The Death of Realism? Photos, Prints, Projectors, and More.

In a previous post, I wrote about the novelty of realism: how appreciating the ability of an artist to produce something realistic was akin to the joy we feel when we see the world's tallest man, largest piece of gum, or other gimmicky equivalent.

Now, I would argue that realism is dead. Consider the following: While the rate at which you can produce a realistic painting, for example, might demonstrate a gift, the irony is that your ability to mass produce realistic art will ultimately increase the supply and detract from the exclusivity of the piece likely making it less valuable. At the same time, we, as artists, have powerful tools at our disposal that make the manufacturing of realism child's play. Such tools include cameras, grids, projectors, PhotoShop, and even printers.

Now, more than ever, we are forced to place emphasis on the concept behind the art, rather than its physical production quality. If we are going to produce art that is heavily weighted toward the concept, however, why don't we just write an essay or short story instead? What value is the visual medium really adding? For one: the visual medium, at least in the case of a painting, has an immediacy to it. Unlike a film or written piece, it does not require a heavy investment of time on the part of the viewer.

More to come in another post. For now: agree? disagree? discuss in the comments below.

Anti-Art Films: Just as Much Fun as the Real Thing

Art films - why do we so quickly call them art while we so quickly call those in our local theaters trash? To be honest, I am seldom moved by a film I see at the local museum or gallery. Perhaps it is because I am preonditioned by the walls of paintings to have the attention span of a gold fish or perhaps it is simply because I don't want to watch someone push an ice block around a city street while a man bangs a gong.

Art films - it is as if the context of the local museum or gallery establishment is in it of itself enough to grant an object a profound existence that we then take in as viewers as a profound, art experience.

In the spirit of art-films, I have created a series of anti-art films that self-manifest the feel of a museum or gallery and ask you, the viewer, one question: does the content even matter? My film "The Wall" is available below. For a full listing, visit: www.youtube.com/artaboutus.

What is Art? Paul Bloom Discusses "Essentialism"

Art is art context. That is to say the classification of anything as art comes largely (if not entirely) from outside forces, such as price, venue, and exclusivity - those factors that we inherently feel go into art, but seldom admit to as we hold "art" in such a higher regard.

Consider, for example, how many times you have gone to an art museum and hated a painting, but at the same time called it art? Now, ask yourself: Did you call it art simply because it was in an art museum?

Now you may be thinking, "But what about those things that are aesthetically profound? Didn't you leave that out of the defintion above, as surely aesthetics comes from the materiality of the piece in question?" Simply put: no. I would argue that even aesthetics are largely defined by outside forces, such as the trajectory of art history, the intent of the artist, and so on and so forth. For instance, how could we come to love a painting by Pollock if we hadn't already been incrementally preconditioned to accept abstraction as aesthetically pleasing by the artists before him?

Still not convinced? Watch a recent TED talk by Paul Bloom wherein he argues that human beings are essentialists - that our beliefs about the history (or what I am calling the context) of an object change how we experience it.

The Stories in Our Heads as Artists

What goes through your mind as you paint? What games do you play in your mind as you create art? In the following post I describe my experience with the color red. Please share your art experiences in the comments below.

There is a moment right before red turns to marigold, where red is in its most profound state. Then all is lost. This color, both a quiet friend and undermining foe, comes and goes either in age or with a quick death of contradicting color as the whole of the piece must move forward. A bit playful and gopher-like, the perfect color red is also a taunting, troublesome hobgoblin.

No doubt, the search for the perfect red leaves me somewhat torn between a the joy of a minor, vibrant victory and the need to create something greater. Foolishly, I once thought I could paint the perfect red and be satisfied. And as my brush came to the last vacancy on the giant canvas, the red was not so bright anymore. I grabbed graphite, charcoal, and paint, and destroyed the painting. For one brief moment the last of the perfect red peered through rebar lines of gray before I snuffed its life with a jab of my thumb.

The perfect red peered through rebar lines of gray.

What is Art? Price, Venue, and Meaning

Don't for one minute think that price and venue don't influence meaning. Case and point: I hand you a plain piece of paper with my signature in the bottom right corner and I tell you that you can have it for 5 cents - a little more than material cost.

Paper with signature. Neat.

Now I hand you the same piece of paper and say it is worth 100,000 dollars. That piece of paper now takes on a different meaning. You think twice about it. Is it a one-of-a-kind commentary on society? Why is this worth 100,000 dollars? Surely there is something more to it!

Finally, someone had the nerve. "I get it."

That piece of paper sells for 100,000 dollars and makes it into a museum or highly esteemed gallery. Now location (and the fact that it sold) builds authority. What does the piece mean now?

This really represented our time.

What is Art? The Novelty of Realism

In painting, realism turns the talent of the artist into nothing more than a novelty act of duplication, instilling a sense within the onlooker to compare the piece against its true form and make a judgement on the quality - in this case closeness - of the copy to something imaginably real. If close, the onlooker lets out a jubilant "hoo-haw," taking notice of the amazing ability of the artist to manisfest him- or herself as a flesh-and-blood Xerox machine.

But what about the story that the realistic piece tells, surely that is more than a novelty act? Perhaps, but what if I told that same story with something so obviously not art? For example, what if I were to recreate Da Vinci's The Last Supper using only stick figures? Would that be art? No, probably not.

Is realism a novelty act? What role does novelty play in creating a context that makes us feel an object is art? Comment below.



 Da Vinci's The Last Supper with its aesthetics removed.




Contemporary Art Aesthetics: Relinquishing Control

We all too often seek to keep things in their pristine or idealized states, be it polishing a car, mowing a lawn, taking a bath, or even painting a scene we captured in a photo. And while I am not suggesting that we all stop bathing, I do want to suggest we embrace - or at least appreciate - the natural aesthetic that is born when one relinquishes control. As things age or attract the remnants of outside forces, like a spill of gas on the shop floor or a boot print in wet cement, something new and unexpected is born. Overtime these remnants find a certain harmony with one another that is, if only for a brief moment, beautiful. Look around, you will see it everywhere - pen marks on a child's school desk telling an untold story; names chiseled into a park bench bisecting lines of green; construction paint on the sidewalk providing instruction and color to a gray, cold pathway; or even rotten fruit in a knotted, wooden bowl telling a story of a relative lost. 

An aging sidewalk bears high aesthetics.

In painting, relinquishing control means allowing for mistakes to happen - one after another - until the whole piece blossoms. It is much like a meadow, wherein plants we would otherwise call weeds come into a natural harmony that is largely impossible to recreate unless we allow it to happen on its own. Ask yourself this, for example: is your backyard more beautiful than the mountains?



Scraping a painting everytime a color is added produces an aesthetic beyond conventional planning.