Abstract and back again
Since the demise of all criteria of art, the artist's personal background, biography, politics, economics, and other structural conditions of the artist's art have become the subject. The artist is at the center of a cluster of affects, as celebrity, or even as heroic figure, as the art of the artist is relegated to supporting role. This shift in focus has led to the artistic subject of the work of art increasingly being pushed further and further into the background, with the artist standing upon the work of art as a statue stands upon a pedestal.
The present analysis of the role of the artist in art was prompted by an excellent, even, if I may say so – devastating – analysis, in a widely-read journal, of a certain famous writer's personal habits in evaluating the writer's oeuvre as a whole. It was so well done I deliberately omit any attribution. Stop right here, and go read the inspiration for this study. Except that this offshoot concerns art, and artists. As a personal disclosure, I will not claim my idea is mine. And, anyway, the inspiration is not the first instance of its kind, but a very well thought-out expression of the concept.
If I may express my reaction to the article, it was, in a word: disillusioned. As far as I can tell, the only good thing that can be said about the writer is a reputation for fine writing. That the writer is French, one of the “greats” of literature—resting upon a marble pedestal—should come as no surprise. At one time it was the best writing I had ever read. The discovery provided by the article is that the writer belongs to the “school” of the French decadents, even if that's not obvious in the reading, alone The exposé article's reader is provided with numerous counts of the famous writer's disgusting personal life, which thereafter affects how the writer is viewed, when read.
Parallel in art, the artist has come to be so important to the evaluation of art, that the art has became virtually dispensable. We see with our ears, not with our eyes. Publicity is a risky gambit. That's nothing new. The famous Renaissance artist “Il Sodoma” pioneered the exploitation of moral outrage with his (shocking) chosen professional name. It worked then, and it works now, because public affect is conditioned not to take it amiss if a celebrity bursts into flame for attention. If the production does not live up to the hype, the gambit fails, in the long run. Il Sodoma was one of the best artists of the Renaissance, as well as being notorious. He may be excused.
This paradigm shift in modern times paralleled the flourishing of the abstract era, a period of artistic iconoclasm. It's hard to say which came first, abstraction, or social upheaval, but the table unquestionably changed. As abstraction again, in turn, gave way to a renewed emphasis on the subjective, artists and critics alike began to reevaluate the artist's personal relevance. Despite being a seemingly negative development, abstraction's expressive possibilities had been a net gain in creative freedom. It was found to be impossible to dispense with abstraction totally the new appreciation for representation, figures, for example. In any case, art without subject wasn't going away. The work of art was to be taken for the subject.
History is never an option. The horrors of World War II, a pivotal moment in all of history, was a stark reminder of this reality. In the hardest hit countries return to realism was not by choice. The aftermath of the war was a changed landscape from which there was no return, in art, to the giddy experimentation before the war. The impact of the shift was felt beyond the Continent. Abstract art was an unavoidable consequence of the war, not a permanent condition. The question of how to confront the change turned on whether to bury the shame of failed vainglory, or build on it, expressed in philosophy as Aletheia. In the general advance, art struggled to maintain its very relevance, its place hanging precariously in the balance.
Before to the war, artists approached their work with a clear subject in mind. In the post-war landscape this process returned transformed. Instead of a resolute creative will, the search was on for the underlying motivations, much like a detective seeking to uncover the motive for a crime. What was abstraction hiding? The abstract work of art, once an intriguing enigma, appeared to be a subterfuge that only the artist seemed able to unravel. Like the proverbial elephant in the sacristy, abstract artists might be suspected of diversionary tactics—of hiding something—and the urgency of the missing subject was lost. By the end of the period, abstraction became increasingly banal—and boring—with so many unanswered questions.
The accidental and the unintentional have long been a part of artistic expression, yet they were never considered sufficient as art, alone. Stains, spills, shadows, cloud formations were merely noted for their potential to inspire creative expression, not as art in itself. In modern times, the allure of random aesthetics (Found art, Ready-made art) became a catalyst for creative ideas, but it was never meant as a work of art. It was meant to question the work of art, the added value of designating everyday objects as “art.”
Prior to abstraction, a painting without a discernible subject would have been considered merely incomplete, a good start for future masterpiece. At first glance, this distinction may seem trivial, but it holds significant implications for understanding art. Subject in art returned with a vengeance after the retreat of abstraction. If the art object can itself be the subject, anything can be subject, including the artist's circumstances. The traditional syntax of noun and adjective is reversed, and the subject becomes a predicate of the adjective. Thus, “Black Painting.” By this reversal, the subject crept back into the picture as an incidental detail, a reminder that the noun is inseparable from the predicate adjective, that adjectives do not exist without subject.
We have grown accustomed (jaded, some would say) to viewing art through the lens of abstraction, even to the point where it's possible to discuss a painting—with a subject—without ever engaging with the subject itself. While this shift has opened up new possibilities for artistic expression, it also comes with a caveat. An appreciation for everything may lead to appreciation for nothing, in other words, the "it looks good over the sofa" valuation. Whether or not this is admitted as a valid critique, it signals the need for a more nuanced understanding of art's meaning in various contexts.
Absolute freedom of expression in art favors the artist, who shall not be judged, let it be decreed. If as artist can produce a painting of an apple, regardless of talent, then it must be accepted as a legitimate work of art. Fair enough. However, artistic freedom comes at the expense of critical freedom, which is now faced with a seemingly insurmountable challenge of negative criteria. The art critic is caught in a paradox: any criteria used to evaluate the art will inevitably be subject to formal negation, rendering it not applicable. The artist, like a defendant in a court of law, is not obliged to prove he is not guilty.
This should not not be taken as an objection to the new state of art, as a whole. It is intended to narrow the field. As consolation for what was lost, metaphysics provides an unlimited framework for art appreciation, one that literally extends the range of the subject to infinity, and only excludes nothingness as a predicate. This perspective acknowledges that, regardless of our subjective perceptions, a work of art must exist, even if we can only hypothesize its existence. Only nothingness is unacceptable as a work of art. The blank wall is not to be mistaken for the art of nothing. Come back for the opening, when everything will make sense.