By Admin
Monday, September 01, 2008
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Regarding the compilation of notions of a one Terry Barrett on Artworlds and Definitions:
I think writing of a personal experience, and of the opinion that I am loosely grasping as of this moment, when it comes to the definition of art, would perhaps be more interesting for you. That is, rather than simply regurgitating what this one, I’m sure very competent and credible art critic, Mr. Barrett, has to say on the subject.
For years I would have to admit that I had a very closed mind about what should be considered art. That is to be expected. I was young and dumb at the time. (Read more about the opening and closing of the mind in my last blog ART RUN). Now old and slightly less dumb I feel I could write about this intelligently enough for all the world to read.
Oh god is that the dumb speaking again or am I truly wiser with my age? Perhaps just more ornery and less self-conscious. Hence the whole blogging thing.
Anyway. I will narrow this down to one specific experience, out of the seemingly thousands, so as to save time. And blog space. My experience with Andy Warhol:
I didn’t understand the appeal. I just didn’t get it. How could something so easily produced, and mass-produced at that, be considered a masterpiece? Indeed, it is just a hairline away from even being considered art.
And yet it was.
It is.
They are.
All of them.
All of his work.
He could have spat on a piece of paper, called it art, and sold it to the highest and most desperate of a sea of bidders. And what’s more, Warhol’s theory on what is considered art was absolutely appalling.
What is art?
Why, everything!
Anything!
That crumpled soda can lying on the ground.
This loose thread on my collar.
Hey check out that dog relieving itself on my latest painting. Why, that’s art too. And isn’t it beautiful!
How insulting to all hardworking artist and aspiring artist alike, dedicated to the very blood, the sweat, and yes the tears, the emotions that are shackled to this craft like the formidable and yet so awe-inspiring boulder that it is. How dare he, this strange little man, make light of such a thing, to depreciate the incalculable value of our beloved Art. For many years, this tormented me, this infamous theory of a respected and celebrated man. Till one day…
I was sitting in art history class and the professor exclaimed that we were to be watching a documentary video on Andy Warhol. My initial reaction was a very cliché rolling of the eyes and exasperated breath of ‘ugh’. And to my amazement, I was not alone. Most of the rest of the class reacted in much the same way. I thought for sure that my peers had been brainwashed, just like the rest of the world. But, indeed, they too had not yet been “enlightened” the way I was, very unbeknownst to me, about to be.
The video of course had the usual expected filler – Photo’s, film clips of Warhol, interviews with some of his more eccentric followers, and of course, a famous actor narrating the entire spiel. They got around to the latter years, his time spent mainly on film. That was my turning point. His incredible short films.
Imagine…
A close up shot of a man, sitting on a sidewalk.
He sits.
He sits.
His hand moves a bit.
He looks in another direction and then directs his attention back to what he was originally looking at.
He sits.
He sits.
I sit.
My jaw drops open. My eyes - the very eyes that were once aching with indescribable pain after having to be laid upon all that Campbells Soup garbage, and drag queen-esque Marilyn Monroe, and do I have to mention the portrait series on buttholes? (No, like literally. Buttholes. Really.) – are now open like they’ve never been before. I see now, at this moment what Warhol was trying to do, trying to say. And from that point on, I became… dare I say… a fan.
Anything can be art, eh? Why, yes I suppose it could.
And being that I’m an artist, this willful acceptance of such a theory will haunt me till my last breath. Will surely be the death of me. Oh Andy, how I loathe thee for loving thee so fervently.
So shamefully.
You too can partake in just such an experience. Watch a Warhol short film. It may very well change your life.
Dun dun duuuuuuuun!!!
As for you, Terry Barrett, I applaud your efforts.
I’ll just go ahead and add you to my mile long list of authors, artists, aspiring artists, instructors, family members, friends, fellow classmates, colleagues of sorts, acquaintances, as well as all those complete ignoramuses whom have attempted to define the indefinable.