04-27-2014, 11:11 PM
I was reading through this thread and started to remember the stuckist manifesto, or a version of it; and in particular point 3 of the anti-anti-art revolution (revolution with a very very small r).
I used to be a member of the stuckists many moons ago, but not for long as my two only reasons for joining were that I liked Billy Childish and had an utter distain for conceptual art, (and also a certain admiration for people who had such strong convictions about art that seemed to fly in the face of common sense, i.e., only painting is art), which are not substantial enough to justify my membership to that 'club' for any great length of time. Also, it became apparent that while Charles Thomson made a few reasonable points, he was essentially an idiot (even a stopped clock tells the right time twice a day [I really must stop using that phrase, I'm starting to sound like a stopped clock myself]).
anyhow, I think that art (including poetry) announces itself regardless of the demarcations that are used to try to hem it in, a rose by any other... (in this sense, there is something materially definable about art or poetry, that is objective and sensory [but I won't go into all that now]).
The problem is of course, why stick with one word, poetry (for example)? Why say that a urinal on its side is art, why not a new name? Sculpture? but sculpture is art, isn't it? Why not Fountain? Duchamp never said his Fountain was art, he specifically said it was anti-art (which is in itself a odd way of going about things: building a machine on the very foundations its purpose is to destroy). The fact is, a regress is no good, i.e., poetry, writing, communication, sense experience, matter, energy: let's call everything energy and be done with it. Likewise continuous addition, though slightly more practical, deterritorialises but never reterritorialises, and we don't like that at all (if it is possible) [although subcategories are used, prose poetry for example, we do not like continuous addition, it feels clumsy and a bit of a joke]. So let us stick to the word poetry, it's as good as any other, with the benefit of being well known.
Now we ask, is it poetry? There are, as I think has been mentioned, certain historical structures in place to help us out. That's good, it makes it easier all round. A sonnet is certainly a poem, and not because it, this particular sonnet, is any good (simply by virtue of being a sonnet), but because we know that the structure of a sonnet has worked in the past. There is of course an element of taste and subjective interest, but by-the-by, few would deny even the worst sonnet is a poem; it may lack poetry, but it is a poem, none-the-less. There are many more historical structures that one can easily tick off. It isn't always so easy of course, but as long as the poem adheres to the majority of them and attempts to implement the rules as best it can, knowingly, then the benefit of the doubt is given to even the very worst poems [for example, you could write a sonnet in all sincerity and another person point out that structurally it doesn't quite meet the requirements of a sonnet, however, it is still a poem, just not a sonnet].
So, here we are all comfortable again: this is a poem/work of art because it conforms, to a certain degree, to the structures laid down before us... and then, all of a sudden, some fuckwit goes and ruins it all and writes Finnagans Wake, or paints Guernica, or puts a glass of water on a glass shelf and calls it an oak tree (possibly the most beautiful work of art I have ever seen - however, this is a controversial point as I seem to be the only person who finds the aesthetic quality of it just as, if not more, interesting than its conceptual element; or at least I think that both elements could be removed and little loss of value would occur on either side). What are we to do with all that. We think we like it (art announces itself), it's interesting and it has an emotional, physical, spiritual, intellectual, impact. But it doesn't look like the old model, it bears some resemblance to the old rules of the game (it is writing, it is painting, it is aesthetically pleasing), but not many. And still, it doesn't seem to fit anywhere else, either. So we make a concession: Finnegans Wake looks a bit like a novel, we'll call it that. Guernica is definitely a painting, that'll do. An Oak Tree... er... a glass of water on a shelf? A philosophy essay? I don't know. But luckily, we don't really have to make these decisions, and in Reality we never do and we don't really care. And by we, I mean individuals. Few people read Finnegans Wake before it was already a book, or looked at An Oak Tree before it was in an art gallery. In which case, by this stage, it is a value judgment not a categorical one. By the time a dog turd is exhibited in an art gallery, arguing over whether or not it is art is a bit redundant (is it? I'm not sure, I think you should question that). And then we start feeling all depressed because we realise how insignificant our little controversies are and how little control we have over the world around us and even our own thoughts and opinions.
—This dog turd isn't art! You say.
But it doesn't matter because it is already part of the status quo, part of the apparatus, and you have already been forced into taking a position against something that otherwise would mean nothing to you. By arguing (and it must be an argument, not simply a statement) that something isn't a poem one is already giving it credit for something. I used to find this if ever I argued with a Christian about the existence of God. I found the whole idea of god so absurd that it was laughable that I should be having a debate about it, and just by getting involved in such a discussion I was somehow conceding a point.
I am not saying that we should be quietists. If I think something is bad poetry, art, sculpture, I will be vocal about it. But getting into a categorical debate just seems pointless and has no positive value. (less so for the plastic arts, but definitely in terms of poetry — there is a political aspect to categorising art that shouldn't be ignored).
There is not one jot of positive value added to my experience of reading a poem by calling it a poem. But, in many ways the addition of categories muddies the water a little bit, because then the question is raised "would you still find An Oak Tree beautiful had it not been in an art gallery and clearly classified as art?" The answer is, of course, probably not. At least not if I had just seen it in ikea or somewhere. Classifying it as art does create a certain space. A physical space, at that. And this is all to do with a language game having effects. It works within society. And calling it Art in effect creates a space where the attention can be focused. But I think poetry is different. Writing is different in the sense that, though it is nice to have a clear and appropriate space to view it (a book or something) as the result of categorising it as a novel (and all the wheels and cogs being set into motion to create a book), writing and words naturally draw our attention, no matter where they are. So, had Altarwise By Owl-light been scrawled in excrement on a pub toilet wall, I think it's essential quality would have declared itself and I would have been in no doubt about whether or not it was of value (poetry, not-poetry, who cares). This is the difference between art and poetry. Art has become a big lumbering beast that appears to have no boundaries. Art can be anything. A poem, on the other hand, is restrained by language (even more fundamentally, sound), just as painting is restrained by paint. Ironically, this means that poetry (and writing in general) is freer from its name than art is; because poetry has a solid foundation. Art, in this day and age, is all over the place; and many artists nowadays rely almost entirely on the word Art for what they create to be taken seriously, exhibited, make money money money! Poets never make money, so it makes no difference what you call their writing.
I am not sure if links are allowed or not, but here is a link to the Q&A part of An Oak Tree. It is very funny
http://dullwitch.wikispaces.com/The+Oak+Tree
and here is an extract for those lazy bastards:
Q. To begin with, could you describe this work?
A. Yes, of course. What I've done is change a glass of water into a full-grown oak tree without altering the accidents of the glass of water.
Q. The accidents?
A. Yes. The colour, feel, weight, size ...
Q. Do you mean that the glass of water is a symbol of an oak tree?
A. No. It's not a symbol. I've changed the physical substance of the glass of water into that of an oak tree.
Q. It looks like a glass of water.
A. Of course it does. I didn't change its appearance. But it's not a glass of water, it's an oak tree.
Q. Can you prove what you've claimed to have done?
A. Well, yes and no. I claim to have maintained the physical form of the glass of water and, as you can see, I have. However, as one normally looks for evidence of physical change in terms of altered form, no such proof exists.
Q. Haven't you simply called this glass of water an oak tree?
A. Absolutely not. It is not a glass of water anymore. I have changed its actual substance. It would no longer be accurate to call it a glass of water. One could call it anything one wished but that would not alter the fact that it is an oak tree.
oh, and I just realised I didn't post the Stuckist bit, which was my only intention
so here it is, and this is funny too (but without knowing where it is being silly, which makes it also a bit embarrassing):
4. The naming of names and the demarcation of the arts.
It is not fascism to name a brick a brick, a shoe a shoe, a horse a horse or a painting as art.
Standing on the ground is not a type of flying. Calling walking walking does not devalue walking or suggest that walking is some how inferior to jumping up and down. Declaring a dead horse hung from the ceiling of a gallery not to be art is not racism or hatred of dead horses. It is a value judgement, and here on earth value judgements are of value.
The making of video films and the reproducing of computer images are not the avant-garde. They are a comfortable niche for people who are afraid of energy and don't like getting their hands dirty.
Computer 'art' is patterns and bad graphics. You have good film making (subjectivity, emotional engagement, moral dilemma) and you have bad film making (immoral, objective and boring), and you have art film making (just plain boring). By boring we mean it could be there or not be there and it would make no difference, but it would be better if it wasn't.
You have a painting department. You have a sculpture department. You have a film department (where you make films). You have a fashion department, which is clothes.
The painting of pictures is the painting of pictures. People agree that a shoe is a shoe and a brick is a brick, not out of dogma or closed-mindedness but to avoid walking around with bricks strapped to their feet.
A sculpture is a sculpture.
What is wrong with mixed media? What is wrong with earth, salt, mustard, a fried egg, chewing gum, marmalade and a sausage on your dinner plate?
I used to be a member of the stuckists many moons ago, but not for long as my two only reasons for joining were that I liked Billy Childish and had an utter distain for conceptual art, (and also a certain admiration for people who had such strong convictions about art that seemed to fly in the face of common sense, i.e., only painting is art), which are not substantial enough to justify my membership to that 'club' for any great length of time. Also, it became apparent that while Charles Thomson made a few reasonable points, he was essentially an idiot (even a stopped clock tells the right time twice a day [I really must stop using that phrase, I'm starting to sound like a stopped clock myself]).
anyhow, I think that art (including poetry) announces itself regardless of the demarcations that are used to try to hem it in, a rose by any other... (in this sense, there is something materially definable about art or poetry, that is objective and sensory [but I won't go into all that now]).
The problem is of course, why stick with one word, poetry (for example)? Why say that a urinal on its side is art, why not a new name? Sculpture? but sculpture is art, isn't it? Why not Fountain? Duchamp never said his Fountain was art, he specifically said it was anti-art (which is in itself a odd way of going about things: building a machine on the very foundations its purpose is to destroy). The fact is, a regress is no good, i.e., poetry, writing, communication, sense experience, matter, energy: let's call everything energy and be done with it. Likewise continuous addition, though slightly more practical, deterritorialises but never reterritorialises, and we don't like that at all (if it is possible) [although subcategories are used, prose poetry for example, we do not like continuous addition, it feels clumsy and a bit of a joke]. So let us stick to the word poetry, it's as good as any other, with the benefit of being well known.
Now we ask, is it poetry? There are, as I think has been mentioned, certain historical structures in place to help us out. That's good, it makes it easier all round. A sonnet is certainly a poem, and not because it, this particular sonnet, is any good (simply by virtue of being a sonnet), but because we know that the structure of a sonnet has worked in the past. There is of course an element of taste and subjective interest, but by-the-by, few would deny even the worst sonnet is a poem; it may lack poetry, but it is a poem, none-the-less. There are many more historical structures that one can easily tick off. It isn't always so easy of course, but as long as the poem adheres to the majority of them and attempts to implement the rules as best it can, knowingly, then the benefit of the doubt is given to even the very worst poems [for example, you could write a sonnet in all sincerity and another person point out that structurally it doesn't quite meet the requirements of a sonnet, however, it is still a poem, just not a sonnet].
So, here we are all comfortable again: this is a poem/work of art because it conforms, to a certain degree, to the structures laid down before us... and then, all of a sudden, some fuckwit goes and ruins it all and writes Finnagans Wake, or paints Guernica, or puts a glass of water on a glass shelf and calls it an oak tree (possibly the most beautiful work of art I have ever seen - however, this is a controversial point as I seem to be the only person who finds the aesthetic quality of it just as, if not more, interesting than its conceptual element; or at least I think that both elements could be removed and little loss of value would occur on either side). What are we to do with all that. We think we like it (art announces itself), it's interesting and it has an emotional, physical, spiritual, intellectual, impact. But it doesn't look like the old model, it bears some resemblance to the old rules of the game (it is writing, it is painting, it is aesthetically pleasing), but not many. And still, it doesn't seem to fit anywhere else, either. So we make a concession: Finnegans Wake looks a bit like a novel, we'll call it that. Guernica is definitely a painting, that'll do. An Oak Tree... er... a glass of water on a shelf? A philosophy essay? I don't know. But luckily, we don't really have to make these decisions, and in Reality we never do and we don't really care. And by we, I mean individuals. Few people read Finnegans Wake before it was already a book, or looked at An Oak Tree before it was in an art gallery. In which case, by this stage, it is a value judgment not a categorical one. By the time a dog turd is exhibited in an art gallery, arguing over whether or not it is art is a bit redundant (is it? I'm not sure, I think you should question that). And then we start feeling all depressed because we realise how insignificant our little controversies are and how little control we have over the world around us and even our own thoughts and opinions.
—This dog turd isn't art! You say.
But it doesn't matter because it is already part of the status quo, part of the apparatus, and you have already been forced into taking a position against something that otherwise would mean nothing to you. By arguing (and it must be an argument, not simply a statement) that something isn't a poem one is already giving it credit for something. I used to find this if ever I argued with a Christian about the existence of God. I found the whole idea of god so absurd that it was laughable that I should be having a debate about it, and just by getting involved in such a discussion I was somehow conceding a point.
I am not saying that we should be quietists. If I think something is bad poetry, art, sculpture, I will be vocal about it. But getting into a categorical debate just seems pointless and has no positive value. (less so for the plastic arts, but definitely in terms of poetry — there is a political aspect to categorising art that shouldn't be ignored).
There is not one jot of positive value added to my experience of reading a poem by calling it a poem. But, in many ways the addition of categories muddies the water a little bit, because then the question is raised "would you still find An Oak Tree beautiful had it not been in an art gallery and clearly classified as art?" The answer is, of course, probably not. At least not if I had just seen it in ikea or somewhere. Classifying it as art does create a certain space. A physical space, at that. And this is all to do with a language game having effects. It works within society. And calling it Art in effect creates a space where the attention can be focused. But I think poetry is different. Writing is different in the sense that, though it is nice to have a clear and appropriate space to view it (a book or something) as the result of categorising it as a novel (and all the wheels and cogs being set into motion to create a book), writing and words naturally draw our attention, no matter where they are. So, had Altarwise By Owl-light been scrawled in excrement on a pub toilet wall, I think it's essential quality would have declared itself and I would have been in no doubt about whether or not it was of value (poetry, not-poetry, who cares). This is the difference between art and poetry. Art has become a big lumbering beast that appears to have no boundaries. Art can be anything. A poem, on the other hand, is restrained by language (even more fundamentally, sound), just as painting is restrained by paint. Ironically, this means that poetry (and writing in general) is freer from its name than art is; because poetry has a solid foundation. Art, in this day and age, is all over the place; and many artists nowadays rely almost entirely on the word Art for what they create to be taken seriously, exhibited, make money money money! Poets never make money, so it makes no difference what you call their writing.
I am not sure if links are allowed or not, but here is a link to the Q&A part of An Oak Tree. It is very funny
http://dullwitch.wikispaces.com/The+Oak+Tree
and here is an extract for those lazy bastards:
Q. To begin with, could you describe this work?
A. Yes, of course. What I've done is change a glass of water into a full-grown oak tree without altering the accidents of the glass of water.
Q. The accidents?
A. Yes. The colour, feel, weight, size ...
Q. Do you mean that the glass of water is a symbol of an oak tree?
A. No. It's not a symbol. I've changed the physical substance of the glass of water into that of an oak tree.
Q. It looks like a glass of water.
A. Of course it does. I didn't change its appearance. But it's not a glass of water, it's an oak tree.
Q. Can you prove what you've claimed to have done?
A. Well, yes and no. I claim to have maintained the physical form of the glass of water and, as you can see, I have. However, as one normally looks for evidence of physical change in terms of altered form, no such proof exists.
Q. Haven't you simply called this glass of water an oak tree?
A. Absolutely not. It is not a glass of water anymore. I have changed its actual substance. It would no longer be accurate to call it a glass of water. One could call it anything one wished but that would not alter the fact that it is an oak tree.
oh, and I just realised I didn't post the Stuckist bit, which was my only intention
so here it is, and this is funny too (but without knowing where it is being silly, which makes it also a bit embarrassing):
4. The naming of names and the demarcation of the arts.
It is not fascism to name a brick a brick, a shoe a shoe, a horse a horse or a painting as art.
Standing on the ground is not a type of flying. Calling walking walking does not devalue walking or suggest that walking is some how inferior to jumping up and down. Declaring a dead horse hung from the ceiling of a gallery not to be art is not racism or hatred of dead horses. It is a value judgement, and here on earth value judgements are of value.
The making of video films and the reproducing of computer images are not the avant-garde. They are a comfortable niche for people who are afraid of energy and don't like getting their hands dirty.
Computer 'art' is patterns and bad graphics. You have good film making (subjectivity, emotional engagement, moral dilemma) and you have bad film making (immoral, objective and boring), and you have art film making (just plain boring). By boring we mean it could be there or not be there and it would make no difference, but it would be better if it wasn't.
You have a painting department. You have a sculpture department. You have a film department (where you make films). You have a fashion department, which is clothes.
The painting of pictures is the painting of pictures. People agree that a shoe is a shoe and a brick is a brick, not out of dogma or closed-mindedness but to avoid walking around with bricks strapped to their feet.
A sculpture is a sculpture.
What is wrong with mixed media? What is wrong with earth, salt, mustard, a fried egg, chewing gum, marmalade and a sausage on your dinner plate?