How does the cultural hierarchy amass itself to select winners and losers in the arts, and what common methods, strategies, and so-called “best practices” do they deploy to determine results from a selection process that is (for the artist) not always transparent or obvious?
My interest in this topic stems as much from plain old curiosity as it does a self-interested desire to be understand the rules. After all, hasn’t everyone wondered at one time or another how and why this or that contemporary work - and the artist who created it – was a success, while many others were not? Finding a rationalization for this process is something that composers in particular should be cognizant of, since as professionals they are significantly invested in having their music performed and in the integrity/viability of the selection-system as a whole – to say the least.
As a composer myself, I strive to observe and understand how this process plays out in the arena of contemporary serious concert music, although to be honest, the subjective data I’ve gleaned thus far only provides a faint hint of the obscure rules that lay underneath. And yet, subtle indications of a mysterious systemic process rise to the surface and reveal themselves to those who pay close attention to the details. The selection-system in the field of music, as I see it, is fairly generic and generally applicable to other fields of art as well.
But how do we construct a viable theory out of fleeting impressions if we can’t peer directly into the black box of social interaction and observe for discernable patterns of information on which to base our claims? What if you can’t be a fly on the wall and observe the powerbrokers at work?
Having never been on a jury myself, I can only base my theory on cumulative results and outcomes of the selection process rather than on an internal narrative that occurs behind closed doors. We can’t see the hidden processes that hide beneath the hood and out of public sight. Although events of day-to-day decisions that reflect and represent inner-mechanics and social patterns that lie submerged are clear enough, it’s the larger trends and the patterns they form that are much more difficult to grasp. Local events generally exist out of sight and out of mind, and are distributed over the course of years of activity and spread among many individual recipients working in isolation. But the establishment always maintains the upper hand. The long-term impact of their positive or negative rating forms an over-arching and cumulative series of events that ultimately creates the pattern of winners and losers. Their mission is decidedly strategic, although they claim to be open-minded and neutral.
Acknowledging there is actually a systemic gateway for art and that it functions on a grand scale could be considered socially taboo, since the conventional wisdom is that outstanding and unique original art (and music) will always bubble up to the top of the vat to reveal itself as a superior product. It’s another incarnation of the survival of the fittest principal. We are trained to believe that true talent can’t be suppressed. On the other hand, it’s painfully clear to many observers that the number of producers of art far outnumber the limited supply of cash-carrying consumers. By hook or by crook, society must rely on a methodology to filter out (as with a cultural “sieve”) the “worthy” from the “worthless.” This concept is nothing new. The assignment of artistic value is an age-old process that has found application throughout time and across culture – yet this all-important filtering mechanism is also underplayed, perhaps in the interest of perpetuating the mystique about the greatness of individual works of art, artistic movements, and even colorful narratives about individual artists themselves. One thing is true: without a working conscious or unconscious filtering process, the public would be completely overwhelmed, besieged with information and the market (by which new art and new music is created and sold) would collapse under its own weight.
Several key factors are at play here. For one thing, there is good art and bad art, but unfortunately not everyone can (or will) agree on a unified criterion of aesthetic judgment to make value assessments on a universal or collective basis. There is no gold standard for art of exceptional quality, and if there were, we’d have other problems to deal with.
Some see the selection filter in purely financial terms. They mistakenly assume that art will succeed only if it has commercial potential, even what could be considered a niche market. I don’t take that view. It’s too simplistic.
While it is presumed that every consumer has a right to make decisions about what is good or bad art, by practical necessity most people tend to defer to eternal experts or specialists to help them form an “opinion” of their own. Here is where professional pundits and power brokers enter into the picture. Often they lend themselves out as experts - even as judges on decision-making committees - and directly influence the outcome of awards, commissions, and grants. It’s rather mercenary.
Several systems and mythologies have evolved over time to satisfy the need to limit the quantity of art in an open and free market. While anyone with means can produce art, the arts establishment oversees commerce in a marketplace that is internally subject to rules it establishes, controls, and self-regulates. It’s fundamentally a dark market, and its operations occur behind closed doors and out of public sight. The public has no idea about what the rules and regulations are, or how decisions are ultimately made. Even worse, the rules and their application are opaque to the creative artist as well.
For a sense of direction and cognitive security, consumers of art sometimes look for prevailing winds, and when they find it, fall in line with their cohorts like a flock of Canadian geese heading south for the winter. They follow this or that trend according to the dynamics of horde psychology. Following along with the masses has become a prevalent mode of group-based decision making in the information age where the number and veracity of Internet-driven spikes is a precise metric for social networking sites, and ubiquitous access to multimedia has made everyone a potential participant.
To put this in historical perspective, we should acknowledge that many artistic movements are as much the result of consumer fad as they are the product of a genuine artistic resonance based on a particular collective idea shared and distributed by the creator. I don’t advocate suppressing fad, but I do suggest that artists and consumers rise about the fray, self-educate, and become cognizant of the mechanisms that potentially fuel the fire of artistic movements – right down to understanding how limited resources are distributed to individual artists, musicians, and composers (or their constituent support organizations).
Perhaps it is because resources are so limited (and dwindling as we speak), that a cadre of so-called arts management professionals and self-appointed experts have inserted themselves to refine the process. In some cases management professionals have pre-selected concert programs before the musicians contracted to perform it have had a chance to provide their input. For these experts, randomness is neither virtuous nor a functional component of their organizational toolkit. Almost by definition, these people want complete control over the selection process and seek to wield absolute power in shaping concert programs (and ultimately the careers of those they manage). In the end, their well-intentioned (but usually misguided) actions determine what the public will be exposed to. Arts organizations experiencing financial stress tend to listen to their wise marketing advisors who may (or may not) have a personal aesthetic axe to grind. But as self-proclaimed experts, they allegedly know what’s best when it comes to the bottom line: ticket sales. Randomness - on any level - is their enemy, since they can’t control it.
The status quo in concert management is to propose and recommend a moderately conservative menu of musical offerings. This approach most often results in solutions that are predictably pre-determined and limited. Using their approach, the number of new works scheduled for a season will typically be very limited (if indeed any local or world premieres are scheduled at all). The prototype program offering of a major symphony orchestra is a case in point, where one hopes that the Music (or Artistic) Director is given at least some artistic leeway to create the season’s program. But it is more likely today that members of the Executive Management team will either lead the effort, or be heavily involved in the selection of actual programs (although in Europe there is a more complicated tradition to involve a mix of orchestral members in the program selection process).
The problem with the “music selected by committee” approach is that in the end there may be little if anything on the smorgasbord that actually appeals to the overall public’s sensibilities. It tends to promote a generic (and boring) outcome. On every level music ensembles are caught between the rock of selecting what a select few might consider interesting and exciting music verses the hard place of a boring alternative that will bring in a broader audience and hopefully maintain (if not increase) ticket sales. And as we have learned, what works in the short-term does not always translate to long-term success.
In some venues, concert programs are still “curated” by an Artistic Director with a particular point of view – which may or may not align with the interests of composers on one side, or an audience on the other. But at least with this singular approach, a unique vision is presented, implemented, and allowed to sink or swim based on its own intrinsic merits or limitations.
Public radio is an interesting example of a system where music was at one time selected by an individual DJ with a particular set of ideas and preferences. If you disagreed with their individual selections of music, you could always turn the dial to another station that conformed to your tastes or wait for the next show. Over time, commercial and public stations merged and their net number of listeners for a particular program grew. Management felt that in the new commercial paradigm the task of selecting specific music to broadcast was far too important on the bottom line to delegate to individual hosts or DJs. Behind the scenes, radio stations adopted committees of experts and consultants to analyze and tailor programs of music based on surveys, analysis, and studies. It’s now all very scientific, like Muzak.
The result of this change is that the independent selection of music for broadcast by local DJs was superseded by pre-selection of works (or at least categories) by a global committee. Their aim and objective was simply to apply pseudoscientific methods to appease the largest number of subscribers and maintain or increase market share as well as to centralize and optimize budgets.
Many people have an aversion to rationalizing the pre-selection of art by systemic means because of a widely held assumption that the consumption of art transpires on a purely emotional level. While both hemispheres of the brain are important factors on the receiving side of the artistic experience, many social and economic hurdles still have to be negotiated by the artist post-creation of his or her work. Although their work may be “pure” or even inspired by the aid of a creative muse, it ultimately has to go to market. In this regard art is a product, and in this sense it is no different than fish, coffee, fresh produce, hamburgers, or pork bellies.
In the case of contemporary music composition, the composer does not exist in a vacuum. Generally, his/her works are created for a venue and performed live (or with electronics) by skilled and trained musicians. The term “professional” is oft-applied to a performer and/or composer if they have formal training coupled with a formative list of accomplishments indicating extensive experience in their field. These incidental facts tend to be prominently published in the bios and webpages of such professionals along with acumens that strongly acknowledge this or that composers’ presumed success. How many times have we read, “X is generally acknowledged as one of America’s leading composers.”
But what do we mean by “professional” and how does society formally or informally assess Composer X’s success in the field? In an uncertain market, what are the criteria by which success and failure is measured? What framework is used to regulate the system or make selections? If it were a business, we could ask for a balance sheet and an analysis of the corporate metrics, but struggling artists and emerging composers don’t come equipped with that data. Even if such things could be measured objectively, our culture is not inclined to think of art in those terms.
It really seems that an entire infrastructure has evolved to assist modern society with the fairly ugly problem of narrowing down the selection of art before it reaches the public’s eye. Specialists and experts have appeared out of the woodwork to fill this niche. For example, to simply the process, consumers often read the recommendations of professional critics for helpful advice. Conversely, critics feel a responsibility to guide their readership in the “right” direction. While I agree there is a role for the well-versed music critic, since on occasion they can provide a common thread for public discussion centered on one or more important topics, there is a risk that critics can become more than mere commentators and cross over the fine line into a role of cultural activist. This editorial transgression should stand as a clear and present danger to the integrity of the selection process. Critics who take sides in the musical or artistic debate do so without actually being a direct stakeholder. For the most part, they are not creators themselves. The media’s recommendations often carry considerable weight. For instance, when a city-wide newspaper publishes their selected “picks” of concerts and venues, the beneficial impact on the featured presenting organization can be rather significant. But the adverse effects on artists and presenting organizations routinely ignored by the press tend to be equally devastating. For them, being ignored is poisonous.
On another front, academia has self-appointed itself as a mediator to provide formal credentials for artists and composers who seek to obtain legitimacy in a woefully over-saturated market. In the hope that a MFA or DMA will provide a competitive edge over their peers, many artists and composers have invested heavily in this academic-based strategy. While some musicians have on occasion found this career path fruitful, the formula has been less successful in recent years and appears to be losing steam and credibility as time marches on. I sense that audiences care less these days about the quality and quantity of degrees listed on a composers’ bio. With a market flooded by credentialed artists, the credential itself becomes less of a distinguishing factor.
And yet credentials seem to matter. A number of new music specialty ensembles in my geographic area appear to perform works by the same small group of credentialed composers more or less ad nausium. I find it interesting that some of these same ensembles are recipients of various awards for “Adventurous Programming.” What’s so adventurous about performing works by the same two dozen mostly academic composers over and over again?
Academia is heavily involved in controlling the filtering process at the source of funding as well. This occurs in instances where a foundation is based at, and administered by, a university. The significant potential for conflict of interest lies here, since the same organization that assigns credentials is tasked with distributing benefits and awards. The filtering process in this context tends to weigh heavily on personal connections and preexisting relationships. Academics tend to award other academics, and inside-politics has been known to reign. For example, if the jury of a grant selection committee were to actually listen to all of the recordings of the submitted works, they would never have enough time to listen to everything that was submitted. Therefore the trend has been to use a system of selection criteria that typically filters out the unwanted based on factors of familiarity and personal bias. From my experience on the submitter side of this equation, this filtering method is not optimal either.
Government subsidy of the arts is related to his discussion in that public money is often used to fund art projects – particularly major ones. I’ve seen both good and bad outcomes from art projects funded by Federal and State agencies in the US and by various European subsidies as well. While this discussion is not about the merits of public funding of the arts, it does raise the issue of cultural filtering when governments are forced to cut back on funding (as they have recently in Europe). The painful discussion about how and where to make these cuts becomes even more relevant when funds are in short supply. Deciding about what to sponsor in the arts is the mirror image of deciding what to cut. Recently in the Netherlands, politicians have decided to take a populist route: future funding will be determined the financial “success” of organizations. The hard metrics of audience size and ticket sales will become the primary determining factor of future support.
I find the “popularity contest” method of filtering to have significant limitations too. It’s an American model, and (from what I can see here in the United States) it does not serve the interests of those who hold a minority perspective in the arts. While select commercial ventures could exist on their own without the infusion of public monies, there is a much smaller market for certain art forms – including some important cultural warhorses such as the chamber and orchestral music. The classical music industry has from the outset never been completely self-sustaining, so it’s simply Pollyannaish to believe it would thrive (or survive) in a purely free-market economy. Recently two commercial British musicals won Tony Awards, which in itself is not surprising other than the fact that the British Government provided seed money to the producers of these stage works. This initial government funding allowed for the kind experimentation in theatre that is not likely to occur with free enterprise alone. My argument is not about reducing funding for the arts (in fact I think it should be increased), but about re-evaluating the means and process by which it is allocated.
Internet-driven crowd-sourcing is an interesting recent variation on the popularity contest. It uses Information Technology to systematize the mass market tabulation of winners and losers. It has commercial application too: collecting SMS texting fees for each “vote” has proven to be quite profitable for Simon Cowell’s American Idol’s empire. The YouTube phenomenon has made more than a few artists famous, if not infamous.
Thus far I have surveyed just a few of the methods in use by the arts establishment to whittle down an overly broad spectrum of art and music into a smaller, more manageable pot of finalists. The finalists then compete for diminishing resources of public and private funding, or get voted off of the island. We’ve seen how professional arts managers have a financial agenda that does not always align with artistic trends. We’ve seen how the juries at foundations often resort to personal bias and inside politics as a filtering method – usually out of practical necessity. We’ve seen how some professional critics inject bias into the public arena and use the power of the media to influence the filtering process. We’ve seen how academia has attempted to influence outcomes by throwing their weight behind their graduates and using credentialing to validate one class of artists over another. We’ve also seen a recent trend to filter art using the tools of social media with “crowd-sourcing” to empower the public through voting electronically for whatever they desire in the moment. This is impulsive and art by the numbers.
Frankly, I’m not a fan of any of the above methodologies. Yet, I fully acknowledge that not everyone can be an artist. As ugly as it, there needs to be a filtering process of some sort. That’s a reality.
Let me propose an alternative system: that of randomness. When someone has an encounter with art that is purely random; something clicks and the resulting experience is often quite positive and memorable. Serendipity has always been an important factor - not only for the consumer, but for the creator.
With human nature being what it is perhaps the best way to bypass back-room politics, personal bias, and insider trading in the art markets is for the distribution of funds and awards to be randomized. Randomization would equalize the playing field and virtually eliminate the potential corruption of committees and outside influence of self-proclaimed experts. While using chance does not guarantee that the “best” work of art will always be selected, it does provide a wider spectrum of options and more points of view than we have today. After the work is initially presented to the public, its intrinsic value is open for interpretation and vigorous debate. The new work will ultimately sink or swim based on its own merits. But the issue we face today is that poorly filtered selections of work make it to the public. By randomizing the selection process we would do a much better job at picking potential winners for society.
Randomness is not to be feared. For example, I am an advocate of open stacks in the library where one can browse books at will and discover new ideas purely by chance. Although I have a very extensive audio collection of recorded music, I often prefer to listen to the radio because the selection of music is out of my control. Random selection takes us beyond our narrow box of ideas and concepts, and can provide us with experiences that would not be part of our self-defined set of values.
How does one implement a system of randomness? I propose using a lottery system to achieve this goal. It’s rather easy to implement and would save funds and reduce (if not eliminate) administrative overhead. Artists would simply apply for a grant by obtaining a lottery ticket after establishing that they met a minimum set of requirements (the subject of another discussion). Foundations and cultural organizations would hold periodic lotteries to select the recipients of their awards or commissions. It’s that simple, and completely fair. It’s as easy as rolling the dice. You can’t get any more efficient than that.
It would require a paradigm shift for cultural organizations and foundations to demote their managers and panels of experts and migrate toward an organized system of chance. But I’m convinced that positive surprises would ensue from the adoption of this new filtering method, not to mention the fact that it would be far more equitable all around. At worst, the lottery system might provide results that are just as mundane or drab as the offerings we have today as the result of filtering by the existing pre-selected calculation methods. Nothing could be more boring than determinism in the arts, and randomness can stir things up.
Under the current system, the more awards an artist accumulates, the more suspicious I become of their work. Art should be about original ideas, not about an artist’s ability to schmooze and work the system to their advantage. If it does nothing else, the lottery system equalizes the playing field.
Is it fair? It depends who you ask. Certainly well-established artists and composers might feel threatened by the idea that their next commission or grant would be awarded on the basis of a lottery. But for many others, perhaps the majority, it does provide at least a chance of success and access to potential financial and artistic resources that they have difficulty accessing. While the odds would not be in any particular recipients favor and generally quite low, at least every basically qualified artist would get an equal shot at the prize.
Some will argue that with a lottery system everyone will suffer. This fear is overblown. The truly committed with continue their work and regularly apply for funding and commissions via the newly instituted arts-lottery system - while the dilatant will grow bored and seek other ways to pass their time. Those who apply more often will improve their success rate. In some cases an individual would have an equal (or better) success rate with the randomized selection method than the existing systems of selection utilized by the status quo.
Ultimately, the proposed lottery selection system would be generally accepted by the majority of creators of art and music, but it would also hold tangible benefits for the public at large too. Some of its positive outcomes in the field of music would include randomized listening tracks on the radio, new pieces of concert music by completely unknown composers, and an open and unregulated playing field unhindered by politics. These would all be welcome contributing factors to a newly vitalized new music scene, and I would embrace all of them as a positive trend toward something better than what we have today.
A little about me
Showing posts with label Art. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Art. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Friday, January 15, 2010
Report from NY: The Metropolitan
On Wednesday January 13th, I spent the entire day at the cavernous Metropolitan Museum of Art in NY. It's a big museum and pretty overwhelming, but at least I walked through the entire space of the building.
Here a just three images of works (out of thousands) that I viewed. For some reason, they caught my eye...
The Organ Rehearsal by Henry Lerolle (1848-1929). Lerolle was the brother-in-law of composer Ernest Chausson (1855-1899). The oil painting is enormous, and kind of shows what it's like to be a musician sitting up in the choir loft. Apparently, Lerolle was not all that prolific, but lived quite comfortably on his wealth.
Here a just three images of works (out of thousands) that I viewed. For some reason, they caught my eye...
The Organ Rehearsal by Henry Lerolle (1848-1929). Lerolle was the brother-in-law of composer Ernest Chausson (1855-1899). The oil painting is enormous, and kind of shows what it's like to be a musician sitting up in the choir loft. Apparently, Lerolle was not all that prolific, but lived quite comfortably on his wealth.
Red Sunset on the Dnieper is by the Russian-Ukrainian painter Arkhip Ivanovich Kuindzhi (1842-1910). This landscape, which was painted between 1905 and 1908, really catches the viewers attention.
The walking stick show above was made by Paul Gauguin (1848-1903). It features a carved female body and a hidden compartment.
The walking stick show above was made by Paul Gauguin (1848-1903). It features a carved female body and a hidden compartment.
-----------------
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Report from NY: Art imitating Art
The Metropolitan Museum of Art in NY is abuzz with aspiring artists hard at work forging replicas of oil paintings by the great masters.
Portraits by Rembrandt van Rijn (1606-1669) seem to be their subject matter of choice.
Oddly enough, the public seems to marvel in the work of these young artists. Tourists and art connoisseurs alike hover around them in droves - watching their every brush-stroke in sheer amazement. It makes for great performance art.
Not only do the artists imitate art by emulating these great works, but the public (myself included) is inspired to capture the moment with their digital cameras.
The photo on the right is my rendering of a tourist photographing an artist who is making a copy of a painting by Rembrandt.
No flash allowed.
Art imitating Art imitating Art.
The conga line of inspiration and eternal creativity.
Where will it end?
-----------------
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Starving Artists Group
Visual Art in the 21st century has gotten pretty weird.
Some people have lost the ability to distinguish between "original oil paintings" and mass-produced kitsch.
Every year around this time I see glitzy TV commercials announcing the arrival of the Starving Artists Group, Inc. - a Houston, Texas-based organization that travels from city to city selling their wares at suburban hotels. The Starving Artist Group is alleged to be a shady organization run by a husband and wife-team with questionable business practices.
These modern-day traveling carpetbaggers were exposed by the investigative work conducted by the folks over at Fine Art Registry dot com. It's a good read.
Here is a short quote from their blog:
My repulsion is not that someone would profit from selling garbage. We have all seen tacky imported merchandise for sale at the shopping mall. After all, this is America, and people sell and buy garbage everyday. Consuming garbage has long been an established American pastime. If someone is stupid enough to think they are purchasing an actual 24 x 36" landscape painting for $59, then what's wrong with that? All con artists know that there is a buyer for every seller, and there will always be suckers among us with money to spend.
It's also an example of marketplace capitalism at work when "garbage" is sold like a commodity out of the dark back rooms of a chain hotel for less than shopping mall prices. After all, if your are going to purchase garbage, why pay more?
But is it an honest transaction? And, what does it say about the general public's notion of art?
Perhaps the thing that disturbs me the most is the advertised premise that the product is in fact "art." How can that be disputed? The law appears to be on their side. The company probably pays their lawyers far more than their "artists."
Although it may be legal, it seems to me that the local media TV advertisement is exploitative and distasteful on several levels...
For starters, Starving Artist Group is probably exploitative of the creators of their product - and they make no bones about it. The so-called artists are undoubtedly slaving away in sub-standard factory conditions for pennies per day somewhere in the the third world. It would not surprise me to find that the "Starving Artists" are in fact child labor - exploited and indeed starving.
I have a dire image in my head of the actual assembly line where the mass-produced paintings are passed down from station to station along a chain of unhappy workers. It's most likely an efficient manufacturing process where each color is applied by a different painter. Working in teams, a large painting that goes to market in the US for $59 can probably be produced in less time than a pair of sneakers. It's a calculated repetitive paint-by-numbers process without a stitch of creativity involved. I wouldn't be surprised to learn that the brand of paint they use in the factory is toxic to both humans and house pets.
The most disheartening aspect of the larger story is that there are actually hordes of starving artists living amongst us who are deserving of attention and recognition. They would be glad to sell their paintings, or even give them away to interested connoisseurs. For them, the concept of the Starving Artist Road Show must a major insult - a slap in the face.
Support your local artists, and stay away from scams like this. Please!
Some people have lost the ability to distinguish between "original oil paintings" and mass-produced kitsch.
Every year around this time I see glitzy TV commercials announcing the arrival of the Starving Artists Group, Inc. - a Houston, Texas-based organization that travels from city to city selling their wares at suburban hotels. The Starving Artist Group is alleged to be a shady organization run by a husband and wife-team with questionable business practices.
These modern-day traveling carpetbaggers were exposed by the investigative work conducted by the folks over at Fine Art Registry dot com. It's a good read.
Here is a short quote from their blog:
When this fly-by-night outfit comes to town, it bombards local television stations with slick ads offering "original oil paintings" for $59.00 and less, and cheap frames manufactured in Mexico. I've checked the Texas corporation records and this company IS NOT IN GOOD STANDING.
My repulsion is not that someone would profit from selling garbage. We have all seen tacky imported merchandise for sale at the shopping mall. After all, this is America, and people sell and buy garbage everyday. Consuming garbage has long been an established American pastime. If someone is stupid enough to think they are purchasing an actual 24 x 36" landscape painting for $59, then what's wrong with that? All con artists know that there is a buyer for every seller, and there will always be suckers among us with money to spend.
It's also an example of marketplace capitalism at work when "garbage" is sold like a commodity out of the dark back rooms of a chain hotel for less than shopping mall prices. After all, if your are going to purchase garbage, why pay more?
But is it an honest transaction? And, what does it say about the general public's notion of art?
Perhaps the thing that disturbs me the most is the advertised premise that the product is in fact "art." How can that be disputed? The law appears to be on their side. The company probably pays their lawyers far more than their "artists."
Although it may be legal, it seems to me that the local media TV advertisement is exploitative and distasteful on several levels...
For starters, Starving Artist Group is probably exploitative of the creators of their product - and they make no bones about it. The so-called artists are undoubtedly slaving away in sub-standard factory conditions for pennies per day somewhere in the the third world. It would not surprise me to find that the "Starving Artists" are in fact child labor - exploited and indeed starving.
I have a dire image in my head of the actual assembly line where the mass-produced paintings are passed down from station to station along a chain of unhappy workers. It's most likely an efficient manufacturing process where each color is applied by a different painter. Working in teams, a large painting that goes to market in the US for $59 can probably be produced in less time than a pair of sneakers. It's a calculated repetitive paint-by-numbers process without a stitch of creativity involved. I wouldn't be surprised to learn that the brand of paint they use in the factory is toxic to both humans and house pets.
The most disheartening aspect of the larger story is that there are actually hordes of starving artists living amongst us who are deserving of attention and recognition. They would be glad to sell their paintings, or even give them away to interested connoisseurs. For them, the concept of the Starving Artist Road Show must a major insult - a slap in the face.
Support your local artists, and stay away from scams like this. Please!
---------------
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Late Bloomers
"Why do we equate genius with precocity?"
In his recent collection of previously published essays from the New Yorker, Malcolm Gladwell investigated this topic in "Late Bloomers." His essay was inspired by a book by David W. Galenson titled "Old Masters and Young Geniuses: The Two Life Cycles of Artistic Creativity."
Galenson, an economist with a passion for art, spent ten years crunching the numbers and quantifying the relative success of established artists in different phases of their careers. What resulted was something approaching a unified theory of art and an objectification of the creative modes of engagement. He believes that artists/creators fall into two main camps: Conceptual and Experimental.
Along the way Galenson debunks the theory that suggests different types of artists produce their best work in a defined age period: e.g. poets and mathematicians when very young, philosophers when they are much older.
For Galenson, Pablo Picasso and Paul Cézanne are poster children for his theory. Picasso was the quintessential prodigy. He had a clear vision of his work early on, and pursued his art with energy and un-waving confidence.
Cézanne on the other hand was the classic late bloomer. He spent his entire life developing his technique. It finally came together near the end.
To investigate Galenson's theory, Malcolm Gladwell visits two well-established American writers (Ben Fountain and Jonathan Safran Foer) to investigate this theory, observe their personalities, and to see how they live. What he found was quite revealing.
One of the traits of the Conceptual type is a high degree of energy. They typically achieve greatness and success early in life. These individuals are not as dependent on background research or investigation for their work. Their relationship to their art is visceral, spontaneous, and immediate. They work quickly, with the fire of inspiration and discovery. According to Gladwell, novelist Jonathan Safran Foer is such an individual, and he falls into the Conceptual type classification.
The other genus of creativity is the Experimental artist. These individuals obsess about their work, do extensive research, continually hone their skills, and agonize about every step along the way. They tend to have a long trajectory - often revising their previous efforts and building upon them. They view art as an extensive life-long process that unfolds over many decades of exploration and laborious experimentation. Late bloomers are perfectionists.
While Gladwell does not explore artists working in the field of music, my mind naturally wandered into the domain of musical composition. How would the two definitions of creative type (Conceptual or Experimental) fare when applied to composers?
I do believe that the craft of musical composition is somewhat unique compared to many other disciplines. It seems like visual artists, writers, mathematicians and scientists peak early. And yes, while there is a list of child prodigies and precocious composers throughout history, many composers remain active well into their golden years.
Recently composer Elliott Carter celebrated his 101st birthday, and many people (but not all) believe that he has done his best work late in life. The same case could be made for Verdi, Strauss, Sessions, Boulez, Messiaen, etc (you can add your own favorites to this list). But it's not simply a matter of age, or the ability to attain it with enough sound mind to be rational and productive.
Malcolm Gladwell has a deep appreciation for both types of creative artists. The end-of-the-day results from either camp are formative. Yet I detect a sense of sympathy, respect, and awe regarding the struggles of the Experimental type of artist. They have more hurdles to hop over. Author Ben Fountain quit his job as a real-estate attorney in Dallas to pursue writing. It took him 18 years before he had his first breakthrough while his wife supported him. Being a late-bloomer has its consequences.
The Experimental artist, writer, or composer is an accidental miracle of sorts. If it were not for the blessing and protection of generous patrons and supporters (implicit or explicit), we'd never experience their work. For them to evolve to the stage where they can finally produce mature fruit, someone along the way bought them lunch, paid for an exhibition, or stood by their side. Late bloomers are not late starters, inherently lazy, or hopelessly inefficient. They just take longer to get the job done.
Fortunately, the results are well worth the wait.
-----------------
Friday, December 18, 2009
twitter invite
Hi, James
yokoono has requested to follow your tweets on Twitter!
A little information about Yoko Ono:
I love dancing. I think it's better to dance than to march through life.
644,078 followers
1074 tweets---------------
Sunday, November 8, 2009
José Benitez Sánchez exhibit
On Saturday I attended an exhibit and concert at the Modestino Gallery in Cambridge to celebrate the life and work of visionary Huichol yarn artist José Benitez Sánchez (1938-2009). The event was curated by Stephen Aldrich.
The Huichol people live in the isolated mountain-range and canyons of the state of Nayarit, Mexico. Because of the local geography, the Huichol were largely able to resist the influence of the Spanish conquest. Their nature-based religion and shamanic traditions have remained intact for centuries.
José Benitez Sánchez was celebrated shaman and artist since the early 1970s with an international reputation. He was also a leader and advocate for the Huichol people and culture. The artist and shaman passed away on July 2nd, 2009.
Traditional Huichol yarn art is vivid and complex. José Benitez Sánchez was a master of visual story-telling and artistic expression. The works are filled with detail which invite the viewer to get up close learn more. The photo on the right is a small detail from a 2 1/2" x 4"yarn painting created by Benitez in the Spring of 1979.
A concert of contemporary musical improvisation for the gallery event was provided by Dave Braynt and friends (Dave Bryant – keyboards, Jeff Song – cello and kayagum, John Voigt – bass, Curt Newton – percussion, and Eric Rosenthal – percussion). Some of the musicians had prepared for the concert by viewing the art and listening to traditional Huichol music. This preparation clearly provided inspiration and artistic stimulus. For the occasion, they chose to feature trans-cultural acoustic instruments that were "close to the earth."
The result was a unique musical expression that functioned both as a personal reaction to the art and as a fitting tribute to the late artist. Their sound-painting existed in the moment and seemed to draw upon the glow and reflections of the pieces in the gallery surrounding them. Their music was respectful, multi-cultural, and indefinable - but perfectly fitting and appropriate for the occasion.
The musicians and audience alike discovered a common synergy between the shamanic yarn-art and reflective music, which revealed itself in an open discussion afterward. Bassist John Voigt led the discussion by asking the audience, "which painting was I thinking about?"
At the reception after the concert, people gathered to share stories about the artist and reflect upon his life, Huichol culture, and exhibited work. Several people had known the artist personally, and have been long-time advocates of his craft.
The photo on the right is another detail from a José Benitez Sánchez yarn painting dating from 1985 (photo by Paté Poste, Boston). However, this is art work that must be viewed in person, since the penetrating color, complex texture, compositional totality, and rich detail only come across only when you stand before them.
Additional links of interest on Benitez and Huichol culture:
http://wixarika.mediapark.net/en/en_artgalljbs.html
http://www.conversations.org/story.php?sid=11
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Huichol
http://wixarika.mediapark.net/en/en_artgalljbs.html
http://www.conversations.org/story.php?sid=11
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Huichol
--------------------
Monday, October 19, 2009
The Value of Art
When society assigns a monetary value to art, things get pretty weird.
No one will dispute that Italian artist Leonardo da Vinci was good at his craft.
What is interesting is that a little known painting that was previously believed to be a portrait by an 19th century obscure German artist has now been relabeled as an original work by Leonardo da Vinci.
The painting was once listed in a Christie's catalogue under the name of "Young Girl in Profile in Renaissance Dress" and valued at $19,000. It sold in 1995 for $19,000 at auction. 12 years late it sold again for a just a little more.
So far so good. A number of collectors clearly liked the painting enough to fork over about 20 grand for the privilege of hanging it on their wall. That's a reasonable price for what is apparently a very fine painting. I don't know any composers who ever earned that much for a single work.
Now it turns out that the painting may not be the work of an obscure German artist at all, but the work of famed Renaissance master Leonardo da Vinci. Over night, its' estimated "street price" has soared from $19,000 to as much as 160 million buckaroos.
That's 8,421 times the original price, or a 159,981,000% increase in monetary value.
What's changed?
Every brush stroke on the work is the same as it was the day before.
What does this say about our celebrity culture? Why are people so prone to assign value based on familiar names and preconceived assumptions?
It indicates that the art business is a little like a Ponzy scheme. One collector buys a work, sells it for a ridiculous price to another, who sells it for an even more inflated price to yet another, and so on. The fame of the "Ponzied" artist grows with each sale. Buyer's hysteria starts to feed upon itself as the reputation of the artist mushrooms with each iteration of the scheme. The frenzy continues to ensue beyond logic, and outside of any normal appreciation for the intrinsic aestetic value of the actual work of art itself.
This is all great if you are a da Vinci, but it's a raw deal for the obscure artist. No matter how great their work may be, it's not a brand name. The public wont waist their time with it. "I've never heard of that artist."
I'd even go as far to say as this is a form of discrimination. Put yourself in the shoes of that obscure 19th century German artist. One market value for the work was attributed based on his/her identity, but when the painting is associated with a Celeb, it makes world news and translates into big bucks. Are Italians better than Germans?
Forget the celebrity status. Use your own eyes folks. Use your own ears too.
The rediscovered da Vinci is now locked in a Swiss bank vault. Seems like an appropriate place for a priceless masterpiece, don't you think?
No one will dispute that Italian artist Leonardo da Vinci was good at his craft.
What is interesting is that a little known painting that was previously believed to be a portrait by an 19th century obscure German artist has now been relabeled as an original work by Leonardo da Vinci.
The painting was once listed in a Christie's catalogue under the name of "Young Girl in Profile in Renaissance Dress" and valued at $19,000. It sold in 1995 for $19,000 at auction. 12 years late it sold again for a just a little more.
So far so good. A number of collectors clearly liked the painting enough to fork over about 20 grand for the privilege of hanging it on their wall. That's a reasonable price for what is apparently a very fine painting. I don't know any composers who ever earned that much for a single work.
Now it turns out that the painting may not be the work of an obscure German artist at all, but the work of famed Renaissance master Leonardo da Vinci. Over night, its' estimated "street price" has soared from $19,000 to as much as 160 million buckaroos.
That's 8,421 times the original price, or a 159,981,000% increase in monetary value.
What's changed?
Every brush stroke on the work is the same as it was the day before.
What does this say about our celebrity culture? Why are people so prone to assign value based on familiar names and preconceived assumptions?
It indicates that the art business is a little like a Ponzy scheme. One collector buys a work, sells it for a ridiculous price to another, who sells it for an even more inflated price to yet another, and so on. The fame of the "Ponzied" artist grows with each sale. Buyer's hysteria starts to feed upon itself as the reputation of the artist mushrooms with each iteration of the scheme. The frenzy continues to ensue beyond logic, and outside of any normal appreciation for the intrinsic aestetic value of the actual work of art itself.
This is all great if you are a da Vinci, but it's a raw deal for the obscure artist. No matter how great their work may be, it's not a brand name. The public wont waist their time with it. "I've never heard of that artist."
I'd even go as far to say as this is a form of discrimination. Put yourself in the shoes of that obscure 19th century German artist. One market value for the work was attributed based on his/her identity, but when the painting is associated with a Celeb, it makes world news and translates into big bucks. Are Italians better than Germans?
Forget the celebrity status. Use your own eyes folks. Use your own ears too.
The rediscovered da Vinci is now locked in a Swiss bank vault. Seems like an appropriate place for a priceless masterpiece, don't you think?
---------------
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Maestro Fellini
Last light I viewed on DVD the documentary film Fellini: I'm a Born Liar (2002) by Frenchman Damian Pettigrew.
The movie is based on candid interviews that Pettigrew conducted with Federico Fellini in Rome during the two years before the iconic movie directors death in 1993.
Having grown up seeing Fellini's movies, I've long been fascinated by his work and have always wondered how it came into being. This documentary provides valuable insight into the often chaotic collaborative process of making a film, and a backstage view into the interaction of ideas, images, and people who were involved as the ultimate story-telling participants.
Fellini's observations about himself and the cinematic art form are rather well conceived, lead directly to the point, and are surprisingly honest. He speaks with objectivity and lack of pretense about his work, explaining his motivations along the way. For example he said that artist needs both "fear" and something to rebel against.
Fellini considered himself lucky to have had the career he did, having made the right friends at the right time. He explained that he would take an advance to make a movie and then spend it. As a result , he was then obligated to fulfill the contract and make the movie - otherwise it would never have been created. Fellini compared this to working within the walls of constraints, since in his view artists would probably never produce anything if they were given complete freedom from restrictions.
Maestro Fellini viewed the oeuvre of his movies not so much in the context of change, but with himself as a stationary creator who playfully manipulates reality around him over the course time. For him, movie making was a form of self-therapy and analysis.
By manipulating reality, Fellini is distorting the truth - hence the title of the documentary. Fellini calls this distortion "telling lies." He confesses that his cinematic version of his home town in Italy has very little to do with the reality of that small village on the Adriatic coast.
Over time actors went from being puppets and mannequins under his complete dictatorial command to improvisatory players who participated in the thematic direction of the film. Not liking the term "improvisation" he went on to explain that an artist needs to be prepared and ready to receive the creative idea, as if it were a gift. He viewed himself as a puppet who was following the orders of a higher power directing him.
"I'm a Born Liar" has some interviews with his co-creators, screenwriters, lighting designers, and actors. A very insightful and thoughtful Donald Sutherland describes what it was like making the movie Casanova. There is even a discussion and view of a deleted scene from the movie Casanova where Sutherland wears a $700 purple shirt made from an expensive fabric that Fellini had insisted on.Actors Terence Stamp and Roberto Benigni are also very frank (and very funny) about their encounters with Fellini, and how stark raving mad the director could be at times. Fellini had experimented with LSD, and his on-set and off-set behaviors were often bizarre and highly irrational.
Pettigrew's "I'm a born liar" is more than just a collage of interviews, since it contains numerous flashbacks of clips from Fellini's classic films. Pettigrew re-visits Fellini's language of light, shadows, and images by demonstrating how they are associated across his various films. Certain scenes, people, and sets reoccur as if they were symbols from a dream that Fellini obsessively has to share with us. In fact, Fellini describes a reoccurring dream involving Pablo Picasso and an omelet prepared by the abstract painter using a dozen scrambled eggs.
We get audio sample of the musical themes from Nino Rota's soundtracks (La dolce vita, 8 1/2, Amarcord, and Casanova). Luis Bacalov's music for City of Women is also heard. However, I wish more discussion about the musical scores were addressed in the documentary. Music is an integral part of the Fellini experience.
"I'm a Born Liar" is probably a film for Fellini-aficionados, since you need to have a little background in his work to appreciate it. But as a document of cultural history, I found it extraordinarily insightful. Using an old Roman system of objective criticism, I give the movie a solid "thumbs up."
Links:
Friday, July 10, 2009
The Currier Museum of Art
Located in Manchester, New Hampshire, the Currier Museum of Art is a gem. It's a little off the beaten path for city folk, but well worth an excursion into the Granite State from the big city.
While the museum is rather small, the collection is select, and contains a rather fine assortment of modern and contemporary art.
Below (left) is a minimalist work by Joseph Albers....
There is also a good selection of old European paintings, mostly portraits and still life, including some nice Dutch artwork. In one climated-controled room, you can find a beautiful Belgian medieval tapestry. It's in the permanent collection.
I was not permitted to take photographs of the special exhibit titled Turning Wood into Art but is was an amazing showcase of craftsmanship. An antisan named Bob Stocksdale has a number of interesting pieces that stand out in the show. He utilized the lathe in his work. It is amazing how wood can be carved to as thin as paper. The material itself is quite beautiful and pleasant to look at. The artists allow their material to reveal the lines and wrinkles of nature, and speak for itself. All of these wood sculptures were on loan from the Mint Museum of Craft + Design in Charlotte, North Carolina.
If you visit the Currier, plan ahead and call to make a reservation for an extra tour of the The Zimmerman House (located at 223 Heather Street,Manchester, NH).
The Zimmerman House is the only residence in New England designed by Frank Lloyd Wright that is open to the public. It was commissioned by Isadore and Lucille Zimmerman in 1950. A chair from the house is on display in the Currier Museum if you don't make it to the house itself.
Links:
www.greatbuildings.com/buildings/Zimmerman_House.html
----------
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
J is for James...
Written by Edward Gorey (1925-2000) and published as The Gashly Crumb Tinies, the author/illustrator tells the fate of 26 children (each representing a letter of the alphabet) and their untimely demise in stoic rhyming couplets. The dark "children's" book takes the reader through the complete alphabet, accompanied by Gorey's fine illustrations.
Ever since reading about what happened to James, I've always paid careful attention to ingredient labels, and am mindful not to chug bottles of poison.
Gorey, who usually wore black, was perhaps the original "Goth." When asked why he was so macabre, he replied, "As Schubert said, there is no happy music."
Here is a YouTube of the entire book:
Link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edward_Gorey
-------------
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
MoMA Part 5 - Various
Reflections of Clouds on the Water Lily Pond by Claude Monet (circa 1920)
http://www.moma.org/collection/object.php?object_id=80220
-----------
MoMA Part 4 - Design
Three musical instruments
-------------
MoMA Part 3 - The Cutting Edge
This is an installation piece that "documents the intangible art of performance." The work is by Tehching Hsieh. Hsieh built this cage out of bamboo, and spent a entire year locked up inside. A black and white photograph was taken of him wearing his prison suit every day over the 365 days to record his progressive appearance. He began clean-shaven and and without hair and ended up with a large beard and full crop of hair.
The photos are displayed serially in the MoMA media gallery on the 2nd floor. An affidavit from a lawyer is displayed that certifies that Hsieh remained locked in the cage for the entire time as well as the schedule of "visiting hours" in the original gallery for when the public was allowed to observe Hsieh in his cage. The work is titled "One Year Performance" and occurred over 12 months from 1978 to 1979.
----------
"Penis Hat"------------
Three views of something...
-------------
Middlemen 2001 (excerpt)
A discrete installation by Aernout Mik (Dutch, b. 1962). His work encompasses motion picture, sculpture, architecture, performance, and social commentary—interrogates the nature of reality and subverts the traditional relationship between viewer and viewed.
------------------
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)