the city

A few quick thoughts after a brief moment of reflection on a recent trip to New York City:

• There are lots of interesting ventures and projects being formulated in the city; interesting work being made, smaller galleries and dealers that are holding artists and patrons at full attention.  Certainly my views on what these things are may not be the same as other artists and patrons, but I was most impressed by the galleries on the lower east side*.  I wasn't, of course, able to see everything, and spent most of my time in Chelsea and LES. 
• I met a number of amazing and kind people in five days.  I had discussions and conversations that I would not have ever expected--the type that both energize me and make me thirst for having more discussions like that here in Des Moines.  Ky Anderson, Jason Rohlf,  and Molly Merson are just a few of the people I got to talk with.  I was able to meet people heavily involved in art in the city as well as talk to artists about the history of New York City.  
• To state the obvious:  there are some amazing museums in New York City.  I still can't believe that I saw as much as I did.  I did not see the Koons exhibition at the Whitney, for reasons that should become clear if you read other posts.    
• The city is a subset of the art world, and its relationship to the greater art world is an interesting thing to think about.  I would have guessed New York to be far ahead of the other cities that I have seen but can't say that I totally understand that to be true; while it is certainly more feasible to be an artist making a living off their work in the city there is still the problem of rampant gentrification, soaring real estate prices, income disparity, and other issues that face parts of the art world in the U.S.  I bought Martha Rosler's Culture Class and hope to learn more about some of these relationships.  
• New York is a rugged place.  We tend to relegate rugged to "nature" and that which is outside of the city, but one only need to go to New York to understand how that term can be used.  Though the terrain is man-made, it is still a difficult, trying, and natural example of an urban center.  It made me realize, once again, that the city has its own ecosystem and I, as much as I am secluded in the woods, am either functioning well in the ecosystem or functioning poorly.  The more difficult it is to function well, the more "rugged" a place is, in my mind. 
• I had a really odd experience eating at Momofuku Noodle Bar.  I have a lot of respect for David Chang, and thought the food was good; but it was strange to have read his book, hearing him talk, and thinking about his place in food (or the business of food) before the actual aesthetic experience.  I will write more in the future about this disconnect, particularly as it relates to the generally exploitative nature of mass media and what it did to my aesthetic experience.   

St. Paul's Churchyard, Manhattan

*This might seem conflicted as I was there, in part, to talk with a gallery in LES about an upcoming exhibition in October of this year.  If this conflict annoys you, take what I'm saying as that I'm incredibly happy and honored to be working with a gallery in LES (rather than other areas with higher grossing galleries).  

things just got weird (CINDERS)

No idea where this is going, but some friends and I have been playing music for three or four months now, and I've started composing some of my own by technological means under the name CINDERS.  Long live the ability for an average person to be able to put something like this together, it has been a blast to play with others and make crazy sounds myself.  I'm happy to share everything if you are interested--drop me a line, and I'll share it.  For now, here is one of the five tracks, titled "one and one".

the idea of plurality, continued

I should say that, in terms of my thinking about the impossibility of plurality in the art market, I mean strictly in the art market (and not the world in general).  Our relationship as artists and makers to the market is what then becomes the main issue.

To reiterate, I am forming an idea around the impossibility of plurality within an art market due to the main motivator of selling within the art market.  I don't see this as the fault of gallery owners, curators, or other professionals, but rather a fault of capitalism in a broader sense--if capital gain is the sole motivation for our economy (and culture), plurality will always be reduced to a kind of tokenism of artists of color or ironic inclusion (I'm thinking of the inclusion of Thomas Kinkade in exhibitions of contemporary painting), which is far from a plurality.

This is not to say that artists of color have not sold work within the capitalist system.  The gender and race gaps in the art market is far from representative of the art world (ELF Study, article on Micol Hebron's project for representations of the gender gap), though, and I think this is a good example of what I'm trying to establish.  Obviously, gender and race are not the only aspects of pluralism--and, in fact, fall under what we are more likely to call diversity--but I think this is a good indicator of some of the issues that the supposedly progressive art market are dealing with in 2014.  

The art world, on the other hand, is pluralistic, as is the world in general.  This whole idea of pluralism is related to the idea that there is no Truth, but many truths; and, in some senses, that the dialogue and discourse that can come from a discussion of these many truths is important and beneficial for everyone involved.

An important thing to remember in all of this, too, is that divisions that have been constructed within the art market (and the art world, actually) are part of the problem in preventing plurality.  Artforum, always a target when it comes to thinking like this, tends to have the same type of writing, the same advertisements, and a lack of diversity in terms of the exhibitions that are written about.

These constructions, then, are things that need to be analyzed and reflected upon.  The critical spirit can think about how these institutions function and in what ways they are limiting diversity and plurality--as well as devise ways to maintain a number of methods of thinking and world views (ideologies, frameworks, etc.  We have so many ways of saying this concept--the concept of how an individual or group approaches everything--which is really quite striking to me because, in fact, it is really difficult for someone or a group to approach everything the same way, time after time).

 

the idea of plurality in the (art) world

I first came across the word and idea of plurality in connection with Sartre's concept of a plurality of solitude/isolation.  Plurality has come up a few times recently and I have given it considerable thought, particularly as it stems from a few recent readings on biennials.  "Has Biennial Culture Gentrified the Art World?" by Kimberly Bradley and Ben Davis's incredible interview "The Yams, on The Whitney and White Supremacy" have both contributed to this thinking, and as always, I'm sure it will develop over time.  I'd like to lay out a basic statement of plurality and, what I suspect is its impossibility in our society.

So, basically, I feel that true plurality is impossible within capitalism (and, to use Marcuse's terms, advanced industrial society).  Perhaps this is not the only system that makes plurality impossible, but I think I can make a pretty good rational for thinking in terms of where we are now, particularly in the art world, but in the sense that the art market is a subset (in a reductive way) of the larger economy as the art world is a subset of the larger world.

I can't really make this case without revisiting Herbert Marcuse, as my theory here relies on a bit of Marcuse's argument in One-Dimensional Man.  Some of the points that have stuck with me from Marcuse's work are ideas surrounding advanced industrial society.  This society created (and continues to create) a network of need--fueled by mass media, advertising, and other social aspects--that is inherently false (as in they are not necessities).  This created network reduces all of the world to a single  way of thinking, hence the one-dimensional universe.  "The great refusal" and critical thinking (or negative thinking to Marcuse) are the only ways of resistance.

So, in response to Marcuse's theories lodged in my head for the last ten years and reading Bradley and Davis's articles, I think we can see a partial description of the art market.  The question of Bradley's essay, rhetorical or not, is that Biennial culture has probably contributed to gentrification, but the art market has, since the dawn of capitalism, been one-dimensional (and, thus, gentrified).  I know this might be hard to imagine--particularly for a part of the market that prides itself on "creative" thinking and artists that are "way out there"--canning and selling their own shit, doing other things that piss off the public, etc.  The selling of this, though, has always supported one idea--and that is the idea of capital gain.

Plurality, then, is limited to what is sellable and what the market is selling.  This has certainly been painting in the past, now it might be something different, but it can never be a true plurality.  And, if I may be allowed to modify a lack of plurality into the oppression of particular races, genders, and social classes, these things are amplified beyond theoretical thinking and into cultural and social issues that are endemic in our society.

I am aware that some people within the art world are working towards sustainable plurality and inclusiveness that transcends capital gain, but until we move away from a capitalist system, the market, I'm afraid, will only allow for tokenism and not a true plurality of people involved in the market.  Certainly we can break the art market down into different subsets, but their aim is all to gain capital.  I would hope to say that non profit spaces, then, are the answer, but the complexity here is that those institutions are so entwined with the market its difficult to really say how pluralist non-profits can even be.

I'll need to spend more time flushing this out, but I think Marcuse's advice still rings true for us as artists (and is present in HOWDOYOUSAYYAMINAFRICAN's action of withdrawing from the Whitney as well as their answers to Davis's questions) is that all we have is the right to refuse, to question, to be critical in the world that we are a part of.

Doing so will undoubtedly be beneficial for the art world, but also could potentially be an example of moving from pure capitalism into another system of working--one in which, at least, people's voices are heard and critical thinking is encouraged, as opposed to repressed.

Thanks for reading, and thanks to those of you who have sent notes in the past couple of months, they really mean a lot!   

Commodity | Ideology

While watching Zizek + Fiennes' The Pervert's Guide to Ideology (full version available here) in the studio today, something came about that further complicates my understanding of capital (manifests as the art market for me, but also in the fact that, in terms of the art market, I am a producer of capital), consumerism, and my own views against these as priorities for living.  In talking about Coke, Zizek states:

"It was Marx who long ago emphasized that a commodity is never a simple object that we buy and consume.  A commodity is an object full of theological, even metaphysical, niceties.  Its presence always reflects an invisible transcendence."

And later, in talking about Starbucks, Zizek references the perfection of it as a commodity--that we are buying an ideology when we purchase a cup of coffee.

I drink Starbucks like its water, but I'm also aware of its implications: not purchasing something that benefits local business owners (forget localism for coffee--its just not grown in large quantities anywhere in the US besides Hawaii--interesting to think what that implies about the US's relationship to the Island-state), something that is from a large corporation (though I am generally supportive of some of the priorities the corporation has for its workers, including health insurance for part time workers), and that I am supporting Starbuck's mission.  What its mission is--its ideology--is incredibly complex and can be seen in a variety of forms, including its Consumer-Philanthropist* ideal (in that we can purchase a cup of coffee and, in doing so, donate to a cause, as Zizek states in the film), its posters describing "the good life", and all of the other manifestations of it as a brand--including affluence and privilege, something that I can not often be accused of espousing.  

All of this, though, becomes incredibly interesting and worth thinking about in terms of art as a commodity.  I know I've stated that we as artists can resist the commodification of art work to some extent, but it is admittedly idealistic; we are producers/workers making capital within a part of the economic system in which we live (in the US, anyway).  Is art, then, a "perfect commodity" in the ideas of Zizek?  Though it will take longer to figure out arguments of why it is not, I plan to do so.  Some statements that support the concept of the perfect commodity of art are listed below:

+  The "perfect commodity" allows the consumer to purchase the object and also purchase its connected ideology:  its funny to think of the art world having an ideology, because the surface reading is that it transcend ideology (and I might have even stated things that reinforce this before!), or that it has so many ideologies that it can't be linked to just one.  But here goes a simple ideological read of art (including the world, market, history, etc):
     a) Art is expression and communication
     b) Art prioritizes the "new", particularly through the concept of the avant-garde.
     c) Art is necessary to culture
     d) Art is a representation of culture
     e) Art is a privilege**

+ Does everyone who purchases art know about the ideology that is purchased with it?  Of course not--but neither does everyone who purchases Coke or Starbucks.

+ Transcendence is another aspect of the perfection of art as a commodity: in some ways, this might be the use of aesthetics and discourse around works of art these days, but the idea that one person will find on work of art particularly "moving" while another might find it drab points towards Zizek's (and Marx's) idea of transcendence.

This could go on forever--even flushing out the ideologies of art could be the start of a much longer text, particularly for a profession that sees itself as so multifaceted, accepting, and enlightened that it would deny the existence of any ideology in art.  I highly recommend watching the film.  A bit of what I am working towards is covered in Zizek's read of The Sound of Music in which he talks about the message (ideology) of the film is often read as the oppression of the church (as the main character is a free-spirited nun that is sent to live with the Von Trapp family) and how individuals can transcend this oppression; yet, in actuality, Zizek reads the ideology of the film as being the church's support of being free, finding love, pursuing your passions.

Similarly, I think art passes along the ideology that art is ideology-breaking, and has no agenda, when in actuality, we all have a number of ideas that are, in fact, ideological (and, in this sense, prevent true avant-gardism, original thinking, and personal work).  I'm going to need more than this one post to justify this idea, so stay tuned.


*See also Geoff Schullenberger's article "The Rise of the Voluntariat" on Jacobin's blog.  Slightly different concept, focusing on work and workers, but I think it can be linked to a rise of justifying consumption through charity (or perceived charity).
**Though I think the inverse, the idea that everyone should have access to art, is also an ideology of the art world.

Materiality, physicality, and abstraction

Most often I read and hear about abstraction talked about in terms of materiality, but I have been thinking most about physicality (particularly relating to the human body) as of late.  I think the historical texts and analysis of abstraction, particularly abstract painting, have often defaulted to materialism as a means to understand what is going on in a painting--we can't see a subject matter or are told that it is up to multiple interpretations, so we must then talk about the materiality--particularly in gestural and painterly paintings.

I am mostly a materialist, and often find material products that reference non-material ideas (shaker gift drawings, for example) incredibly interesting, but I think there is an aspect of the materials of painting that are important but should not be expected to carry all of the meaning of a work.  Paint is paint, it is itself and nothing more.  

Physicality, however, can reference a broader spectrum of painting's aesthetics.  Paint is physical, but not particularly more or less than other traditional art materials (erasing a charcoal drawing, welding steel, etc).  How a painting--hanging on a wall, either illusionistic or an image in and of itself--interacts with a viewer always has a physical aspect.  Gestural painting can reference movements of limbs, dripping paint can feel like fluids.  Even how the painting enters in to our brain is a physical phenomena as the eyes must interpret, look, and cognitively process a painting with all of these things in mind.

I am not, however, advocating for a reemergence of abstract expressionism as the most important art form.  I often think reflectively about my own work in relationship to this history, and I have a hard time resolving how my work is different or the same as 'ab ex'.  I am, though, attempting to point out something that is overlooked when we start to talk about socially engaged art and public art projects.  Politically and socially engagement is omnipresent in the history of art.  Painting has, for years, engaged viewers and lead non-artists to dialogue, discourse, and theory.  There is plenty of room in this discourse for non-painting, but it seems a bit odd that so many people are abandoning it for quasi-meaningful 'events'.

Below is a recent painting that is three panels stacked on top of one another, hung on the wall but directly on the floor.  The painting, cathedral (bones), is one that I've worked on while also producing a large number of works on paper for an upcoming exhibition in New York.  The painting stands (intentional reference) at 6' tall and 4' wide and has a really interesting scale, even more than I could have predicted--its body size, approximately, and has references to structures within us.  An image of it (and some other works on paper) should be on my website soon.

  

emancipation (continued)

A [virtual] artist friend Allison Reimus posted this recently, and I was struck at how dead on it is with my thinking as of late, reading Ranciere.  

"The life of an artist can be a really difficult one. I want all my artist friends to know that I care a lot about the work that you do. I know it feels sometimes like nobody gives a shit. For what its worth, please know that I give a shit and that I admire you for continuing to make stuff regardless"

It made me feel like I am perhaps being too theoretical about some of this studio practice and reflection; and made me want to be more straight forward about how incredible a concept Ranciere's emancipation really is; for artists and for living.  

Now, this will not solve all of the questions regarding the concept, but rather continue to fill in a structure that could be built on continuously, as my interpretation of emancipation is fluid in as much as what we need emancipation from is not always immediately apparent.  What I have thought about lately, though, are these parts of the art world in particular; I'm sure there will be more, and I'm planning on making a sort of shorthand notation for future concepts.  

1.  Commodification of art.  It won't take long to find my previous writings about the market and commodification, so I won't repeat it here, but emancipation from commodification serves as an alternative motivation for continuing to make art, whatever that might be.  

2.  Artists work for gallerists, curators, auction houses.  If we do not work for ourselves, and for the benefit of society and culture at large, we are doing ourselves and our community a great disservice. 

3.  Artists are not workers.  Though this may contradict the second point, I think it is absolutely important to remember and know that we are a work force, and can be organized, and think collectively if it benefits the larger portion of our work force.  

4.  Artists need to make a consistent body of work to be represented or to be considered as having a serious studio practice.  (See previous post) This, often, is a holdover from schooling, and is just plain wrong in my mind.  Freeing yourself from thinking this undoubtedly provides more opportunity for pushing your studio practice into different areas and developing work unexpectedly.   

5.  Public / political / socially engaged art only comes from artists making work about these topics.  This should probably not seem like it needs to be stated, but I can't believe the assumptions I hear on a regular basis about art making and how it does or does not play a social / cultural role.  All art is making some sort of political statement: even a finely painted representational landscape in a gilded frame has some place in the public / political / social, if only a statement of idealism, romanticism; both of which have political and social implications of wealth, land ownership, representation, utopian ideals, and manifest destiny.  I might advocate that the most simplistic and uninteresting thinking being done in the art world right now are artists and curators who don't consider emancipating themselves from this idea.  

I could also put down more lighthearted concepts, too, like Abstraction is oversimplified into abstract expressionism, minimalism, geometric abstraction, conceptual art, etc.  but I'm not sure its worth the time; I think it is important to realize that emancipation should be sought to free oneself from concepts that bind us and prevent growth of ideas, studio practice, and our work.   

some kind, 2014