I think of the art described here as being the work of artists who want to appear flawed enough to be considered honest but not flawed enough to be considered inappropriate or dangerous. This last weekend, I was reminded by another person of the Amy Grant-Vince Gill affair and eventual marriage in the 90s that shocked and horrified the evangelical world where Amy Grant began her music career. It was quite the controversy and she said this in an interview: "Let’s get real. You want to know what my real black ugly stuff is? Go look in the mirror and everything that’s black and ugly about you, it’s the same about me. That’s what Jesus died for.” That is some bold talk! Far bolder than her music! And it's real. This morning, I was reading a new novel that is okay but the pages dripped with the political subtext that is the absolute correct way of thinking and being right now for a literary novelist. Boring.
I've been to a few photography exhibitions in trendy Parisian galleries over the past few weeks and even just writing those words belies the problem with so much of "popular" art these days: so much of it seems to be about the image and the striving to *appear* to be something more than the sum of the parts. Which makes it extremely depressing (this is why "Triangle of Sadness" is such an important commentary on this age).
Thanks for a fantastic essay that opens up a neverending dialogue about why it's so often the wealthy who end up dictating what is considered worthwhile. They're wrong, of course-this is when the occasional Warhol or Basquiat come along and break through the veneer talking about something real--but this inevitably brings up the question of the danger of commercial success for an artist in an era when celebrity is valued over humble quietness, which is exactly what Warhol was speaking out against, and surely part of why Basquiat never made it to thirty ... and boy oh boy, do we ever now have our fifteen minutes of fleeting fame.
"If somebody does derivative work, and especially does it in a highly derivative, easy-to-fake-it genre like Pop Art, it becomes almost impossible to feel what they felt or anything close to it. The work just becomes a cunning vehicle for imitating art and achieving its function as a high-end commodity."
Lots to say about this, but I think you've articulated my instinctual reaction to postmodernism and deconstruction theory: that it often is either dishonest or insincere. It's a slippery slope when we accept that everything is constructed by language and that language itself represents an infinite regress of meaning (paraphrasing from Saussure and Derrida).
And the heartbreaking thing is that the commodification of art is now happening to teachers who are forced to teach art as a means to acquiring employable skills. The experience that you're seeking, Sam -- the bolt shot back in the breast, the communion with another artist's inner life -- is not valued in higher education right now. Just another way of making art "for sale" rather than for itself.
There really is a discernible difference when art comes from a "real" place. I even notice this with text messages I send. Say I text someone "I love you" at a time I'm acutely feeling it: it lands different than if I text while I'm lying to myself or otherwise not connected to the words I'm writing. The person on the receiving end shouldn't be able to perceive that, and yet.
Great article, thank you. Final paragraph nailed it. Speak the truth, your truth. Be authentic, do not dodge. It’s simple really, yet it is not simple in the doing. The definition of your truth requires long hours of self-reflection, and then courage, and creativity, and...Long list.
I think of the art described here as being the work of artists who want to appear flawed enough to be considered honest but not flawed enough to be considered inappropriate or dangerous. This last weekend, I was reminded by another person of the Amy Grant-Vince Gill affair and eventual marriage in the 90s that shocked and horrified the evangelical world where Amy Grant began her music career. It was quite the controversy and she said this in an interview: "Let’s get real. You want to know what my real black ugly stuff is? Go look in the mirror and everything that’s black and ugly about you, it’s the same about me. That’s what Jesus died for.” That is some bold talk! Far bolder than her music! And it's real. This morning, I was reading a new novel that is okay but the pages dripped with the political subtext that is the absolute correct way of thinking and being right now for a literary novelist. Boring.
I've been to a few photography exhibitions in trendy Parisian galleries over the past few weeks and even just writing those words belies the problem with so much of "popular" art these days: so much of it seems to be about the image and the striving to *appear* to be something more than the sum of the parts. Which makes it extremely depressing (this is why "Triangle of Sadness" is such an important commentary on this age).
Thanks for a fantastic essay that opens up a neverending dialogue about why it's so often the wealthy who end up dictating what is considered worthwhile. They're wrong, of course-this is when the occasional Warhol or Basquiat come along and break through the veneer talking about something real--but this inevitably brings up the question of the danger of commercial success for an artist in an era when celebrity is valued over humble quietness, which is exactly what Warhol was speaking out against, and surely part of why Basquiat never made it to thirty ... and boy oh boy, do we ever now have our fifteen minutes of fleeting fame.
"If somebody does derivative work, and especially does it in a highly derivative, easy-to-fake-it genre like Pop Art, it becomes almost impossible to feel what they felt or anything close to it. The work just becomes a cunning vehicle for imitating art and achieving its function as a high-end commodity."
Lots to say about this, but I think you've articulated my instinctual reaction to postmodernism and deconstruction theory: that it often is either dishonest or insincere. It's a slippery slope when we accept that everything is constructed by language and that language itself represents an infinite regress of meaning (paraphrasing from Saussure and Derrida).
And the heartbreaking thing is that the commodification of art is now happening to teachers who are forced to teach art as a means to acquiring employable skills. The experience that you're seeking, Sam -- the bolt shot back in the breast, the communion with another artist's inner life -- is not valued in higher education right now. Just another way of making art "for sale" rather than for itself.
There really is a discernible difference when art comes from a "real" place. I even notice this with text messages I send. Say I text someone "I love you" at a time I'm acutely feeling it: it lands different than if I text while I'm lying to myself or otherwise not connected to the words I'm writing. The person on the receiving end shouldn't be able to perceive that, and yet.
Great article, thank you. Final paragraph nailed it. Speak the truth, your truth. Be authentic, do not dodge. It’s simple really, yet it is not simple in the doing. The definition of your truth requires long hours of self-reflection, and then courage, and creativity, and...Long list.
Thanks again.
Attentiveness, aha!