This is something I intend to explore and elaborate further on but I wanted to get down what I've got so far and gauge people's reactions. What's crazy is while I was writing this I stumbled upon this post on a friend's blog that is very nearly about the same thing (though much more profound and meaningful in a lot less words). Anyway, here goes:
Returning to my writings on Christo and Jeane-Claude in the past two months, and then recently listening to a song I loved (and still love) very much back in high school, I noticed how my very favorite works of art do something very distinct and special to me. It's difficult for me to put it any better than to say that the art I love most makes my heart swell...
Very abstract, I know. Let me try and elaborate. With art, I wish to experience the transcendental. The simple and the profound. I want to be washed over, bombarded, and swept away. I want to feel minuscule but not crushed. And I want to be perplexed and amazed, dazed and confused. Hit on a gut level, then taken somewhere beyond my own body.
...Still a little vague. Hmm, perhaps it'll help if I give some examples.
I'll start with music. I'd say if you've got a song start with at least seven minutes and go from there. This is hyperbole, sure, but generally speaking a musical work needs time to explore and examine, and expand and contract in order to achieve the above mentioned effect. Many works by Steve Reich and Phillip Glass all the way back through Beethoven achieve this easily. But beyond the Classical, or even Jazz, I can think of many late 20th Century musicians. For instance, The Beatles' A Day in the Life hits me over the head every time. The repetition from post-punk and new wave acts like Joy Division, Television, and New Order has the power to hypnotize. Same goes for the washed out noise from alternative bands from the 90s like My Bloody Valentine and Ride. Today, ambient and/or electronic musicians like Radiohead, LCD Soundsystem, Björk, M83, Aphex Twin, Stars of the Lid, Dan Deacon, etc. have the power (when at their best) to lift my heart. Contemporary alternative rock from the likes of The Arcade Fire, Animal Collective, TV On The Radio, Dirty Projectors, and others makes me feel small but never alone.
With visual art, there's the aforementioned artist team of Christo and Jeanne-Claude as well as most every major environmental/earth/land artist such as Robert Smithson and Richard Serra, whose artworks directly remind the viewer of the ephemeral and how transient the universe is. Also obvious for inclusion would be the great Abstract Expressionists and Color Field painters of the 40s and 50s and the subsequent Neo-Expressionists of the 70s and 80s. It can be Minimalist or Post-Minimalist (doesn't matter); and Dan Flavin, Ana Mendieta, Felix Gonzalez Torres, and pretty much anything with white walls and soft ambient neon light and/or music come to mind. Video works by Doug Aitken, William Kentridge, and Jesper Just wake me up, while installations by Pipilotti Rist sedate me in the most pleasant way possible.
As for film (you knew it was coming), what first comes to mind are slow, (seemingly) meandering films that allow the viewer to think as the film progresses. Also, those that make my heart pound, even after the movie has finished. Directors like Michelangelo Antonioni, Ingmar Bergman, Federico Fellini, François Truffaut, Stanley Kubrick, Terrance Malick, Martin Scorsese, and Michael Haneke, to name a few, add new levels of perspective to the world with their probing cinematic eyes. I've rarely felt more alive than during the endings to The 400 Blows, La Strada, The New World, 2001: a space odyssey, and CACHÉ; and for distinct reasons each time.
With most of these, as with all great artists, there are multiple layers. The way their works make me or anyone feel is only a part of of a great multi-faceted work. But for me (and for the purposes of this post) it's essential.
I'm not Clement Greenberg. I don't denounce kitch or pop.
And I understand that a musician, or any artist for that matter, cannot always be held up to this criteria, but why not try? I don't think I'm asking for too much. It’s not impossible.
Also, remember, this is a work in progress. I'm aware this may all seem familiar, vague, or even juvenile. Any critiques, suggestions (further reading, maybe), or direction will be much appreciated.
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I understand this desire and also feel very similarly. I blame it on Dr. Courtney actually, and also that there is so much wonderful literature that backs up this same notion that art should indeed provide such experiences and connections. I am always enthused when I can disappear or evaporate or fade into a work or installation. A good amount of Olafur Eliasson's work in person has provided such experiences, but I am looking for more even, perhaps a sonic and optical fusion. Anyway, I understand and agree, and bravo. I think this is what keeps me always returning to art and music, there is a guarantee of these experiences (it's as spiritual with MBV as it is looking at plains of light with Dan Flavin). I almost can't think of making either of these things (art or music) because I hold so much to these standards. I want everything to impart the way favorite albums, paintings, or films do. I guess if it all did we might explode. Still, one can dream!
ReplyDeleteACM
I'm not going to blame it all on Courtney, but he certainly made an impact (on all of us). And if you know of any great books or articles that remotely touch on the subject let me know.
ReplyDeleteI have yet to experience any work by Eliasson in person, but judging from pictures I've seen, it looks wonderful, certainly an experience. And that's exactly what I'm referring to, a singular experience you can't compare (or even attribute?) to anything else beyond the moment itself.
Many times I think what keeps me from creating is the same thing. "What will I create that hasn't been created?" Or "which idea or theory will I explore that hasn't been explored yet?" Then again, lately I've reevaluated this notion. No form of art is frivolous. It first serves a personal purpose, then an expressive one, then a transformative one (if we're so lucky). At the moment, I'm kind of torn on the subject.
Every time I tell someone I'm art history grad student they ask me straight away what my medium is. I am always surprised they would make the assumption that I was also an artist. The straight answer is that I'm paralyzed (when it comes to creating) by what I know about creating. I can't even think about making art, even if I want to, because it is exasperating to contemplate one's "options" after all that has been done.
ReplyDeleteI've been having a similar torn notion for a long time now with both writing and creating. I do often become frustrated that there may be nothing new to say, and nothing that I could contribute, but I think after being a great appreciator (as is required in art history I would think) one can't help but feel that way.
At the end of the day to make is about feeling or impulse or perhaps trying to pin down some notion of the sublime that evades us even in our thoughts. I am not sure. I have been thinking about writing on why I do not paint, but spend all of my time studying painters. I think the exploration would prove rewarding.
I was thinking of Baudelaire's description of the modern artist and then Frank O'Hara's poem about why he is not a painter. Also Nietzsche's categorization of the artist. There is such a wealth of literature out there, I will have to think further on suggestions. It is comforting to discuss such things though, so thank you for that.
I hope you get to see some of Eliasson's work in the future. I was fortunate to be visiting nyc when the MoMA had his show. There is a wonderful video of his transformative installation at the tate...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-dFOphuPqMo
Also, are you a fan of Anish Kapoor's work? I have also been considering writing on him as well. He says he is a painter working as a sculptor and this made me look at his work quite differently.
I actually had a conversation on this very subject with a close friend of mine. We came to the conclusion (and almost immediately I may add) that certainly there is still much "new" to discover, create, and experience; both in writing/theory as well as visual art. It almost seemed, and still does to a certain extent, foolish or childish at the moment, to think otherwise.
ReplyDeleteWhat's also funny is I too get similar reactions from people when I tell them I'm studying to be an art historian. Lately I think I may be able to answer them differently. As you suggested, I believe a thorough investigation of the artistic process(es) would not only prove rewarding, but deem essential for effective art history.
Both Eliasson and Kapoor are on my must see list. I've seen pictures of The Weather Project and have been dying to see it ever since. The video helped, so thanks.
Also, all your suggestions have been duly noted. Thanks again :)