Art as Communication.

Today I woke up a bit "under the weather" from the mildest of indiscretions at the Brillo Box last night. Yesterday's Unblurred was a bit of a disappointment. Although there were a few things that (in my opinion) showed a unique vision, I wasn't moved by anything. My overwhelming reaction was one of indifference. Obviously the appreciation of any particular body of work is mostly subjective and has more to do with one's individual aesthetic than the quality of the art. I expect that the shows tonight at La Vie and Zombo Gallery will be more to my liking. But I got a reminder last night about just how personal tastes can be.

One of the pieces hanging up at the Brillo was created by a friend of mine (who also happens to be showing stuff tonight) and I found myself touting my enjoyment of his work to an acquaintance. I was also recommending that said acquaintance (I'll refer to him as A.) find the time to go see the shows that I've promoted on this blog. Pointing out the aforementioned piece as an example of what A. might see if he makes it out tonight, I wasn't necessarily looking for a discussion of preferences... but that was the result. A. commented that he didn't see the value in the painting, and insinuated that I was welcome to defend my liking for it. He further reported that his friends at the bar were in full agreement with his opinion, and that in essence that meant that it was 4-1 against the piece being "good".

Of course I couldn't help but consider the flaws in his assessment. What made his buddies (who happen to play in a band that I don't personally enjoy) credible as art critics? If I'm wondering about developmental problems in a child, I don't direct my inquiries to a transplant surgeon. But aside from that, it struck me as odd that A. felt the need to validate his own opinions by consulting others. Yet to be totally honest with myself, I suppose that I have fallen into a similar trap while considering the value of something I liked or disliked- especially if I was unsure about my own judgment. I could well have responded that the owners of the bar (who are both recognized artists), the curators of my favorite galleries, and the owner of the flat files that contain the bulk of my work all recognize my friend as an adept artist worthy of both consideration and purchase.

To be fair to A., he may have just been yearning for some serious discussion about a passion he loves. I don't know him all that well. It's too easy to assume that we know where someone is coming from, and it's dangerous to do so when we haven't even had many discussions with him/her. One also has to consider the personal context by which an individual constructs his/her perspective. After all, A. teaches art to 14 and 15-year old students at a public school in a very conservative district. He also grew up in that area. Perhaps these factors affect the way he views his own authority in examining the quality of art. As someone who has never been classically trained in art appreciation, my evaluation of artwork could be viewed as suspect. Maybe as the benefactor of a position that works to establish conventions in the way the masses view art, A. is perfectly within his rights to assert his own credibility.

Either way, I was forced to confront some of my own ideas about art. What is it about a particular artist or artwork that appeals to me? How do I inform others about myself through the things I choose to share? Why do I like something and not something else? I am not shy about pointing out that I don't believe in black-and-white qualifiers. There have been many times when people I have respected for their tastes and intelligence have enjoyed a piece of art (or band, or film, or book), and I found myself baffled by their enjoyment of it. But I try to step back and remember that my opinion has more to do with my personal characteristics than any shadow of "external truth". Ultimately we are bound only by nature and consensus. Our experiences may lead us to value some things over others, but who hasn't realized that we all live in a state of flux?

For me it all comes down to the realization that art is more about bringing another form of communication into existence. How did A. and I expand upon our respective understandings of our shared relationship within that place? I don't believe that we were merely evaluating that particular painting, but rather that we were also in the process of defining our selves and our opinions of each other. However, I grant that it is too easy to slip into the trap of believing otherwise.

Of striking a balance on the road.

One of the things that I was very conscious of in Chicago was wanting to make sure that it didn't feel altogether like a "work" trip. Ever since I started taking my photography seriously (i.e. when I began to exhibit and sell it) I have been compelled to make travel first and foremost about taking images home with me. Taking that approach has (at times) had a substantial payoff, both in practical terms and in lending an extra dimension of depth to my experience. I'm glad I've been involved in that type of "work". But it can become obsessive and intrusive as well.

Truthfully, I have always felt the need to run around and see as much as I can whenever I visit a new place. I get a nagging sense that I might never return, and I don't want to "miss out". At times this has been an issue for my companions on such trips. Having researched a place to come up with an itinerary, I get frustrated if I encounter competing agendas. This isn't generally a problem with M., as she understands and respects my priorities. She's perfectly happy for us to go our own ways whenever we disagree about what we individually desire. But others have interpreted my vacation-approach as a slight against their own values, or a commentary on my friendship with them. I've become more diligent about explaining this issue beforehand, and trying to monitor situations that might elicit inner or outer conflict. I feel like I negotiated that well this summer, in both NYC and Chicago. Of course you'd probably have to consult L. or JM to get the whole story.

L. and I actually had an interesting, protracted discussion about individual strategies for engaging art museums. He told me that he had been affected by a suggestion he read in a Jeanette Winterson book. Her contention is that so many people file through the halls of great art collections, and give cursory glances at so many great works of art. They have only a set amount of time to spend, and so they move quickly through, and often get overwhelmed and overstimulated long before they have seen everything. Winterson suggests finding one work that is particularly interesting, and sitting down in front of it for a long time- perhaps even an hour. She says that, in this way, one can have a deep fulfilling experience, and therefore get closer to the true spirit and intention of art appreciation. After all the artist took hours and/or days to create the work... is it so much to ask that we invest a substantial amount in considering its values and meaning?

My initial reaction was that this approach didn't seem like a particularly useful way to manage the finite resource of time. If I am in a new city, I want to get a broad range of experiences in order to synthesize my thoughts and feelings about the place. I can't imagine traveling for many hours for a single shot at seeing what the Metropolitan Museum (or MOMA or the Smithsonian, etc.) has to offer, only to spend the bulk of my visit contemplating a single image. There's no way I could keep myself from feeling some vague sense of dissatisfaction and regret because of a perception of missed opportunity.

Yet at the same time, I think it's important for me to give fair consideration to Winterson's idea. I do see how it could be useful to devote one's attention to certain works that appear particularly appealing (for whatever subjective reason). This seems like the natural way humans process information anyway. I have no problem making choices about what I believe I can pass up, and what things I should invest time in. I do think it's important to empower ourselves to make such discriminations. There is no rational way we can give equal time to each and every piece we encounter. And in order to reach any true measure of depth with something, we have to be willing to pause and give into an interactive introspection.

Somewhere there is an ideal balance of quantity and quality. If we confine ourselves to committing all of our resources to the things that already appeal to us, then we risk the repression of our own growth and evolution. But on the other hand, if we try to pack too much in- we face the danger of shutting off completely to the very meaningful ways in which it is possible to experience an individual piece of art (or anything else for that matter).