art in Paris that grabbed my mind and heart. Who knows - maybe it’s the right time for a new Renaissanse, for rediscovering once again value and sense in our human condition? That could be even interesting…

Just for the classical taste, few shots of The Louvre’s treasures I took during my trip to Paris:

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Don’t be too overwhelmed by the title. It’s meant to be too big to what I’m going to write here… I just need a sort of its intellectual challenge to re-start me again for the ATSH, which I was forced to neglect by some technical difficulties… To everyone who doesn’t know - I’m a contributor to this site and hoping to make most of David’s courtesy to let me be here and address you, my audience…

So, today few loose reflections on what I consider as an experience of being ‘a contemporary artist’. First of all, I must say I’m intensely reluctant to use the word when referring to myself and my identity. And it isn’t merely due being ‘just’ an art student, but it seems to be rooted in my deep belief that, what a human being undergoes in a long, complex process of making (creating) of what art critics will call ‘an artwork’ cannot be expressed in a one, semiotically distorted and culturally misunderstood and abused (just have a quick surf around ‘artistic’ pages - anything now can be called ‘art’ and anybody ‘an artist’) term. Who am I then? - somebody studying, making, dealing with art, somebody struggling with artistic means to find myself - that belief will (hopefully) never change. If so called ‘art-world’ (art lovers, critics) will name me eventually ‘an artist’ one day I will feel recognized and appreciated, but it always be a sort of a simplification of my activities, putting ‘a label’ in order to ‘classify’.

Czeslaw Milosz, one of my favourite poets had tried twice his poetically non-compromising definition of what does it mean to be ‘an artist’; and his understanding, both quite romantic and yet classical, is worth to be displayed here. So, first of all, it reminds of being a child in a world made by adults and consequently - to be always vulnerable and ready enough to hear their indulging laughter… And secondly - it’s a decision (a sane one yet transcending the ‘common sense’ level) of letting oneself to be the land of demons that rule here as if they were at home and speak numerous languages - it means to be like an always open house, without a key in the doors, so your invisible guests get in and leave with an ease…

An artist (should write ‘a genuine one’ but there are no ‘fake artists’, just like an Art - it’s true or isn’t art) then would be less a strong, self-confident individual of the personality sharp as a knife and being driven by an above-average ambition and ingenious ideas (Picasso’s , Damien Hirst’s type) but more - an extremely sensitive, open, always curious, innocent and naive in a sense (as a deliberately adopted attitude) character; so complex that appearing as simple, so powerful that letting himself to be a sort of ‘a medium’ for what is transcendent, supernatural (Mark Tobey’s name comes to my mind). Does one have to be born this way, or - is it possible to ‘made’ an artist out of nothing preexisting in him/her innately? How does it all translate into functioning in this very world of “dead” God, ‘thirsty’ dealers and agents, traffic jams, mortgages, hypermarkets, rip-off mentality? Self-deceiving, compromises, psychological disturbances?
No, I don’t want you to get an impression that I pose for a martyr or a victim… More I think about me and others being luckily ‘condemned’ to art more I believe that the game is worth all the investment and much, much more… It’s this sort of a challenge that, living in the ancient times when gods were still alive and kicking, you would say: ‘I’ve been touched by something that is greater than me, and I will never be the same man again. And it’s like a burning fire sometimes, but I wouldn’t exchange that for all the wealth of this world’

Sorry if sounding sentimental… Greetings to all art-aficionados…

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Go read this essay on the painful banality of “modern” art by Roger Kimball at the New Criterion: Why the Art World is a Disaster.
Almost none has anything to do with art as traditionally understood: mastery of a craft in order to make objects that gratify and ennoble those who see them.
Thanks to WWG at the Cennini Forum. 

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