Xark!

Intent, art and the 21st century

So it was that in April of 1970 an artist named Lawrence Weiner typed up a work of art that appeared in Arts Magazine -- as a work of art -- with no visual experience before or after whatsoever, and to wit:

1. The artist may construct the piece
2. The piece may be fabricated
3. The piece need not be built

Each being equal and consistent with the intent of the artist the decision as to condition rests with the receiver upon the occasion of receivership

And there, at last, it was! No more realism, no more representational objects, no more lines, colors, forms, and contours, no more pigments, no more brushstrokes, no more evocations, no more frames, walls, galleries, museums, no more gnawing at the tortured face of the god Flatness, no more audience required, just a "receiver" that may or may not be a person or may or may not be there at all, no more ego projected, just "the artist" in the third person, who may be anyone or no one at all, for nothing is demanded fo him, nothing at all, not even existence, for that got lost in the subjunctive mode -- and in that moment of absolutely dispassionate abdication, of insouciant withering away, Art made its final flight, climbed higher and higher in an ever-decreasing tighter-turning spiral until, with one last erg of freedom, one last dendritic synapse, it disappeared up its own fundamental aperture... and came out the other side as Art Theory!... Art Theory pure and simple, words on a page, literature undefiled by vision, flat, flatter, Flattest, a vision inivisible, even ineffable, as ineffable as the Angels and the Universal Souls.

-- Tom Wolfe, The Painted Word, 1975

The tragedy of re-reading Wolfe's short masterpiece today, 29 years after I first encountered it, is its sad failure in predicting the future of artistic taste. Back in the mid-seventies, The Man in the White Suit felt confident that the world would come to its senses by the year 2000, that artists and collectors and writers would look back on the artistic period 1945-1975 with head-shaking wonder. "What happy hours await them all!" he wrote. "With what sniggers, laughter and good-humored amazement will they look back upon the era of the Painted Word!"

Sadly, Old Tom failed to appreciate the gravity of our 20th century intellectual failures, for we remain incapable of escaping their black-hole pull. The Grand Duchy of Art Theory that Wolfe skewered wasn't some post-war aberration: it was an Event Horizon, a point-of-no-return from which a once-cohesive culture doesn't simply recover. From art to literature to political science, the intellectuals of the mid-to-late 20th century pursued abstraction for the sake of theoretical purity, rendered their fields impotent and irrelevant, and then hid the keys to understanding within an arcane codex of self-referential gibberish that only members of their self-selecting academy could hope to understand.

It is this reason more than any other -- more than mass media, more than politics, more than economics, science or religion -- that accounts for the fraying of our current culture. As I wrote in 2005:

The case for Armageddon

Remember how everyone was so nervous about how the Large Hadron Collider at CERN was going to create a black hole that would swallow the Earth? These videos pretty much explain why I think that black hole would be a good thing.




Lord, take us now.

Via Too Much Nick.

Moultrie: The full package

The long-anticipated unveiling of Charleston's new statue of Gen. William Moultrie, the Revolutionary War hero of the Battle of Sullivan's Island, finally took place in June, and by all accounts the city's seer-suckered elites were suitably thrilled.

The eight-foot bronze atop a marble pedestal looks as if it could have been proudly cast and displayed in the 19th century -- or earlier -- making this one modern monument that got made without any any annoying input from those modern art smartasses, Bauhaus Marxists all...

Not that there was zero oversight. Back in 2000 Moultrie backers had to win approval for their concept from the city's Commission on Art and History, which wanted to see how the thing would fit in at White Point Gardens, better known as The Battery. Proponents propped nine feet of painted cardboard atop an existing (and since removed) monument to give the boardmembers some sense of its scale, then stood in serious contemplation while confused tourists tried to figure out why these locals were so interested in cardboard.

I had assigned a reporter to cover this event. At one point, a 6-year-old tourist boy standing beside the reporter turned to his parents and said, "That looks like a giant green penis."

Which, by the way, happens to be the smart-ass modern art/architecture critique of most heroic sculpture: It's phallic, intentionally projecting power and authority and control. Hence, smart-ass intellectuals and children see penises everywhere, while people who like such sculpture tend to be offended by the mere use of the word "penis" in public.

But I digress.

I finally stopped by to take a good look at Moultrie on Thursday while shooting a nearby artifact,  and something struck me: It seems the artist has endowed Charleston's defender with a bulging manhood that would make the members of Spinal Tap weep with envy.

Has it always been thus?  Perhaps. But what I see in this statue is a 21st century imagination of a 19th century work of kitsch -- blissfully inhabiting  an irony-free world that  refuses to acknowledge the miseries and awakenings of the 20th century.

Hence, in this one bronze we see the martial romance of the 19 century, plus the penis-size obsession of the 21st century.

Can a heroic figure today be truly heroic without the full package? One suspects Michaelangelo's David would bear a distinct resemblance to Johnny Wad were he to be carved in this horribly conflicted decade...

Death knell for idiot marketing

I subscribe to WIRED, which means that I find out about cool new geek stuff at the exact moment when it becomes old and uncool (because nothing can be truly leet if a print publication has noticed it). On the other hand, WIRED acts as a bridge between the pioneers (Dewey) and the relatively early adapters (me, Janet, etc).

Anyway, I point out this video thanks to this item in the March issue's package on Snack Culture:

Sony's two-hour press conference on May 8, 2006, was a slo-mo car crash. Intended to rally geeks around the PlayStation 3, the event instead left them cranky about the feckless sales pitch, weak games, and high price tag. Over the next few days, bloggers tried to capture Sony's cluelessness, but none were so eloquent as YouTube user Macaw45, who posted a video titled "Sony E3 2006 Press Conference in 1 Minute." Editing footage from the event, Macaw45's clip distilled the meltdown with DJ-like dexterity, looping key moments for maximum effect. The defining shot in Macaw45's montage showed a game developer explaining how to defeat giant enemy crabs: "Attack its weak point for massive damage!" A meme was born: The phrase became the "All your base are belong to us" of 2006, and it was used as shorthand for Sony's lameness. The inevitable T-shirts, dance remixes, and homages followed. Marketing execs beware: Geeks with iFilm can pare you down to your essence - you'd better hope you like what they find.
- Daniel Dumas

I don't think this is a small thing culturally. How much of what we deal with in life is crappy because of slickly marketed shoddiness? And I'm not just saying this as a consumer. Shoddiness is a disease of the soul -- punished in individuals, but often rewarded by institutions and corporations. This is why we've come to hate flacks, mouthpieces and pitchmen. This is why advertising -- as we know it -- is in a state of flux.

Flying the flag

From the Department of Mixed Emotions Department:

On Monday our president signed into a law a bill that prohibits homeowners associations from restricting the display of the American flag. Said the President: "As our brave men and women continue to fight to protect our country overseas, Congress has passed an important measure to protect our citizens right to express their patriotism here at home without burdensome restrictions."

OK, I hate that kind of rhetoric, but let's set that aside with the rest of my personal ticks.

Thing is, I'm ALL about the President, the Congress, the guys down the street at Moe's Crosstown Tavern -- Hell, ANYBODY -- sticking it to the homeowners associations. First house I ever bought was in suburbia, and it took me about two months to figure out that not only did the bank actually own my property, the homeowners association controlled it. Once they pissed me off bad enough, I decided to fight the power. Who are you to tell me what I can park in my damned driveway, you cheese-eating yuppie twit?

Needless to say, I don't live in suburbia anymore.

But here's the deal: When it comes to the flag, the way you express your patriotism comes with restrictions. Whether they are burdensome or not depends on your perspective, but your perspective should include the traditions of respect for Old Glory. There are proper and improper ways to display it, raise it, lower it, light it, fold it and treat it in bad weather. As far as I'm concerned, if you display the flag, you're responsible for understanding the flag code.

My 80-something great-grandmother actually died respecting the flag. When I was a kid she went out in a rainstorm to take down her (properly displayed) flag, slipped on her wet stoop, broke her hip, never recovered and died soon after. Previous generations took this stuff seriously, expressing a disciplined and thoughtful relationship to the symbol of our republic.

Contrast that to the way many Americans have treated the flag since 9/11. They wear it. They festoon themselves and their property in flags. They leave them out all night, fly them till they are frayed and threadbare. The discipline is gone -- replaced by something that looks an awful lot like the way many fans support their favorite professional football teams. USA! USA!

So good on you, Mr. President, for telling homeowners associations to butt out. But can't we show some self-discipline and quiet pride in the way we treat this symbol? Do we require the threat of punishment before we'll act in an honorable fashion?

In a word: Truthiness

Charleston's own Stephen Colbert introduces the word "truthiness" (later named "Word of the Year" for 2005) on the Oct. 17th inaugural episode of Comedy Central's The Colbert Report:

I will speak to you in plain, simple English. And that brings us to tonight's word: "truthiness." Now I'm sure some of the "word police," the "wordanistas" over at Webster's are gonna say, "Hey, that's not a word." Well, anyone who knows me knows I'm no fan of dictionaries or reference books.

I don't trust books. They're all fact, no heart. And that's exactly what's pulling our country apart today. 'Cause face it, folks; we are a divided nation. Not between Democrats and Republicans, or conservatives and liberals, or tops and bottoms.

No, we are divided between those who think with their head, and those who know with their heart.

Consider Harriet Miers. If you "think" about Harriet Miers, of course her nomination's absurd. But the president didn't say he "thought" about his selection. He said this:

(video clip of President Bush:) "I know her heart."

Notice he didn't say anything about her brain? He didn't have to. He "feels" the truth about Harriet Miers.

And what about Iraq? If you "think" about it, maybe there are a few missing pieces to the rationale for war. But doesn't taking Saddam out "feel" like the right thing?

And here's Colbert, talking out-of-character to The Onion A.V. Club:

Truthiness is tearing apart our country, and I don't mean the argument over who came up with the word...

It used to be, everyone was entitled to their own opinion, but not their own facts. But that's not the case anymore. Facts matter not at all. Perception is everything. It's certainty. People love the president because he's certain of his choices as a leader, even if the facts that back him up don't seem to exist. It's the fact that he's certain that is very appealing to a certain section of the country.

I really feel a dichotomy in the American populace. What is important? What you want to be true, or what is true? ...

Truthiness is "What I say is right, and [nothing] anyone else says could possibly be true." It's not only that I feel  it to be true. There's not only an emotional quality, but there's a selfish quality.

As Kurt Vonnegut Jr. would say: "And so on." (Thanks to Wikipedia for the Truthiness entry... soldier photos are of Jessica Lynch -- rescued Iraq war POW -- and Pat Tillman, a former NFL player who was killed in Afghanistan by friendly fire. Both were the subjects of blatantly dishonest yet widely reported "truthiness.").

It's an OUTRAGE!

Now it's come to the attention of us here at The O'Really (?) Factor that there's a politically correct War on Yule going on out there, and we're not going to stand for it. Yule was here first, it's the template for all your basic Christmas traditions, and -- hey, let's face it -- it's kind of a whitey thing.

So, have we heard one person say "Happy Yule!" this year? Not one. It's always "Happy Holidays" this, "Happy Holidays" that.

Folks, there's a war on neo-paganism going on out there. We've had our faith scrubbed from the public square. We've been told our faith doesn't matter. People of Faith have been treated like second-class citizens. Faith Hill can't even get played on your average Adult Urban Contemporary radio format these days. Can I use the word faith any more than I already have? You get the point: Faith, faith, faith.

Anyway, the politically correct fascists who are trying to take the Oak and Holly Kings out of Yuletide in their quest for a secular, Goddess-less society aren't going to get a free pass here at The O'Really (?) Factor. Because we're going to use the power of the blogosphere to hold them accountable. We're going to bring horror into their world until they accept that we were here first, Father "Christmas" belongs to us, and if you don't like it, we're just going to ram it down your throat. Anybody who doesn't get in line is going to have to face me, Mr. Big Tough Guy. Mach schnell!

Secular society my ass.

Anyway, Happy Yule everyone -- or else!

Art, wolves and sheep

I was waiting for the elevator the other day at the office and I noticed a spot on the wall that looked like South America.  I realized how quintessentially human it is to take a random configuration  and impose meaning.

If I'd never seen a globe, I would have called the spot something else entirely. Or not even noticed it.

Human consciousness, to me, is is best described as a quest for pattern. We are all, at one level or another, searching for ways to categorize, organize and synthesize what we experience into understandable order. (I find this a marvelous alternative to housework.)

So much goes into this: our personality, our life experiences, our culture, maybe even past lives. James Hillman ( The Soul's Code ) has plenty to say about how much our innate personality influences how we experience life. Yet  no matter which comes first, nature or nurture, both play a huge role in shaping not just the pattern we create, but how we search for it.

Some make the climb and tell the others how beautiful the view is  from the top. Others stand at the bottom and say the view isn't worth it. The worst suggest that the act of climbing causes rock slides  and should be forbidden.

This fundamental difference is what separates wolves from sheep.