"It looks like a first grader made it."

Jackson Pollock, Autumn Rhythm (No. 30), 1950, enamel on canvas, 8.75' x 17.25'. Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Photo taken from Google.

Top 3 complaints about art made after 1890:

1. "It looks like a first-grader did that!"
2. "What does it mean? How can it mean anything if it doesn't look like anything?"
3. "I like art that looks like time and effort when into making it."
   

What these comments indicate is that people who will admit to knowing nothing about art or art history already have preconceptions about art's function, intent, and appearance. Art needs to "look" like art, it must communicate some kind of definitive message, and that it requires some kind of evidence of labor. But where do people get these types of ideas? What is it about modern art that makes people so suspicious?

In my experience, when people hear "art" they think of something heroic like this:

Jacques-Louis David, Oath of the Horatii, 1784, oil on canvas, 10'10" x 14'. Louvre, Paris.

Or they expect something extraordinarily "real" looking, like this:

William Kalf, Still-Life with a Nautilus Cup, 1662, oil on canvas, 31" x 26". Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza, Madrid.

Or, they want something that has symbols that, once understood, enrich our understanding of the scene. (White lilies = Virgin's purity, for example):

Robert Campin and assistants, Annunciation, central panel of the Merode Altarpiece, 1427, oil on wood, 25 1/4" x 24 7/8". Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

So once a person is presented with a piece like Jackson Pollock's Autumn Rhythm, the initial response is suspicion. How can something like that "mean" anything? And it doesn't look like it took any effort or talent to make it! Worse yet, the extraordinarily cynical 21st century mindset is that someone is out to make them look foolish by not "getting it," or that Pollock was out to make a quick buck the easiest way possible.

Here, I'd like to address from where people's ideas (misconceptions, really) stem. Subsequent posts will address the complaints introduced at the beginning of this entry, and then someday, we'll discuss Pollock.

Everyone remembers someone from K-12 that was considered a great artist. This would be the person who won the class contests for No Smoking campaigns, the person's whose lecture-time doodles were remarkably naturalistic, or the person who was voted "Best Artist" during high school. This person always created art that was recognizable - their apples looked JUST LIKE apples, for example. Your apples never looked like real apples, and despite how hard you tried, you never won the elementary school poster contest. The rewards this person garnerned (Best Poster, Best Artist, etc.) led you to conclude that art needs to be a pretty good imitation of real life for it to be considered "good."

No matter that the fourth grade teacher who chose the winner for the poster contest has no artistic background whatsoever, and that the same people who voted for "Best Artist" are the same losers who prevented you from RSVP-ing for your high school reunion.

Then, your pop culture consciousness becomes more acute. You notice that in movies/tv, the pretentious and elitist people hang out in strangely clinical art galleries, work in auction houses, and wear funky eyeglasses. These people say things like, "This really conveys the alienation the artist was feeling at the time. So existentialist yet hopeful" while standing in front of a terrible piece of abstract art. This made you feel bad because you didn't know what existentialism was, and you didn't know how someone could "see" it in the painting. The show Law & Order is especially guilty of this stereotype. These black-clad losers are usually somehow made out to be the fool - they didn't know that the suspect was an embezzler! - and then another seed is planted: modern art appreciators may "see" something in a bunch of squiggles, but they are also tools. And you, sir, are no tool.

Plus, in college, you hated the art students. They smelled like a weird combination of cigarettes, turpentine, and sandalwood. They were losers who weren't very articulate in explaining their art and "what it means." Plus, you were suspicious of anyone who didn't major in anything highly practical like political science or physical therapy. Maybe you took an intro art history class for your humanities requirement and it killed your GPA. All in all, your life has been just fine without art and you don't need or want it. Anyways, you prefer black-and-white photography ever since you saw a coffee table book about Ansel Adams.

And then finally, you read in the news about the latest art auction. A "masterpiece" like this was just sold for $72.8 million:

Mark Rothko, White Center (Yellow, Pink, Lavender on Rose), 1950, oil on canvas, dimensions unknown. Private collection. Sold by Sotheby's in 2007.

This pisses you off. You work REALLY HARD at your job for not nearly enough money, and some white guy who committed suicide someone still managed to make more money than you'll ever see in your life. "WHAT?!" you screech, "that doesn't look like anything!" And you remember your crushing defeat in the fifth grade JUST SAY NO poster contest and before you know it, the words come rushing out of your mouth: "It looks like a first grader made that!"

In this little narrative, I've managed to touch on when/how people come into contact with art: primary school, pop culture, college, and the media. At no time was there any type of thoughtful inquiry or insight into the production, history, and reception of art. Admittedly, this type of information is rarely introduced at the K-12 level, and as my earlier post indicates, there are some real problems with the survey course at the undergraduate level. The only time the mainstream media discusses art is is to exclaim "look how much this PAINTING fetched at auction" without explaining the history and technique of the object, or explaining the mechanisms of the bloated/weird art market. And sadly, there are some really inarticulate/pretentious people in art who like to pretend that only a privileged few can truly understand art. (FWIW, these people usually feel that way as a defense mechanism to those who tell them that their beloved art "looks like a first grader made it. Or they're tools.) So it isn't really surprising that the average person doesn't really know where to begin when to look at a work of art.

So before this blog can go any further, I ask of you, dear reader, to examine your own views about art: What comes to mind when you think "art"? Where did you get those images or ideas? What types of experiences have you had with art? How much do you really know about the production, history, or reception of art?

And then, once you've thought about your own biases and preconceptions, we can start discussing art with an open mind.