What is Art, Part I

Murad Saÿen
February 12, 2009

What is art? And, more to the point, what is ‘fine art’? I’m in my sixth decade as an artist, and I have been asking this question since I was old enough to recognize that there is virtually an infinite variety of answers. The seeming default answer is simply that anything can be art. The various modernist genres have spent most of their energy trying to shatter our understanding of ‘anything’, until it has become like a dog chasing its tail. Of course, once ‘anything’ becomes ‘everything’ then we have created a container so vast that, in reality, NOTHING is art. After hearing what the ‘experts’, educators and conventional wisdom had to offer, I finally concluded-- somewhere in my early 20s --that the catch-all approach was far too broad to be of any use. It is like saying that any sound is music. There needs to be some ability to discern and to develop a sense of what has value and what is just ‘stuff’, i.e. not art. Eventually, I began to develop my own ideas about what needed to be present in a creative result in order to qualify for the modifier ‘fine’ in front of the noun ‘art’. Before we delve into various aspects of art on a positive level, we must first take a long, hard look at what has managed to sneak under the wire while we were not paying attention to our own tastes and feelings.

In my never ending search for insight and clarity, I’ve discovered that transposing from the purely visual arts into the written and musical realm is an approach that can be helpful. I sometimes react to a painting, or photograph by asking myself, “If this were music what would it sound like?” Or, a little more challenging: “If this were writing, what would it say?” Sometimes the answer that comes is: “It would make me want to run from the room screaming.” Or, “It would be nonsensical goobledy-gook” just a bunch of noise or blather that not only is unable to be directly perceived or received, but which would actually OFFEND me. It would seem like it was attempting to puzzle, annoy, affront, even to rile me. I just don’t have time for art that does that. I do not crave cracking the code that only ‘insiders’ know that, once in hand, makes it all accessible. In fact, I have long suspected that even the people who create such pieces don’t know the code themselves. Later, I’ll give you examples of ‘art speak’ which is the language used to build intellectual constructs supporting the supposed sophistication of art nobody really understands. Obfuscation and high-fallutin’ sophistry become the art-form itself. They are playing a game of smoke and mirrors. If they befuddle a viewer, make them feel simply not up to the task of perceiving the essence of what is in front of them, they win. How cynical and just plain arrogant is that?

Here is a link to the Art Renewal Center’s site and an essay by Paul Soderberg called: “A Storm Warning to the Art World”. If you are among the growing host of people who have long felt puzzled, stupefied, and, yes, even angered by modern art, the Art Renewal Center (www.artrenewal.org) will come as a fresh breeze to you. I encourage you to take the time to read this, and if you also explore what Fred Ross and others have put forward on that site, I think it will go a long way towards clarifying how the present abysmal state of the art world became what it is today. It was a definable process and it will, of course, be scoffed at by all those who still subscribe to the idea that the king is wearing magic skivvies made of mithral.

And then, in stark contrast, here is a link to an interview of the noted modern artist and, now movie-maker, Julian Schnabel by Morley Safer, on 60 Minutes. When, in a sincere quest to understand a painting of Schnabel’s—one of his “Big Girl” series, see below (inspired, according to Schnabel, by a discarded picture he found)--Morley Safer asks why the girl has a dark stripe across her eyes, Schnabel replies that it is to make the viewer look at her chin. In another instance of such monumental inanity, Schnabel simply resorts to the childish tactic of turning Safer’s question, “What does it mean?” around. He replies, “I don’t know. What does it mean to you?” When Safer inquires as to the value of another piece that could have been done by most third-graders, Schnabel could barely conceal his delight and vanity that such a piece was valued at $600K. Oh puhleeze!!!! The king is not only buck-naked, it ain’t a pretty sight, folks.

1 painting by Julian Schnabel

In another interview, one of America’s hot, ‘up and coming’ young artists--who had put up an installation at the Guggenheim which filled an entire room—responded with disarming candor to the question, “What’s it all about?” She looked right at the interviewer and said, “I haven’t got the foggiest idea.” I burst out laughing. At least she was honest.

As a teenager I used to take the bus or train into New York City. It was a time when a fresh-faced kid in Bermuda shorts and loafers could do that without taking his life in his hands. I would go to the Museum of Modern Art, the Guggenheim, the Metropolitan, the Frick and to various galleries as well. In some museums and most all of the galleries the vast majority of the work on display was either abstract or purely conceptual. The Met and the Frick were notable exceptions, of course, offering a world-class collection of masterpieces that chronicled the history of art down through the centuries. There are only thirty-one known Vermeer paintings, and the Frick has three of them. I felt humbled, even honored, to be able to stand in front of them and gaze at the sheer mastery they embody. There is love in his brushstrokes. It is right there in front of you.

But, in the museums which specialized in modern art—which I found perplexing according to my own sensibilities--many times I sat on a bench and simply witnessed peoples’ reactions to the work on display. Time and time again, I heard people tell their companions, “I must be stupid; I just don’t get it.”, or the equivalent. Some of the more truculent visitors—apparently not so willing to surrender their own perceptions--would become downright irritated, and say something along the lines of, “A freakin’ chimpanzee could have done this crap.” Often the reaction was simply to disconnect, “Hey, where do you want to have lunch?”, or “Let’s do the Empire State building this afternoon, eh.” These most cutting-edge of modernist ‘masterpieces’ were simply BORING to the great majority of visitors. I have no respect for an artist who has only mastered the art of stultifying his or her audience. None. If their intended audience is a tiny minority of people who have the amazing ability to see artfulness in a can of shit, then why are they taking up walls that were funded and intended for the public at large?

Eventually, I came to realize that it was not really the artists’ intent to communicate. Unless, of course, you feel having someone give you the finger is a meaningful gesture of depth and intelligence. Their actual goal was to do something—anything--that would remain enigmatic and inaccessible. I chose NOT to blame the viewers’ lack of sophistication, education or exposure. Actually, I expect that if a survey were taken one would find a higher than average level of education—very likely with a preponderance of at least bachelor’s degrees--among the visitors to major art museums. These were people who had come to these galleries and museums in search of an uplifting—hopefully also edifying--experience. They made an effort, often substantial, to give themselves an experience of art. I firmly believe they expected, or at least hoped, to be the better for that, not to walk away mystified and feeling inadequate.

I find that both sad and offensive. Sad because for the vast bulk of human history, art has played a role in peoples’ lives that did intend to uplift, inspire, enrich and deepen the experience of being human. The works hanging in the Frick and the Met, only a short distance away from some of the galleries, WERE able to do just that. If you have ever walked into a room and been confronted by your first Rembrandt, Vermeer, Bouguereau, Bierstadt, Sergeant, and too many more to list, you will know what I am saying. The first time I turned a corner and saw a very large Frederic Church masterpiece, I was blown away. It was literally like a blow to my chest, the feeling of my heart opening to the massive dose of beauty in front of me.

The offensiveness stems mostly from two aspects: the first being the sheer, monumental arrogance of creating work that is intentionally inaccessible, the second being the fact that these works are assigned exotic values by a marketing machine that holds them to be somehow precious, and that elite galleries have finely honed their ability to sell them to clients, whom, I have to believe, do not either understand them—for there is really nothing there but smoke and mirrors to be understood--or even get any benefit other than the pleasure and vanity of owning something so exotic and ‘important’. They well know that such pieces have proven to be good investments, sometimes growing exponentially in value if they hit the ‘hot’ artist at a time before he/she has been fully discovered. Their appeal lies in the fact that they are a highly lucrative instrument for growing wealth, not in any intrinsic value. Can anyone honestly argue that a blank canvas has intrinsic worth? A secondary, but no less important factor is that owning and pretending to ‘penetrate’ these elite works tells your friends and associates that you are one of the elite also. What price being an ‘insider’, right?

Marcel DuChamp was making a powerful statement when he signed “R. Mutt 1917” on a cast porcelain urinal (not of his own making, of course) and declared it to be art. It is up to you to ascertain exactly what he was telling you about the state of fine art when he did this.

As we explore the art world, I will be giving you copious examples of modern art that push it firmly into the realm of the sublimely ridiculous, and the purely absurd.

How about a giant inflatable dog turd, proudly displayed on the grounds of the Paul Klee Museum in Bern Switzerland? Here’s some of the ‘art speak’ from the museum’s website, to help you understand how a giant dog turd becomes important art: "…interweaving, diverse, not to say conflictive emphases and a broad spectrum of items to form a dynamic exchange of parallel and self-eclipsing spatial and temporal zones". My question is this: do the people who come up with such ridiculous statements actually think they are helping us to understand art? Can they really be that far out to lunch? Or are they at least aware that they sound like blithering idiots spouting nonsense?

Could anybody—even a Swiss--actually say that to another person—face to face—with a straight face? If they said it to me I would burst out laughing--a regular guffaw--and tell them they were full of crap. And…I would be right. Here is what this was written about:

The title is: “Complex Shit”. The artist is one Paul McCarthy, destined for great things, no doubt. BTW: it escaped its moorings in a windstorm, took out a power-line and then attacked a children’s home, breaking a window. I’d give anything to be the one who put the call in to the emergency operator. No kiddin’.

You have to marvel at the fact that supposedly intelligent collectors think a can of human excrement—very special because it is not merely just any ‘shit’ but, ‘the artist’s shit’--is a collectable piece of art. Oh, yes; I wish I was kidding.

Or would you prefer, a plastic crucifix immersed in a jar of the artist’s urine…like the one paid for with your tax dollars (courtesy of the NEA, of course) by Andres Serrano?

Maybe you fancy an embalmed Tiger shark for $8 MILLION? Yes, it’s been done. I promise that you will be stunned by the arrogance and cynicism of those who both make and sell art that not only insults the viewer, confounds, obfuscates, angers, but pushes the boundaries of our imagination by being so utterly devoid of anything one could possibly mistake for value. This, then, becomes a curious way of gaining traction: being so outrageously bad that it transcends it and somehow—almost as if by magic—becomes good. That’s assuming, of course, that there will continue to be an ample supply of people who are either stupid or contrary enough to think this is what art is all about: being so bad it becomes good. I invite you to read this.

Fred Ross, with a PhD in art history from Columbia, was never sucked in by “The Game”. He offers a wealth of understanding about it, and is also aware that the actual track record for abstract art, as investment items, has been on a long slide towards worthlessness ever since it peaked in the late 80s. He is in a position to know, and people seek his counsel on a regular basis. For a while now he’s been advising collectors and would-be investors to sell their abstract art and avoid acquiring it like the plague. He is also one of the most influential and vociferous critics of the Great Art Scam. Check out his writings. If you have read this far, you will no doubt be greatly consoled by what he offers. I was.

Before the economy flushed itself down the crapper (who knew it was a masterpiece of fine art, eh?) in the last half of 2008, the ‘young Turks’ of the financial industry were driving the New York art market by snapping up pretty much anything that was considered hot by the critics and mavens, all of whom consider their opinions to be of the highest and unassailable authority. Two million bucks for a piece of crap: no problem….literally, as we have already seen.

The critics and curators are the ‘kingmakers’ of the modern art world and millions of dollars ebb and flow at the bestowal of their knowing nods. Unfortunately, the in-flux of all this money—untempered by any whiff of taste or intelligence--has created a situation wherein many artists have seemingly decided to see how vapid and ridiculous art can get before anyone sees that it has. One artist was quoted in New York magazine as saying--referring to the collectors:”They’ll take any fucking thing we give them.” How nice to have another member of the elite art-world reveal the depths of their depravity and the lofty summits of their arrogance, all in one terse sentence intended for publication.

Modernist art is so strange and mysterious to most people—so ‘other’-- that we need an expert to tell us if there is ‘genius’ present. That strikes me as akin to asking someone else to eat a gourmet meal for you, and then tell you if it was any good. What I find so sadly confounding, is that they can tell us that a can of shit is art….and WE BELIEVE THEM!!! I feel insulted by this, and angry that we have given so much or our own ability to trust our own sensibilities to a bunch of nabobs and fools who perhaps even really believe what they are telling us. It’s lunacy of the first order.

Lacking the special vision required to see the king’s magical new clothes, most people have felt that the failure was their own. NO MORE!!! There is now a burgeoning movement, spreading like wildfire across our culture that will empower all of us to point at the king and tell the God’s honest truth, about our perceptions, our feelings and to trust our own sense of values. The king will not get away with having his minions foist their nonsensical load of manure on us much longer. A new day is coming.

Part II of ‘What is Art’ will deal with artistic ideals, and the power of expression.