Perhaps the best thing (or at least, my favorite thing) about
the development of art is what some call the “deskilling” of art and the gradual
shift away from “the artist as craftsman” after the end of the Renaissance.
Perhaps the worst (and my least favorite) development, in contrast, is the idea
of “the artist as individual,” in that the artist is both a mysterious, tormented
Gogh-like figure and a genius whose mind and work should be exalted. All of these nuances are confusing, and thinking about them gives me a headache.
It doesn’t help that we have thoroughly latched onto various views of
the “artist” such as these, many of which contradict: Artists are naturally gifted
and draw inspiration from thin air. Artists are geniuses with an insane
repository of imagination floating up in their head. Artists should be humble.
Artists should be proud of their accomplishments. Artists don’t do any real “work.” Art that takes less “work” to
create is worth less than art that did. Art is a labor of time. Art is an
inspired creative act. Art is a skill and physical activity. Art should come
from the heart. None of this is any good.
In actuality, it’s simple: people make
stuff, art or otherwise. People look
at stuff, art or otherwise. When you look at interesting stuff, it influences
what you want to make and look at. When you make different stuff, that influences
the stuff you then want to make and look at. This is true whether you’re
writing a research paper or speaking in public or digging holes in the dirt of
your preschool playground or vomiting former meals onto the bathroom floor. Art
is like all these: it’s an exercise in experience. More experience gives
us the breadth and depth of knowledge to generate new, hybrid experiences. That's it. The only time it may seem otherwise is when you forget: when a non-artist sees an artist and thinks they pull from
either thin-air or their own genius, or when I look at an artist I admire and
wonder how they thought of ideas so beyond my own, or when someone sees an
artist’s work and either doesn’t understand or doesn’t care about the value the
work has to that individual. This simple mechanism is why some artists latch onto social/political
statements, while some latch onto representation, while some latch onto form or
technique, while some deviate wildly, while some do their own thing. The inner mechanism is simple, yet the aggregate results are complex and interesting.
This may still seem like an unnecessary argument. You might
be right. I may come off as angry or sassy. You might be right again. Though, if I am, it’s not at any thing,
person, or institution in particular. Maybe you think I’m just trying to be
humble, in which case I’d like to point you to the beginning of the essay and ask
you to reread from the top. Or, maybe this is just common knowledge—I’m just saying
obvious things. But this is my essay
about contemporary art, and this is me
speaking about something as general as possible while still drawing from experience. And my experience tells me that this is not common knowledge and people
do not think these things are as simple as they are. The fact that we often overcomplicate
(myself included), perhaps indicates more about our attraction to overthinking
simple things and applying patterns to chaos, than about the overwhelmingly simple
act of making and looking. I think we’d all be better off if we just simplified things a bit.
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