Unfortunately, just like the poor King Charles Spaniel whose brain is too big for its skull (no, really)[1], we’ve bred in some rather odd deformities into the art world. Although these art world abnormalities aren’t causing violence inducing headaches or are as gross as a perpetual stream of drool, they do present, as I see it, three real barriers to the everyday punter who wants to enjoy some time appreciating art. The first of the major barriers is one I’ve mentioned in my previous post, language.
The language of art has become very complicated and intense. The way artist statements, art journals, and exhibition didactics (that’s the handy blurbs stuck near the artworks at a gallery) are written is a very specific type of language, one that takes a long time to learn and use. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, it takes a rich and in-depth to and fro between artists, critics and institutions to keep art vibrant and cutting-edge; the problem is the perception that’s developed that you need to be a part of that and to use that highfalutin language to have a relevant point of view or interpretation. As a viewer of art, it’s pure bunk to think an opinion isn’t valid if it’s not eloquent.
The second barrier that’s evolved in art is one that puts a lot of people off. Confusing art. Art can be confusing or confronting for a lot of reasons. It could be that it looks like it was simplistic or ‘unartistic’ to make, like Carl Andre’s Equivalent VIII (1966) which is made of an arranged pile of white bricks, or any of the ‘drip paintings’ from Jackson Pollock. It could be confronting like the work of Tracey Emin who publicly listed all the people she had ever had sex with in Everyone I Have Ever Slept With 1963–1995 (1995). It could be just plain old weird, read: anything from Joseph Beuys (that guy was bonkers). People seem to get really shirty about this stuff. My wife and I were once approached by a woman at an exhibition who, without even knowing who we were, launched into a rant about a particular painting saying that it was rubbish, that her two-year-old could have painted it, and that it didn’t deserve to win the prize it did. I’m quite sure that the artist didn’t paint his big, ugly, grey, swirly painting to cheese her off, but it did anyway.
When you enter an exhibition of contemporary art, you really need to go in with an open mind. The work you see may not fit your particular view of what art should be, especially if that’s pictures of horses and flowers and sunshine, or velvet paintings of Elvis. We need to remember that the work is part of that evolutionary process, and if you haven’t been exposed to quite a bit of art history, it’s kinda like walking into a movie halfway through and expecting to instantly understand everything that’s going on. The artwork might be confusing, confronting or weird, but it took a long time to get like this, and you may not ‘get it’ straight away. That’s cool, just know that it is, in fact, art and it probably does deserve to be there. No skin off your nose, so don’t get worked up about it. In fact, one of the fathers of confusing art, Marcel Duchamp said that “art may be bad, good or indifferent, but, whatever adjective is used, we must call it art”[2].
The final barrier, or consequence of breeding, I want to mention is the way we all stay quiet when we’re in a gallery. I’m not sure why this has become the standard, or when, but it does irritate me. If you’re taking the time to visit a gallery, and hopefully you’re with somebody else who you want to talk to about the work, it really does make it awkward when you’re bound by the unspoken rule that you need to speak in hushed tones. Now, I get quite excited when I’m with someone and we start ‘talking art’, and the thing I don’t need is being haunted by the spectre of a hair-in-a-bun, horn-rim bespectacled librarian shushing me right when I’m getting into it. Why I’m imagining stereotypical 1960s librarian is probably a whole other blog... I guess social conventions like this are just perpetuated because ‘that’s the way it is’ type thinking, but it doesn’t really need to be like that. A visit to an exhibition will be made all the more richer and entertaining when you’re actually talking to one another. I’m not advocating yelling and shouting, but I highly doubt you’d be escorted from the premises for holding a rational conversation about the art that’s been presented for you to look at in the first place. In fact, you may even give a hint to the other punters around you.
I guess I should wrap this post up with a recommendation. Instead of going to an exhibition and quietly shuffling past artworks that make you cringe or just weird you out, and avoiding reading the catalogue and didactics because they’re pretty wanky; walk in with your head up, talk with your friends and family about the art and get their opinions. If you really don’t understand it, ask the gallery attendant to explain it a bit more, that’s what they’re there for. And do it all at a regular volume. I guarantee that you’ll enjoy it a whole lot more.
And spare a thought for those poor King Charles Spaniels.
[1] The Independent. 2008. The Big Question: Is the breeding of pedigree dogs leading to cruel abnormalities?. [ONLINE] Available at: http://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/this-britain/the-big-question-is-the-breeding-of-pedigree-dogs-leading-to-cruel-abnormalities-902853.html. [Accessed 16 July 12].
[2] Duchamp, M. (1957) The Creative Act. In: Stiles, K. and Selz, P. eds. (1996) Theories and documents of Contemporary Art: A sourcebook of artists' writings. 3rd ed. Berkeley: University of California Press.
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