Crap as Art…
I know the idea of
objective standards sucks,
but what is that crap?
Just because it’s subjective does not mean it comes from
the soul , or the heart, or the gut, or the mind
where the muse sources passion, anger, love,
and infinity; some shit just exits
from the asshole and begs to be
called what it is…
CRAP.
And it ain’t art because it’s lying there
and begs to be noticed
unless you choose to experience it
as art and
be so moved
but if ignorance is
bliss, I would
choose LIFE and
all the coiled, tangled,
fettered, wrangled, roiled
emotions that we are
here to unravel and make
sense of. In that
mess is the embryo of art.
Every kid of 3 years does not make art.
Every grandma in her second coming does not make art.
Every student that displays affectation does not make art.
Every con man with a business connection does not make art.
Every esoteric pursuit is not art.
Just because you stroked it, spoke it, played it
Thought about it, conversed with your oracle,
Plunged your inner depths, vomited and have
been psycho-analyzed and were
really, (I mean really), well intentioned
does not make that piece of crap
anything other than a piece of crap.
Why do I have to subscribe to art as mere
expression, when art can possess study and
discipline, a journey, a passing, an
enlightening, a realization, a story that
transcends moments, particulars, specifics and
joins us with the universe
and substantiates that expression
with Truth. Otherwise,
Its only defecation and
that stinks.
But for the sake of political correctness
Who is about to say
‘Jeez’ that is one douche bag performance or
Canvas or song or art installation.
Who wants to presume to know more,
or better, or suggest the standard?
Who wants to be a hated critic?
who has never touched a bristle,
or toed a tap, or rhymed a verse,
or completed a novella, and thinks
they have a right to sit at the ‘bench
and officiate?
Now I know
it gets a little
hairy
when the guy sitting next to you
asks the question,
“Then who is the final arbiter” who
Is able to judge what art is or is not?
What I know is that If
we don’t know
then they…
the ‘artistes’
won’t know
what’s demanded
of them.
And
rather than reflection, observation
and aesthetic,
noise and incessant
commentary…will represent the art world.
the ‘Limbaugh-ization’ of discourse
NO INSIGHT…
NO DIALOG…
NO GRAPPLING…
NO GROWTH…
NO RESOLUTION…
NOISE…
SHIT!
It’s really our choice, to be numbingly
Absorbed with technology,
web 2.0, ‘Blackberryland’
human separation, distance
and indifference
Or dare to touch and be touched
dare to share our common humanity.
Eric Fromm said, "Love is the only sane and satisfactory
answer to the problem of human existence."
Maybe…
but maybe,
art offers some insane and satisfactory
sane and satisfactory
meaningful and satisfactory
answers too.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Friday, May 15, 2009
Contemporary Artists
When given this assignment at first I thought it would be easy but boy was I wrong.
At first I realized that I don't know lots of Contemporary Artists. I really had to think and go back in time to remember exhibits that I had seen in recent years.
These are some of the people that came to mind.
Marlene Dumas
MoMA Exhibit Website
Richard Serra
(He might not count but I think he does?)
MoMA Exhibit Website NY Times Article about MoMA Exhibit
David LaChapelle
He describes himself as a surrealist photographer.
David LaChapelle Website
KAWS
KAWS Website KAWS Blog
Once I got these four more kept coming but I felt that this would be enough for now.
At first I realized that I don't know lots of Contemporary Artists. I really had to think and go back in time to remember exhibits that I had seen in recent years.
These are some of the people that came to mind.
Marlene Dumas
MoMA Exhibit Website
Richard Serra
(He might not count but I think he does?)
MoMA Exhibit Website NY Times Article about MoMA Exhibit
David LaChapelle
He describes himself as a surrealist photographer.
David LaChapelle WebsiteKAWS
KAWS Website KAWS BlogOnce I got these four more kept coming but I felt that this would be enough for now.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Jackson Pollock on the Tragedy of WWII/Holocaust
May 8th is a very significant day for me, the country and the world. It is known as V-E Day or as the day that WWII ended. May 8th, 2009 signifies 64 years after the end of the war.
64 years that's it! It feels like it was a long time ago but it really hasn't been to long since then.
The day before, Thursday in class we spoke about Abstract Expressionism and more specifically Jackson Pollock, whose work I love. His work inspires me to challenge the boundaries of art and myself.
In class on Thursday speaking about Pollock, Betsy asked students, "what does this painting remind you of?"
I have always had trouble interpreting Pollock's work. It for me is very hard to get one's head around the entire piece so that one can understand it. His work leaves the audience with an unknown which allows the audience for self interpretation. Every single person can have a completely different feeling or reaction when they see his work.
Back to the question from earlier. Betsy asked, "what does this painting remind you of?"
Some one said it reminded them of the barb wire from the Nazi Concentration Camps and the smoke that came from the chimneys.
That struck me because I had never even considered that. Not even considered really, it had never entered my consciousness.
Once that was said that really made me think in a new way about this piece that i had not thought about before hand. I think its a very interesting interpretation.
64 years that's it! It feels like it was a long time ago but it really hasn't been to long since then.
The day before, Thursday in class we spoke about Abstract Expressionism and more specifically Jackson Pollock, whose work I love. His work inspires me to challenge the boundaries of art and myself.
In class on Thursday speaking about Pollock, Betsy asked students, "what does this painting remind you of?"
I have always had trouble interpreting Pollock's work. It for me is very hard to get one's head around the entire piece so that one can understand it. His work leaves the audience with an unknown which allows the audience for self interpretation. Every single person can have a completely different feeling or reaction when they see his work.
Back to the question from earlier. Betsy asked, "what does this painting remind you of?"
Some one said it reminded them of the barb wire from the Nazi Concentration Camps and the smoke that came from the chimneys.
That struck me because I had never even considered that. Not even considered really, it had never entered my consciousness.
Once that was said that really made me think in a new way about this piece that i had not thought about before hand. I think its a very interesting interpretation.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Midterm Paper
Muscle ManA Subjective View of an Objective Me
“Who am I?”, I wondered while looking at a picture of myself in Truro, Massachusetts on Cape Cod, a photograph taken when I was about 5 years old. There I was, standing on a sandy inlet of the bay where the tidal water recedes leaving rivulets and puddles, lingering evidence of the moon’s action and force, standing in a muscle man position, arms raised displaying my ‘baby’ biceps, expanded chest, sharing the shadows of day into night, posing like a child Adonis. On my face was a sternness, a Schwarzenegger-like expression that forced me to stare at the photo and wonder, “What was I thinking?” and, maybe the better question is, “Who was I?” What happened in the instant before the click of the shutter? Was I happy and laughing afterwards or bored and wanting to go home and eat? No one knows myself better than I do (except my parents, maybe?) but even I can’t get a real sense of that moment? That is the problem I have with photography.
In his book Camera Lucida, ‘Reflections on Photography’, Roland Barthes states that “What the photograph reproduces to infinity has occurred only once: the photograph mechanically repeats what could never be repeated existentially”. From this I take him to mean that a photograph is a particularization of time, an objective record, a literal non-interpretive imprint. It is finite and does not infer movement, does not tell a subjective story, it is what it is, with nothing added. I think this is the flaw of photography and why I do not see photography as an art form. In the absence of a continuum, as in the hand applying paint to a canvas or a movie with a succession of limited images strung together, photography becomes the product of the instrument and not the expression of the artist. How often have we heard that the photographer ‘chanced’ to get that shot? Yes, the taker of photo frames the shot, uses light, decides on some basic theme applying the best skills of his learned craft, but the shot itself is an accident, a flicker of the shutter, a chance encounter with light, depth of field, mass and time.
Certainly there are nice pictures, pretty pictures, even meaningful pictures. There are pictures that show the beauty of nature and the horror of war, the emotion of giving and horrendous deprivation, but at the end of the day it is a freezing, a stifling of reality which can only exist over time. So where the subjective experience comes in is not in the creation but in the viewing where we confuse the ‘quality’ of the photo with the depth of the personal reaction. At the end of the day, a painter’s stroke, a singer’s song, a dancer’s steps have precedents, moments in succession, and the future all in a split second…the instant containing what took place, what is and what will be by suggestion and line. We infer time because it is contained within the form, but in photography we can only inject our own presumption of what that frozen moment could have meant or its design for the future. There is nothing about a photo that reveals anything about the artist other than his guile. Thus, the operator and the spectator have no relationship. It is left to the spectator to self reveal as a viewer of the spectacle. We relate to the photo and the emotions it evokes, but not to the taker of the shot.
So I viewed this photo of me knowing that my father chose, in response to chemical interactions, neurology, the influence of light, his psyche and other influencers, that exact moment to click. And, there I was in this really nice photograph with contrasting shading and lighting setting me apart while embedding me in the solid beauty of this natural surrounding wondering how or what this has to do with me. Barthes speaks of the ‘studium’ or kinds of general take or impression “without special acuity” that derives from participating in the figures, faces, gestures and settings of the photograph. On that level, I enjoyed my enjoyment of the moment, trying to stay objective. But I could not remain aloof. As Barthes suggests, some photos pierce the indifference of the “average affect” and “punctuate” or disturb the ‘studium’ to become more poignant or significant to the viewer. This he calls ‘punctum’, the sting or prick of the photo leading to reflection.
I could not avoid thinking of my youthful struggles and hardships. I could not resist being drawn in to questioning what I have gained or lost over time. I thought of the child that remains within telling me unconscious stories about me that limit my present choice making or give me hope of finding my authenticity. I am prideful where I have succeeded in overcoming personal challenges, not letting myself get stuck by my history. In this instance, the photograph is less art than impulse, stirring personal emotions rather than informing my story. The story changes according to the viewer without regard for the originator of the image.
Barthes comes close to this notion when he says that, “I must submit to this law: I cannot penetrate, cannot reach into the photograph….”The photograph is flat, platitudinous in the true sense of the word…”It is a mistake to associate Photography, by reason of its technical origins, with the notion of dark passage (camera obscura)”. But his conclusion does not ring true for it is this lack of penetration that he says is its source of Power, where I would say it is the reason it fails. It is transfixed in time and can ultimately represent anything we want it to rather than suggest its own existential reality and by inference, its place in the continuum of time. On the other hand, photography is able to authenticate reality, make undisputable events that are otherwise falsely represented. Barthes states that photography does not lie as to the existence of existence – “Every photograph is a certificate of presence”. And this is crucial to history. But photography’s strength is its limitation. It replicates reality but describes nothing; it testifies to truth of occurrence but fails to transcend its journalistic prowess. This certainty of existence is fundamental to freedom, and human inquiry has to do with the nature of being and our place in the universe. Our investigation has less to do with literal verification of our physical presence and everything to do with our philosophical, spiritual, universal and cosmic purpose. To that end photography is indifferent, or at least impartial.
In his book Camera Lucida, ‘Reflections on Photography’, Roland Barthes states that “What the photograph reproduces to infinity has occurred only once: the photograph mechanically repeats what could never be repeated existentially”. From this I take him to mean that a photograph is a particularization of time, an objective record, a literal non-interpretive imprint. It is finite and does not infer movement, does not tell a subjective story, it is what it is, with nothing added. I think this is the flaw of photography and why I do not see photography as an art form. In the absence of a continuum, as in the hand applying paint to a canvas or a movie with a succession of limited images strung together, photography becomes the product of the instrument and not the expression of the artist. How often have we heard that the photographer ‘chanced’ to get that shot? Yes, the taker of photo frames the shot, uses light, decides on some basic theme applying the best skills of his learned craft, but the shot itself is an accident, a flicker of the shutter, a chance encounter with light, depth of field, mass and time.
Certainly there are nice pictures, pretty pictures, even meaningful pictures. There are pictures that show the beauty of nature and the horror of war, the emotion of giving and horrendous deprivation, but at the end of the day it is a freezing, a stifling of reality which can only exist over time. So where the subjective experience comes in is not in the creation but in the viewing where we confuse the ‘quality’ of the photo with the depth of the personal reaction. At the end of the day, a painter’s stroke, a singer’s song, a dancer’s steps have precedents, moments in succession, and the future all in a split second…the instant containing what took place, what is and what will be by suggestion and line. We infer time because it is contained within the form, but in photography we can only inject our own presumption of what that frozen moment could have meant or its design for the future. There is nothing about a photo that reveals anything about the artist other than his guile. Thus, the operator and the spectator have no relationship. It is left to the spectator to self reveal as a viewer of the spectacle. We relate to the photo and the emotions it evokes, but not to the taker of the shot.
So I viewed this photo of me knowing that my father chose, in response to chemical interactions, neurology, the influence of light, his psyche and other influencers, that exact moment to click. And, there I was in this really nice photograph with contrasting shading and lighting setting me apart while embedding me in the solid beauty of this natural surrounding wondering how or what this has to do with me. Barthes speaks of the ‘studium’ or kinds of general take or impression “without special acuity” that derives from participating in the figures, faces, gestures and settings of the photograph. On that level, I enjoyed my enjoyment of the moment, trying to stay objective. But I could not remain aloof. As Barthes suggests, some photos pierce the indifference of the “average affect” and “punctuate” or disturb the ‘studium’ to become more poignant or significant to the viewer. This he calls ‘punctum’, the sting or prick of the photo leading to reflection.
I could not avoid thinking of my youthful struggles and hardships. I could not resist being drawn in to questioning what I have gained or lost over time. I thought of the child that remains within telling me unconscious stories about me that limit my present choice making or give me hope of finding my authenticity. I am prideful where I have succeeded in overcoming personal challenges, not letting myself get stuck by my history. In this instance, the photograph is less art than impulse, stirring personal emotions rather than informing my story. The story changes according to the viewer without regard for the originator of the image.
Barthes comes close to this notion when he says that, “I must submit to this law: I cannot penetrate, cannot reach into the photograph….”The photograph is flat, platitudinous in the true sense of the word…”It is a mistake to associate Photography, by reason of its technical origins, with the notion of dark passage (camera obscura)”. But his conclusion does not ring true for it is this lack of penetration that he says is its source of Power, where I would say it is the reason it fails. It is transfixed in time and can ultimately represent anything we want it to rather than suggest its own existential reality and by inference, its place in the continuum of time. On the other hand, photography is able to authenticate reality, make undisputable events that are otherwise falsely represented. Barthes states that photography does not lie as to the existence of existence – “Every photograph is a certificate of presence”. And this is crucial to history. But photography’s strength is its limitation. It replicates reality but describes nothing; it testifies to truth of occurrence but fails to transcend its journalistic prowess. This certainty of existence is fundamental to freedom, and human inquiry has to do with the nature of being and our place in the universe. Our investigation has less to do with literal verification of our physical presence and everything to do with our philosophical, spiritual, universal and cosmic purpose. To that end photography is indifferent, or at least impartial.
So, there I stood in the fast fading sun on this beautiful sandy knoll, as rippling in my mind as the sand bars I stood upon, with a determined look to be the next Mr. America. It is not that I did not enjoy looking at and taking some measure of me in the photograph, but my story is so much richer, more complex and fulfilling than the photograph can suggest. And the story is still unfolding.
Friday, April 24, 2009
The Character Project
I had heard of this project when I was watching Law & Order on the USA network.
I didn't pay any attention to it until I saw (above) plastered on the walls of the NYC subway system. It really struck a cord with me then. One of the reasons I got into film was because I would meet people and more specifically interesting characters!! Interesting characters is what filmmakers need to have a great story!
This project reminds me of the photo from Ronald Barthes book with the man standing in front of a blank white drop.
The image that captures me the most is the one on the teenage boy standing in front of a barn I believe with the American Flag draped over his shoulders. That photo is on the above poster but a better version can be seen on the website.
http://www.usanetwork.com/characterproject/
(skip the video, then click on galleries, then photos and its the first image to show up)
Another great one which can really relate to the feel of the image from the Ronald Barthes book is the image of the man with the fedora on (4th image from the right at the bottom of the window)
I didn't pay any attention to it until I saw (above) plastered on the walls of the NYC subway system. It really struck a cord with me then. One of the reasons I got into film was because I would meet people and more specifically interesting characters!! Interesting characters is what filmmakers need to have a great story!This project reminds me of the photo from Ronald Barthes book with the man standing in front of a blank white drop.
The image that captures me the most is the one on the teenage boy standing in front of a barn I believe with the American Flag draped over his shoulders. That photo is on the above poster but a better version can be seen on the website.
http://www.usanetwork.com/characterproject/
(skip the video, then click on galleries, then photos and its the first image to show up)
Another great one which can really relate to the feel of the image from the Ronald Barthes book is the image of the man with the fedora on (4th image from the right at the bottom of the window)
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Yom HaShaoh
In a few days Yom HaShaoh, which is the Israeli Holocaust Remembrance day. This year its on Tuesday April 21. I thought of Yom HaShaoh when I was reading "Camera Lucida" and saw the picture by Koen Wessing: Nicaragua. 1979. really got me! Its juxtaposition is just brillant. I mean its what I dream of and what others dream of to capture a perfect photograph. Its hard to beat that!
Back to Yom HaShaoh...
With my recent trip to Poland, I saw major juxtaposition in many places. These are my personal photos from the camps of Auschwitz - Birkenau, Treblinka, Majdanek. (NOTE: My personal photos are to large. I am working on shrinking the file size I will put my own, until these are substitutes that do the same job)
Look at how magnificent the surrounding area is compared to what all the images show!
Above: Cement Blocks that train rails were on. Treblinka Poland
Above: Lush green grass compared to the buildings where the prisoners were kept.
above - Barracks at Auschwitz. Green grass.
above- Majdanek, Poland
above- Majdanek, Poland
I had lots of trouble being in these various locations besides for the obvious reasons. All three places were in beautiful locations and it was very difficult to ignore it. I had the hardest time at Treblinka. For me I had trouble dealing with this juxtaposition. I wanted to be the artist and take photos of these places but being very respectful to what had happened there also the other side I feel that there is no need to take photos of such places. It must be seen by ones own eye and felt by ones own hand and smelled by ones own nose.
Back to Yom HaShaoh...
With my recent trip to Poland, I saw major juxtaposition in many places. These are my personal photos from the camps of Auschwitz - Birkenau, Treblinka, Majdanek. (NOTE: My personal photos are to large. I am working on shrinking the file size I will put my own, until these are substitutes that do the same job)
Look at how magnificent the surrounding area is compared to what all the images show!
Above: Cement Blocks that train rails were on. Treblinka PolandAbove: Lush green grass compared to the buildings where the prisoners were kept.above- Majdanek, Polandabove- Majdanek, PolandI had lots of trouble being in these various locations besides for the obvious reasons. All three places were in beautiful locations and it was very difficult to ignore it. I had the hardest time at Treblinka. For me I had trouble dealing with this juxtaposition. I wanted to be the artist and take photos of these places but being very respectful to what had happened there also the other side I feel that there is no need to take photos of such places. It must be seen by ones own eye and felt by ones own hand and smelled by ones own nose.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Civil War Images
Thursday April 9th,
The above photograph has to be one of the most powerful images I have ever seen.
- While walking to class that day, I had realized that I had not looked at my emails on my Blackberry. So I pulled out my phone and started to look at my emails that I had received while I had been sleeping. Typically the first email i check is one I receive daily from The History Channel, "This Day in History". "Ahhhh" I said, "that is today isn't it". I was referring to, that on this day in 1865, the American Civil War ended in Appomattox, Virginia when Confederate General Robert E. Lee surrendered to Union General Ulysses S. Grant. I then recollected upon my many trips with my mother to the civil war battlefields that we had done in the past three years. Great times!!! (NOTE: I WILL POST SOME OF MY PICTURES VERY SOON) NOTE: TECHNICALLY the Civil War didn't end until Union General William Tecumsah Sherman kicked Confederate General Joseph E. Johnston ass in Durham, NC!!! I must say I am proud to say I am from NC when I know Sherman kicked some tail!!!! I wish I could be like Sherman, I'm getting there but not close enough....
- I arrive at class thinking about how much I miss history courses....which is pretty usual...but anyway back to the assignment. Some how I don't quite remember why or how but we get to pictures of the civil war!!!!!!!! Coincidence??????
- So I am writing this post today. I woke up this morning and I didn't even need to look at my phone to know what day this was. It was the day that the Civil War started in 1861, at Fort Sumter.
The above photograph has to be one of the most powerful images I have ever seen.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
