When we dislike an artwork, and are as you say disappointed, or even angry, are we confirming the inner joy of our own superior taste and expectations and discernment? Aesthetic smugness? And then there's the secret feeling that our sense of disappointment is unjustified, that we are indeed missing something we shouldn't be if in fact we really were discerning. Secretly, we say, "Wait, how come I don't like this as much as so and so curator does, especially since I'm so profoundly discerning?"
There is a strange breed of collectors and appreciators who say if the work annoys them it must be good. This is how, in the continual inversion of modernism, the lack of discernment is taken as the virtue of open-mindedness. Thus the more shocking the art, the more eagerly it is embraced by those whose superior self-esteem rests on accepting what they instinctively dislike. It's like saying, "I'm better than I am". Regarding underpainting, there was a time, as you no doubt know, when the height of aesthetic achievement depended on how little an artist needed to do to bring a dull underpainting fully to visual life. Jacques David was a true master at this. He'd sponge on a smeary underpainting, or blot the composition into being over a meticulous drawing, and then with a simple mark or flourish in just the right spot, bring an otherwise lumpy, bland area to stunning reality. Velasquez, too. And Manet. And so many others who were born of the academic manner. It's fun to look at 17-18C salon type paintings to see how much of the underpainting still remains as visible, and important to the final layers, and how those final layers are really just the scantiest of touches, dabs, lines, etc. To get the most with the least. Manet went further sometimes. He'd leave some of the canvas bare and let it be a highlight or part of a illusion of realty. This kind of virtuosity is frowned up today as unworthy of the romantic angst of creativity. But in the days of large studios with many assistants blocking in the underpaintings, using templates or tracings as compositional guides. The master who could produce more effect with a few finishing flourishes added to those underpaintings was greatly admired. wc ----- Original Message ---- From: Michael Brady <[email protected]> To: [email protected] Sent: Tue, December 21, 2010 10:42:21 AM Subject: Re: Surprised by Joy* On Dec 21, 2010, at 10:26 AM, William Conger wrote: > So it's either joy or nothing for you? What about the truly bad stuff, > especially the clumsy bad stuff that's heralded as great by the > curator/dealers/critics, the establishment? I meant to say disappointment at the poor stuff, (I edited it out of the passage about Dali.) Which leads to annoyance and anger, sometimes. As I said of Dali, "Is that all?" Under my breath, I might have added, "BS, crap, cleverness." Or "Nonsense. Drivel." Etc. It's an unfulfilled expectation of a joyful experience. Even when I look at a representation of something sad or disturbing, and I feel those emotions as I look at it, if it was well made, I will come away with a joy-like sense of completion. I get that a lot from theater and movies, because they unfold over time and I react to the scenes in sequence until the end, when the totality can be appreciated. > You like to retrace the marks that make up the artwork but don't like to see the > faces of singers as they contort in making sounds. Only because I get too engaged vicariously in the persona of the performer, and thus distracted from the singing > Why are there some kinds of > artworks where the traces of its making may hinder its ability to move us? And > what of those artworks that make the materials and methods of their making the > subject matter, as in process art? I suspect that this depends on the discernment of the viewer, specifically, a viewer who is well versed in the kind of artwork and can see and evaluate the effect of the traces you mention. I enjoy listening to music, but I am not trained in music, so what I hear is almost totally governed by my likes or dislikes of the final effect. But others who are trained in music may discern things that are lost to me, and they may conclude that the composer or performer intended for an effect to be distinguished or, oppositely, the performer misjudged a passage and made a clumsy error. I can do that with visual art, mainly paintings and drawings. I can conclude that such and such traces are left over from the underpainting, and I believe I can see evidence in the final work of the artist's intention to show that underpainting or his oversight (or he just didn't finish it). Some things, like Analytical Cubism, put a lot of the structure out there to see, like the Centre Pompidou's external conduits. > Finally, what is the genre of artspeak that describes one's fully subjective > response to an artwork without any appeal to claiming that it is possibly the > same for all? Why do we want to describe our emotional experiences to others > when we realize that they can't really be shared? Is this why the study of > artworks tends to center on formal and historical characterizations, eschewing > the emotional? Perhaps that happens because the writer supposes that all the aspects of the work (or other works) lead to the same result, namely, a high a appreciation of the work. I call that appreciation a species of "joy." I'll go Cheerskepian on you. When I describe the things that are important to me in a work, I'm indicating the components that move me, and ultimately they lead to my degree of satisfaction (joy) with the work. All I can do is say, "Look at how the artist did X or Y in the picture." And add, "When I see X or Y, it reminds me of another work, and I really like how those similar effects work." That is, "They all produce very closely similar responses. What about you?" Has anyone ever said, "You're going to love this. It's great. It will make you feel _____"? That approach tries to tell you how to feel about something you haven't encountered or reflected on yet. But if the person said, "I really liked X or Y because ____________," then they tell you it's important but let you decide how to respond. In my experience, the responses will fall into two large categories, approval and disapproval. Approval leads to various degrees of liking, and ultimately to joy. Disapproval leads to disliking, then to disappointment. I believe this is a generally applicable paradigm to art. | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | Michael Brady
