Artistic Expressions : A Defence of Elitism
Author and art critic Robert Hughes ( Brown University described him as "currently the most widely-read art critic in the English language" ) extols the virtues of excellence-based elitism in artistic expressions. While delivering (1998) a lecture on 'The Arts in America: Creativity and Controversy,' he observed that "elitism", as a word, has been "completely debased by overuse and propaganda". "One of the realest experiences is that of the inequality between different works of art," Hughes said, explaining that these differences are the direct result of individual artists interacting with their environments. "Aesthetic discrimination must not be tarred with the same brush as sexual or racial discrimination". Hughes added. "I don't think democracy is any guide to taste at all," he continued. "I think democracy exists to allow elitism -- elitism based on excellence." Hughess said there is nothing wrong with elitism of this kind. Matthew Fox believes that a new living cosmology is being ushered in with the task of “reinventing the human.” He believes it will happen when art becomes “folk” art again, when all people wake up to their powers of creativity and redeem art from the elitism it has acquired during the patriarchal era. And creativity is not only manifested in a sculpture or painting, but also in the art of ritual, or dance, being a lovely person, or cooking a meal, etc. Everyone is an artist and can express their own particular creativity. Fox states, “Behind all creativity there lies not just a tolerance for diversity but a reverence for it, a passionate need for it.” A few years ago, a local college teacher of Sociology hotly admonished me during one of our coffee-fueled debates. "The problem you have," he said as he shook his head sadly, "is not with asking whether or not something is art--we all know by now that you can call anything you want 'Art,' given the right context and rhetoric. Warhol's soup cans or Hussain's white screens and their spawn are just more catchy but slight variations on Duchamp's 'Fountain,' and performance artists are just pissing inside of it." He continued, eyes focused narrowly, "The really important question you and everyone else like you still needs to ask is whether or not the thing is any damn good!" It has taken me some time to acknowledge that my teacher-friend was posing a pertinent question, and the implications of his question are even more valid today. Although elitist in assumption, it bears consideration if not outright advocacy, for indeed our recent history in the arts has contributed to a diluted notion of what art is. The whole issue raised by my friend's remarks resurfaced only recently after I read the report entitled "American Canvas." Swelled with boosterish ambitions, uplifted with a democratic spirit, and couched in sincere platitudes, it often sinks to the lowest common denominator in attempting to define art. Reading the report, one learns that "If we will look, we will find art all around us: in the things that we make with our words (songs, stories, rhymes, proverbs), with our hands (quilts, knitting, rawhide braiding, cane baskets, pie-crust designs, dinner-table arrangements, garden layouts), and with our actions (birthday and holiday celebrations, worship practice, playtime activities, work practices).... Viewed in this light, art...is not something that exists 'out there' in a world alien to many families but is rather an essential part of the lives of most families. The problem is that they just don't know it." Seriously: If anything and everything are art, how can any art be of value, which presupposes categories of taste and quality? How can we presume any art to be great or even good? The user-friendly standards posed by "American Canvas" seem a bit threatening : At heart, the report undermines the subtler and nobler qualities of the arts in favour of something more ordinary and diminished. Ironically, much of our contemporary avant-garde remains obsessed with demolishing any perceived barriers between "art" and "daily life," or its members seek bogus revolutionary action in "terminal assaults on the art-as-commodity establishment." Of course, blasting away the barrier between "high" and "low" has been the primary avant-garde preoccupation for decades. Meanwhile, our public is becoming increasingly militant about censorship issues--something that says less about the alleged obscenity of the art and more about a fundamental lack of understanding regarding the purpose and value of art. Epater la bourgeoisie has its drawbacks, you know. Yet what's really shocking is that it's no longer true that any fool can see the difference between price and value. All this constant talk about rupees and dollars and business has skewed our sense of how easily art is sacrificed to the principles of the marketplace. John Ashcroft opines that "the average guy wants to go down and see Garth Brooks at the country concert, he doesn't get a federal subsidy, but the silk-stocking crowd wants to watch the ballet or the symphony orchestra, they get a subsidy." For Ashcroft or Wilson and others like them, art is just entertaining, just one more diversion. Sadly, this attitude is typical of many who've come to equate art solely with business and entertainment; the effects of this thinking are no less detrimental than those resulting from our conflation of news and entertainment. Now, it's not my intention to denigrate corporate investment in the arts, artists marketing themselves on Web pages, the political debate on federal arts funding, the need for community-outreach programs, or art's potential for solving complex social problems. Nor am I objecting to children learning the value of making rhymes or doodles. What I am objecting to is our failure to discriminate between exposure and cultivation. Our receptivity to the potential magnitude of the art experience has become increasingly dulled. How can we maintain it in the face of so much self-serving rhetoric; noisy, misguided arguments about obscenity and style; and overweening emphasis on business? In his essay "Do Blondes Prefer Gentlemen," the late writer Anthony Burgess lamented that art had been made into something entirely too ordinary in today's culture, that true creativity is enormously difficult to achieve. He warned that we "need to stop thinking that what kindergarten children produce is anything more than charming or quaint." (I would second that for most "folk artists," especially the ones with MFA degrees.) Burgess was also a stickler for craft in the service of an idea: "Art begins with craft, and there is no art until the craft has been mastered. You can't create unless you're willing to subordinate creative impulse to the construction of form. But the learning of craft takes a long time, and we all think we're entitled to shortcuts.... Art is rare and sacred and hard work, and there ought to be a wall of fire around it." Like a grim and self-righteously determined docent at the Whitney Museum, many of us are tempted to turn the trivial into the significant. We fool ourselves in the constant smashing of art's boundaries--as if there were any left to smash, decency included. We deceive ourselves (and our children, for that matter) when we pretend that art is something we find anywhere, like rawhide braiding and pie-crust designs. We trivialize the whole question of what makes something art when we refuse to accept the very real difference between art and Art. Many are called; few are chosen. It's time to ditch Duchamp's challenge
of the urinal, time to end the pretense that anything can be art. Creating
it, analyzing and understanding it, judging it are extremely demanding,
though immeasurably rewarding, experiences. Making the arts effortlessly
accessible or good for business does nothing but cheapen them in the long
run. Neglected art writer/philosopher Gerald Sykes put it best 27 years
ago: "The art that has survived for centuries of close inspection has been
able to meet the demands that people have made upon it in moments of ego-free
contemplation. To think that we can bully our way out of those demands,
by shouting how artistic we are or how brilliant our program is, is not
only to parody the original aims of the avant-garde but to announce our
secession from reason. Contemplation is still the final test of any picture."
Devendra Rabhas is engaged in a study on 'elitism in creativity'. |