The origins of homosexuality and its relational politics in postmodern art are illustrated very clearly in Gavin Butt's “The Greatest Homosexual?” which specifically explores “camp” and the work/life of the artist Larry Rivers. Rivers, very aware of his place in the art world in the mid '40's as a heterosexual white male, understood the need to undermine that very fact and indulge in what he correctly found to be “truly bohemian” - the gay social world. It was certainly transformative in his art, but it gives rise to a few problematic notions: Did Rivers' choice qualify homosexuality as the arbiter of “better art” in that time? Can we equate Rivers to a kind of “Elvis,” co-opting homosexuality as a performative persona, just as Elvis did with blues music, which was developed and nurtured by American black culture? I suppose the latter question is covered by Butt's explanation of “camp,” yet Elvis, in his time, was not considered camp (109). Nor is Rivers' love and performance of jazz saxophone given a camp status, even though he is fully aware that he is co-opting (again) music with deep roots in black America (Butt 123, note 22).
As an introductory text, Mary Anne Staniszewski's “Believing is Seeing” serves its purpose well. The pictorial lead-in that develops the art/not art discourse is apt, if not amusing. However, though Staniszewski addresses (in the last two chapters) the relationships of art/culture in the mass media age, her de jure development of the topic conflates, rather than delineates. For instance, if postmodern art can accept a signature as “art,” (for naming gives value and power), how is this different than corporate “branding?” There is a corporate pretense at creativity, of course; marketing departments have “creative directors” and “designers,” but there is no intention for art to be made. Staniszewski parallels Madonna and Cindy Sherman (and rightly so), but asks for distinctions to no longer be determined: “Isn't it time to leave behind criteria that equate 'high' with Art and 'low' with popular culture and commerce...?” (285). Despite her plea, many of the old hierarchies hold firmly to their established places, and this fact is glaringly overlooked.
Speaking of marketing, the overall tone of Alan Kaprow's “Happenings in the New York Scene” reads a bit like an advertisement for itself. Kaprow also paints what now must be considered a classic Venn diagram of the “artistic sellout” in his desire to keep the Happenings a pure art form and not subject to the “melodrama” of fame:
Is this the first published instance of the declaration “never sell out” in postmodern art? It would be intriguing to find out, albeit a difficult task.The fact that these artists were trying so hard not to “sell out” shows the unsustainability of the Happenings – something which Kaprow admits: “The attention and pressure will probably destroy most of us, as they have nearly all the others.” (67-68). There was a certain audacity to this, but at the same time, it is rather brave, as there was no way to know that there was any real cultural value in the Happenings, given their tenuous existence. As it turns out, the spirit of the Happenings has lived on through the internet in the online vernacular of today's youth culture. Media portals such as YouTube have given voice to an absurdist, randomized stream of social commentary, where pop cultural memes are reinterpreted/repurposed through highly personalized, idiosyncratic expression.
Robert Smithson's essay, “Cultural Confinement,” reignites the old, Duchamp-ian argument that the museums and galleries (the institutions of art) represent a confinement of art as the only places “Art” can exist. The rules are made by the institutions and artists historically conform only by unfortunate necessity. Smithson, like Duchamp, seeks to break the rules but the twist here is that Smithson is approaching it from a literal “outside” point of view; he has taken art into the great outdoors. But, manicured nature is still too much for Smithson: “Parks are idealizations of nature, but nature in fact is not a condition of the ideal.” (249). Yet if Smithson's “ideal” is a perfect corroboration/collaboration with nature and art, and since nature is transient, is not the art transient? Is this corroboration achieved at its highest (ideal) standard in a specific time frame/season/light/weather condition? How can the art conform to the unchartable parameters that natural forces may dictate? Or is it presupposed that every interaction, no matter what nature dishes out, is in perfect alignment with the art? That is a convenient device. Smithson's taking art out of the museum into natural worlds is indeed laudable, but there is a presumptive quality to his reasoning that is, ironically, reminiscent of a museum's pedantry.
With regard to Sol Lewitt's “Paragraphs on Conceptual art,” the author humbly suggests that there may be inconsistencies in his writing: “Even when writing these Ideas, there seemed to be obvious inconsistencies...” (184). An instance where this becomes evident as an arguable point is his implication that concept alone makes a stronger artistic statement than a finished product: “The idea itself, even if not made visible, is as much a work of art as any finished product.” (182). This is not quantifiable by any objective means. Metaphorically, the artist is keeping the idea under a rock. How can quality, impact (and/or reaction), and success (however measurable) be determined? It might be reasoned that, with the limitations of physicality versus the infinite iterations of thought, the purity of an idea is in greater danger of corruption in the mind of the creator than if it were to be presented in a physical form.
The feminist texts: “Virility and Domination in Early Twentieth Century Vanguard Painting” by Carol Duncan; “Modernity and the Spaces of Femininity” by Griselda Pollock; “Why Have There Been No Great Women Artists?” by Linda Nochlin; and “Excerpts from The Dinner Party” by Judy Chicago; do well to illuminate the role of women in art historically as it pertains to the contemporary. It is clear that the province of art and art history has been (like history itself), dominantly phallocentric. The very truths of that formally accepted matrix are exposed and, in some instances, rendered into mere opinion in the face of these feminist critiques. It is a harsh and necessary light that is shed upon such an exclusionary facade. However, though it was (and still is to an extent) completely necessary to denounce the male-dominated art construct, it does not seem prudent to insist that every male artist's intention in depicting the female form is to denigrate it, which is what Carol Duncan intimates throughout her entire essay. Specifically, Duncan's treatment of Matisse's Carmelina shows her pointed agenda has no boundaries: “(Matisse) blazes forth in brilliant red... The artist, if not the man, masters the situation...” (300). Why is his use of red a device of subjugation? Could it be that he was merely wearing red? Or, knowing the cleverness of the artist as a colorist, perhaps the use of red directs you to his image in the work because of his artistic ego, and not his male libido? Does not conflating those things exacerbate the issue?
Judy Chicago's piece is a wonderful construction of a new feminist history through art, symbolism and biographical presentation. The feminist movement did indeed gain huge momentum in the thirty years since then, and it initiated change on a massive scale. Granted, it is not global, nor has equality been achieved in even the most progressive of cultures. Nevertheless, there is surely a success story here, as it cannot be argued that women now operate in seats of power and importance as never before. In ever-increasing numbers, women are occupying public offices of great political influence, as well as private offices of corporations wielding substantial financial power. Of course, these seats were historically occupied by men, and the culture of conquest engendered therein is still safely harbored in these institutions because of such a history. However, rather than seeking to change things from their positions of power, women in these seats have seemingly co-opted the culture. It is hard to argue that they have not accepted the inherent corporate and political will to dominate to at least a professional degree. This goes against Chicago's demonstration that women achieved great things (for women and for culture as a whole) by fighting against these entrenched male frameworks, not by aligning themselves with such things. Chicago has shown how women have made progress by tearing down walls of oppression from without – and in doing so, there is now the opportunity to do it from within. One would hope that women will capitalize on this favorable moment in history.
List of works cited:
Butt, Gavin “The Greatest Homosexual? Camp pleasure and the performative body of Larry Rivers.” Performing the Body/Performing the Text. Ed. Amelia Jones, Andrew Stevenson. London: Routledge, 1999. 107-124. Print.
Chicago, Judy “Excerpts from The Dinner Party: A Symbol of Our Heritage (1979).” Artists, Critics, Context – Readings in and around American Art since 1945. Ed. Paul F. Fabozzi. New Jersey: Prentice Hall, 2002. 318-330. Print.
Duncan, Carol “Virility and Domination in Twentieth Century Vanguard Painting.” Feminism and Art History: Questioning the Litany. Ed. Norma Broude, Mary Garrard. Boulder: Westview, 1982. 293-313. Print
Kaprow, Allan “Happenings In the New York Scene (1961).” Fabozzi 60-68.
Lewitt, Sol. “Paragraphs on Conceptual Art (1967).” Fabozzi 180-184.
Nochlin, Linda “Why Have There Been No Great Women Artists?” ArtNews January, 1971: 145-176. Print
Pollock, Griselda Vision and Difference: Femininity, Feminism and the Histories of Art. London: Routledge, 1988. 50-91. Print
Smithson, Robert. “Cutural Confinement (1972).” Fabozzi 247-249.
Staniszewski, Mary Anne. Believing is Seeing – Creating the Culture of Art. New York: Penguin, 1995. Print
The fact is, I entered the graduate program at AIB with no true expectations. This is not to say I was thinking the experience was going to be bad in hopes that it would be good, so I'd be happy in the end. No, this was not the case. Luckily, I was so out of my regular element, I had no idea what I was getting into - therefore, I had not formulated even an inkling of what I should expect. Truly, I was a naïf. And to be bluntly honest, I do not generally perceive myself as such, so this was a unique, not to mention genuine acknowledgement of my situation. It was this lack of the burden of expectancy that allowed me to approach the first residency at the Art Institute of Boston in a most pure way - that being one of complete objectivity. As grandiose as this may seem, one can see that it was a number of factors that organically mitigated the process. In other words: right place, right time.
Certainly, it was a rush. The sudden sweep into a 12 hour day, each one replete with canonical regimentation, definitely spun the heads of my fellow newbies and me (Group One students) around. Adhering to the bible that was our schedule packet mined one's personal stamina with its rigors - both intellectual and physical. In my estimation, it was exhilarating to be subjected to this total immersion. One could not help but ride the high of artistic endorphins released by such sudden and demanding activity. I suppose it was noticeable in me, as a Group Five (graduating) student warned me that sometime between Days 3 and 5 I would wipe out under the interminable weight of this big, beautiful wave. Forewarned, but heedless, I later blessed her accuracy (with a smile, I might add).
Speaking of assistance from my fellow students... Upon hanging my work in my assigned space, I was immediately aware of the consistently raised eyebrows of individuals passing by. Not a few seasoned students warned me that my depiction of the female form made me a target for the faculty to riddle with all kinds of critical darts. I came to understand that this was exacerbated by the fact that I was a representational realist, male and white. All told, this spelled big trouble for the little minnow stuck in his little current, surrounded by expert-class anglers.
Initially, I was pressed by more students in my crit group than faculty. I knew from general impressions and inside info who the more "hardcore crit" faculty members were (in other words, the people who can make you cry), and the nature of my early crits was merely due to a luck of the draw. At this time, I was unsure of where people were coming from, speaking of the "male gaze" and "gender mythologies." Regardless, I wasn't very defensive, taking in what the consistent reactions were and what kinds of opinions my work generated. One thing that did validate twenty-plus years of painting was the fact that, to a person (faculty and students), I was identified as a master oil painter whose skill was at least equivalent to not a few big names in the representational art world. Yes, that made me feel good, but as I came to realize, that is all that I had. That's nowhere near enough. Not for the program, and not for me, either.
My experience with Critical Theory 1 needs to be addressed at this point. The incomparable Stuart Steck, the professor of this class, happens to be my Advisor - a position of great importance in this program. He was a very unassuming Morpheus to my Neo, as it turns out (I had to kind of explain this allegory to him later - his "Matrix" recall was a tad fuzzy. He did agree with me, though.). In class, after the traditional beat-down of Bouguereau as the straw man for postmodernist thought, I began to see what I'd been missing as Stuart continued from there. I took the red pill. It was a big moment of clarity - one of which ran the gamut of emotions -- right there in class, day two of Crit Theory 1! When he stated that "culture builds filters at levels specific to the individual" as a way to explain/expound upon the heady "no act of the personal is truly personal," I got it. It was awful and totally liberating all at once. I was exhilarated to actually have a context for art in its evolution from the neoclassical through to postmodern/contemporary, but at the same time, I was almost in tears: I had not only missed out by failing to include such rich and relevant discourse in my work - I did not, at that moment, have a clue as to how to begin this task.
I knew now that my work was, when put up against 150 years of art since the Paris Salons, bereft of salient content. In a meeting with Stewart as my Advisor, I mentioned that I was now looking at my work through a sudden filter of nostalgia, knowing I could (and would) never work that way again. I think he found that terribly appealing, and I know he was happy about it - not in a mean way - just happy that he got through to me.
The crits, at this point, became very interesting, for my sudden "liberation" and awareness left me totally and utterly guileless with respect to defending my work as it now stood. I think it became a little difficult to crit my work for some people at this point. It became clear that I wasn't going to defend my choices, for I knew they were empty and indefensible. Ripping me apart would have been pointless. Some particular phrases and ideas became watchwords. "Smarter not harder" was one (despite the overused corporate connotations), the directive being: focus on the ideas and concepts with new reflectivity in mind, never mind the technique - it can take care of itself. Then came the notion that representational painting is - now - a signifier unto itself; it is self-referential. The languages of representation have changed, perhaps even become staid and bankrupt of power. The question kept rising in my mind: How might it be approached afresh?
Some rather serendipitous events gave this new tack some fresh wind. The first guest speaker happened to be Vincent Desiderio. Rather coincidental. I was fresh from seeing his Works on Paper at Marlborough (57th St.), and had seen the BIG show at Marlborough Chelsea at the very end of '08. His work has always been challenging, yet somehow irresistible to me. His writings were so abstruse as to be impenetrable; I could not negotiate his hyperintellectualism to save my life. But, there he was, moving through an abridged (still impressive) catalogue of his work, speaking with great authority and intellect, yet in a more layman-esque prose. His representational work, whose narratives seem so impermeable on the surface, is encoded from deep within, with the application of technique itself enforcing a hidden dialectic between the viewer and the artist. Indeed, that was something unknown to me as an existing device until this revelation. It is no mere sleight of hand, though. This sort of thing requires pointed and extensive research. Desiderio pulls it off with aplomb, since he is a veritable compendium of erudition and scholarship. At the end, I was far more informed about the capabilities of representationalism in a contemporary context. And I understood there is a LOT of work involved in getting to a place where I am capable enough to even begin to encode my paintings in such a way. Even his writing is becoming clearer to me.
But - beauty is not enough. It won't save the world, and it won't save painting. Not by itself. Sure, I'm fortunate enough to have a command of how to make things beautiful with slippery pigmented oil, and there is a value to that. It is mainly commercial value, mind. In an art historical context, it does little if nothing at all.
What is real desire - desire for beauty, desire for content, desire for painting (!) - and where does it lie? Through layered subtexts, there needs to be a mediation of the dialogue I wish to occur between the subject and the audience - whether it's about beauty or that the beauty of the execution points out other issues perhaps not so beautiful. My approach must have a more informed intentionality. Once I put brush to canvas again, it will. I can't NOT do it, now. It's like that old pictorial illusion of the two profiled silhouettes. Once you see that the negative space is the silhouette of a chalice, you can't un-see it. But this is just a vision of the Grail. Now begins the quest.
Artists online:
Mark Tansey (excerpt on Artchive)
Books And Articles:
The Picture in Question: Mark Tansey and the Ends of Representation - Mark C. Taylor
Vitamin P: New Perspectives in Painting - Barry Schwabsky
Painting People: Figure Painting Today - Charlotte Mullins
Endgame: Reference and Simulation in Recent Painting and Sculpture - ICA
Vincent Desiderio: Paintings 1975-2005 - Bradway/Archer, eds.
The Expanding Discourse: Feminism and Art History - Broude/Garrard
The Endgame of Postmodernism - Matthew Nash (link)
