As the opening credits of the film documentary Smells Like Teen Spirit are emblazoned with the dreaded credit to 'UK Film Council', your hopes sink. And with good reason. This sloppy work is watchable thanks only to the remarkably fun phenomenon that is Eurovision, and thanks to the ability to augment from YouTube all the requisite footage that's shamefully omitted. (By the way, Romania got my 12 points.)
Britain has never been able to get it, Eurovision; we're a nation always fighting through our own invisible patina of self-loathing supercilious cynicism (typified by the tacit support for xenophobic prats like Terry Wogan and Graham Norton) and our own continually spurious attempts at wider musical legitimacy. This documentary is no exception to that.
I mention all of this because it lies at the heart of something I've discovered and learnt in the wake of my series of posts regarding the paintings of Congo the chimp. It's what makes Eurovision so much fun and the Brit awards or Turner Prize or Oscars so cringeworthy. It's what makes the satellite music channels like Viva Polska and Music Box Russia so watchable next to the wretched MTV. It's what makes Italo Disco so magical, yet 90s Britpop so awful. It's what makes everything from Wire magazine to Rolling Stone, books by writers such as Simon Reynolds and Jon Savage, Guardian and other broadsheet rock and pop critics, BBC music documentaries, and more, so fucking depressing. And of course it goes beyond music into the worlds of literature, art, performance, pornography, film.
It's this continually insufferable attempt to legitimise; the compulsion, through endless rationalisation, to give art some kind of special worthiness or moral weight. (And yes, it does have quasi-religious connotations.) Music, film, books, pictures should not have to justify their existence. Far better that they should not.
The act of attempting to legitimise one's own or others' work betrays the questionable underlying intent of trying to justify a belief system, a set of superstitions, a worldview. It says almost nothing else about the aesthetic value of the art. That's why it comes across as so overbearing and pompous and smug. It's an impure artistic intent.
LEGITIMATE
that which is considered as having unique irreplaceable worthiness, beyond its core artistic worth, rationalised by the creator or by others (i.e. legitimisers)
UNLEGITIMATE
that which is considered as disposable, or replaceable by other similar examples, spanning the full spectrum for popularity and potential for personal satisfaction
ILLEGITIMATE
that which is considered artistically unpalatable or unworthy by legitimisers, not on grounds of disposability or replaceability, but for a perceived threat to pre-established moral convention
Feel free to fill in your own examples for these categories according to taste.
Showing posts with label congo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label congo. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Friday, February 06, 2009
SIGNAL TO NOISE (ADDENDUM)
Have received all kinds of wonderful emails, great links, book suggestions, and more regarding STN. I shall add any other related musings and further reading - in the meantime, provided by those lovely people at the San Diego Visual Artists Guild, the best resource I've yet seen on Congo, Cheeta, Betsy and other chimps' art.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
SIGNAL TO NOISE 7
VII : Signal To Noise
This kind of grand aesthetic theorising invariably lands me into hot water, especially after implicitly accusing somebody's favourite artist of having impure intent. Nevertheless, two things: firstly, this is objective theory, not subjective - what you or I personally enjoy seeing or listening to isn't at issue; and secondly, this isn't an argument for snobbery - intent is being judged on its own terms, that is (in this case) artistically speaking. If, on the other hand, one's intent (through art) is to get laid, then fair enough, but the measure of the work is going to be notches carved in your bedstead and no more; likewise, if the super-objective is to make money, then let's measure it in dollars.
In mediaeval times and much earlier, being a musician or painter or sculptor was a specialised vocation with extremely limited opportunities that required an enormous personal commitment. Compare that to our current age where nearly everyone has easy instant access to technological and educational resources for creativity, whether it be visual arts, writing, or making music; moreover, zero commitment is asked for. Naturally, it would be churlish to resent that kind of universal opportunity - if people are having fun with it, then so much the better. The price paid for that is that floodgates for all types of lazy intent are opened, most concerned with non-artistic gratification, which in turn means the very nature of artistic endeavour has been altered, perhaps irreversibly, to the extent that any nascent pure form is effectively drowned by the numerically vastly superior impure forms. Aversion therapy by default.
In a huge room full of everyone talking at once, how can we possibly ascertain if there's anything significant being said? And how can there be meaningful expression in such an environment?
William Bennett (2009)
This kind of grand aesthetic theorising invariably lands me into hot water, especially after implicitly accusing somebody's favourite artist of having impure intent. Nevertheless, two things: firstly, this is objective theory, not subjective - what you or I personally enjoy seeing or listening to isn't at issue; and secondly, this isn't an argument for snobbery - intent is being judged on its own terms, that is (in this case) artistically speaking. If, on the other hand, one's intent (through art) is to get laid, then fair enough, but the measure of the work is going to be notches carved in your bedstead and no more; likewise, if the super-objective is to make money, then let's measure it in dollars.
In mediaeval times and much earlier, being a musician or painter or sculptor was a specialised vocation with extremely limited opportunities that required an enormous personal commitment. Compare that to our current age where nearly everyone has easy instant access to technological and educational resources for creativity, whether it be visual arts, writing, or making music; moreover, zero commitment is asked for. Naturally, it would be churlish to resent that kind of universal opportunity - if people are having fun with it, then so much the better. The price paid for that is that floodgates for all types of lazy intent are opened, most concerned with non-artistic gratification, which in turn means the very nature of artistic endeavour has been altered, perhaps irreversibly, to the extent that any nascent pure form is effectively drowned by the numerically vastly superior impure forms. Aversion therapy by default.
In a huge room full of everyone talking at once, how can we possibly ascertain if there's anything significant being said? And how can there be meaningful expression in such an environment?
William Bennett (2009)
Thursday, January 22, 2009
SIGNAL TO NOISE 6
VI : Apheresis
Beyond the topic of intent, earlier I referred to the blank frames that adults intuitively and typically incorporate into photography and painting. This, I believe, is a direct result of social pressures imposed upon us most noticeably in early adolescence. In fact, I prefer the term within my model of consciousness 'the tide of environment' (I never could resist an aquatic metaphor), if only because it also encompasses the powerful influence of, say, the physiology of buildings and spaces, amongst other things. I also referred to that infuriating can't-do won't-do attitude, which, within the same model, I see as borne of the illusion of identity (something I've written a lot about) and further reinforced and exacerbated by a broken system of education.
What's clear is that Congo and young children don't suffer from these obstructions or obstacles within their artistic endeavour, therefore even with the bestest most purest intent in the whole world, these issues can be critical for achieving objectively the most successful results. We can't go back to being a child, nor can we become like Congo; while these behavioural influences are so potent, so embedded in our conscious, it is useless to attempt resistance by denial or by some kind of belief in freedom of choice.
As I see it, there are two other paths open: the first being to incorporate the element of randomisation, particularly through collaboration, through working in groups. The chaotisation of input has the alchemical potential for results far greater than the sum of the individual parts. However, success is entirely dependent upon chance - and that likelihood is very slight indeed. The second path is for there to be obstructions to the obstructions. This can take many forms, some riskier to the artist's health and welfare than others: isolation, drugs, asceticism, madness, tragedy, or even the predetermination of special rules (the Dogma series of films is a good example of the latter).
continue to part 7 (final)
Beyond the topic of intent, earlier I referred to the blank frames that adults intuitively and typically incorporate into photography and painting. This, I believe, is a direct result of social pressures imposed upon us most noticeably in early adolescence. In fact, I prefer the term within my model of consciousness 'the tide of environment' (I never could resist an aquatic metaphor), if only because it also encompasses the powerful influence of, say, the physiology of buildings and spaces, amongst other things. I also referred to that infuriating can't-do won't-do attitude, which, within the same model, I see as borne of the illusion of identity (something I've written a lot about) and further reinforced and exacerbated by a broken system of education.
What's clear is that Congo and young children don't suffer from these obstructions or obstacles within their artistic endeavour, therefore even with the bestest most purest intent in the whole world, these issues can be critical for achieving objectively the most successful results. We can't go back to being a child, nor can we become like Congo; while these behavioural influences are so potent, so embedded in our conscious, it is useless to attempt resistance by denial or by some kind of belief in freedom of choice.
As I see it, there are two other paths open: the first being to incorporate the element of randomisation, particularly through collaboration, through working in groups. The chaotisation of input has the alchemical potential for results far greater than the sum of the individual parts. However, success is entirely dependent upon chance - and that likelihood is very slight indeed. The second path is for there to be obstructions to the obstructions. This can take many forms, some riskier to the artist's health and welfare than others: isolation, drugs, asceticism, madness, tragedy, or even the predetermination of special rules (the Dogma series of films is a good example of the latter).
continue to part 7 (final)
Monday, January 19, 2009
SIGNAL TO NOISE 5
V : Intents And Purposes
'Chimp loves yes adores his Chimp paints and Chimp brushes with all his Chimp heart and Chimp soul and any Thing or any Human that gets in Chimp way really fucking piss Chimp off!'
Congo
When someone is so passionate, cares so much about what they make, for the simple act of making it, the results will inevitably resonate with significance. And it's then and only then that factors such as technique, or applied transparent concessions, can be considered. This is because all output is primarily filtered through the prism of intent (compare Stanislavski's stage term super-objective). That's why it's so important to ask oneself what intent does The Invisible Man (i.e. the artist) have?
Common themes of impure intent (representing the vast majority of adult human creativity):
- I do it for money (for greed, to pay bills, for drugs/booze, for my family, for other projects)
- I do it for the celebrity
- I do it to be like someone else
- I do it to help me get laid
- I do it because others pressure me
- I do it for attention
- I do it as a way of compensating (for shyness, for having been bullied, for lack of success, for revenge)
- I don't know what else to do with my life
- I do it to be liked
All these examples are compromised to hell because the focus is towards some thing outwith the art itself. Ars non artis. Conversely, artists whose intent is one of devotion to a god, an ideal or belief system, a lover or a hero, are not. The focus in this latter group requires the same degree of passion, commitment, and sacrifice for the art itself as Congo's does, and sometimes even more. I'll be blunt, the vast majority of human artistic intent is utterly and irredeemably untrustworthy. I don't give a damn how well-produced, glossy, limited edition, catchy, professional, proficient (or not) it is, because those qualities are secondary to what counts. Congo's wonderful soulful work beats all that crap hands down. That's why artistic geniuses are inimitable, because the epigones imitate the visible parts that don't matter. That's why scratchy lo-fi recordings of Robert Johnson will comprehensively blow away almost any latter-day blues guitarist, good and bad. Other examples are surely already occurring to you.
It's worth adding that intent isn't static and can radically change throughout an artist's life. It's all too common for initial integrity of purpose to be soon and forever corrupted.
continue to part 6
'Chimp loves yes adores his Chimp paints and Chimp brushes with all his Chimp heart and Chimp soul and any Thing or any Human that gets in Chimp way really fucking piss Chimp off!'
Congo
When someone is so passionate, cares so much about what they make, for the simple act of making it, the results will inevitably resonate with significance. And it's then and only then that factors such as technique, or applied transparent concessions, can be considered. This is because all output is primarily filtered through the prism of intent (compare Stanislavski's stage term super-objective). That's why it's so important to ask oneself what intent does The Invisible Man (i.e. the artist) have?
Common themes of impure intent (representing the vast majority of adult human creativity):
- I do it for money (for greed, to pay bills, for drugs/booze, for my family, for other projects)
- I do it for the celebrity
- I do it to be like someone else
- I do it to help me get laid
- I do it because others pressure me
- I do it for attention
- I do it as a way of compensating (for shyness, for having been bullied, for lack of success, for revenge)
- I don't know what else to do with my life
- I do it to be liked
All these examples are compromised to hell because the focus is towards some thing outwith the art itself. Ars non artis. Conversely, artists whose intent is one of devotion to a god, an ideal or belief system, a lover or a hero, are not. The focus in this latter group requires the same degree of passion, commitment, and sacrifice for the art itself as Congo's does, and sometimes even more. I'll be blunt, the vast majority of human artistic intent is utterly and irredeemably untrustworthy. I don't give a damn how well-produced, glossy, limited edition, catchy, professional, proficient (or not) it is, because those qualities are secondary to what counts. Congo's wonderful soulful work beats all that crap hands down. That's why artistic geniuses are inimitable, because the epigones imitate the visible parts that don't matter. That's why scratchy lo-fi recordings of Robert Johnson will comprehensively blow away almost any latter-day blues guitarist, good and bad. Other examples are surely already occurring to you.
It's worth adding that intent isn't static and can radically change throughout an artist's life. It's all too common for initial integrity of purpose to be soon and forever corrupted.
continue to part 6
Sunday, January 18, 2009
SIGNAL TO NOISE 4
IV : The Invisible Man
As it is with charisma, it's hard to describe that which can't be seen, but I've got a nice fictional analogy. Experiencing a painting, a poem, a piece of music, a stage performance, is like being in a room with Griffin (H.G. Wells' The Invisible Man) - what you are able to discern is but the circumstantially tangible evidence of a presence which can't be seen directly: moving objects, creaking floorboards, breath on the back of your neck, and so on. Thus, the artwork is only the visible manifestation of everything that the artist represents, nearly all of which we can't see yet do nevertheless perceive. The inspirations and influences, the practising and rehearsing, the learning, the hopes, the daydreams, the regrets, the relationships, factors both deliberate and accidental. The allure of a biography is a distorted view through the keyhole into this otherwise unseen world.
Further to this, there's what I've previously described as transparent concession, a concept that has critically significant artistic potential. For example, in between acts of a stage play, why shouldn't an actor take off his sweaty costume and have a fag (or cocaine) break? Or, he could, as Stanislavski would wish, stay in character. The audience can't see what's going on backstage, so what's the big deal? Because, just like Griffin's presence in the room, the audience really does feel that which is invisible, powerfully enough for it to make a big difference.
Time now to return to what our adorable Congo the Chimp has that, as I see it, makes his work objectively superior to that of the vast majority of those that would call themselves artists. And it's also invisible.
continue to part 5
As it is with charisma, it's hard to describe that which can't be seen, but I've got a nice fictional analogy. Experiencing a painting, a poem, a piece of music, a stage performance, is like being in a room with Griffin (H.G. Wells' The Invisible Man) - what you are able to discern is but the circumstantially tangible evidence of a presence which can't be seen directly: moving objects, creaking floorboards, breath on the back of your neck, and so on. Thus, the artwork is only the visible manifestation of everything that the artist represents, nearly all of which we can't see yet do nevertheless perceive. The inspirations and influences, the practising and rehearsing, the learning, the hopes, the daydreams, the regrets, the relationships, factors both deliberate and accidental. The allure of a biography is a distorted view through the keyhole into this otherwise unseen world.
Further to this, there's what I've previously described as transparent concession, a concept that has critically significant artistic potential. For example, in between acts of a stage play, why shouldn't an actor take off his sweaty costume and have a fag (or cocaine) break? Or, he could, as Stanislavski would wish, stay in character. The audience can't see what's going on backstage, so what's the big deal? Because, just like Griffin's presence in the room, the audience really does feel that which is invisible, powerfully enough for it to make a big difference.
Time now to return to what our adorable Congo the Chimp has that, as I see it, makes his work objectively superior to that of the vast majority of those that would call themselves artists. And it's also invisible.
continue to part 5
Friday, January 16, 2009
SIGNAL TO NOISE 3
III : Frames
In truth, as will be seen, not nearly as bold or preposterous a claim as my rampantly iconoclastic ego would like to enjoy.
Go and ask a random adult to draw you a picture of their pet cat or sister or their house (or favourite sexual position) or something, and they're going to say, 'I can't draw'. Hang on a second, what the hell was that? Can't draw?? Can't draw after a decade and a half in schools doing art classes, years in college and university, all that nurturing and tutoring from family and friends?! Of course, my fake indignation is as unnecessary as the answer is predictable. Because yes, most human adults cannot draw, let alone paint with a brush in oils, or sculpt from blocks of marble. (Well, I know there are some people who can do these things, but we'll come to them later.) You know, it's as if there were powerful forces preventing it, which is especially curious because everyone, as a young child, used to be able to draw until those obstructions appeared.
If I was tutoring a group of art undergraduates (and they should praise their respective deities that I'm not), as an instructive cognitive learning experiment, I'd get them to spend time in different painting classes. Firstly, with a group of 7-8 year olds, and then with a group of beginner adults, the task being simply to compare and contrast.
Speaking generally, it's amazing how passionately children care about painting, just like dear Congo: the degree of kinesthetic creative absorption in their activity is quite extraordinary, and a joy to be part of. And one small detail that I'd hope at least one of these recalcitrant undergrads would spot is how kids use the whole paper to paint on, whereas adults won't. The oldies feel some unconscious urge to incorporate frames of blank space around their work - it's the same phenomenon in amateur photography, where the subjects are small, engulfed in frames which reduce emotional impact (arbitrary examples).
The notion of frames might seem trivial. However, since I intend to propose that the factors that make for special art are almost entirely invisible, it's significant. Extremely significant.
continue to part 4
In truth, as will be seen, not nearly as bold or preposterous a claim as my rampantly iconoclastic ego would like to enjoy.
Go and ask a random adult to draw you a picture of their pet cat or sister or their house (or favourite sexual position) or something, and they're going to say, 'I can't draw'. Hang on a second, what the hell was that? Can't draw?? Can't draw after a decade and a half in schools doing art classes, years in college and university, all that nurturing and tutoring from family and friends?! Of course, my fake indignation is as unnecessary as the answer is predictable. Because yes, most human adults cannot draw, let alone paint with a brush in oils, or sculpt from blocks of marble. (Well, I know there are some people who can do these things, but we'll come to them later.) You know, it's as if there were powerful forces preventing it, which is especially curious because everyone, as a young child, used to be able to draw until those obstructions appeared.
If I was tutoring a group of art undergraduates (and they should praise their respective deities that I'm not), as an instructive cognitive learning experiment, I'd get them to spend time in different painting classes. Firstly, with a group of 7-8 year olds, and then with a group of beginner adults, the task being simply to compare and contrast.
Speaking generally, it's amazing how passionately children care about painting, just like dear Congo: the degree of kinesthetic creative absorption in their activity is quite extraordinary, and a joy to be part of. And one small detail that I'd hope at least one of these recalcitrant undergrads would spot is how kids use the whole paper to paint on, whereas adults won't. The oldies feel some unconscious urge to incorporate frames of blank space around their work - it's the same phenomenon in amateur photography, where the subjects are small, engulfed in frames which reduce emotional impact (arbitrary examples).
The notion of frames might seem trivial. However, since I intend to propose that the factors that make for special art are almost entirely invisible, it's significant. Extremely significant.
continue to part 4
Thursday, January 15, 2009
SIGNAL TO NOISE 2
II : Ars Artis
My praise for Congo's paintings goes beyond any subjective opinion founded upon my own preferences and biases, real though that is and they are. So let me state this even more brazenly: Congo's paintings are objectively superior.
The historical arguments against other animals (than ourselves) having the capacity for true artistic expression are typically spurious religious or pseudoreligious claims of our singular 'moral' capabilities, our human 'souls', our superior 'intelligence', our unique 'consciousness', our special this, our special that. Special bullshit. The thing is, these prejudices regarding whom or what is capable of high art go beyond animals: African or Oceanian art, for example, still attracts epithets such as 'primitive' and 'ethnic'; equally, all sorts of other groups considered to be 'different'. Genre descriptors such as 'art brut', 'outsider art', 'world music' and so on, say far more about our narrow terms of reference than our aesthetic appreciation. Until the late 19th century, for the same specious justifications already cited, women artists were almost wholly overlooked by the art establishment. American painter Mary Cassatt, even now scandalously unacknowledged in many contemporary art history books, was - in the early 1900s and despite considerable resistance - one of the first female artists recognised.
That said, for me to claim that Congo's paintings are objectively superior to much human art is still a bold, some would say preposterous, paradigm shift. So before attempting an explanation, enjoy a good look at the great master at work.
continue to part 3
My praise for Congo's paintings goes beyond any subjective opinion founded upon my own preferences and biases, real though that is and they are. So let me state this even more brazenly: Congo's paintings are objectively superior.
The historical arguments against other animals (than ourselves) having the capacity for true artistic expression are typically spurious religious or pseudoreligious claims of our singular 'moral' capabilities, our human 'souls', our superior 'intelligence', our unique 'consciousness', our special this, our special that. Special bullshit. The thing is, these prejudices regarding whom or what is capable of high art go beyond animals: African or Oceanian art, for example, still attracts epithets such as 'primitive' and 'ethnic'; equally, all sorts of other groups considered to be 'different'. Genre descriptors such as 'art brut', 'outsider art', 'world music' and so on, say far more about our narrow terms of reference than our aesthetic appreciation. Until the late 19th century, for the same specious justifications already cited, women artists were almost wholly overlooked by the art establishment. American painter Mary Cassatt, even now scandalously unacknowledged in many contemporary art history books, was - in the early 1900s and despite considerable resistance - one of the first female artists recognised.
That said, for me to claim that Congo's paintings are objectively superior to much human art is still a bold, some would say preposterous, paradigm shift. So before attempting an explanation, enjoy a good look at the great master at work.
continue to part 3
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