Good Art, Bad Art and why Terrorists are the Greatest Artists of All

Another fortnight of material culture deliberations, only this time centred around art. Or rather Art, with a capital 'a' - and why we are not too willing to grant every painting/sculpture/you get the idea that capital 'a'. 

What is art? How do you discern between an artist and an artisan? You may say that is easy - artisans make practical objects, artists (or Artists) are more concerned with the aesthetic or conceptual aspect. 

Following that line of reasoning, this is much more likely to be called Art…

Fig. 1 Obviously, the aesthetic aspect dominates

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Than this:

Fig. 2 A. Gaudi, Casa Batlló

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The first object is merely a decorative litography, the second - a house where you can actually live. It is practical. And yet, do we call Gaudi an artist? We do. We even call the benches in Park Guell he designed art.

Would you call the author of the puppy picture an artist? I suspect not.

At one of our tutorials we had an hour-long discussion on the exact definition on art, and surprisingly, most people seemed to have reached some sort of consensus on that matter. They concluded that an object was 'art' as long as it had a profound impact on the viewer.

Admittedly, I could spend hours staring at some paintings or sculptures ('The Garden of Earthly Delights' for instance - never take me to the Prado, unless you want three hours of sitting on the floor and gazing at Bosch's works, eyes wide open, mouth slightly dribbling). They undoubtedly have a huge impact on me! But you know what would have an even stronger one?

Fig. 3 11.09.2001

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I would say this had more impact on the viewers (note - I am not talking about the people inside the buildings) than any work of art could ever have. So, are we to conclude that terrorists are the greatest artists of all, their medium being happenings? There is an idea behind every terrorist attack, you know. It is practically conceptual art, and it is hard to ignore.

Some people called me a demagogue after that argument, but most did take it into account and finally arrived at a few other conclusions - that art cannot have a moral aspect, for instance (undermines the terrorist argument instantly). But another thing that struck me was how no one seemed to care much about the craftsmanship. It was as though a work of art existed in some Platonic plane of ideal existence, with no material aspect to it whatsoever. Since a part of my exercise for this topic was to choose a piece of 'good' and 'bad' art, I decided to focus precisely on the craftsmanship as I believe it has a huge impact of the quality of work. An artist, after all, is basically a philosophizing artisan.

Fig. 4 'Charlie and Sheba' (Museum of Bad Art)

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Fig. 5 Jean Louis Ernest Meissonier, 'Campagne de France'

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While it is hard to think of a profound interpretation for any of these works, Meissonier’s technique is immaculate. The dogs on the second painting, on the other hand, look sloppy and infantile. 

I am not alone in my thinking by the way. Meissonier was the favourite painter of no one else but Salvador Dali. Strange predilection for academism aside, the craftsmanship is important in any sort of painting.

It does not follow, of course, that it is enough. Thomas Kinkade for instance - immaculate technique, but again, not many art critics consider him artist, and I suspect no one would even consider such a possibility was it not for his commercial success.

And yet he appeals to people. In 'The Unbearable Lightness of Being', Milan Kundera describes kitsch as not merely inducing strong sentiments, but a sense of unity caused by the universalism of these sentiments. Sam Binkley, on the other hand, argues that embedded in routines, faithful to conventions, and rooted in the modest cadence of daily life, which allows it to induce a sense of 'ontological security' (Binkley 2000, 135). 

And why should it all be a bad thing? Should art not be a source of strength and uplift?

Fig. 6 T. Kinkade, 'Seaside: Hideway'

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Even the title of the painting above. If art is escapism, then a hideaway is exactly what we are looking for. This painting, like most (if not all) Kinkade's works does not require a particular 'interpretation' or 'decoding' - the cottage is a cottage, the garden is a garden, all resonating with the basic need for security (Boylan 2011, 6). 

There are some theories (Bourdieu was a great advocate) postulating that a preference for such direct representations of some human basic needs - mostly the need for security - are typically preferred by lower social classes, as these cannot fulfill them readily (Binkley 2000). If we accept such a view, then all our preconceptions about good and bad art are essentially means of devaluating the working class and elements of the great mechanism of class oppression. Personally, I do not feel Marxist enough to sympathize - but I have to admit, it is hard to name other, equally coherent, reason for our preference for the 'sophisticated'. I may not enjoy Kinkade's paintings (and I in fact do not), but there still is some lingering nostalgia to be experienced every time I see one of these cosy, idyllic cottages with fair windows and luscious gardens.

Again, what are your thoughts? Are you brave enough to admit to having some liking for Kinkade, or perhaps you just consider these paintings preposterous? And are terrorists the greatest artistis of all? Please share!

Bibliography:

Binkley, S. 2000. Kitsch as a Repetitive System: A Problem for the Theory of Taste Hierarchy. In: Journal of Material Culture, Vol. 5, No. 2, pp. 131-152.

Boylan, A. L. 2011. Thomas Kinkade: the artist in the mall. Durham: Duke University Press.

This is not the only post about art. Another one will soon follow.