Roadside Gallery

BUT WHAT’S ART?

“Art, n. – skill, esp. human skill as opposed to nature; skill applied to imitation & design as in painting.” (The Concise Oxford Dictionary)

Before dropping off to sleep last night I was thinking about “Sunday Driver” saying that she(?) likes art but wasn’t stopping to buy any on the “Roadside Gallery.” Since she says that she likes art she must know what it is but, unfortunately, she doesn’t say. Or maybe she doesn’t know what it is after all but, as the expression goes, she doesn’t know much about art but knows what she likes. But does THIS make sense? How can one know what one likes without knowledge of the object itself? Does this, in its turn, mean that there is sharp division between knowledge of art and art itself? Do they exist in two, mutually incomprehensible solitudes? Of course, this raises the prior question which must be answered before we can proceed. That question, of course, is “What is art?”

I think the dictionary definition gives us a start, but only a start. Yes, art obviously relates to a human skill as opposed to nature. For example, a beautiful sunset is not art since it is simply a product of nature. However, when an artist paints that same sunset, it becomes art. But the division is not just between nature and art. It is also between human skill and technological products. Think of Andy Warhol’s painting of the Campbell soup can. The can itself is not art but it, or at least Warhol’s painting of it, became art. So what did Warhol’s painting add to the soup can? What made it art?

I think – the thought as with so much else came to me last night* – is that Warhol’s soup can was “framed,” not in the literal sense of framing but in, well, the “artistic” sense. Warhol wasn’t just trying to accurately portray the soup can and so the dictionary definition seems lacking. If he were just trying to do that he could have taken a photo of it. I think Warhol elevated the soup can out of the realm of everyday object and bestowed thereby a significance it previously lacked. The soup can became iconic, a symbol of our culture. Perhaps it was a negative metaphor for the banality of that culture, its creative exhaustion.

In addition to difficulties relating to representational art as with the soup can, there is the added difficulty of understanding non-representational art. Such art is not concerned with sunsets and soup cans but with the rendering of the artist’s interior impressions of sunsets or soup cans. Take the recent theft of Picasso’s “Face of a Woman” which, as with Picasso generally, only vaguely resembled its object. Its estimated worth was %50 million, and they still haven’t recovered it. Why is it worth $50 million? Is it just becuse of Picasso’s reputation, or is there some intrinsic quality which makes it so valuable? If so, just what was that intrinsic quality?

The mention of Picasso, of course, raises the question of distinguishing “simple art” from “good art” and both from “great art.” How is this done? On what basis? Is it explicable in coherent terms? (A few years ago The National Art Gallery in Ottawa recently bought a canvas featuring three red vertical lines on a white background for which, if memory serves, it paid $1.4 million. However, they never explained why it was worth so much. The artist was not famous, or at least not to me. So why so much?)

Finally, maybe Sunday Driver was too fast in basing her judgement of the quality of the art displayed on the artist himself – a yuppie, a common digital camera buff, a “decent artist” with poor left-right brain balance, or a “talent-free douche trying to rip off tourists.” Are these people incapable, in princile, of producing good (great) art? Could she explain just how she was to making that determination? Could she do so in a coherent fashion?

I hope I get a better night’s sleep tonight.

A pleasure as always.

Cheerio!

* In conformity with the King’s command, an asterix (*) indicates that I am making fun of myself. Two asterixes (**) indicate that I am making fun of someone else, while three asterixes (***) indicate that I am making fun of myself while making fun of someone else.

BUT WHAT’S ART? (II): LOOKING AT “VOICE OF FIRE”

Cranky (July 9, 10:20AM) kindly supplied a visual of “Voice of Fire” by one Barnett Newman, painted for Expo 67 and purchased by the National Gallery of Canada in 1988 for $1.8 million. It consists of three equally broad strips of blue and red paint 18 feet long. But what, if anything, does it mean? Since non-representational art is intended to depict not the object itself but rather the interior impressions of the artist, what did Barnett have in mind?

Not only is there no meaningful connection between the painting and its name, “Voice of Fire,” the name itself is meaningless. Since a name derives its meaning from its denotative referent, the object it names, and since fire doesn’t have a voice, then what meaning can “Voice of Fire” possibly have? So that’s a dead-end. Meaning, in its usual denotative sense, doesn’t apply to “Voice of Fire”. So where do we go from here?

Since Barnett painted “Voice of Fire” on purpose – it wasn’t simply a random act – it must have a point, an end-in-view of some sort. If we can discover Barnett’s purpose then perhaps we can discover “Voice of Fire’s” meaning. So, there are two questions: How can we discover Barnett’s purpose and, in the light of that purpose, discover the meaning of “Voice of Fire?”

Ordinarily one can discover another’s purpose by observing and analyzing his actions but, in the case of Barnett’s painting, this is precisely what we cannot do because his actions i.e., the painting “Voice of Fire,” remain inscrutable. But if we can’t analyze Barnett’s actions then, as a consequence, we can’t discover the meaning of those actions, i.e., “The Voice of Fire.” So where do we go from here?

Here we have to become imaginative ourselves. Rather than simply observing and analyzing Barnett’s actions, we have to hypothesize about them. Fortunately, my penetrating analytical powers have given rise to one such hypothesis.* Picture yourself standing in the National Gallery of Canada in front of “Voice of Fire.” You are baffled. You cannot understand it. You are disturbed. For you it is meaningless and meaninglessness gives rise to inner disturbance, to anxiety, to psychological upset. You are rocked back on your philosophical heels. You begin to question the nature of meaning itself. What is the meaning of meaning? You have ascended, unawares, to “second-order” thinking, that of reflexive rationality.

In my view, this was Barnett’s purpose all along. He wanted to disturb, to uproot your taken-for-granted cognitive catagories. And, you have to admit it, Barnett has succeeded.

Well, that’s my take on “Voice of Fire.” It was fun.

A pleasure as always.

Cheerio!

* Indicates making fun of myself.

RSVPs

:Donairious (July 12, 10:38AM) – “Good point, MM got y’all, y’all.”

Thank you Donairious, that is, if I got y’all, y’all.

My question is, what if there were no people left in existence, would I still be a Montréal Canadiens fan?

:Hugo Phurst (11:38AM) – “What ‘second paragraph'”?

The second paragraph follows after the first paragraph. It begins with the words, “In the case of art…” and ends with the words, “This is called a ‘performative contradiction.'”

If you look carefully I’m sure you can find it. Then, after you have found it, you can follow my advice given in the last paragraph which reads, “If your difficulties still persist, try to explain them coherently to me. Take your time.”

Good luck.

A pleasure as always.

Cheerio!