They are the latest fad. The appearance of these platforms to teach emerging curators "how to" mount an exhibit ought to draw more attention than they do. It's a natural enough development flowing out of the whole "installation" rage. And it's a sad and revealing trend that these curator gigs spring up without commentary, that most artists don't appear to find anything troubling about them, for they are the latest in a long series of steps leading to diminishing stature for the artist.
Most of us "grew up" with the stereotype of Picasso as "the artist." Picasso represented what a real artist is supposed to be -- a free spirit, someone who lives by his own set of rules, an Ur-creator who will steadfastly do as he sees fit and brave poverty before surrendering one iota of command over his own vision. And, as far as it goes, much of that stereotype was true for Picasso. He did brave much for the sake of what he wanted to do, and he successfully persuaded the world to accept his strikingly bizarre images and became unimaginably wealthy in doing so as well.
The flaw in the stereotype was in supposing that it was defining. While it might have suited Picasso's life, Picasso's art, it is not a model that necessarily flows over into anybody else's authenticity. Nevertheless, the Picasso idea of a great master was one that rightly put the horse before the cart, rather than the other way around. That ideal of the artist recognized that it is the artist who creates things out of the exigencies of his or her own life. And it is the art world that discovers and learns to understand these products.
Unfortunately once "anything" became art, the artist's role declined in what should have been a thoroughly predictable way! The Dadaist gesture of a urinal in a museum might have seemed liberating to some desperately gauche persons decades ago, but it definitely did nothing for those who were searching in art for something high, something difficult, something inspiring or beautiful or meaningful or deep or natural or wonderful or self-revealing.
Well, all that is ancient history now. That all kinds of easy and bizarre objects are heralded with the "art" label is nothing new. To suggest that things should be otherwise is to risk getting hammered with the dreaded "T" word -- or the "C" word (traditional, conservative). These labels are blinders that make the avoidance of thought an easy task. Certainly to really spend time looking at images and trying to engage their meanings can be a bit more diligent work than some people can bare. What, for instance, would be the harm in appreciating a painting that really was traditional? What would be the harm in discovering meaning in a place where lots of people have even stopped looking for it?
To flaunt the whole, facile dichotomy of modern/traditional is something that goes beyond the accepted notion of art appreciation. We are supposed to engage with objects that challenge us -- and it's better if the challenge is out-there obvious. It should come clothed in socially accepted standards of "edginess." But real art that breathes like real life is always going to come from somewhere else. It won't be the Hip Kids who find it. It will linger in some quiet corner of life -- somewhere like the small French towns where Van Gogh worked in obscurity.
And the truth is today, pretty much as it always has been (here tradition gets it right), that the best and most serious art takes time to know and understand. It is intellectually challenging. It might seem "traditional" upon first examination and really be very daring -- but its daring will all have been of a very deep kind that easily slips by the crowd. It might seem like the ultimate in contemporary -- but it's authentic inner meaning will elude the notice of the Culture Vultures.
Anything is art (I have over-shot my topic a little) and consequently the artist is much less significant. If it's trends and edginess that count, well these things are in constant flux. The artists engaged in making these things must be constantly looking over their shoulders to assure themselves that they're still doing the hip thing. And then these "important" artists will come and go.
It certainly opens up a place for the Curator to shape and direct what art IS now. And that's exactly what has happened. We'll still need these monkeys wielding paint brushes, but the Theme will be directed from someone with nice credentials.
We still have a Salon. And most artists are not fighting it, rather they vie to get in. "Pick me!" is the cry. The more they reinvent themselves in the latest fad, the more irrelevant they become.
And no one seems even to have noticed. Or to care.
Most of us "grew up" with the stereotype of Picasso as "the artist." Picasso represented what a real artist is supposed to be -- a free spirit, someone who lives by his own set of rules, an Ur-creator who will steadfastly do as he sees fit and brave poverty before surrendering one iota of command over his own vision. And, as far as it goes, much of that stereotype was true for Picasso. He did brave much for the sake of what he wanted to do, and he successfully persuaded the world to accept his strikingly bizarre images and became unimaginably wealthy in doing so as well.
The flaw in the stereotype was in supposing that it was defining. While it might have suited Picasso's life, Picasso's art, it is not a model that necessarily flows over into anybody else's authenticity. Nevertheless, the Picasso idea of a great master was one that rightly put the horse before the cart, rather than the other way around. That ideal of the artist recognized that it is the artist who creates things out of the exigencies of his or her own life. And it is the art world that discovers and learns to understand these products.
Unfortunately once "anything" became art, the artist's role declined in what should have been a thoroughly predictable way! The Dadaist gesture of a urinal in a museum might have seemed liberating to some desperately gauche persons decades ago, but it definitely did nothing for those who were searching in art for something high, something difficult, something inspiring or beautiful or meaningful or deep or natural or wonderful or self-revealing.
Well, all that is ancient history now. That all kinds of easy and bizarre objects are heralded with the "art" label is nothing new. To suggest that things should be otherwise is to risk getting hammered with the dreaded "T" word -- or the "C" word (traditional, conservative). These labels are blinders that make the avoidance of thought an easy task. Certainly to really spend time looking at images and trying to engage their meanings can be a bit more diligent work than some people can bare. What, for instance, would be the harm in appreciating a painting that really was traditional? What would be the harm in discovering meaning in a place where lots of people have even stopped looking for it?
To flaunt the whole, facile dichotomy of modern/traditional is something that goes beyond the accepted notion of art appreciation. We are supposed to engage with objects that challenge us -- and it's better if the challenge is out-there obvious. It should come clothed in socially accepted standards of "edginess." But real art that breathes like real life is always going to come from somewhere else. It won't be the Hip Kids who find it. It will linger in some quiet corner of life -- somewhere like the small French towns where Van Gogh worked in obscurity.
And the truth is today, pretty much as it always has been (here tradition gets it right), that the best and most serious art takes time to know and understand. It is intellectually challenging. It might seem "traditional" upon first examination and really be very daring -- but its daring will all have been of a very deep kind that easily slips by the crowd. It might seem like the ultimate in contemporary -- but it's authentic inner meaning will elude the notice of the Culture Vultures.
Anything is art (I have over-shot my topic a little) and consequently the artist is much less significant. If it's trends and edginess that count, well these things are in constant flux. The artists engaged in making these things must be constantly looking over their shoulders to assure themselves that they're still doing the hip thing. And then these "important" artists will come and go.
It certainly opens up a place for the Curator to shape and direct what art IS now. And that's exactly what has happened. We'll still need these monkeys wielding paint brushes, but the Theme will be directed from someone with nice credentials.
We still have a Salon. And most artists are not fighting it, rather they vie to get in. "Pick me!" is the cry. The more they reinvent themselves in the latest fad, the more irrelevant they become.
And no one seems even to have noticed. Or to care.
