Politics: How can creative practice be effective politically?

It is generally understood that all art is, to some extent, political. As artist Mark Vallen states, “artists do not create in a vacuum, they are indisputably coupled to the society and times in which they work.” (Vallen) While many contemporary artists deliberately position their art as political, for other practitioners this is just one of many factors inform their practice – but as Vallen also notes, “wilful unconcern regarding social matters is also a political position.” (Vallen)

At the crux of discussing how creative practice can be effective politically is an understanding of what “effective” may mean in this context. Literal interpretations of effectiveness – that an object (art work) engenders an intended or expected effect – work against ideas of fine art, and have more in common with the anti-art of kitsch. Practitioners explicitly seeking to provoke a particular outcome from a viewer are likely to find that their work becomes trite.

Imogen O’Rorke’s review of 9 Scripts from a Nation at War in Mute Magazine is generally positive – she praises it in that it is “confrontational and thought provoking without presenting images of death, destruction, torture and viscera and it manages to avoid political tub-thumping.” (O’Rorke) 9 Scripts avoids depicting the violence of “The War on Terror” that it discourses, thus carrying a charge of uncertainty, which proves to stimulate more critical thought than a more graphic representation of war. These scripts are effective politically – they are able to “generate a healthy climate of debate and ensure the subject matter never gets didactic.” (O’Rorke)

O’Rorke does criticise a script that presents web blogs about Iraq. She describes these as “boring,” and refers to a public with an immunity to “the endless flow of user-generated sludge which is peddled as ‘self-expression.’” (O’Rorke) It is implied that this work loses its impetus because of corniness in the medium: the reliance on elements of the information age to signify a work’s relevance has become tired and obvious, and audiences have become resistant. A work is likely to lose political effectiveness when a viewer feels they are being manipulated.

Academic Michael Taussig writes about Colombian artist Juan Manuel Echavarria’s Corte de Florero series, which uses human bones to illustrate flowers, and borrows its name from a form of torture practiced in Colombia during the 1940s and 50s. Like the 9 Scripts exhibition, Echavarria subverts the violence by not showing it – instead creating “something so beautiful people would be attracted to it.” (Taussig 190) In a world where violence and gore are routine, they no longer carry as much political thrust as a subverted beauty. By offering greater complexity of meaning, these works inspire reflection and break down resistance a viewer might have towards being politically manipulated.

References:

O’Rorke, Imogen. “Flipping the Script” Mute Magazine (15 August 2008)

Taussig, Michael. “The Language of Flowers” Walter Benjamen’s Grave The University of Chicago Press (2006) pp. 189 – 218

Vallen, Mark. “Why All Art is Political” Art For A Change (October 2004)

Economies: How does creative practice sit within systems of power and exchange?

“If the art world shared one principle, it would be that nothing is more important than the art itself. Some people really believe this; others know it’s de rigueur.” (Thornton xiii)

In curator Gerald Matt’s conversation with Cairo-born artists Amal Kenawy, Kenawy attempts to distance herself from what she calls the “fashionable/trendy” topics of Middle Eastern and Muslim art. (Kenawy 138) Rather than positioning herself in the broader Arab world, Kenawy prefers to define herself as an Egyptian artist, whose art “reflects Egyptian society, as a product of its social-cultural, political, and economic climate as well as of its cultural heritage and history.” (Kenawy 135)

Trends and fashion in art indicate what Kenawy refers to as “ideas that produce artwork made with a purpose in mind.” (Kenawy 137) When the art world in seen to promote certain themes or topics through patronage, exhibition curation, and the selection of award candidates, it seems impossible to ignore the systems of power and exchange which are at work.

Sociologist Sarah Thornton’s book Seven Days in the Art World examines these systems, describing the contemporary art world as “a loose network of overlapping subcultures held together by a belief in art.” (Thornton xi) Thornton places creative practice as just one facet of the “diverse, opaque and downright secretive” art world, made up of hierarchies of dealers, collectors, auction houses and curators. Thornton writes to expose, but there is accuracy in her observations of the control in contemporary art market. Artists begin to appear insignificant in a global machine that is susceptible to changes in fashion and politics.

The rise of the ‘super star’ artist (i.e. Damien Hurst) clearly exposes the existence of these structures within the art world. Artists like Hurst and Takashi Murakami make the market work for them by bypassing the gallery and dealer system and going straight to the auction. Thornton has said of Murakami, “it is hard to tell where the art ends and the commerce begins.” (McGlone)

This is certainly one means to acknowledge and work within the systems of power that exist within the art market. Kenawy opts for a more low-key approach: she shows her work in the exhibitions she feels are making “generalisations and geographic standardisations that have resulted from [the Middle East/Arab art] fad,” but exerts back her own control by making a point of “presenting something contrary to what is expected, contrary to clichés.” (Kenawy 138)

The most important consideration for artists might be the acknowledgement of the system, which can help to create more transparency within its structures.

References:
Matt, Gerald. “Amal Kenawy” Interviews 2 Kunstalle Wein, Vienna (2008) pp. 134 – 141
McGlone, Jackie. “Sarah Thornton: Swimming with Sharks” The Scotsman (30 September 2008)
Thornton, Sarah. Seven Days in the Art World Granta, London (2008)

Place: What does it mean to have a creative practice here in Aotearoa New Zealand?

In his article “Taranaki Gothic and the Political Economy of New Zealand Narrative and Sensibility” sociologist David Craig creates a discourse between New Zealand’s economic history and our national identity, as presented in our art, literature and film.  Craig describes “gothic” as our primary national narrative, a direct result of our semi-peripheral economy.

The notion of “gothic” applies comfortably to writers like Ronald Hugh Morrieson and Bill Pearson, and can be used to describe some of New Zealand’s most notable films, as depicted in the 1995 documentary, Cinema of Unease.  Craig emphasises the presence of psychological discomfort in the ideas about ourselves that we like to sell to others, offering a pigeonhole for New Zealand artists to exist within. 

Craig refers to the “provincialism problem,” a term first coined by Australian art-historian Terry Smith in 1974.  Closely associated with cultural cringe and concepts of colonial mentality, the provincialism problem presents a choice between two poor alternatives for artists: by following the aesthetic fashions of the mature cultures, artists are dubbed “provincial imitators,” but by showing freshness and originality, artists in peripheral cultures appear naïve and unaware of global norms. (Craig 26)

The conversation about this idea exists in many societies, not just in New Zealand, which suggests a global contextualisation of the search for national identity that Craig’s article ignores.  Australia, particularly, has been a active in examining their own cultural cringe, with exhibitions like 1984’s An Australian Accent at The Art Gallery of New South Wales.  New Zealand traditionally positions itself against Australia when attempting to describe and define its identity - ""the little country that couldn't" myth that stands in doubtful relief to "the little country that could."" (Craig 20)  Despite this, it is likely artists working within both countries face similar hurdles in establishing their creative practice.

In Smith’s 1974 article he described a model for contemporary art where all art has to “funnel through” the world’s artistic centres before it has a chance to signify “cultural change” – even of the culture back home. (Smith 56)  New Zealand requires some acceptance from the dominant culture before it can accept its own worth – Craig describes this with the image of "hobbits" waiting for  a "plausible visiting guru," probably a wizard. (Craig 24)

Smith states, "far from encouraging innocent art of naïve purity, untainted by “too much history and too much thinking,” provincialism, in fact, produces highly self-conscious art, “obsessed with the problem of what its identity ought to be.”" (Smith 56)  

Thus, he suggests, the real issue that exists for provincial artists is finding a way to allow their art to escape this “relentless entrapment” that “the provincial artist cannot chose not to be provincial.”  (Smith 59)  

Craig makes little reference to contemporary art - only noting that "yes it can still be dark here" in relation to the work of Peter Robinson, Jacqueline Fraser and Mike Stevenson for recent Venice Biennales (Craig 36).  Much of his rhetoric is concerned with earlier work - the aesthetic of Landfall in the 1970s and the work of Colin McCahon, which Craig uses to tidily explain his ideas.  The hope is here that the pigeonhole exists less as the global art scene and ideas of national identity change.

References:

Craig, David.  “Taranaki Gothic and the Political Economy of New Zealand Narrative and Sensibility” New Zealand Sociology volume 20 number 2 (2005) pp. 18-40

Hughes, Robert.  The Art of Australia Harmondsworth, England (1970) p. 31

Smith, Terry.  “The Provincialism Problem” Art Forum volume 13 number 1 (September 1974) pp. 54-59

http://www.nzonscreen.com/title/cinema-of-unease-1995

http://www.artgallery.nsw.gov.au/exhibitions/archived/2010/kaldor_projects/projects/1984_an_australian_accent

 

What is the theoretical horizon within which contemporary practice is understood?

Despite a scepticism implied in the article’s title – “Contemp(t)orary: Eleven Theses” –Cuauhtémoc Medina presents a series of hypotheses for contemporary art which are potentially optimistic. His ideas are sometimes punctuated with gloom – mourning for the loss of the Utopian dream of Modernism and even referring to “the devil of contemporaneousness” (Medina) – but Medina manages to illustrate a positive vision for contemporary art. Here I will examine Medina’s third thesis, which proposes that contemporary art offers a new accessibility to audiences.

Medina states that “never since the advent of historical relativism at the end of the eighteenth century has the art of the day had a less conflictive social reception.” (Medina) He emphasises the “immediacy” of the relationship between contemporary practice and society.

Without actually discussing any examples to expand this argument, an image of Reclaim the Streets 1997 is positioned adjacent to this thesis in the text. The photograph shows people passing graffiti on the National Gallery of Art in Trafalgar Square. The scrawled writing reads, “Art by all, or none at all.” If this is the sort of model that Medina is referring to, it helps to explain his notion that contemporary art allows individuals from different class and ideological backgrounds to “smell each other in artistic structures.” (Medina) As a critic, curator and historian, writing for an online magazine that targets art professionals, this reference is probably deliberately oblique. Without this example though, Medina’s description of contemporary art as a “form of aristocratic populism” (Medina) is contra to a widely felt view that contemporary art fails to reflect the values of the public. (Jacob & Brenson 30) The public that Medina refers to is likely to be an artistically motivated public rather than a general public.

An explanation that Medina does give for contemporary art’s perceived obscurity is the “density of theoretical discourse on the topic.” (Medina) Medina suggests that contemporary art demands a “double reception” – an understanding of art first in terms of its general legibility within the universal culture, and later “as an attempt at sophisticated theoretical recuperation.” (Medina) In this statement, Medina acknowledges a less informed public who might also desire a context for thinking about contemporary art.

Medina is suggesting that this is a characteristic unique to contemporary art – that it is both immediately appealing to a general audience and also stands up to art world scrutiny. This seems to explain his claims of high legibility, in a way that his claims of “immediacy” and un-conflicted social reception appeared indistinct. The notion that contemporary art can have different levels of understanding, and that all levels could be relevant, certainly indicates a positive interpretation of contemporary art.

References:
Medina, Cuauhtémoc. “Contemp(t)orary: Eleven Theses.” e-flux Journal issue 12 (January 2010)
Jacob, Mary Jane and Brenson, Michael, Conversations at the Castle: Changing Audiences and Contemporary Art, MIT Press, 1998

What does it mean to work with theoretical material as a creative practitioner?

The capacity of an artist to cite theory in their practice without intellectually engaging in theoretical debate is at the centre of Craig Garrett’s interview with Swiss artist Thomas Hirschhorn.

 

Hirschhorn is known for his hyper saturated installations, which use Foucault’s philosophy “as just another materiel, like tape or cardboard.”(Hirschhorn 92)  Thomas Hirschhorn is candid in the fact that he makes no attempt to understand all the philosophy that is articulated in his art; his desire is rather to “confront, fight, and be affected by” the thinkers that he references. (Garrett 92)  By combining treasured texts of thinkers and philosophers with the mundane excess of reality, the result is irreverent. Hirschhorn describes this homage as lacking in respect, but not love or ambition.

 

His critics have described these works as “pedagogical failures” (Garrett 90) and his practice as ‘parasitic;’ relying on the reputation of historical thought without contributing to its better understanding.  This reflects a well-established view that ideas need to be fully understood to be of value or meaning.  In spite of this view, visual art has a history of being informed by other disciplines, such as philosophy, music and science.  Artists have traditionally monitored contemporary discourse, be it psychoanalysis in the early 20^th century or the French philosophers that inspire Thomas Hirschhorn.

 

The criticism of Hirschhorn is not just that he does not attempt to understand Foucault’s philosophy, he also “does not show his lofty subjects the respect they are due,” (Garrett 90) using cheap materials to create viewer accessibility.  The irony in Garrett’s tone can be understood, as he speaks of philosophers as being “unamazed by what they see as forays into their territory.”  (Garrett 90)  Craig Garrett is managing director of Flash Art, and writes for artists – not philosophers and museum educators.  The language he uses indicates how he feels about the issue – that he is in accord with Hirschhorn’s methods.

 

Not without contradiction, Hirschhorn’s defence of this use of philosophy in his practice relies on his enthusiasm and genuine fanaticism for the philosophy he uses. He describes the relationship he presents between philosophy and art as a “friendship,” and explains, “I do not need philosophy as an artist – I need philosophy as a human being!” (Garrett 92)  Claiming that he does not seek to justify his use of philosophy, Hirschhorn occasionally seems to do just that, although he never looks “for authorisation or validation of his mania.” (Garrett 90)

 

References:

 Berg, Lene. “Who has the right to censor art?” The Art Newspaper Issue 197 (December 2008)

 Garrett, Craig. “Thomas Hirschhorn, Philosophical Battery.” Flash Art no. 238 (October 2004): pp. 90-93

 Rappolt, Mark. “Studio: Thomas Hirschhorn.” Tate Magazine Issue 7