The "Damien Hirst Is A Knob" movement - Brooker strikes

Worth a read:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2009/sep/14/charlie-brooker-damien-hirst

Art, Craft and Skill

It's probably not the best time to quote an incestuous child abuser, with Roman Polanski sitting in a Swiss jail for having sex with a 13 year old in 1978, but Eric Gill said:

Art is skill, that is the first meaning of the word.

So can there be Art without skill?  If so, then clearly Conceptual Art is a valid form.  The artist merely thinks the idea, and he/she or other people can try to put it into existence - or not.  But if skill, in whatever medium, is a prerequisite, then we have a valid standard which we can apply to any piece of Art.  So let us consider a couple of "Works Of Art" and see where we get.  I'm choosing well-known works so that we are not confused by novelty.

This is Gainsborough's famous portrait of "Mr and Mrs Andrews"  from about 1750.  It has been interpreted of late from a Marxist perspective as a comment - if an unwitting one - on a society based on the holding of property.  But I'm not interested in that here.  Let us consider skill.  Gainsborough can clearly handle oils.  The rendering of surfaces is well done, there is real delicacy in the application of the paint, and there is a convincing, if conventional, handling of sky, cloudscape, scenery, perspective and clothing.  The painting falls short where the Artist has used the conventions of the period rather than observation and drawing.  So the figure of Mrs Andrews is almost fatally compromised because he has given her excessively narrow, "feminine" shoulders, and an anatomy which, if you stripped the clothes away, would look distinctly odd unless she is sitting on a surface inclined at 45 degrees.  The trees owe more to looking at Flemish School landscapes than looking at real trees.  And the sky seems to be adding something portentous without it being really clear what.  The painting, of course, is regarded as the masterpiece of Gainsborough's early life.  But he did so much more, and better, later.  So is this a Work of Art?  That must seem like a daft question. And the answer has to be "Yes".  But it's yes because, despite the shortcomings of draughtsmanship, we know what these people looked like and we know quite a lot about their life together simply through the skill - or artistry - of the Artist.

Now clearly this is a work from a period before photography , and its purpose is somewhat different from that of a modern portrait.  It is first and foremost a likeness.  These people really looked like that (apart from those shoulders).  Secondly it is a record.  This is how these people wished to be seen and to go down to posterity - for paintings such as these were seen as permanent artfacts, not fashion items to be changed with the colour of the walls.  Finally, it is an object to look on many times - there is no sell-by date.  Such a picture might also be contrived to be thought provoking, stirring, sexually appealing, funny, scary, devotional, educational, or just plain pretty.  Painted pictures served all of these purposes because, together with engravings and other prints, they were all there was to look at in a domestic context: no TV, no photographs, no home videos, no colour magazines.  And of course, a major difference would be that the Artist was commissioned to paint the picture - such things were not done "on spec" - the outlay of time and material was simply too great.  Such a picture would take months of work to complete - perhaps the time scale was even longer: a year? Perhaps two? It is quite a big painting - roughly four feet wide by two and a third feet high (69.8 x 119.4cm) and the surface is minutely covered with brush work.

One final point: the painting of Mrs Roberts' lap appears to be unfinished; the speculation is that the Artist was requested to make space for a possible future child to be painted in.  This was, in a small way, to be a dynastic picture

Now I'd like to look at a picture from 165 years later:

 

This is Walter Sickert's 1915 painting of a Concert Party on Brighton Beach.  It was almost certainly painted "on spec"- it is doubtful if Sickert had a particular buyer in mind.  It is probably not a recogniseable portrait of any of the performers.  But it is a record of a particular time and place.  The topography of Brighton seafront has not changed, although the stage is not there any more.  It is a summer evening in 1915.  The First World War is less than a year old, and the British Army and its allies are far from being in the ascendent.  The Pierrot troupe are playing to a small audience, and the whole setting is just a bit run-down.  You sense that these performers have either seen better days, or wish they had.  It is quite possible to read the painting as an early comment on the decline of Empire: this is not the fabled Edwardian Summer, rather it is the start of the era of the common man, what Alan Bennett describes as "an NCO's world" in his play "Forty Years On".

The technique is heavily influenced by photography.  There is a distinct snapshot quality to the picture; the figures are partially obscured by the structure of the stage; one, indeed, exists only as a pair of legs coming in from the left.  It may be that Sickert worked from a photograph - he used them extensively later on.  You can see how Impressionism has influenced the Artist - the effects of the various lights (including the natural evening light) are as much the subject as the people.  But what the painting does, skilfully, is to evoke the feeling of a specific time and place, and associate that with a slightly tired, brittle glamour which we feel was somehow typical of that first disillusionment with the military and diplomatic might of Britannia.

Like the Gainsborough, this picture is enjoyable on several levels; as a gorgeous object to look at; as a historic document, as part of the record of England, and Europe, at a stage in its development and change; and as a caller-up of emotion, as a touchstone for the emotions.  In neither case did this happen by chance.  The skill (to use Eric Gill's term) of the Artist has done it for us.  What has happened to such skill in the world of "Brit Art"? 

" So you don't think it's Art. So what?"

At this point I think I should explain how this thread arose, since it may look like the senile ravings of a traditionalist.  I don't think that's so, and here's why.

For many years now I've had debates or discussions with friends, many of whom are involved in the Arts to varying degrees, about this central topic - what is Art, and what's it for.  And, as a corollary, what isn't Art.  And does it matter?  Some of these debates have become furious, polarised arguments (occasionally fuelled by too much wine), to the extent that we no longer raise such topics with each other.  So on that level at least it does matter.  It matters enough to have friends shouting at each other and feeling hurt by the exchanges.

But it also matters because Art has a function in Society.  It is not unimportant.  It is not a means for a few favoured late adolescents to make a lot of money at the expense of gullible Investment Bankers and Advertising Executives (and Russian Oil Billionaires, for all I know).  Because they also make money at the expense of our great public collections - because of the gullibility of the Directors (or Curators or what you will) - and hence they impoverish those collections both financially and culturally, because the money wasted on evanescent "Brit Art" (or whatever) could actually go towards buying something worthwhile - or even displaying more of the huge stock of Art works which these places usually have in their storerooms and offices.* 

At that point I should add (in text-speak) IMHO - in my humble opinion.  Because, obviously, many many people don't agree with me, although many do, and an even larger number don't give much of a toss.  Which,  is part of the problem.  If Art is only for the select few then it goes into that category of esoteric interests such as matchbox collecting or shoe fetishism - something that can be indulged in by those who enjoy that sort of thing.  Of course, you can buy matchboxes for very little money, and you can indulge shoe fetishism cheaply on the Internet (or so I'm told . . . . ).  But Art is usually big and expensive, especially if many people like a particular work, so the only fair way to enable access to such works is through large scale public collections.  And fortunately, in the UK we are blessed with these.

But Art does speak to most people, given the opportunity - look at the story of the Pitmen Painters, the play about whom is revived at the National Theatre this Autumn.  And my argument with much of contemporary Art is that it shuts out most people.  I'll have to go into the reasoning behind this next time.

* Did you know, for example, that for years one of Samuel Palmer's masterpieces, "The Magic Apple Tree", painted in 1830, and given to The Fitzwilliam Museum in Cambridge by a Mr Anderson in 1929 in memory of his dead brother, for years that painting hung in the office of the Director of the Museum, and could only be seen by special arrangement?  For all I know it's there still.  I'll have to email Dr Timothy Potts to ask if it's still on his wall.  How many thousands of Art works are thus squirrelled away?

Some more thoughts

Back to what has become the main topic of this blog: I want to think about Conceptual Art.  As I understand it, the Art is in thinking up the concept.  But there seems to be some disagreement about whether or not the Artist has to do anything other than formulate the concept in his or her own head.  So by one definition, if the artist formulates a concept s/he has created a work of Art.  Or, in other words, "it's Art because I say it is".

I have relatively little experience of Conceptual Art, I freely admit.  But I have looked at a few different pieces.  One that springs to mind was the runners tearing through the Tate Gallery last summer when we went to see the "Art of the East" exhibition.  It was a bit hair-raising - you didn't want to get in the way of the athlete in case you were knocked down.  I freely admit that I don't understand why this was Art.

Another that I recall was a Video Installation in the Liverpool Tate when we went to see the Klimt exhibition last year.  It was a series of shots of urban settings with the camera swinging through 180 degrees in both the vertical and horizontal planes.  It made you feel nauseous simply by the camera's movement.  Again, I don't understand why this was Art.

In fact all the "Video Installations" I've seen have looked rather like amateurish home videos.  I often wonder why the Artists who make Video Installations didn't do a Film Studies degree and at least learn to use the equipment proficiently.

Now a confession: when I was a student (Brighton 1967-1971) I made three pieces which you might call Conceptual Art.  The first was a triptych altarpiece which opened to show three scenes which seemed to me, at the time, to be desperately important.  If I remember right, one of the side pieces was a portrait of Bob Dylan, and the centrepiece was a painting of St George slaying the dragon.  Don't ask me why - I can't remember.  Then there was the metal grille from a heater which I partially melted with an oxy-acetylene torch to demonstrate (if I remember  properly) the precariousness of our civilisation's dependence on Technology.  And finally the mock French-Cafe table with its centre cut out and a card index (like half a Rolodex) of designs for restaurant fronts inserted in the hole.  I spent months on these over a two year period.  They were all rubbish - by any standards, if we may still use a term like "standards" in this field.  But I wonder what a Saatchi would have made of them had they been in the right place at the right time?  Would I now be rich?
 
But, take the mickey out of them as I have, I think that there was more artistry in any of these three pieces than in a Damien Hirst "spin painting" actually made by one of his technicians, or a Tracey Emin drawing of her own crutch.  And honestly, there's no sour grapes in that statement.  For each of those three pieces I learned, pracised, and utilised new skills, adapting them to the needs of the work as it progressed.  And those pieces were not done for money, obviously, as Hirst's spin "paintings" were (by his own account).

 

In the end the piece I made as a student which I most value is a little coil pot about eight inches high.  I spent an age making this look as much like a thrown pot as I could (this also smacks of "Concept" Art, I'm afraid).  But now, 40 years on - to hi-jack a school song and a Play title - I like it just for the unassuming craftsmanship of its making.  Here it is:

Art and what it's for . . . .

Last night I watched Peter Capaldi's guide to Scottish Portrait Art, an excellent progrmme from the BBC (hands off, Murdoch, you bastard).  In the programme the one-time Art student (Glasgow School Of Art - that wonderful Mackintosh building) and Actor looked at portraiture in Scottish Art from the famous 1559 portrait of Mary Queen of Scots onwards.  Ramsay, Wilkie, Raeburn, the Victorians, the Glasgow Boys, the Colourists and so on - all of the work we saw was executed with consumate skill, which was learned and practised over the years.  There were insights into how the artists worked, and glimpses into their studios.

 

This is Sir David Wilkie's portrait of William Chalmers-Bethune, his wife Isabella Morison and their Daughter Isabella.  It was painted in oils in 1804.  It is not intended to be a flattering portrait.  It is an accurate record of how Wilkie saw that little family.  The sheer skill is obvious.  And to those of us who have been taught to actually look at paintings, the insights into the people portrayed are richer and deeper than any photograph could convey.

And this is John Byrne's 2007 portrait of his partner Tilda Swinton, executed in chalks.  And the same comment applies.  It tells you far more about the Actress than any photograph could.  The technique is completely different apart from one thing.  Both Artists, separated by 200 years, have looked and looked and looked at their subject; have interacted with their subject, and have put their insights down on canvas or paper.  Wilkie's must have taken months to complete; John Byrne's perhaps much less time.  But they are both the result of an applied art, craft or skill, call it what you will, which values intelligent, thoughtful analysis over cheap sensation.

It was a brilliant programme, and offered a vision of Art so far removed from Saatchi-World that it could have been a different planet.

Tim Minchin at Norwich

Obviously, sincerity is the stock-in-trade of performers like Tim Minchin, and you can't always believe they are as right-on as they would have you think (Ben Elton - you've got a lot to answer for), but TM had a full house at Norwich's Theatre Royal eating out of his hand on Sunday night. For me the highlight was "Storm", a spoken piece which utterly nails mysticism, new age nonsense, religion, homeopathy, creationism, science deniers, etc etc. Have a listen:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UB_htqDCP-s

Then go and see him if you can.

Just ahead of himself . . . .

Following on from my last diatribe, this quote from Damien Hirst (part of a longer profile which I'll fillet when I have more time) was in today's Observer Magazine:

"I had a big dance with conceptual art," he says, "but there are things in art that are a dead end. Conceptual art, abstraction, they're total dead ends. You start thinking, there's enough bloody objects in the world, why are you making more of this shit. If I'm being brutal about it, that's what I'm thinking right now." Suddenly, the empty studio next door makes a whole lot more sense.

Errr . . . . that's Damien Hirst speaking!