Un peu d'oeuvre
My first exposure to the ceramic sculpture of Robert Arneson was in an elective, slide show survey, of Pop Art. I will never forget the specific piece of work by Arneson. Its title was “Crazed.” It was a surprise, and I laughed out loud. At the time, I was certain it was a test by the instructor for which students were awake and paying attention.
It was laughter that made the slide significant to me. In the aftermath of Pop Art, which by then had outlived its shelf life, an instance of Pop Art's comical possibilities restored (somewhat) the original excitement of the trend. Pop Art was a party.
Until then, Pop Art was too cool for me. I understood that art before Pop Art was damned for being excessively serious, like a European opera, a "war horse," dusted-off, and performed once too often. A younger art was inevitable after the Decline of the West.
Arneson was both hip and human. He did not presume to dispose of the history of art in favor of the “new, and improved” Pop Art. His entire oeuvre springs from Marcel Duchamp's “Fountain,” a ceramic urinal signed “R. Mutt,” and inscribed “1917.”
Ceramists can be passionate about the place of ceramics in the history of art. The strongest objection to ceramics as Fine Art is its utilitarian function. It is what Duchamp admired about the mass-produced urinal. Duchamp respected it for its proletarian lack of pretentiousness.
The feature which gives ancient Greek amphorae pots, and krater drinking vessels “high art” status, is not the utilitarian ceramic object, but the painted and kiln-glazed design applied to the object. To be fair, it is the synergy of both a pot with a fine contour, plus an engaging decoration which, together, confers aesthetic elegance and historical importance.
By this formula Robert Arneson's ceramic sculptures should be considered Fine Art, or, practically speaking, Museum Art. They are not modestly utilitarian clay pots. They are also decorative. What remains to be examined is the effectiveness of his decorative scheme.
Disclosure: I like Arneson's art because an aspect of his artistic theme touches an aspect of my artistic theme. His typical ceramic head looks like a bum's head. This is a sensitive issue for an appreciation of Arneson's style. His ceramic heads all appear to be a likeness of him.
Arneson's own appearance was, indeed, comical. No offense, but his pattern baldness, unkempt hair and beard, worry-lined forehead, combined with his sight gag sense of humor, together connote a stereotype: that of the ne'er-do-well social dropout.
The slide of Arneson's “Crazed” (mentioned above), viewed in the course of my college survey of contemporary art was, as it turns out, my first intimation of the direction my own art would eventually take. Arneson demonstrated that levity can raise the utilitarian craft of ceramics above the mundane utilitarianism of clay pots.
I hope my own current work is worthy of comedy—not levity, as with Arneson—but a low sense of humor nonetheless. Ambitious, to be sure, but with an intent similar to the scene for comic relief inserted by Shakespeare into his play for the enjoyment of the "groundlings" in the audience. The cultured audience also enjoys it -even if too polite to laugh out loud.
What raises new art above a display of technical accomplishment? It must offer more than expertise. It must shock the bourgeoisie -without violating the canon of good taste. Arneson was the only victim of his own excess.