May 16, 2007
Ack! Tres interesante…
This began as a reply to Trevor’s recent post, “Art, Norco-style”, but it grew to the edge of reply length and perhaps a little beyond, so I’m turning it into blog dialogue (or blogalogue, if you will). So read that one first, ya slackers.
I wonder how I would feel ’twere the tables turned and the liberal atheist were the one responsible for the anti-art?
As far as the mass walkout, it’s a great way to voice dissent, I can’t fault that tactic. While I may be entirely opposed to the Norco vision of proper art, I fully support the challenging of ideas of all kinds — and this (even just the walkout) obviously challenged Mike to his benefit.
The water-pouring is touchy. I’m not necessarily (necessarily being the operative word here) all that appalled by the action itself, so much as the motivation. Reading Daisey’s account of his phone conversation with The Pourer, it seems that this man had no greater purpose in mind than “I don’t like this, let’s destroy it.”, which sucks. But there’s a fine line between intolerance and forcing a dialogue (which Daisey urges the Norco group do to amongst themselves, and very rightly so), and this is the sort of action that can live right on the edge of either side of that line.
So, here goes… and keep in mind that I’m playing devil’s advocate and assuming that The Pourer was in fact operating with some level of brain activity and this was an act of anti-art as a statement rather than anti-art as a reaction.
Destruction is such fascinating tool: when carefully considered and employed, it is utterly effective as an art form (which the classification of it as such is an entirely different blogalogue), spreading like wildfire. But as with any material, earthly weapon, it’s way too damn easy to misuse with catastrophic results. I admire those who have proven themselves agile enough to regularly employ the tactic without (or with very little) misfiring — Banksy is a great example, as was Robert Rauschenberg from time to time. And it’s a form I have toyed with ever so slightly and am not at all opposed to toying with again.
But anti-art scares me, because, unlike the rest of my grandiose Art with a capital ‘A’ ideas, it forces me to confront the fact that my artistic utopia either can never be achieved or, if it were, would be a horrible, horrible place. It’s normally quite easy for me to assume that, if only everyone else agreed with me, the world would be a much better place. Anti-art — not so much. Embracing anti-art forces me to also embrace a position as eternal outsider doomed to failure, for there can be no anti-art if there is no accepted pantheon of art to anti-.
But back to the subject at hand: as far as this act goes, it’s relatively minor on the scale o’ destruction. I have to say I was not familiar with Daisey before this, but from what this event — and wikipedia (*le sigh*) — have taught me, Daisey’s work is quite improvisational, and thus quite temporal. Therefore, while the water pouring certainly acted as a destructive force on the art that was that evening’s performance, the physical materials that were destroyed would have been no more than artifacts after that night. Artifacts, in my twisted vision, can be nice, but are far from sacred. I will concede that the argument can be made that this act and its effect on Daisey will have had a destructive influence on every performance of his from this point on; but I counter that, especially reading Daisey’s posts on his response to and methods of dealing with the event, it is no longer destructive, but formative, as Daisey is now using it to his advantage to make further discoveries about himself and his world — many of which will emerge in his art.
The point I’m trying to make? Hell if I know… Right now I will settle on something along these lines: Anti-art, even that of the destructive variety, can be a great tool, but, as with any tool of destruction, only when handled carefully. And as a follow-up: Anti-art is only anti-art when it is enacted/created with the purpose of creating a new, divergent work of art — not necessarily physical; I allow for conceptual art as well as the Art of the Idea (which already throws this statement into a heavy point of debate… another blogalogue?). Otherwise, as in this case, it’s just anti-thought.
And a brief afterward: Personally, I am pleased as punch that law was not brought into the fray by either Daisey or the ART in this case. If, as artists, we are willing to act for the most part separate from (thus, potentially in spite of) the legal system, i.e. this whole smoking thing, we must also for the most part avoid leaning upon the legal system in times of trouble. If we take no favors from the government, we won’t be obliged to pay any back. But that’s probably another blogalogue.
Bries.
Filed by Bries at 1:44 pm under The Arts
Nice thought, sailor. Check this out, though (and I mean that in a mildly confrontational way — not malicious, just responsive to your Devil’s advocacy, and I presume since you speak so much about construction that you would in fact use this ploy to create a dialogue, which coincidentally is exactly what happened in the case of Daisey and the Mad Water-Pouring Guy, only more intentionally so here) check this out: resting on the theory that without evil there can be no good begs the question, “Which came first, the chicken or the egg?” (By the way — Devil’s Advocate, Chicken/Egg Theory…that’s two clichés in one response. Can we go for more?)
Art is not, in my opinion, at war with society or with religion or with the government or anything at all. Art is perhaps the opposite of war, an anti-war, if you will. Art is a reflection of society — and it just so happens that our society is at war with itself. So then, is anti-art the same as war? Or is anti-art as you see it the same as what is referred to by math geeks as an absolute value (the context: the absolute value of x is always positive, so even if you enter -1, the end result is +1)?
But art, being a reflection of society, is also quite influential. If you look at yourself in a mirror and see that you have bed-head, you pick up a comb and fix it — or you don’t, either way you make a choice. That’s the idea behind it all. Sometimes you take the hair that is sticking up and make a totally new and unexpected hairstyle. Art doesn’t make art, and war doesn’t make art — artists make art.
I don’t think that there is one correct answer. I think that it must vary from case to case. In this case, the intention of the Mad Water-Pouring Guy was deliberately destructive, with no intention of allowing further growth. I really think he wanted to stop it for as far as he could possibly be concerned. I don’t think he wanted more art to come out of it, let alone any attention to be brought to it at all. If anti-art is an absolute value, then this man committed an act of war, not art (or anti-art). And, as is often the case, from out of the ether comes a new work of art to shine light on it.
I know this is a lot of high-falutin talk about some douchebag pouring purified water on some yellow paper. When you’re over-educated, that’s just the way the cookie crumbles (yes! Three clichés!).
To conclude, I will leave you with this thought: in this particular case of destruction, do the ends justify the means? Was the sacrifice of a planned night of somewhat improvised (but still, mostly planned) monologue worth the consequential dialogue with the audience, the altered state of the rest of the show, and the future blogs and staged monologues that will come out of it? And does the audience suffer for having paid to see one thing but actually having seen something completely different — or are they better off?
Yay, high-falutin’ talk!!
I agree that art is a reflection of, rather than at war with, society, just as I would say that religion, politics, etc., etc. are also reflections of society. Rather than careening towards each other, all of these aspects of mankind are moving parallel with each other, each providing man with a particular way of attempting to rope in the sublimity of the world. And while these separate threads can work in tandem on occasion (much religious art, for example), one always tends to dominate. The friction arises when two threads run independently in too close of a proximity (not necessarily a bad thing, — the sparks usually make for great conversation at the very least — but friction nonetheless).
But I don’t know that I can buy into art as anti-war, partially because of the above friction, but also because art also cannot remain at peace with itself, just like politics (see the current extreme bipartisan divide in the USA) and religion (see pretty much any current struggle in the Middle East). Yes, all of these things are at war with themselves because they are a reflection of a society unable to come to terms with themself, but a reflection of a society created by that society is, at least on a certain meta- level, equivalent to that society.
Now, it’s true that I’m a geek with very little math influence, but I believe that my definition of anti-art would best be described as a combination of your war and absolute value offerings. Anti-art is art that is created out of that struggle within the greater spectrum of art. Anti-art is not concerned, or even cognizant of religion, politics, or any other separate issues, instead existing only to question (and perhaps topple) certain accepted tenets of the form, i.e. walking out of an ongoing performance is an inappropriate action (but more on that in a moment).
The definition of anti-art is certainly hazy; it survives on the fringe of art (much like agnosticism/atheism in the religious form, not because they — like anti-art — are in the minority, but because they are at their purest — like anti-art — a paradox) and this results in such an extreme sense of subjectivity that it’s tricky to even settle upon accepted examples: for example, making cuts and taking liberties when staging a play (say a Beckett, to pick an easy target) in spite of the fact that they are unmistakeably unauthorized could easily be construed in some minds as anti-art by undermining and possibly subverting the writer’s words into an unintended vision. And yet, as I was listening to a little Zeppelin in the shower this morning it hit me that an entire generation of kids (who are now bordering adulthood, even) will never hear “Kashmir” without thinking of Puff Daddy, or Bowie’s “The Man Who Sold The World” without Nirvana. Now, you’d be hard-pressed to find someone willing to call sampling and cover songs anti-art (at least on a wide scale), but both of these are a lot more damaging to intended vision than a stagework, for which there will never be one set performance that all others are sprouting forth from. And what about Banksy? He certainly does use destruction and subversion as a tactic, but is he creating anti-art? One the one hand, the issues he is attacking with his work very much fall under the heading of politics (or something similar), but he is doing so with work that is also questioning the nature of what can and should be considered art…
To the matter, and water-pouring, at hand: This is where the devil’s advocate part came in. While the tactics used could have feasibly been those of an anti-artist, I agree that in this particular instance that was not the case. These people had no interest in art of any form. (Which is their prerogative, but they’re lucky that they chose to launch this attack on an artist with very little interest in raising the stakes…) This was a religious-tinted political statement or a politically-tinted religious statement or something along those lines, but it had nothing to do with art. Which is unfortunate, because seeing the mass of heads float past the screen and Daisey’s flustered immediate reaction to such is one of the finest examples of the sort of instant results anti-art can have. It’s also unfortunate that it was overshadowed by the water-pouring, which came from an ill-conceived place of spite and nothing more.
But to bring it back around, yes, anti-art is a form of (civil) war. But I don’t know that war in a philosophical sense can necessarily be defined as negative. Or maybe it can, and war is simply the wrong term here. Either way, anti-art is created out of and to achieve dissonance. And dissonance is most definitely not by nature bad — the key lies in the response and counterresponse, ad infinitum. Which ties into your final question — I would actually hazard to say that artistically speaking the end rarely justifies the means. The responses and actions and events that are realized because the end exists — those justify the means. And I don’t know that, using that formula, there is ever an instance where the means are not justified.
Delayed edit: You are of course, right, that there is no correct answer and all, some, or none of this may hit home with you or anyone else reading. But that’s what makes this all so fun! I am, of course, absolutely right in the theories presented above. And you (the collective you), if you disagree? You are absolutely right in your opposition. And electricity between my stance and yours? That’s where the magic happens…
I am intrigued by the explanation you’ve given — I had not thought of it all in that way before. Yes, of course all these other facets that make up society are in fact reflections of society. Or, at the very least, one can take the image of politics or religion or art at any given moment in history and show how these things define the time, and similarly how the time defines these things. It is the very definition of semiotics.
And oh, the semantics. The wordplay. Is anti-art really “anti-art,” or is it “the art of anti-?” Curious.
I must admit I instinctually balked when you wrote that war may not be negative, in a philosophical sense, but I think now that you may have brought attention to something very important that we need to realize (and I will try to be brief with this tangent). War itself is a means, and not an end. It’s easy to forget that, especially when your country is in the midst of a war that you believe should not be waged, especially since you have a sneaking suspicion that the ends are dubious to begin with. War is a means — it is destructive and horrible, but misguided as anyone involved may seem, chances are the initial objective was creation. Whether or not that intended creation was for good or evil is another question entirely.
And another tangent: look at you! Do you know what you’re doing when you separate all these aspects and put them into the same equation? You’re factoring! Like it or not, you’re a mathematical genius. It’s okay, so was Leonardo DaVinci.
But now, back to art — the anti-tangent, if you will (or, cotangent…aaah, more math!) — so then, presuming we are sticking with the word “war,” war is a means and art is an end, and anti-art is a form of war on art, but only to ultimately create more art (absolute value), then you’re right: war is not necessarily a bad thing in every single case. Similarly, however, this must also indicate that art is not necessarily always a good thing.
Side note — this is not a debate or anything, I’m really not trying to make a point — this is all just pretty cool to me. I’ve had a long and exciting day of thinking, interrupted for periods of time by my stupid life.
Anyway.
One of my favorite things I ever learned is that existence precedes essence. This is as true as can be for human beings, but not necessarily for the things that humans create. A chair, for example, is built so someone will have a reasonably comfortable place to sit, and so the chair’s essence can be said to precede its existence. But people just ARE. Now, my question becomes: given that war is not always a bad thing and art is not always a good thing; and given that as war creates art, and anti-art is war within the spectrum of art that actually creates more art; and given that neither the war nor the resulting art can be said to be good or bad, in the traditional moral sense; does the essence of the art created as an end precede its existence? Or would that art exist regardless of the relevance we assigned it? In other words, ignoring whether the ends justified the means, does the end result — a base reaction, many times, but also very often a well-calculated and planned response — does this new creation have any value that doesn’t relate back to the war that brought it? In other other words, is it reflective of society or reflective of itself?
Am I even making sense? I wouldn’t be surprised if I wasn’t. I’m pretty tired.
Forgive me for being totally late to the “blogalogue”, but i just found this post and the one that inspired it fascinating.
As an artist myself, i have always believed that the power of Art with that capital “A” has is turning the destructive into the constructive. An actor takes a deeply painful moment and exposes it for the humanity, beauty and vulnerability it holds. A painter takes a bloody affair and gives it a face and recognizable terror to remind us of our faults, our foolishness, dare i say to warn us of not giving into hatred and bloodlust. (i’m specifically thinking of Picasso’s “Guernica” here, who, interestingly enough said “My whole life as an artist has been nothing more than a continuous struggle against reaction and the death of art.”)
i suppose what i’m trying to express is that i’ve always believed the ultimate goal of an artist is to cherish and promote consciousness, awareness. We take what pains us, what scares us, what awes us and we create an homage to the human spirit that survives and thrives despite it all.
With that said, on to The Incident. i entirely agree that a mass walk out is a great way to voice dissent. However, i agree with Trevor that the destructive act was uncalled for. Walk out, that’s fine, but don’t destroy what isn’t yours to ruin. That is the basis of most moral codes, isn’t it, to not take/use/kill/destroy what isn’t yours to begin with? These protesters simply revealed their lack of true morality or education. (i think of Robert Frost saying, “Education is the ability to listen to almost anything without losing your temper or your self-confidence.”)
Daisey handled himself and the situation beautifully. And while i think the experience will never leave him, i think it is pretty clear that this man is a true Artist and is using this horrible experience to foster consciousness, to prize Truth, no matter how terrible. (It struck me deeply when he wrote this in his blog, “The hard truth is that you reap what you sow, and I will not sow hatred and discontent–I refuse… but I will not hate. I will listen. I will listen and learn and remember what has passed here, and when I tell it back it will be louder and longer and clearer.”) He has shown more grace and kindness and - dare i say it?! - Christ-likeness than that man who destroyed work that was not his and all because he heard the word “fuck”. He wasn’t murdering, wasn’t molesting children, wasn’t gettin’ it on with a farm animal… this happened because he said “fuck”. How incredibly juvenile and misguided.
i know i put in more than two cents, but what can i say? It’s an interesting topic.
You want semantics, Señor Bil? How about anti-art as the art of the anti- and its relation to art — I like that definition. Because you are right: the anti- is just as prominent as the art in this discussion.
I, too, must apologize for the late reply — I have no real excuse, I supppose, but appy-polly-logies nonetheless. I’m just glad to see some life kicked back into this discussion.
I think I’m gonna approach this as “Bil reply” and “Marie reply”, but first there’s an overall philosophical question that I think pertains to both and, if nothing else, is always a mind-bender. I realize that the belief in a lack of absolute good and evil, as I do happen to hold, is not a common one and that I really shouldn’t be throwing out questions under that assumption, but when we tiptoe into destruction as creation and war as a neutral force, we start to edge into my territory, so I’m going to go there anyway. In speaking of morality and positives and negatives, especially in relation towards a topic so volatile as art, it’s often hard to keep in mind, partially due to egocentricity and partially because it’s a very frightening thought, that it is somewhat of a rarity for actions to be taken or creations to be made with bad/evil motivations. Any action/creation has a ‘x’ amount of people in the world who would find it acceptable on the moral compass and ‘x’ amount of people would wouldn’t. While the extreme cases (cold-blooded premeditated face-to-face murder, rape, child molestation, etc.) are, thank goodness, VASTLY weighted towards the latter side, this is exactly why hot button issues come about — there are a lot of topics (gay marriage, capital punishment, abortion) on which there is more of an even split between the two. There’s is a fascinating philosophical discussion regarding moral relativity and the law sitting right there, but that is not something I am nearly as interested in, nor is it something I intend to introduce to the discussion. Rather, I raise this point to ask for an application to the world of art, a world which we as artists are quick to apply all kinds of noble characteristics to — at least more so than the bureaucratic red-tape commercialized everyday world. But in order to attain (or sustain) such nobility, it’s important to keep in mind (and here’s where I bring the point back around) the gap that separates bad (or evil, if you desire — a moral rather than qualitative ‘bad’) work with good motives and bad work with bad motives; that the second, bad in our eyes, was intended as such, as opposed to the first which, equally bad in our eyes, comes from a morally acceptable place in the artist’s heart.soul.mind. I think we have established that Mr. Water Pourer was not acting in the interest of art, so that example really doesn’t apply, but just like the hot-button issues mentioned afore, this is how we get hot button art (Piss Christ, anyone?). The greater question is this: who decides the moral quality of art, the artist or the audience? And does that boil down to the broader question, who determines what is or is not art, the artist or the audience? And does that yet again boil down to the even broader question, who is art for, the artist or the audience? And while, in all three, I tend to lean towards the artist, I also am aware of serious issues raised by either answer. How then, whichever side of the fence you fall on, do we maintain the nobility and freedom of the art community while allowing our own moral compass come to terms with the idea of moral relativity? I’ve got no real answer, but it’s a subject I like to approach more often than not with my work. The idea of aesthetics as a whole needs be constantly under scrutiny (if not attack) if any artistic progress is to be made. Something (apologetically verbose) to think about, anyway.
“Bil reply”:
Art is not necessarily a good thing — that’s a very good point. And I think it’s one we tend to forget because we take it so for granted. For example, I would love nothing more than for most of Broadway to metaphorically (and okay, maybe a little bit physically) burn to the ground. And while in conversation I will be hesitant to call the 90% of musical theatre that society is familiar with “art”, that’s mainly posturing (Take note of that! Bries actually admitting to posturing!). In fact, it’s art that I find to be ‘not good’ — I don’t know that ‘bad’ is necessarily the right term, either. It’s a position, while endlessly frustrating, that I can at least somewhat understand on the opposite end, as well. I can see how some artists would see Dada, for example as ‘not good’ — for art as a form, and perhaps for society as a whole. But then again, I am more or less dedicated to creating work in opposition to those artists, so you see just how much stock I take in the viewpoint. To further the war metaphor, it’s very much similar to a Gulf War veteran protesting the current war in Iraq (of which there are many) vs. a soldier in the current war who still has utter faith and confidence in the war and the reasons for it (of which, yes, there are many). Each individual will fight tooth and nail (and on occasion, to the death) for his belief, but to many an outsider looking in, the difference in the arguments is negligible.
Essence v. existence? Jesus, man, that’s tough… I think it’s very much along the artist/audience lines. Yet, while I tend to subscribe to art in the eye of the creator (which I think tends to be an argument for essence), art is a constant variable. When the artist chooses to be reticent about meanings or is deceased or, even moreso, is deceased and while living was reticent about meanings, art does not simply die. The audience picks it up and carries it through on their own shoulders and meanings. Hell, even when the artist is forthcoming about personal visions, audiences still read their own interpretations in. But because I always have to be difficult, I’m going to try to combine the answers yet again. (Sorry!) Art is existential, but only because man is existential. Thus, because each individual person has their own existence, and art is a product the the soul or the mind or whatever you consider to be the purest power a human is able to tap into, art in and of itself is of an essence, but continues to simply BE after an artist or an audience is gone because it gains a new, divergent essence with each new viewer. So art’s existence is propelled by a constantly varying essence. That’s my final answer.
“Marie reply”:
First off, yay for a third party! There’s only so many verbal circles me and Bil can talk ourselves around. And second off, nothing is ever more than your two cents. You got something to say? It’s more than welcome in my blogalogue.
And as I forge onward, I warn you, I’m a contrarian by nature — call it a glorious fault — so if I get into things and forget my manners, I’m simply sowing the seeds for further discussion. As Bil has also mentioned, I speak no malice or ill will, simply further thought through slight dissonance.
I do believe it was a misguided step of mine to speak of the water pouring as on a possible level of other art works. Don’t get me wrong, in the right situation and with the right intentions, this sort of thing very much might cross that bounds, but as has been eloquently stated by the both of you (and I agree wholeheartedly), this particular instance was very decidedly not coming from an artistic place. Basically, what I’m saying is that you are absolutely right, from an artistic perspective, this was an incredibly misguided act and an affront to all art and artists in kind.
But (becase there’s always a but), I do question the automatic acceptance of Daisey’s reaction. Not that I find any fault in the way he did handle himself diplomatically (Although, if nothing else, I do admire the stoicism of the students. Conviction is a powerful trait.), but that I think conviction should be met with conviction. Of course, these are all personal beliefs and the real point is that Daisey is doing as he sees fit, but as far as reaping and sowing is concerned, I also will sow no hate, but discontent? I thrive off it, and in world that is becoming antiseptic through concern of politeness and safety (I’ll stop before I end up on that rant, which is a world of its own.), I much prefer when artists are willing to take the gloves off for a round. I agree, Daisey’s actions are quite Christ-like, but I would also posit that Christ, God love him (heh), wouldn’t have been much of an artist. But again, there’s that bottom line: as long as Daisey’s doing right by him and using the situation to his advantage, bully for the art world. It’s just not my ideal.
Jesus, I think I was planning on talking a little bit more, but look at the size of this already! I just hope it doesn’t get lost in the pile. I’ll still be checking the comments, if that’s at all helpful, so if anybody wants to reply, I can promise you at least one reader. In other words, sally forth!
Penis.
Whoa. Thanks for sending me a link to Daisey’s web-site. That’s insane. I always fantasize about that happening to me, but to see it actually happen like that is pretty incredible.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t believe that a goal of an artist should be to offend, but like Bries, I often feel the urge to create art that is a 180 degree turn from the current Broadway fare. I truly believe that if theatre is going to survive, it needs to utilize its immediacy and intimacy with the audience and force them to ask questions, at the very least, which for many contemporary audiences, can be uncomfortable. In my opinion, Webber’s PHANTOM OF THE OPERA may be pretty to look at, but it’s completely empty compared to the work of Fernando Arrabal, or someone who isn’t afraid to strip us raw and force us to deal with some real questions. If we don’t keep theatre in that place, it will slowly die out and be replaced by television, film, etc. Not that those are evil things, but I’m just trying to make a case here.
Anyway, as far as “anti-art” is concerned, I certainly haven’t thought this through like the rest of the inter-web community on this board, but my knee-jerk reaction is to make the claim that the decision to be anti-art and the act of doing so, inadvertently makes an artist out of the one hostile to the art in the first place.
To go along with Bries’ devil-advocacy, and assuming that man destroying Mike’s papers was doing this as a statement, then he is suddenly thrust into the same realm as Mike, who is also making a statement.
Even the Dadaists, while claiming to be anti-art, were indeed creating art themselves. For what is art but a statement and a physical manifestation stemming from an emotion brought on by something within your environment? Certainly, an act of destruction is also an act of creation (to get all metaphysical for a moment), and if it is a conscious choice to destroy someone else’s art, then the destroyer is physically creating a counter statement. Perhaps it’s just a case of semantics, but to me, what that man did - the knee jerk reaction he had, was very anti-art. It was anti-art BECAUSE it was a knee-jerk reaction. If it was contemplated, and done specifically to make a statement, then to me, he would have been making art himself.
However, since I haven’t really thought this out very long, I’m sure there are plenty of holes in my argument, so feel free to fire away!
Thanks for sending this blog my way Bries!
Something that’s worth noting at this point, I think, is that what we haven’t really brought up is performance as art. If destruction is creation, then its manifestation is both in the act itself and the reaction of those affected. Unlike a painting or a sculpture (or even, at this level, film), a live performance carries something special and immediate and intimate and because no two performances are the same. We have two separate components: the performance itself and the reaction. (With “still” art, like a painting or a film, there is only the reaction.) And so, if we tell ourselves that destruction, which is often viewed as the exact opposite of creation, is in fact art, then which part of it is actually art, the execution or the consequence?
I’m friggin’ tired, so the rest of my thoughts for tonight will be in short-sentence form…
Art is in the eye of the beholder - if some asshole pours water on someone else’s art as a knee-jerk reaction and I think it’s beautiful, I will call it art and it will be very hard to argue with me on this.
Broadway musicals - we think they suck, and we are right, but they are not wholly bad; “Wicked,” for example, is very socially aware and very pro-feminism, and people who aren’t exposed to plays like “Arcadia” or “An Enemy of the People” get at least that much.
Michael as more Christ-like than Norco Jesus-freak - kind of a moot point, but totally true, no doubt about it. That’s both sad because it’s true, and funny because it’s true.
Christ as a mediocre artist - maybe, maybe not. Not all art is a reaction to a problem. In fact, at one point in time I began an application to a graduate directing program to explore the notion of a Theatre of the Bored, which would have dealt entirely with something-from-nothing style theatre stylings. (I wanted to see what comes from a perceived nothingness that slowly disintegrates into a complete history of itself. Kind of like Beckett, only in the exact opposite chronological direction.) The point: even if Jesus were no Picasso, he might still have made some cool carpentry work…
Dadaism - I love it. That’s all.
Yeshu’ah as a bad artist? Considering i’m a Messianic Jew, i believe He is The Artist, with a specialty in controversial. i mean, He made something as stupid as George Bush and watched us elect him as our President. There’s some good controversy in that!
And Bil - “Wicked” really does rock, though, of course, the book was MASSIVELY better.
Oh, and to Devon? Perineum.
In conclusion: go cubism.
Heh, there I go being blasphemous again…
Touche, Marie. From a tentative lack of belief, I’m sticking with Mr. Christ not seeming terribly artistically inclined (not that that’s meant to have any negative connotation!), but touche nonetheless.
Bil, re: execution v. consequence — that’s also a good question that I think could be well argued from both sides. If, however, the art is in the consequence, could/should it be considered a collaboration instead? Is the anti-artist actually destroying anything, or simply changing (in a twisted sort of way, adding to?) the art as it exists?
Aha, two good points. Very good. If the art is in the consequence (hypothetically speaking, of course, as always) or in the execution is probably a moot point when talking about collaboration. In broad sense, I think all art can be said to be a collaboration. A portrait artist is collaborating with the subject, in that the artist tells the subject to stand at an optimal angle with the most striking pose (or whatever), and they are both there for the duration of the painting. And when you look at it that way, it can be said that a landscape artist is collaborating with nature — the artist finds the prettiest spot to paint a picture of, and nature does its part to look pretty. When you think about strangers viewing a painting, the artist will have done his/her part to paint it, and the stranger is doing his/her part to see it and interpret it — that relationship can be said to be a collaboration.
There is an very old question about a tree falling in a forest that can be applied to the art world. If a person is dancing in the middle of nowhere and there is no music playing, and there is no particular structure to the dance, i.e. the dancer is just moving randomly, and there is absolutely no one around to view it…is it art?
Now, going back to the notion of absolute values. Does anti-art, which is art itself, destroy anything or simply change the art it affects? I think there can be two answers. First: when you raze a building and erect a new building in its place, then you have destroyed the first building and put something new up. So there is that immediate physical aspect of it. Secondly: in more abstract, theoretical phsyics, there is a law which declares that you cannot create or destroy matter, you can only change its state of being.
I maintain that art is a concept, not a physical object. We can deconstruct it until the cows come home, but I think that at the end of the day, whatever I call art is art. If I’m dancing and no one is watching, I am still aware of the dance, so whether or not it is art is up to me. If I draw a handlebar mustache onto the Mona Lisa with a magic marker and I say it is art, or if I say it is anti-art, then it is art. If later I tell you about my dancing or if you see the newly-mustachioed masterpiece, then we can discuss if any of it was art to you, but to me it is by virtue of the fact that I say so. From there we can try to force each other into each other’s brain.
When talking to other people about what is art, let me ask this: does it require an affirmative answer on their part for the subject to actually be art, or does it merely take consideration of the question, “Is it art?”
Ah, you guys are all full of shit. To you all I say, “Anus.”
that is all.