THAT is ART ?
- Jul 7, 2015
- 5 min read
6th of July is a hot, sticky day in Chelsea, Manhattan NY, as Sean and Estelle walk down 26th street. Amidst chatter, the two forget that the area is a golden one: full of exhibitions in private studios, galleries, art centers... stomachs are growling in their defense (the two pledge for forgiveness).
However, around 12:31 PM, Sean and Estelle are about to approach the Magnan Metz Gallery. The gallery is located on the second floor, and the large glass windows that start a little above an average being’s head gives one a glimpse of the artistic wonders exhibited inside.
A little Shih Tzu-y looking pooch is the closest display behind the windows, perched on top of the floor.
“That’s their main art piece, you know,” Estelle informs Sean.
Sean wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead.
“Wow!” he remarks.
“Yeah, you can’t touch it! Or step on it! That’s disrespect to the art piece, apparently!” Estelle continues.
“Well, that’s cute,” Sean replies all-knowingly. Sean is experienced with the Art World. He's a musician himself.
“It’s cute because I made that up!”
Estelle is so funny.
The two crack up, as the dog gets up and walks away into the abyss of $$$.
*recreated imagery for viewer's convenience.source of pooch pic: dreamstime.com
(Attention: This story is a true story. The dog is actually an adorable pet of the gallery that sniffed Estelle’s legs as she viewed abstract landscapes sipping on sour Chardonnay at the <A Weekend in the Country>, curated by Paul Laster during one of the early weeks of June)
I am making hasty conclusions that you all realized the joke I pulled on Sean, and you. Anything can be art, and art can be anything, per se. Or says history, after good old Marcel (Duchamp, not the shell) shocked the world when he last-minute whipped out a loo for his final project.
I am honestly not quite sure if I like the direction that “Art” is going:
one dot on a huge canvas for $200,000 (Lee Ufan)
squares (Mondrian)
more squares but a little more dreamier (Rothko)
scribbles (Twombly)
more scribbles but with trendy words (Basquiat)
a room full of stuffed penis-shapes (Kusama)
tire mark (Rauschenberg)
body fluid art (not getting into this)
silence (Cage)
a dead animal split in half stuck in goo (Hirst)
art made SOLELY OUT OF PLASTIC COFFEE LIDS for crying out loud (Another reason you should go to the Magnan Metz Gallery other than the dog.)
carrying around a stuffed cat on your shoulder (Nancy Lang)
staring at people (Abramović)
speaking really fast on beat and really really loving yourself (Kanye)
selfies (Kim K)
yelling, jumping up and down while spraying glitter all over (Anonymous at SMFA)
taking screenshots of selfies on instagram and enlarging them (Prince)
the “art” of computer programming
pickup “artists”
“You paint? wanna see my art?” (Anonymous who took Intro to Painting freshman year of college, convinced he did it last minute for C+ grade)
This is a basic list that can go on forever. You get my point. The way that the word ART has become a cauldron, a cauldron full of things that don’t have a title when real people in the real world need to categorize them. An almost structureless amalgam of seemingly either self-obsessed or self-selling souls.
But why is it that “art” is still revered, while so ridiculed at the same time? I think the broadest answer is that it is because it is not defined, because it cannot be defined. This ambiguity allows even the most bizarre outcomes to be accepted and even respected. The one commonality between all the “art” listed above is that they are all expressions of some kind: someone left their trail in some form and an audience reacted to it. Within that converse, the “art” birthed.
My belief in the role of art aligns a lot to Nietzche’s philosophy: in Nietzche’s mind, beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder. "Nothing is beautiful, except for man alone: all aesthetics rests upon this naïveté.” he claimed, and I agree. The beauty in art lays in the fact that it is created by the undeciphered psychology and sentimentality of man, and received by the undeciphered psychology and sentimentality man. Obscurity is Art's strength: how it is an ambiguous form of both sanctuary and escapade, and even where it comes from. Yet there exists the synchronous fact that every human being can grapple it in one way or the other despite the elusiveness; whether it be awe, infatuation, scathe or disgust. This truly demonstrate Nietzche’s claim that "Only as an aesthetic product can the world be justified to all eternity."
Where else in the world and how else in the world could humans express themselves so freely and wholesomely? What else could drown ambience with emotion, or make numerous strangers break down in tears with just a trace on the wall? I had never felt that much positive energy so instantaneously as when I saw Lee Krasner’s painting for the first time at the new Whitney. I had also never felt that much frustration as I saw Koons’s vacuum cleaners at the old Whitney.
Lee Krasner's painting that answered her question whether or not to continue art after losing her husband, Jackson Pollock
We can still have an ongoing debate on whether or not Art is a necessity, especially if we get deeper into how it is an irreplaceable field; the only field that humans create something from nothing, the only field that unites all with one. And we can still have an ongoing debate on what counts as art and what doesn’t. But to confess one of my biggest fears: the world will end one day and there will be only one excavation ship. It will board doctors, biologists, engineers, nutritionists, and Koons (ex-banker slash millionaire) … with all the starving artists left behind on a crumbling planet earth to starve even more. What is for sure is that Art is definitely a luxury. But it’s a luxury that everyone can afford. So I guess this distribution of Art, the notion of "Art to and from everyone" really broadened the horizon. And embracing this wonderful phenomenon means embracing the many different types of art forms there may be, from who ever how ever.
...Like these lemons at the James Cohan Gallery
It may not be my—or your—cup of tea, but that doesn’t mean it’s not tea. Unless it’s like Lipton's peach flavored ice tea, naming itself “tea” when it’s really sugared powder. That is where we draw the line.
Despite my words, I am truly honestly still not quite sure if I like the direction that “art” is going. Even being drenched in art my whole life and almost done with a BFA (what does that even mean) I am still unclear half the time. But I embrace it. Art is hard to define but I love it for it breaks all walls, rules, logic and reason.
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