Art or a Naked Emperor?
A ten year-old Italian boy called Federico went to the Tate Modern with his mother. When he saw Damian Hirst’s formaldehyde-pickled cows, he said, “That’s cruel. Why didn’t they allow this calf to grow up and have calves of its own?”
I was told about this occurrence over dinner, that evening, by some amused adults. I leaned across the table and said to the boy, “I totally agree with you.”
Federico’s eyes sparkled with intelligent fun. I winked back. He had helped me unleash thoughts about Modern Art, I had harboured for some time.
Striking. Powerful. Controversial. Raw. Brave. Statement. Subversive.
Words often used to describe Modern Art. Words of violence. Words we also often use when we find ourselves before a thing in a museum, which baffles us but which we think we should understand. We do not want to appear stupid, by not understanding. We think that this thing must be rich in meaning or symbolism, surely, or it would not be displayed in a reputable gallery or museum. Critics would not call it a “milestone” or a “seminal work”, would they? Critics are free-thinkers, right?
“That’s cruel. Why didn’t they allow this calf to grow up and have calves of its own?”
That is the voice of the free-thinker. The voice of unadulterated innocence, which speaks straight from the heart. It does not care if someone thinks it is stupid. It is true to itself. It is that same voice which rose from the crowd, in Hans Christian Andersen’s story, and cried, “But, Mummy, the Emperor is naked!”
Shortly after the wonderful, intelligent Nora Ephron passed away, I read this quotation of hers: “I am continually fascinated at the difficulty intelligent people have in distinguishing what is controversial from what is merely offensive.”
Just because something breaks the rules of convention does not, per se, mean it is good, or Art. One must first assess whether that convention is good or bad, before deciding if breaking it is an act of courage or the spitefulness of an egotistic brat.
Being original is not automatically good. You cannot try to be original. Originality is like style – you’ve either got it in you, or you haven’t. Trying to be original can only result in tack.
I think many contemporary artists seek – above all else – to break the mould, to defy rules for the sake of defying them, and to brand the world’s stage with the mark of their ego – as opposed to creating a work of art that will please. Pleasing is now considered weak, unadventurous, dull. Pleasure has become coupled with guilt. It does not occur to them that it takes skill to please. Today’s motto is subvert, shock, make people feel uncomfortable (again, discomfort is not always a path to learning; it can also be an instinctive rebellion against something that is actually wrong for us).
My question is, what gives an artist the right to be so aggressive? What degree of arrogance allows an artist to think he or she has the keys to the Truth? In my book, a true artist loves the art more than him or herself. He/she is the servant of Art – not its manipulator.
Let us take London’s newest building, the Shard (the very word makes me wince). As its name suggests, the building looks like a sharp fragment of broken glass stabbing into the soft blue sky. This is not the inspirational spire of the Chrysler Building, streamlined and refined. It is a weapon in a pub fight. What kind of society admires a shape that evokes violent cutting, breaking, bleeding, pain?
Until the 20th Century, Art was designed to caress the senses, glorify Nature and the human body. Art enhanced the pleasure of life. Art exalted Beauty. John Keats wrote
“‘Beauty is truth, truth beauty,’ - that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.”
You only need to observe the colours and forms of Nature, to realise that this is, indeed, true. Purposefully creating ugliness is an egotistic perversion, since nothing in the natural world is ugly. Ugliness teaches only ugliness. It is unnatural, in the strongest sense of the word. It goes against the perfection of this beautiful World.
Of course, we cannot all like the same things. I may gush in front of Verrocchio’s Tobias and the Angel at the National Gallery, while you may rejoice at the sight of Rosina Wachtmeister’s cats. However, let us not shy away from being discriminating. There is art; there is what – with the correct marketing spin – becomes a money-making venture aimed at the same people who marvelled at the Emperor's invisible thread cloak; and there is also what Kenneth Branagh’s character in the film Peter’s Friends calls “Shit with a capital SH”.
In this era where reclaiming personal power is so frequently advocated, let us claim back our right to be pleased, to be caressed, to be spoilt with Beauty. Let us demand to be wrapped in it, to swim in it, to drink it to our hearts’ content. Let us gratefully rediscover Pleasure.
Scribe Doll
Let's just say that I am old enough to know what to do with my young feelings.
”
—(Georges Guétary in 'An American in Paris')
About Katherine
Before you ask – one half of me is English; the other half, a Middle-Eastern mix. I speak English, Italian, French and Russian, which accounts for my hybrid accent which has, so far, been mistaken for South African, Irish, Dutch, US American, German, and one...
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Katherine’s Favorite Books
'La Ragazza di Via Maqueda' (Dacia Maraini), 'A Many-Splendoured Thing' (Han Suyin), 'Berlin Cantata' (Jeffrey Lewis), 'The Places in Between' (Rory Stewart...
Provocative post Katherine.
Provocative post Katherine. It reminds me of when my eldest son was in Kindergarten and the teacher took me aside one day to show me the dinosaurs all the kids in the class had drawn and my sons was very different and she thought that was a problem! I shudder at the thought. On a slightly different note just been to the David Mach-Precious Light exhibition as part of The Galway Arts Festival (twice actually, once alone and then to drag H along). Have you seen it? I thought it absolutely marvellous. Again, great piece of writing here. m
No, I haven't seen this
No, I haven't seen this exhibition. I see it's in Edinburgh now, which is a bit far for me. Funny, my primary school teacher also took my mother aside to point out the "oddness" of my drawings.
Thank you very much, once again, for reading and for you kind comments.
It's here in Galway until the
It's here in Galway until the 29th July! Maybe not as far as Edinburgh? m
I live in London. It's not
I live in London. It's not only too far but I cannot afford to get there. Another time.
I like your thinking.
Yes, I like to be pleased.
Thank you, Sue! Hurray!
Thank you, Sue! Hurray! Here's to a life overflowing with pleasure!
Disturbing Images of Our Times
Katherine,
It's reassuring (both for my individual sanity and our cultural "integrity") that one of your sophistication and insight writes so sensibly about certain reductive trends in modern art.
As I suspect you will agree, to elevate such works as Hirst's pickled cows to equal status with images on the Sistine ceiling or the sculpture DAVID is a revealing comment on our modern consciousness and self-perception (identity). I am reminded of a line from a Robert Frost poem about what to make of a "diminished thing." What remains is life without POSSIBILITY.
I suppose, however, that as a stark reflection of our times, pickled cows speaks as powerfully as classic works of art. My "grief" in this admission is like that of Margaret in Hopkins' poem, namely it is ourselves, not modern art, that we should mourn for. [As you note, a crap detector is always helpful in the art world as well as other "realms" of experience!]
For additional thoughts on meaning in art, I shamelessly cite my blog WITH ONE LOOK, a reference to Andrew Lloyd Webber's song about the emotional impact of images.
Good to share thoughts with you.
Brenden
Hi, Brenden. Thank you for
Hi, Brenden. Thank you for your heartfelt comments. Sometimes, I wonder if I am the only lunatic in a world of sane folk, so it's always reassuring to come across people who share my opinion.
I would love to know which poem that interesting Robert Frost line comes from, if you were able to tell me. I relate to your mourning for ourselves. In a way, I don't blame those artists who are out to make a buck. After all, they're not taking money from people who cannot spare it. But I do, sometimes, despair at the people who buy that invisible thread cloak. Still, occasionally, I do see modern art which speaks to me, and conveys a powerful, disturbing message without compromising aesthetics.
And now I shall go and read your blog, With One Look.
We are what we have experienced.
Katherine,
The "diminished thing" citation comes from the last line of Frost's "The Oven Bird", which presents us with the themes of "recognition" and coming to terms with our existential predicament. Wallace Stevens also explored these themes, notably in "Idea of Order at Key West" and "Sunday Morning". The latter's final lines are a perfect example of concrete images communicating a perceived "truth" of being, of art bringing us to resolution after an intense experience. Eliot called this using "objective correlatives" in poetry: "Deer walk upon our mountains, and the quail/Whistle about us their spontaneous cries/Sweet berries ripen in the wilderness/And, in the isolation of the sky/At evening, casual flocks of pigeons make/Ambiguous undulations as they sink/Downward to darkness, on extended wings."
It was thoughtful of you to read "With One Look" and add your insights. Farzana inspired me to write that blog. The human face communicates meanings too deep for mere words to capture.
Good to share ideas with you.
Art
Reminds me that in Madison, Wisconsin there was a window washer named art. He was overweight, somewhat slovenly and a bit of a drunkard by reputation. But he hung out in downtown Madison doing the one thing he knew how to do: Wash windows.
He became such a fixture and local treasure that they made up tee shirts saying "What is Art? Art is a Window Washer." It was the ultimate post-modern comment on the nature of art. To totally and purposefully miss the point about what art really is, yet to celebrate that which is controversial as a very public meme was marvelously astute. Everyone in Madison knew about art, yet people who came there had to ask, about the tee shirts for example. The "inside joke" forcibly pulled people into the local culture. And I think I'm going to blog about that.
Thank you, Christopher. My
Thank you, Christopher. My oldest friend lives in Madison, Wisconsin. I must ask her about that. What a fantastic story!
Thought provoking post,
Thought provoking post, Katherine, and so well written. I have had similar reactions to modern art that seems to purposefully shock for the sake of it. And then there are disturbing, ugly pieces that I do not care for, but then I read what the artist wished to convey and then I'm left pondering where that leaves me. Do I like the art more by understanding the feelings and thoughts behind it. I don't understand the pieces that are usually of one color, so stark, and uninspiring. I love the art of Frida Kahlo, whose art is disturbing, yet it's very real and true, pulled from her core.
I looked up the Shard and reading the architects intentions it didn't seem he set out to create an ominous presence, so I wonder to myself, as with other works of art, how much the opinion of the masses or rejection and projections helps to create the overall perceptions. One of my favorite Jim Hensen movies is called The Dark Crystal and that's what I first thought of when you mentioned the shard. A Gelfling Sets out to restore the crystal by finding the missing, magical shard. It's a lovely story.
When I think of modern art, words of violence are not the first to come to mind. I think it's important that we are not missing something by generalizing with a specific group of artists in mind, thus marking or tainting the whole in a negative light.
You know that I love nature, but there are indeed ugly creatures within her. Art is self and maybe other than self expression. We need to acknowledge the ugly just as much as the beautiful. We cannot ignore one. Believe me I would love to only see beauty, but I know I must not forget the ugliness inherent in life.
Thank you so much for taking
Thank you so much for taking the time to read, and to comment, Rebbecca. You see, I am not particularly interested when the artist justifies his creation by explaining the motives behind his/her choice. If it has to be explained, then it has failed to be understandable. I think Art should speak out eloquently and clearly (if it carries an important message) without the need of a guide book. I accept the need for a guide book when I see Ancient and Renaissance art, since it contains references to facts which its contemporaries were aware of, but which are now not part of a standard good modern education.
It reminds me of my wonderful writers' group. There is an unspoken rule that during the feedback session, the writer is to keep quiet and take on board the criticism. Some of us lose patience if he/she starts saying, "Oh, but what I meant here, was..." If we misunderstood, then I guess it wasn't clear enough.
I would beg to differ about ugliness in nature...
I agree with you – there is is much ugliness in life (chiefly because of humans) but I can't help feeling that, by using ugliness to convey it, we allow some of it to rub off on us and, by doing so, we spread it even more. A good artist can convey every ugliness, horror and squallor in this world, without compromising him/herself. I think. Doesn't mean I'm right. It's just my opinion, at the moment. It may have reason to change it.
Thank you, again, for your thoughtful response. I enjoy your comments very much!
"A good artist can convey
"A good artist can convey every ugliness, horror and squallor in this world, without compromising him/herself." Well said, Katherine. It would be nice if this were true for all. Thank you for your thoughtful response back. I always enjoy your posts! : )
:–)
:–)
Wow! The comments continue!
Wow! The comments continue! Thanks again, for taking the time to respond, Mary. I'm sorry, I don't quite understand your comment "So honestly I have to say for all the 'emperors with no clothes on' bravo, keep going..." When I talk aboyt an emperor with no clothes, I refer to those who buy something just because others call it "art", without thinking for themselves.
I agree with you to a certain extent. I also think it takes a brave person to recognise his/her limitations (an attitude sometimes discouraged in London, in my experience). I guess I believe in striving to catch stars, and the pursuit of (dirty word coming up) excellence. I also believe in polishing and refining ones skill, being it singing, dancing, painting, writing, sculpting, cooking, gardening...etc.
You can still convey ugliness, horror and violence... but without compromising the standards of a skill.
I've just taught English as a Foreign Language for eight hours non-stop. I hope I understand correctly – and am making sense. My brain feels like a Pink Panther that's gone under a steam train.
Oops golly gosh must have
Oops golly gosh must have missed that bit about people buying something because others call it art. I suppose if they have the money and the will, well that's their perogative. As for the pursuit of excellence. Don't be too hard on yourself. Perfection isn't the be all and end all, having fun along the way and screwing up now and then is okay too! Hope that steam train pases before the end of the evening!!! m
Hmm... I still believe in the
Hmm... I still believe in the pursuit of excellence. Why? Because we will always fail to achieve perfection, the process of striving for it can but improve the results of our efforts. Just my opinion :–) It does not exclude having fun or screwing up on the way, since that is all part life's wonderful learning process :–)
Beyond ugly...
Katherine:
Have you seen an open drain, shanties without electricity, hungry bellies? Have you seen images of war, of riots, of bodies no one even claims or gives a decent burial to? Of course. This is as real, as 'natural', as evolution allows.
Art sometimes recreates it, and I am glad it does.
Rebbecca's first comment pretty much said what I wanted to, and although I do appreciate your position I differ.
Beauty and ugliness are themsleves subjective terms. Would you call a person you find unattractive to you as ugly? Is a pretty flower that ends up as fragrance and essence not crushed?
Are all those artists who shock doing it only for egotistical reasons? (There are a few who do so, but then some make cute things for the same reason.) There is something to be said for symbolism, for pushing creation to unknown areas.
I find immense beauty in that.
~F
PS: I am rather 'involved' in this subject, so will take the liberty to share two posts, the second one Brenden is familiar with!
http://redroom.com/member/farzana-versey/blog/murder-she-said-0
http://redroom.com/member/farzana-versey/blog/mona-lisa-in-the-lions-den
Thank you very much for your
Thank you very much for your thought-provoking comments, Farzana. First of all, I believe that much ugliness and horror – such as wars, famine, violence, etc. are created by humans and go against nature (yes, animals kill but only if they are hungry or feel threatened by hunger - what is humans' excuse?). In that respect, I would call it unnatural. I am glad to see Art conveying all that but – and it's just my opinion – it can still do so with skill (i.e. beauty). Our present world is so full of unspeakable horrors, I feel we need more beauty to lift us, inspire us, give something to aspire to. If Art starts to imitate reality too much, then I fear we might descend into even more of an abyss of pessimism, cynicism, emotional numbness, and lack of love. We may lose an important point of reference.
No. Actually, I do not know any person I would describe as ugly, physically, though I can think of many people whose personalities throw an ugliness over their features – no matter how beautiful those might be. What I mean, is that a person's beauty or ugliness has little to do with their physical appearance but rather with what is inside them (it always comes across).
I believe if something is expressed genuinely from the heart, then it cannot fail but be beautiful (whether we like it or not) because of its integrity. Too often, though, I see art that conveys little outside coldness and calculation. I guess what I am trying to talk about, is integrity.
I would also like to make a distinction between art and news programmes and documentaries.
I am very much enjoying this debate and I am so thrilled that people are sharing their opinions on the subject. I find this little forum of expression beautiful.
Thank you, again, for your thoughts.
I will read your two posts as soon as I can :–)
I am with you on integrity
I am with you on integrity anywhere, Katherine. Also, we all do look for some cheer, but we occasionally need a mirror and to be jolted out of numbness.
I absolutely abhorred Danny Boyle's 'Slumdog Millionnaire' because, in my opinion, not only did it lack integrity, it was exploitative, stereotypical, and one-dimensional. So, in this case, 'ugliness' or reality was selective and sponging on suffering. The message of hope was lost in the morass.
I have enjoyed the discussion, too.
~F
PS: Thank you for reading and responding to my linked pieces. I might add that when I share old posts/articles, it is simply because I would repeat my views and not say it any better. It is lovely that you comment, but it is really about just letting you know so that you can read when and if :)
Believe it or not, I have not
Believe it or not, I have not seen Slumdog Millionaire. Only saw an extract once and didn't fancy seeing the whole film. As you may know, the film director, Danny Boyle, has just directed the Olympics opening ceremony in London.
I like it when people point me to pieces they have written. I commented because I wanted to, and so you'd know I'd read them.
beauty
Well, Katherine, I did read all the comments, as I said I would. As I went along, I was taken by all the references to beauty. It's sort of off on a tangent, but I read something recently that seems quite profound. A woman writes about a nun--Sr. Madaleva--who is a poet. Here are her thoughts:
Insofar as any art form participates in beauty, Madeleva maintained, it is spiritual and can lead beyond itself. She often spoke or wrote of the "apostolate of beauty." Of all God's qualities, she described beauty as the most "irresistible." "Beauty is God's visibility," she said. "We can 'see' it in a way we cannot see Truth or Goodness." Consequently, Madaleva concluded that whether we are believers or not, "beauty draws us to God, its ultimate source, more effectively than preaching or proselytizing."
Dolores, what can I say,
Dolores, what can I say, except that I agree with every word of Sr Madeleva. Interesting, how so many writers in The Red Room speak about God. This may have something to do with the circles I frequent, in London, but I think the overwhelming majority of the people I deal with and socialise with (including my close friends) are atheists. Time and again, I am told, "How can someone as intelligent as you believe in God?" I can't begin to say from which angle I resent the question most. There's a blog in gestation on this subject. No doubt it will attract strong opinions, so am delaying writing it.
Thank you for reading and commenting.
Kinda of like the London Eye
I think, in the humble opinion of a yank, that another example of this is the London Eye. When I saw it for the first time I was agast. Then I went on it, I was amused for the trip and marveled and oohh'd at the right points and then got off. I wonderd to myself what person thought putting a ferris wheel , an amusent park ride really, near buildings that survived world war 2, that house the remains of some of Englands greatest people , was a good idea.
It is kind of tacky. My guess is in another 5 years when it starts to rust and people stop going to it then it will become an eyesore. I wonder if the people who built Westminster abbey and Big Ben by hand saw it what they would think.
Making beautiful things, not just things that will rake in the bucks, seems a an art that has been relegated to history.
The millenium bridge is neat though so not all new "art" is bad.
Hi, Joshua. I'm not a fan of
Hi, Joshua. I'm not a fan of the London Eye. I think it's out of place in the middle of such old and beautiful buildings – a bit like the glass pyramid outside the Louvre. Actually while I'm at it, I dont much care for the Eiffel Tower, either. Oh, well. As for the Millennium Bridge, I don't have strong feelngs either way, except avoiding it at all costs on windy days. Have you ever tried walking across it in gale force winds? A truly scary experience.
Thank you for reading and commenting.