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The case of the fake Gaugin

12 Dec 2007 10:20 am

The art market produces some mind bending meditations on what, exactly, prices represent. These are not, mind you, original meditations, so I will not overtax your patience with a lengthy post. I merely point you to this article, which comes via the Cranky Professor, on a forged Gaugin sculpture at the Art Institute of Chicago. He highlights this passage:

So why was it that no one seems to have questioned the Gauguin? The sculpture appeared to be based on a tiny drawing of a faun sculpture in a sketchbook which the artist used in Martinique in 1887. A work entitled “Faun” was also listed in a Gauguin exhibition held at the Nunès and Fiquet gallery in Paris in 1917. These references are noted in Christopher Gray’s Gauguin sculpture catalogue (1963) and Merete Bodelsen’s authoritative study of Gauguin’s ceramics (1964).

It seems that the Greenhalghs set out to recreate this missing sculpture. What is astonishing is that they were able to design and fire such a successful stoneware forgery, which had no obvious features to reveal it as a modern fake. Ms Howie, an experienced dealer, was originally captivated by the work: “We lived with it, and I cannot tell you what pleasure it gave us. It was a wonderful object.”

The object itself has in no way changed; it is still just as amazing, or not, as it always was. But their pleasure in it is radically altered. My intuitions tend to all run the other way. Of course, I spent a great deal of time studying finance and the associated dark arts, where the value of an asset is supposed to be the expected value of its future cash flows; and the value of a non-financial asset is supposed to be at least largely determined by its inherent usefulness.

But even before that, I was a lit major, where your enjoyment of a work is supposed to be focused on the work's attributes, not its provenance. A first edition of Bleak House may sell for 100 times what you would pay for a knock-off at Barnes and Noble. But you are not supposed to get 100 times the enjoyment out of reading Bleak House in first edition that you get out of the Modern Library version. Perhaps the right comparison is authorship, but even that doesn't really work; "undiscovered" works by famous authors almost always sell very poorly, because there is usually a very good reason that the artist didn't submit them to the public.

I acknowlege that people pay an enormous amount of money simply for the pleasure of imagining that Gaugin's hands once touched the sculpture they so love. But I'm afraid I don't quite understand why.

Comments (48)

Some people may pay enormous sums for something that was touched by a particular artist. Most people are probably interested in paying enormous sums to signal their wealth and appreciation of arts to others.

Megan: it's certainly no news that of all the financial "Dark Arts", figuring out the economic judgements at play in the art market is definitely one of the most necromantic.
Which is only to be expected when one is dealing with a commercial market based on the valuation and trade of tangible objects, where the prices are computed (and given actual money value) based mainly on intangible factors - mainly, taste, fashion, and "connoiseurship" (or the lack of the preceeding!).
About the one consistent factor in what can often seem as a market operating with an unseemly (or just baffling) degree of randomness is any particular object's connection to the artist, whether real or (as in the case of the Chicago non-Gauguin) perceived. Maybe not much of a peg to hang a multi-billion-dollar world market: but when you're dealing with aesthetics, it's still better than nothing.

a lit major, where your enjoyment of a work is supposed to be focused on the work's attributes, not its provenance.

No, you don't really think this. Obviously anything written by Shakespeare is going to attract far more interpretive attention than some random 17th-century sonnet by god knows who you happen to have found tucked into a folio somewhere; even in pop lit, anything written by Stephen King will attract far more interpretive effort by legions of internet fanboys than something written by some guy named Black, as one suddenly discovers when Black turns out to have been King, or when the sonnet turns out to have been probably written by Shakespeare. This is why anybody who wrote an alchemy tract in the middle ages attributed it to Hermes Trismegistes -- it wouldn't get read otherwise. It's why when you hear a random oration you've never heard before in the audio of a documentary film or as background to some political hip-hop number, you will actually pay attention if you can identify the voice as Martin Luther King's, and may judge it brilliant, where if it were some random voice you'd never think about it. The legitimating effect of authorship reaches far beyond the visual arts; it's only that it is at its most mysterious in the world of visual art because verification is most difficult there.

"undiscovered" works by famous authors almost always sell very poorly

How do undiscovered works by undiscovered authors sell? Are they really worse than the more minor works by well known authors? If authorship doens't matter, why does Tom Clancy lend his name to the "Op-Center" series, written by other people?

Heaven help me, I agree with brooksfoe for the second time in a week.

I think it makes more sense if you consider the original as a piece of "memorabilia." The analogy of a baseball makes a lot of sense to. You can buy an official MLB baseball for $13. But the one that Barry Bonds hit for his 756th home run was worth a lot more. Likewise, something actually sculpted by Gaugin is worth a lot more than a perfect copy done by someone else.

Who's this "Gaugin" fellow?

Some stand-in for Paul Gauguin?

He's a fake, I tell you!!! ;)

To put the first comment another way: there are people (and I don't understand them any better than you do Megan) for whom the utility of a possession is how it makes a statement about them, rather than what they can use it for. So enjoying looking at a work of art, even if they do, is very secondary. And therefore, if it is a fake, no matter how much they love looking at it, the fact that it doesn't say "this person owns an authentic work by Gauguin and is therefore very high class" takes away the most important feature of the work.

To put the first comment another way: there are people (and I don't understand them any better than you do Megan) for whom the utility of a possession is how it makes a statement about them, rather than what they can use it for.

I believe that you don't like this. But I don't believe that you don't do this. What you're describing is absolutely omnipresent in our consumerism. Without it, there could be no Apple computers, Mercedes sedans, Vuitton purses, Hermes scarfs, APC jeans....

Any luxury item, and any item that trades on cache or cool, is inherently an object that signals worth rather than one that contains worth.

"undiscovered" works by famous authors almost always sell very poorly

Maybe in literature (where authors' "best" works have usually already been published) - but in
"fine art" - "new discoveries" often sell very well indeed.

I recall about ten years ago, some dealers bought a bronze figure at a "garden" sale in the UK, did some research, "revealed" that it was actually by some Renaissance master, and sold it for millions at auction. A rarity, to be sure, but not unknown: just last year, I believe, a painting long thought to be a copy of a Vermeer was researched up, and found to be by old Jan himself (they matched the weave in the canvas to another known Vermeer) - and needless to add, it fetched a fortune.

Uh, perhaps "The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction" would be useful here.
http://www.marxists.org/reference/subject/philosophy/works/ge/benjamin.htm

I'm amazed you cited Benjamin's piece, because precisely the opposite of what he predicted came to pass.

Freddie, in science the failure of a prediction means you have to reject the hypothesis and find another hypothesis to test. In religion, however, the repeated failure of predictions doesn't change the dogma at all. Therefore, Marxism is a religion, not a science.

Megan, did you actually take any economics classes? Or were you sleeping through all of them?

Scarcity + demand ==> value

Good grief.

There's nothing inconsistent about the first edition costing 100 times as much if it gives only twice the pleasure of the one-dollar edition. Or even if it only gives 1.1 times as much pleasure. Price isn't linear in utility; you expect that one goes up as the other goes up but you don't have an a priori way of knowing how much.

Maybe this was grumpy's point too -- I couldn't really tell.

The question isn't whether price is linear or the laws of supply and demand apply.

The question is: whence the utility (and hence demand) for "real" sculptures? Isn't is just as good if it was done by a non-name as by a famous artist?

Besides, what fool cracks open a first edition and reads it cover to cover?

Isn't is just as good if it was done by a non-name as by a famous artist?

A Bakhtinian would say that if one considers a sculpture, like any other signifying work, as an act of communication, then it is interpreted partly in relation to all the other statements made by the same author/sculptor, who is in a dialogical relationship with the audience and with other sculptors. But when you don't know who the sculptor is, it becomes far harder or less fruitful to try to interpret the statement; you don't have any other authorial statements to which it stands in relation.

If you had a Rodin that dispensed with anatomical exactitude and began to move towards more liquid, Henry Moore-ish forms, it would be an extraordinary sculpture in part because of how it related to other Rodins and towards trends, movements and schools in the art world in general. If you didn't know it was a Rodin, it would mean less; if you thought it was a Henry Moore, you might think it meant the opposite.

Brooksfoe,

That explains why it is important to art-history professors to know authorship. It doesn't explain why it is important to people who, unlike professors, actually have enough money to buy them.

I believe that you don't like this. But I don't believe that you don't do this. What you're describing is absolutely omnipresent in our consumerism. Without it, there could be no Apple computers, Mercedes sedans, Vuitton purses, Hermes scarfs, APC jeans...

I don't give a riff for any of those things outside of the utility that they deliver.

Some people would feel embarrassed to own such an item.

The only collectors items I would own are those with sentimental value to me.

There is no omnipresent value system in our culture, though some are more dominant than others.

Rob Lyman: that's an interesting point. But I don't think most art collectors are as ignorant about art as you're implying they are. I know some collectors of primitive art, and while the reasons why they distinguish the value of different pieces are kind of arbitrary, in the sense that those reasons only exist because of a set of preferences among art collectors which are established through a process of discussion, hype and media manipulation -- nevertheless, they know a tremendous amount about that primitive art and the judgments they make about new pieces they see seem to be very accurate on their own terms, and far more sophisticated than anybody from the outside can get at just by instinct.

I mean, when I look at an old Dogon ladder made of a tree branch, I wouldn't pay $15,000 for it. But all that means is that I wouldn't pay $15,000 for it. They would, and the reasons why they would are internally consistent, so if you want to enter the game, you have to play by those rules.

Of course, primitive art is a different kettle of fish because the question of authorship is somewhat altered; it becomes rather a question of authenticity.

A Bakhtinian would say that if one considers a sculpture, like any other...

Wow... I know what all of those words mean and I understand the sentence structure... but the whole is less than the sum of the parts. I never will understand "High Art".

On the other hand, many of the people who are spending a lot of money are rich and so the prices they pay aren't a big deal for them. Others are not so rich but want everyone to associate them with very rich people.

If I had millions of dollars, I might pay thousands of dollars for something that was essentially worthless (in a pragmatic sense) just for a whim. The difference between me and art collectors is that I'd probably spend the money on something that pleased me and made other people scratch their heads and wonder what the heck I was thinking... Or I'd buy a bunch of expensive artworks and hang them upside down just to confuse people.

EI

Freddie, in science the failure of a prediction means you have to reject the hypothesis and find another hypothesis to test. In religion, however, the repeated failure of predictions doesn't change the dogma at all. Therefore, Marxism is a religion, not a science.

Uh... seriously, what? Benjamin predicted that as technical methods of reproduction grew ever more sophisticated, the value of original art would decrease. Precisely the opposite happened: the more Michelangelo's David becomes a refrigerator magnet cliche, the more value the original contains. I don't see how that has anything to do with Marxism at all. Unless you didn't read the essay at all before weighing in.

I don't give a riff for any of those things outside of the utility that they deliver.

I don't believe you.

EI: what? What I said was pretty simple. It's about thinking about art as statements in an ongoing dialog. If you don't know who's talking, it's hard to figure out what they're saying. If you jumbled up all the lines in a play and gave them to different characters, they wouldn't mean the same things and in fact it would be hard to figure out what they mean at all. The same is true for art, to the extent that you're seeing it as acts of communication. Of course there are some things about a work of art that are less analogous to language, purely formal things, but a lot of it is about communication, and hence it's important to know who the speaker is. This is a way of thinking about communication that a lot of people associate with the Russian literary theorist Mikhail Bakhtin. This is baffling?

Brooksfoe seems very clear to me, but I've spent a lot of time involved with art, so maybe there's something mystifying there that I'm missing (EI, can you clarify?). RE: Rob Lyman's comments: I'd say that art collectors in general are either looking toward figures of authority ("art professors," etc.) for guidance and reassurance about their purchases (thus, what matters to the authorities matters to the market), or they are ardent amateurs who really learn about the work they collect and the market they are participating in: they may not be thinking in the same terms that artists and art critics do, but they are serious and passionate about their collections, not just throwing out millions to decorate the rec room with something shiny. (Of course, there are people who pay big money for artworks that are not validated by the museum "art world" system--think of "The Petit Picasso" or Thomas Kincade.)

As to the original post, if an analogy drawn from the literary world helps: a list of rhyming words handwritten by Shakespeare would be of considerable value, whereas the same list, unattributed but written in 1600, would be much less so, and the identical-looking document, produced as a forgery in 1998, virtually worthless. Value--both in monetary terms and in terms of "aesthetic" or "historical" worth--cannot simply be judged by the way an art object looks. Does that make sense?

Why is it mysterious that an object's history (and note just its current state) should be valued? I value my wedding ring much more than I would a qualitatively similar one. If I ever get a hole-in-one, believe me, that ball will be worth more to me than the $1.00 it originally cost.

jcuz,

I can see why you value your wedding ring. The question is, why should we value something because it was made by somebody famous, and not an utterly identical object which was not?

Part of what people are getting at here is the seeming arbitrariness and herd mentality of the art world. It seems that some--perhaps most?--works are considered valuable because they come from famous artists, not because of their own intrinsic merits. And while we can all appreciate the talent and work that goes into "The Night Watch," it's harder to explain the value of "White on White" or the cans of human feces that sit in some collections. And don't get me started on the crap that Gehry convinces people to pay big bucks for.

What's we're saying is not that we can't understand why an object's history matters, it's that we can't understand why people who collect (and even those who study) art pick one artist over another to be "major," and what criteria they use to decide what is "great art" other than faddishness and obsession with prestige.

Here's another way to put it: if you found out that somebody other than Einstein invented relativity, it would alter your opinion of Einstein. But it wouldn't alter your opinion of relativity.

In the art world, it's the otherway around. Why?

It seems that some--perhaps most?--works are considered valuable because they come from famous artists, not because of their own intrinsic merits. And while we can all appreciate the talent and work that goes into "The Night Watch," it's harder to explain the value of "White on White" or the cans of human feces that sit in some collections

This is a difficult conversation to have, Rob, because there is no subject more likely to produce caricature and useless stereotyping than the art world. Suffice is to say that if you don't like the history of 20th century art, I doubt I'm going to convince you. There were reasons why art progressed in the direction of "White on White" and "Artists Shit", and I always find that, if people have interest enough to hear about the progression, they tend to be more sympathetic. But anyway....

First, the artist had to have developed a reputation independent of any later found works for them to be considered "major" in the first place, which at least suggest some sort of prior "detached" critical evaluation. Second, don't confuse monetary value with artistic worth. Just because the price of an object goes up doesn't mean that anyone is saying that it has greater worth. I think the large majority of people in the art world would say, just as you're saying, that the merit of the piece hasn't increased. What has increased is its historical and contextual significance. Again, look at parallels. A calvary sword that George Washington carried with him at Valley Forge doesn't have any more value as a sword than any other one produced from that era. But the context of where that sword was used and who carried it gives it much higher monetary value. I think if you can step aside from the anti-art world bias you'll see that this sort of thing happens all over, in many different contexts.

And, by the way, it is the habit of the people in the art world to decry the influence of money in art for precisely this reason, and yet they are routinely mocked for that attitude.

there is no subject more likely to produce caricature and useless stereotyping than the art world

There's probably no community more likely to produce self-caricature mixed with smugness than the art world. Well, possibly the snobby food world.

Of course you're right that context matters; this is the art-as-memorabilia point that several people have made. And certainly trendiness drives plenty of consumerism, as you said above.

But the difference with art is that art's partisans expect us to take them and art very seriously. Some people buy iPhones because they think it will make them look cool. If I dismiss that attitude as silly, and wonder what the &*(% makes the damn thing work $600 or even $400, nobody will accuse me of "anti-technology bias" or subtly hint that I'm too closed-minded to bother having a dialogue with. Few people suggests that fads in the non-art world have some kind of deep worth that I fail to appreciate.

But if I suggest that the reason art has moved towards pointless abstraction is because modern artists are talentless hacks who couldn't reproduce a Rembrandt with a camera, and they've made fecal materal central to their work because they've elevated shocking the petit bourgeoise (whom they look down on) to the central purpose of "art" (making Howard Stern a truly great "artist") then that makes me a bad person, or at least one too ignorant to bother with.

As an aside, I don't think the influence of money is inherently the problem. There was plenty of wonderful art produced for wealthy patrons in centuries past. The problem is that the money is chasing trendiness rather than worth, which transforms art in to a political and popularity game.

But if I suggest that the reason art has moved towards pointless abstraction is because modern artists are talentless hacks who couldn't reproduce a Rembrandt with a camera, and they've made fecal materal central to their work because they've elevated shocking the petit bourgeoise (whom they look down on) to the central purpose of "art" (making Howard Stern a truly great "artist") then that makes me a bad person, or at least one too ignorant to bother with.

Rob, I don't think you're a bad person or too ignorant to bother with, but the comment you just made is indicative of someone who has not taken the time to engage with the history of twentieth-century art, or talked to serious artists about what makes modern art works great. There's just no meaning to a statement like "modern artists are talentless hacks". The "painting like Rembrandt" as a gold-standard idea just doesn't work; the reasons why Rembrandt is considered greater than his Dutch Master contemporaries have a lot to do with his moves towards greater gestural sloppiness and less persnickety detail, i.e. in the direction of the impressionists much later, and that emotive momentum ultimately carried art into primitivism and expressionism and cubism.

As Picasso put it, roughly: "When I was fourteen, I could paint like Raphael. It took me decades to unlearn all of that." There were a million reasons why he chose to move in a different direction -- boredom, a search for the visceral unconscious raw power he encountered when he saw African sculpture. Knowing how to paint "like Rembrandt" is an impressive skill, but it's just a skill, a technical facility. There's a place for such skills, but deciding to dispense with them and do other things, built out of other skills, doesn't make you a "hack", it makes you somebody looking for originality.

As for shit, you can either be interesting with it, or you can be stupid with it. If you take it at face value, as a schoolyard insult, it's stupid. If you start thinking about it as a material and about how strong the reactions are which it provokes, then it's a powerful substance. Artists work with people's reactions to materials. What material could possibly provoke such a strong instant reaction as shit? There's a lot there to work with. And in the only two cases I'm familiar with -- the painting of the Madonna that used elephant dung which Giuliani went nuts over, and "Piss Christ" -- the uses of that material were quite beautiful, and really made the viewer think about the contrasts between the sense of the profane and the sense of the sacred. That's not just dumb art talk. That's what looking at art is about.

someone who has not taken the time to engage with the history of twentieth-century art, or talked to serious artists about what makes modern art works great.

Guilty as charged. But it's not like I haven't tried. And the problem I've encountered is that I have great difficulty buying the defenses that you're offering (which are already familiar to me).

For instance, why the disdain for "technical skills"? I suppose that modern artists would like me to imagine that they could all paint remarkable portraits or carve anatomically masterful marbles but have "decided" to do other things. With Picasso, we have some evidence that this is true. But I think it far more likely that they disdain representationalism because they can't paint like the old masters could, and to revere the old skill would be to admit that their own skills were deficient. Thus they make a virtue of necessity. Maybe that's unfair of me, but then again maybe JK Rowling really could write like PG Wodehouse but decided not to.

What material could possibly provoke such a strong instant reaction as shit?

And here you give the game away. I reject the notion that mere provocation is a worthwhile goal. Indeed, if it's originality and escape from boredom you're after, it would be well to give up dreary and conformist confontationalism in which the anger of the God-bothering hillbillies proves your artistic "courage."

At least do "Piss Muhammed" if you want me to think you're genuinely brave.

But even accepting that the purpose of art is to evoke an emotional response, why does the response always have to be disgust and anger (or maybe guilt if the viewer is a straight white man)? You could anger and disgust someone if you shot his dog and had sex with the corpse; I'd have a hard time calling that art, even if it "exposed our hegemonistic domination and control of both animals and our own internal animalistic instincts."

I can't comment on the aesthetic qualities of the two works you've mentioned, but I'm skeptical that the purpose was to juxtapose the sacred and the profane. Another possible explanation was that by deliberately annoying Christians, the artists hoped to simultaneously generate publicity and earn credibility in the NYT arts pages as "courageous." Again, maybe I'm putting a bad spin on things.

On the fecal material thing, I was thinking of the artist who canned his own and sold it at the then-prevailing price of gold. It's actually one of my favorite works of "art" because he said at the time that only an idiot would pay the same for his shit as for gold, and that he intended to prove that the art world was full of idiots. He succeeded, and indeed his cans now sell for more than the price of gold. He also said he hoped his cans would explode in their display cases; an unknown number apparently have. It's a disgusting and stupid idea, and I like it only because it seems to confirm my prejudices.

Freddie:"There were reasons why art progressed in the direction of "White on White" and "Artists Shit", and I always find that, if people have interest enough to hear about the progression, they tend to be more sympathetic."

At last, the key to understanding today's "art":

The phrase "reductio ad absurdum" is no longer operational!

As to the question that Megan posed - sorry, I don't get it either, but then again, I'm just one of those philistine engineers.

I don't know why I'm bothering, but here goes (straight off the dome): in the period we tend to refer to as the "Modern", certainty was dissolving everywhere. In religion, in politics, in science, in every major institution of civilization, old ways were falling aside and leaving doubt, uncertainty, fear. Religion was being challenged in ways unheard of even 100 years before. Philosophers question whether there was such a thing as absolute truth. Communism's rise put the capitalist project in question. World War I showed the incredible destructive power of modern technology. Even the theory of relativity was a major reworking and reorganization of physics, ruthlessly revising the Newtonian model which had been taken as truth for centuries. Everywhere someone looked, there was doubt where there had once been certainty.

The turning point in art is often referred to as "the crisis of representation." Artists were forced to ask themselves a simple question: could they continue to act as though their work was a representation of real life? When the whole world is in flux and changing, how can anyone claim to be creating an image of the real? In a world of uncertainty, a "modern Rembrandt" is a lie. A modern artist who painted yet more green and pleasant land, rendered as faithfully as possible, was not only rehashing tired tropes. He was assuming a position of authority that he had no right to. Better to abandon the representational entirely than to continue to try to do the impossible. Artists turned in other directions. Some, like Jackson Pollack, tried to show their emotional selves in their work. Others, like Piet Mondrian, attempted to take art beyond representing anything at all, to work in pure form. And some, such as Marcel Duchamp took art in the direction of the cerebral, the conceptual, work which (like Artist's Shit) inspires conversation on how they mean in addition to what they mean.

But, then again, who cares? As you've said, you enjoy your prejudice and are uninterested in educating yourself to the other side's perspective. So why bother talking?

Freddie (or brooksfoe, if you're around),

I appreciate your taking the time to answer even if it frustrates you to have to explain what seems elementary. To me, the logic of the move away from representationalism as you describe it is, well, frankly bizarre, and more than a little histrionic. I suppose that's why I'm not an artist.

The next question--and I mean it seriously--is: how do you tell a charlatan from a real artist? How does the serious art world decide that Pollack's drizzling is serious and important, but some no-name art student's drizzling is tripe? What separates Mondrian's rectangles-in-primary-colors from anybody else's rectangles-in-primary-colors? The problem is, if I'm unable to tell great art from publicity-seeking poseurism, I tend to assume that the latter is a more likely explanation.

And if we abandon old-fashioned standards, haven't we moved to a world where Authority is more, not less important? I'm no expert, but I can see for myself that it takes immense talent and dedication to paint a Renaissance fresco. Separating the Pollack wheat from the toddler-finger-painting chaff is harder, and leaves me essentially at the mercy of "experts," does it not? Or is there some new set of standards you can help me out with?

Rob, if you'll allow me to jump in here, I'd suggest that the standards have to do with whether or not the given art work (or the artist's body of work) contributes something to ongoing cultural discussions. There are several such discussions: about beauty, about the nature of art, about politics, etc. How does one measure such a contribution? One way is to note the volume of interest the work provokes among participants who have a stake in those discussions: artists, critics, curators, collectors, art historians. Another way, longer term, is to understand the works in relation to larger historical trends--much of the early-century Russian abstract art, for example, was directly connected to the Soviet revolution, and with that the notion that old ways of representation needed to be overthrown, and new models created, to prepare the way for a new, classless society. (This also provides a hint toward understanding the trend away from valuing displays of technical skill.) Yet another standard might be the manifest influence that an artist has on contemporaries and later artists--if artists such as Duchamp and Pollock are perceived as having opened doors of possibility that subsequent artists walk through, they gain esteem. The difference between a Pollock painting and a contemporary art student imitating Pollock has something to do with the specific visual result, but perhaps even more to do with the context in which they were created and received. To offer an imperfect analogy: if I were to recreate Maxwell's equations about electromagnetism tomorrow, it would be an empty gesture, lacking the cultural value they had when Maxwell did it.

As to leaving you at the mercy of experts: yes and no. Everyone is invited to react and argue about art--no license required. But to be taken seriously by those who control the art institutions, you probably do need to have some skin in the game--whether that means a direct financial interest or a reputation at stake. People who are serious about art are likely to weigh more heavily the perceptions of people who know a great deal about the subject--I don't think this is different from any other field, is it?

I don't fully agree with Freddie's top-of-his-head characterization of "the crisis of representation," but that story really is much too long and multifaceted to be fairly summarized in a blog posting. If you are interested in learning about the major tenets of western modernist art, I suggest you pick up a copy of Robert Hughes' book "The Shock of the New." It's very entertainingly written, well illustrated, fully accessible to non-specialists (Hughes is Time magazine's art critic). Hughes is much less sympathetic to art after 1970 or so--he paints the history of modern art in terms of rise and fall. I'd look elsewhere for info on more recent art, but I think he's as good a starting point as any to understand modernism.

BT, what separates the standards you describe from pure popularity contests? Volume of interest, influence on subsequent generations: how is that different from the way actors and pop musicians influence how teenagers dress? Indeed, actors and pop musicians typically excite much more conversation and have much greater influence than most "serious" artists. Some of them even work in bodily fluids: please don't tell me I have to start considering Adam Sandler a great artist.

To offer an imperfect analogy: if I were to recreate Maxwell's equations about electromagnetism tomorrow, it would be an empty gesture, lacking the cultural value they had when Maxwell did it.

Here's the reason that analogy is imperfect: no second-year physics student can pass his classes unless he can literally surpass Newton in calculational ability and at least equal Maxwell. Of course they have it easier than the big names; they aren't inventing anything, just learning it.

But while brooksfoe characterizes modern artists as taking up new methods and skills by choice, no artist is required to prove that he can paint "the Night Watch" or carve the David before moving directly to (seemingly much easier) abstraction. It looks (to a foolish outsider like me) less like standing on the shoulders of giants and more like trying to deny that there are any giants at all.

Maybe I'll pick up Hughes' book.

And if we abandon old-fashioned standards, haven't we moved to a world where Authority is more, not less important?

Precisely so. (And depressingly so.) That is, in a sense, what "Artist's Shit" is a reaction to, what Dada is a reaction to. Duchamp said he signed that urinal and threw it on a wall to sneer at the art establishment; now it's in the MOMA. Nothing is beyond being commodified. Look, the crisis is a crisis; the constant push for the new has in many ways caused art to paint itself into a corner. But that problem doesn't mean that you reject everything that has come, or that the problem which you have noted-- the difficulty in judging quality-- means that there IS no quality.

Follow this link here. What you see is a work of art called A Portrait of Ross by Felix Gonzales Torres. (It's not a picture of the candy, it's the candy.) Torres's partner, Ross, died of AIDS. At his first doctor's visit following his positive test, the doctor told him his ideal weight was (I think) 180 pounds. Every morning, the gallery weighs out 180 pounds of candy and place it out for the spectators, who are encouraged to eat a piece. So it is a generous, giving piece of art, and a living one, too. But there is a dark edge to it, too, as the gradual reduction of the candy represents Ross's AIDS related weight loss.

Now, I find this piece of art deeply moving and inspiring. But it could also be the very stereotype of modern art, and I'm sure many people see it and, without comprehending it, shake their head at the incoherence of contemporary art. (A pile of candy?) There are those who would say that the kind of "biographical" information shouldn't be a factor in appreciating a piece of artwork. That is a perfectly valid opinion. Some would dismiss it as a gimmick. That may be valid, too. But I think you can see what I mean when I say that if we take the time and care to give a piece of art its fair attention and make a good faith effort to confront it on its own terms, we can better appreciate what's out there.

Rob,

I guess any critical consensus could be said to have an aspect of "popularity contest," but I'm not clear what you'd propose as the alternative model. Judgments of cultural value can't be reduced to facts. In other words, one can summon evidence to demonstrate the influence of Pablo Picasso on art and the wider culture of the mid-20th century, but there's no factual proof that Picasso's work is intrinsically more valuable than Manzoni's cans of shit, or your grandpa's paintings of the seashore, for that matter. Indeed, I don't think the value is intrinsic at all... it comes from an elaborate set of social negotiations about meaning and value. That is pretty much what culture is, right?

And reputations do shift: maybe grandpa will yet be "discovered." My point is that culture is an ongoing, dynamic process, most unsettled when discussing the present or the very recent past. There is no appeal to the absolute in such judgments, but that doesn't mean the judgments are arbitrary.

Would you say that a "popularity contest" is the reason that Nietzsche is esteemed over Kahlil Gibran, or Garcia Marquez over Robert Ludlum, or Louis Armstrong over Lawrence Welk or "The Sopranos" over "My Mother the Car"?

I'll respond to the stuff about Maxwell's equations and what is or isn't required of modern artist later, if you want. This is getting over-long.

By the way, did you see "Punch-Drunk Love?" Adam Sandler was surprisingly good!

Nice post about the Gonzales-Torres piece, Freddie.

Duchamp said he signed that urinal and threw it on a wall to sneer at the art establishment; now it's in the MOMA.

So, with Duchamp backing me up, can I safely sneer at the MOMA? Because you haven't seemed to positive on my sneering--or really, the mere possibility that I might sneer--in the past.

On the candy, I'm not sure that I could take a piece, given that background; it would make me want to cringe. That reaction by itself seems to show the work is successful at some level in bringing home the death of somebody I've never heard of before today.

So, with Duchamp backing me up, can I safely sneer at the MOMA? Because you haven't seemed to positive on my sneering--or really, the mere possibility that I might sneer--in the past.

You can't de-install the installation. That's asking history to de-install itself. There are problems with the art world. But they are not disqualifying, and, I think, they are a product of the commodification of art, not the work itself. On some level there has to be a good faith effort to understand the artwork, and following that, either appreciation, or not. End transmission.

I guess any critical consensus could be said to have an aspect of "popularity contest," but I'm not clear what you'd propose as the alternative model.

I have no alternative model. I'm just saying that model seems to say that pop culture is "greater" than "serious" art, in that it's more popular. Even I'm uncomfortable with that conclusion.

There is no appeal to the absolute in such judgments, but that doesn't mean the judgments are arbitrary.

What I'm groping for here is the basis for the non-arbitrary yet not absolute judgments; they often seem quite aggressively arbitrary. And if the elaborate negotiations you mention are carried out in a closed and insular world, then there is little reason for anyone outside that world to credit them. Do you ever worry what Amazonian tribesmen disapprove of your sex life? No? Then why should I care what a similarly isolated bunch of critics thinks about art?

In that sense, it seems to me that artists should be trying to become more popular, to connect their work to the cultural consciousness in larger society. In other words, bring society at large into the negotiation. If they don't, they're just engaged in self-congratulation and cliquish smugness. Yet with works like "Piss Christ," we see artists deliberately attempting to alienate the public at large, and being praised by a tiny cadre of "sophisticates" for their success in so doing. And when artists do achieve commercial success, they're often derided as sell-outs. Art becomes a permanent counter-culture and endless futile "revolution."

Rob, you were the one to introduce the "popularity contest" concept--I don't think I said anything that suggests that sales figures or crowd size are indexes of quality. But the question of the relationship of "fine art" or "high culture" to "pop culture" is a big one. There are indeed many artists who have, in one way or another, followed your advice to engage pop culture very directly. Warhol is an obvious example, a contemporary Japanese artist named Murakami is another, any number of high-art-trained figures who opted to work in the popular forms of music or film (Brian Eno, David Byrne, Bryan Ferry, David Lynch... it's a long list) might also be examples.

Our conversation is going off in more directions than I can address here... if the key question is about "the basis for the non-arbitrary yet not absolute judgments," then perhaps the best way to proceed would be for me to respond to one or two specific examples of judgments that appear "aggressively arbitrary" to you. Offer an example and I'll see whether I can throw any light on the reasons for those judgments, whether or not I agree with them personally. (I'm certainly not trying to promote the idea that the "art world consensus" is correct, only that there is usually a logic to it.)

As to why you should care... if you don't see the visual arts as part of your culture, and you don't find them stimulating or pleasurable, then maybe there's no good reason to care about it.

I don't think I said anything that suggests that sales figures or crowd size are indexes of quality.

You suggested the interest generated by a work and its influence on subsequent artists as two possible measures.

I also didn't mean that artists should engage pop culture necessarily; I'm not hankering for a colorful Jennifer Anniston multi-portrait. I'm suggesting that artists should strive to be relevant. Not in the activist/political sense, because artists' comments on politics are usually dumb, but in the sense that they speak to the experience of ordinary people, or offer ordinary people an approachable new insight. That's what I like about the candy pile: not just a non-blasphemous Biblical allusion (how
'bout that!), but also a startlingly accessible representation of the fate that awaits all of us.

As for arbitrary, how about most of what has already been mentioned? Of all the juvenile acts of pointless oppositionalism which occur every day, why is the urinal "art"? Why is Mondrian an artist who hangs in every important gallery? Was there really nobody else in his time producing anything more visually interesting than rectangles in primary colors?

(Even granting that the galleries of 2007 have no choice but to display such works as seminal moments in the history of art, couldn't the art world have the decency to be a bit embarrassed that its "seminal moments" are so lame? You don't see many legal scholars holding up Taney as a great jurist whose work should be deeply studied based on the undeniably important Dred Scott decision.)

On the flip side of the arbitrariness divide, how much attention does, say, Norman Rockwell get from the guardians of serious art? There was a guy with undeniable technical skill, a sense of humor, and a great eye for everyday life. The Four Freedoms capture both the American experience and the reasons I dislike the governmental philosophy behind the Four Freedoms speech (don't know if he meant to do that, but he did). All four of them--and pretty much all of his best work--hang in a rinky-dink museum in Stockbridge, MA. Why?

OK, Duchamp's "Fountain," a commercially-manufactured urinal, signed "R. Mutt" and placed on a pedestal, 1917. A super-famous piece that has provoked mountains of argument and commentary. The upshot, from my point of view, is that Duchamp, with that piece and his related "readymades," raised a bunch of questions about our culture's underlying assumptions about art and value--indeed, some of the same questions you are asking here, Rob. How do we tell what qualifies as a work of art? Who gets to say, and on what grounds? By refusing to deliver most of the expected qualities of an artwork--the artist's "hand," sensuous formal properties--a challenge to basic assumptions about art emerges more clearly. (The piece was, by the way, aimed at self-styled avant-gardists... if I recall correctly, it was submitted to a show that claimed to be open to the most advanced art practices, and it was basically placed out of sight by the appalled organizers of the show, to Duchamp's delight.) Duchamp wanted to insist on art as an intellectual, philosophical pursuit--he thought that art was under the tyranny of "the retinal," the idea that it was just about pure, dumb, visual appearances, rather than complicated cultural conventions. And that art was mindlessly stuck in a pre-modern form of production... there's another question: why should artists continue to employ ancient artisanal methods in the age of mass production and global communication? So, to go back to my earlier formulation about "standards," Duchamp made a contribution to the discussion that was, arguably, a radical challenge to cultural assumptions; was witty (also something of an affront to seriousness in which art was shrouded), and that offered a substantially new model of what an artist's practice might include, a model that many subsequent artists (in our discussion, Manzoni and Warhol are examples) have taken up. The actual urinal in the museum is a re-creation--the original was lost. It isn't there to be admired for the beauty of the porcelain, but it does stand as a record of one of the more provocative cultural gestures of the last century, even if it seems quaint now. Of course, not everyone esteems Duchamp highly, nor does everyone value the idea of art as critically-minded and provocative. But, like it or not, the "Fountain" in the museum sits there as a record of that challenge to conventional expectations about art, and is valued highly because of that.

Does this make sense? I'll come back when I have more time to address Mondrian and Rockwell.

This is a very interesting summary. It leaves me thinking, though, that the principal achievement was the exposure of hypocrisy: here are people who claim to be challenging the standards of the fuddy-duddy past, yet they have (unstated, hypocritical, and at bottom conventional) standards and an inflated sense of themselves and are no thus different from those they attack.

That the left themselves vulnerable to such an attack--which on its face continues to strike me as no better than a pitiful prank played by teenagers on an elderly and somewhat Victorian librarian--says more about them than it does about the "art."

I'm assuming, mind you, that they were, in fact, hypocrites in this sense.

Rob, I'm having trouble finding a moment to finish the discussion, and with family arriving from out of town, I'm afraid I'll need to bow out at this point, sorry. Briefly: I can't help but note that you focus on a parenthetical remark I made about Duchamp's piece as his "principal achievement," ignoring all the other stuff about how he changed the focus of art discourse and the model of artists' practice, which I think go much further toward explaining the value assigned to his work than does the tweaking of hypocrites. Re: Rockwell--he actually has received some attention from the guardians of high culture. There was a big Rockwell show at the Guggenheim in New York about half a dozen years ago, and Dave Hickey--a very influential art critic--weighed in with some complementary remarks about Rockwell in print. In general, though, you are correct, Norman Rockwell is not usually part of the twentieth-century art history presented by museums such as the Guggenheim. Why? For one, there is a categorical distinction between "illustrators" and "fine artists." The former are usually seen as providing a pictorial complement to the ideas of others, usually in a commercial context, and their original drawings or paintings are typically instrumental steps toward a publication, not really designed to be viewed in a gallery setting. The latter are more completely the authors of their work, and their art is an end in itself. The other issue has to do with predominant notions of value that I sense you disagree with (this may be fundamentally a political position): the aspects of the "art world" that you seem troubled by value invention and challenges to convention. Rockwell is both conservative in technique and he presents an idealized, sentimental view of American life--so, he'd encounter some resistance on those grounds, too, by art historians and such. Apologies for the sloppiness of this last, quick, post. Enjoy the holidays.

Thank you for your efforts, BT. It's rare that someone learns as much as I have from blog comments.


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