I have been sitting here all weekend – reading, taking notes, even starting the draft of the draft of a draft of a paper. (Need to read a lot more before I even get to the draft of a draft stage ;-). I really am somewhat obsessed with the question which I keep asking, you see. The one about my students. I am, after all, attempting to do a PhD, the subject of which is art education… How can I even write a dissertation without taking all this into account? Or so I was thinking until a minute ago…

Anyway, I was just sitting here, smoking a cigarette, continuing my ruminations and then I started to think about someone who I do believe has the genuine “bug”. Is an artist, in other words. And I began to wonder whether this would have been something that his instructors could have possibly sensed about him while he was still in art school. And more to the point – would he have known it himself? And even more to the point (and this, I believe, is the true clincher!)  – was he, in fact, already an artist at the tender age of 20 something? Or did that actually evolve?

The seeds of it may well have been there from way back when, his childhood, I suppose. Now, I happen to have the privilege of being somewhat familiar with this persons work starting from his early twenties. And admittedly, the essence of what he is all about today is present even in his very early output. However, only an inkling of it, vaguely sensed here and there, poking its head through (almost timidly), buried amongst quite a bit of extraneous material. And then he seems to have moved closer and closer to it as he grew older. Seems to have spent a very long time in finding and then developing his own visual language. (Sine qua non in these matters, I would say). The full-on impact, the blast of “the big question” however – that, as far as I can tell, appears to have happened only quite recently, over the past 2 or 3 years. At a point when he was already in his 40s.

And then, to illustrate an entirely different case: Did I have artistic pretensions when I was 20 years old? Sure I did. It took long decades for me to reach an awareness that I am not an artist, that I do not have these burning issues. I just really like to make stuff. Give myself little assignments. Not at all the same thing!

I cannot project myself into the mindset of Bruegel. Did he know that he was an artist whilst he was still training as an apprentice? Or did that come about later? And would it even have mattered to him? Was the definition of being an artist back then the same as it is today? The operant conditions of his lifetime were entirely different from the ones surrounding my colleague of whom I was talking about above. Really, it is almost like comparing apples and oranges.

So, to get back to today: I cannot possibly know who amongst my students may have a true artistic calling. In all likelihood, they will not be able to know this themselves. Those that are will eventually know, and those around them may do so also – after quite a bit of water has passed under the bridge.

Nothing for me to get all worked up about then now, is there?
;-)

…

I am still wondering here. The previous post, where this bit belongs to as well, is already way too long. So, I am starting a new one.

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First, why was I only vaguely aware that Hegel had a gripe with art? Could it be because it is an uncomfortable truth (uttered by Hegel, no less!) which goes against the grain of the prevalent art system? In other words, it is not in the best interest of persons seeking a place within that system, be it as critics, theoreticians, curators or artists, to be quoting him. You do not saw off the tree branch on which you are perching, we say in Turkish. Must be similar proverbs in all languages. So, the word does not get too widely disseminated, or whenever it does it gets buried under mountains of doublespeak. Which could possibly account for how I missed it.

Not that I am trying to justify my ignorance or anything. If anything, I am totally appalled by it: There are 448,000 page results for a query for “Hegel+art+death” on google. Which is certainly more than enough for me to have been fully aware. A lot of these lead to Arthur Danto who seems to have applied the Hegelian principle to post 1970’s art. Which, would be the period to scrutinize very closely indeed. The book is already on its way from Amazon.

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Second, I said that a true artistic calling would be unlikely to bring fulfillment to its possessor. I am sticking to my guns with this one. Unless the person in question is introverted to the point of autism, that is.

I have this idea that artwork which posits the “deeper question”, in the Hegelian sense, has an overall tendency to go over like a lead balloon in contemporary art circles. Will probably not even get shown. If for no other reason than the one that dictates that artwork needs to be of a nature that will enable its “consumption” within 18 seconds. In other words, the amount of time that a spectator spends in front of an artwork is no more than 18 seconds on an average. Anything that takes longer “to get” is not likely to get viewed. This, I am told, is a curatorial/museological maxim which the organizers of art events stick to world wide.

But 18 seconds would be the least of the worries of the folk that decide upon what gets shown and what does not. The real issue would be the “Zeitgeist” and to what an extent work shown is in tune to it. The Zeitgeist of our time is materialistic. And by Hegel’s definition art work cannot be so. It is intrinsically spiritual.

A person may be a devout believer and still be deeply materialistic. Or an atheist and deeply spiritual. As far as I can see, the two things have nothing to do with one another. Certain people have questions which relate to what lies beyond the material while most others do not.

I am a child of my times. Thus, unfortunately, I am not at all spiritually inclined. I have a deep admiration for people who are, like my PhD professor Roy Ascott. Who are grappling with issues such as “consciousness”. What “being” may be all about. I also know that these are questions that are best left unasked if you want to get funded in science. That the scientist who starts to wonder about why and how we are “conscious” tends to get kicked out of funding schemes. Is considered to be unworthy of further serious attention from the scientific community. Art is not science, but… When I look at the evidence around me I somehow end up becoming fairly certain that the exact same principles which are applied to one are also applied to the other when it comes to the funding of art work, the showing of art work, obtaining a place in good artist’s residencies and so forth. It is the Zeitgeist at work. In the case of science, some harm done I am sure, but by and large science may well be benefiting from this. Become more accurate, more deterministic, obtain better results. For art however, the effects are devastating. It is the era of non-art. Material object devoid of spirit. Or at times, even worse: Material object as a representation of “fake” spirit. “Social awareness” it is called? The artwork as sociocultural/political propaganda board.

And then also – and no matter how admirable the initial intentions may have been in most of these cases – the many uneasy marriages between art and science which, more often than not, yield offspring who not only seem to fall short of satisfying the innate requirements expected of either parent, but also of engendering their own novel discourse.

One seeming exception? A lot of personal soul searching abounds in contemporary body art and this could very easily be confused with the term “spiritual”. Body art may be (in fact, almost always seems to be) deeply personal. The person embroiled within the process often grappling with formidable personal demons. Is that a spiritual quest though? Given how all the demons would be flesh-bound to begin with? And then, even more importantly: Is a spiritual quest something personal? Or does it transcend the personal? Does it only become spiritual when it leaves the realm of the  personal “I” and enters the realm of collective consciousness? Are there works of contemporary body art that do attain this state? Possibly so, yes. I need to think more about this one. A lot more, in fact.

And then New Age manifestations: Do they go against the spirit of the materialistic Zeitgeist? Can they be seen as evidence of a mass spiritual quest? Maybe the start of a new religion even? Humm… Maybe back in the 1960’s and early 70s they might have been indicative of some sort of a search. But today? Isn’t the bulk of it all about “what’s in it for me”? How can I use age old spiritual techniques to extend my income, become a more successful person, attain a better love life, lose weight and maybe stop smoking even? Sure, there are bound to be persons out there who pursue a deeper calling. Enough for a critical mass to come about? Enough to shift the Zeitgeist, in other words? No evidence whatsoever for that, as far as I can see.

…

So, getting back to my question from before: What do I tell the rare oddball “true” artist who may wander into my class in pursuit of a deeper quest? A student who has entrusted him/herself into my tutelage? Do I tell them that a lifetime of frustration; of very often, if not indeed inevitably, being overlooked awaits them? That they are proposing to enter a Quixotic state of existence which goes against the very grain of the prevalent Zeitgeist? Tell them to forget it, in other words? And could they “forget it” even if they wished to do so? So, do I stand by, helplessly wringing my hands, as I watch them head off to emotional perdition?

…

Quoted from the blog Sex Drugs and Post-Structuralism (unfortunately no longer active, it seems):

… “when I am alone with myself, I have not the courage to think of myself as an artist in the great and ancient sense of the term. I am only a public entertainer who has understood his times and exploited as best he could the imbecility, the vanity, the cupidity of his contemporaries. Mine is a bitter confession, more painful than it may appear, but it has the merit of being sincere.” Pablo Picasso (Interview with Giovanni Papini in Libro Nero, 1952)

It is maybe not Picasso’s fault, higher forces are at play. Hegel had already proclaimed the death of art one hundred years before. Art, for Hegel, had reached its expressive limit, its “spirit” or Geist, had been exhausted. Art’s expressive form had achieved all that it could. In Hegel’s scheme of things, art had reached full-circle in the complete self-awareness of itself as art… in other words, art becomes self-conscious.

As soon as a particular expression of Geist starts becoming self-conscious, it multiplies itself; art is everywhere, there has never been so much “art” in the world than today…and yet, what is “art”?

The very asking of the question amongst the proliferation of “arts”, is for Hegel, the Zeitgeist, or the “signs of the times”, that art is dead. Art becomes self-conscious, as it starts theorizing about itself in an interminable questioning of itself.

…

Read the whole text here:

http://chaosmose.blogspot.com/2005/09/death-of-art-hegel-and-picasso.html

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Do I agree? Well, yes and no… Sadly, I do think that the author of the post above knows precisely what she is talking about.

But then again, I still see the real thing on rare occasions as well? Works of art, in other words? That do not theorize about themselves? Tough to pinpoint, tough to define, tough to categorize and to label. And thus, unforgettable. Admittedly, few and far between. If anything, I seem to encounter them years apart. Certainly not an everyday occurrence. Buried amongst a pervasive avalanche of verbose iniquity, gasping for breath. But nonetheless – there!

…

Continued on the following morning:

This shook me up. I have to be totally honest and own up to the fact that I was only vaguely aware of Hegel’s proclamations (*ouch*), until an article sent to the journal which I am editing made me encounter them head-on yesterday. Needless to say, I have been reading up feverishly since then.

I have felt the Zeitgeist which Hegel points at. And for a long time too. But obviously my feeling something, no matter for how long and however strongly, and Hegel articulating it are two different things entirely. When the man, whose thought processes have helped shape two centuries of subsequent intellectual activity, says that “a (social) need for art is obsolete” it is of momentous impact. For me it is so anyway: Can a calling which attempts to exist with no underlying societal purpose achieve this exalted state at all? Well… Yes, it seems that it can. Can it do so and still bring fulfillment to its possessor? Very seriously doubt it…

I do not call myself an artist, so this does not shake up the foundations of my existence on an immediately personal, first person singular sort of a level. I just carry on doing what I have been doing all along – which is making stuff that I know to be design output. But nonetheless, it is still important, even on a personal level, in the sense that I am also an art educator sometimes. Not always, thank God. I am a design instructor most of the time. However, I do have students that have artistic aspirations as well, particularly on the graduate level. So, what do I say? What do I do? Because I do know that Hegel is correct. A visionary, given that his thoughts do not really apply to the works of his contemporaries, as Chaosmose very accurately points out in her post, but to what came about long after his death.

Hegel argues that art, in concert with religion and philosophy, is an activity of the mind whose task is to reveal spirit, in sensuous form. And as such, it would inevitably have completed its intrinsic life cycle with the advent of materialism as the founding principle of the post-romantic/modernist social mindset coming to the fore during Hegel’s own lifetime. I have previously tried to define an artist as someone who has a fundamental question that they are trying to articulate, a question that has no answer but the answer to which is haunting them nonetheless (by which I suppose I was groping for that very Hegelian definition). Today, for the largest part, individuals with such an obsession would have a horrifyingly difficult time getting across their query, given that they are totally obliterated by a maelstrom of non-art to begin with. And then – even more importantly, the religious/cultural infrastructure that would have provided a socioeconomic milieu of “genuine need” to aid Bruegel in his quest – where is that now? How do things work in it’s demise? What is there for a “real” artist to do today? In the year 2010?

The malady would also manifest in the proliferation of art, which Hegel seems to define as one of the symptoms of its decadence, apparently already somewhat in evidence towards the end of the Romantic era (all this as far as I can make out from my survey reading since yesterday – believe me, I will be reading more deeply – ordering the books even as I write…). So, how many artists are there now? I mean how many human beings are there in the world today that define their output as “art”? Thousands? Hundreds of thousands? Millions? Hundreds of millions? 1% of the world’s population? 5? 10? I have no clear idea, but a huge number, of that I am certain… And so, what would have been this same percentage until the advent of modernism? 0.001%? 0.0001%? 0.00001%? I think that whatever that tiny percentage may have been back then, it would probably still be the same today. In other words, a handful of individuals, in societies comprised of tens of millions of people are artists today also – very much as was the case during the Renaissance or whenever.

So, I could well encounter one of them or maybe two of them in my classrooms in all the decades that I teach. How do I know that they are the genuine article? And again, what do I tell them even if I do manage to somehow distinguish them from the fray? And then, what does one tell all the others? How does one differentiate even? Does one simply shut up? Probably… I am certain that shutting up and pretending that all is hunky dory is what is expected of the likes of me. Our employers, our peers, our students – no one wants the apple cart to be upset, do they?

…

I have been obsessing about Cloaca since I knew of it’s existence – which was precisely 3 days ago.

Not that I want to get overly dramatic and Spenglerian here by screaming “Untergang des Abendlandes”*** or anything like that – but civilizations are also often defined as organisms, yes? And organisms grow old and die. And one of the signs of old age dementia, as far as I am aware, is a fascination with feces.

Now, had this been something that one person had made, financed out of their own pocket as an anti-art establishment statement, it would be a different matter entirely. After all, how is this so very different from Duchamp’s urinal some may well ask? Well, the difference lies in the fact that Cloaca cost hundreds of thousands of Euro’s to build (it is a very sophisticated and complex robot) and apparently art and culture agencies world-wide were racing with one another to finance it. And now museums are lined up to exhibit it, paying colossal monthly fees (one, right here in my home town being amongst them, if what an acquaintance of mine told me today is anything to go by).

So, no, Cloaca is not one man’s brave/humorous stance against what he considers to be a rotten to the core art establishment but a direct product of that very art establishment itself. An establishment which sees art works solely as objects of entertainment and which as far as I can see, is part and parcel of a very old, very tired human race that has lost faith and direction… Sorry, I know this sounds more pessimistic than even pessimistic, but I happen to believe that this is in fact the case. I have been thinking this and feeling it deep inside my bones for a very long time anyway. Cloaca just really brought it home to me one more final time.

And in one way, this is a liberation of sorts as well: To (re)quote the Beatles – “but oh that magic feeling, no where to go…”. We are now all free to “be”. No more responsibilities. No more plans. No more big ambitions. No more big tomorrows…

…

I cannot give this a category as a “good thing” – obviously. It has to remain “uncategorized”. There are no categories anywhere on this blog that this would fit into.

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*** I want to make it very clear that when I say Abendland, this is in no way an “anti-western” statement: We are a global culture, possibly with shades and tones of Abendland. One thing however, at least for me, is certain: There is no more “Morgenland”. We are all in the same boat, all of us equally affected and/or equally guilty and/or innocent.

…

Afterthought: I have focused upon the funding of Cloaca and not the individual who made it, Vim Delvoye, since it is not so much the work itself but the system that supports it and applauds it that is an issue here. So, a thing to consider may also be whether this was not Vim Delvoye’s aim also? In other words, are he and I on the same side? We would have been, yes – IF! He had exposed the whole “thing” upon completion. Published all the budget sheets. Declared every penny, endorsement and commendation obtained from every art agency that was ever involved with this. And declared that THAT exposure had been the reason behind Cloaca. As far as I am aware he never did so. Had he done so, and if he ever does so at some point in the future, then yes. We will be on the same side.

If you talk about a musician who is special to you, are you (in the end) (again!) talking about yourself? Well, yes. I suppose you are. But, no matter – I do want to talk about Bob Dorough, for whose music I placed a big order at Amazon last week. Apparently they manufacture one of the items I wanted only on demand, so I am still waiting for the whole shipment to arrive; but this is my Syncretismas gift to myself this year. You can listen to the samples if you are not familiar with the man’s music here.

I had not thought of Bob Dorough or listened to him in a very long time. I used to have his stuff on audio cassettes. Then when that technology became extinct I tossed out the whole kit and caboodle which I had accumulated during one of my major clean out sessions some years back and Bob Dorough’s music went out with the rest. And then lately I started hearing his songs in my head. Why I hadn’t done so in so long I have no idea. Anyway, the real music should be arriving in a few weeks and I cannot wait!

For someone who adores The Who, Bob Dorough may appear to be a somewhat bizarre choice but nevertheless I love his music – and I love Bob Dorough. He does “vocalese”, which means he adds lyrics to jazz standards that are essentially conceived of as instrumental music. And then he also sings quite a few regular jazz standards that others have in their repertoire as well. Like Polkadots and moonbeams, after which I named a whole alpha.tribe outfit. I do not really care for any of the other versions of this song sung by other vocalists, but his I love!

And much the same also goes for Devil may care and even Midnight sun (although admittedly Sarah Vaughn does a pretty mean Midnight sun as well).

He sings almost like as if he is talking, even maybe whispering. And yet there is still the melody. But he sort of teeters on the edge of melody, doesn’t seem to make a big deal out of it almost and yet it pours out perfectly of course. Off the cuff he is. Naughty. Mischievous. The voice of the refusal to grow up. Sticking to your guns of childhood as you plod through your boring old grown up life. And it carries both the joy and the sadness embedded into that state of being, which would inevitably bring with it humor and idiosyncrasies. And somehow Bob Dorough sings all of this, brings his psyche through in his vocals: Very tongue-in-cheek, very mercurial, very tough to pin down. Almost impossible to categorize, almost impossible to put a label onto.

Like I said – I love Bob Dorough. I love the music itself  of course, it is awesome. But I do more than just love the music in Bob Dorough’s case. I hear the one who sings it and love what the voice tells me of its owner

I just rooted around online a bit and Bob Dorough is alive and well at the age of 87. He has a page on my-space and I am almost tempted to sign up and become his friend there. Bloody shyness stopping me of course. In any case, although it is extremely unlikely that he will ever hear me doing so, I wish him all the very best of health and longevity and good spirits in the upcoming decade!

And!!! Major discovery: I have been desperately trying to find one of his albums which he recorded together with Bill Takas called Beginning to see the light in 1976, particularly for the track called Better than anything, the lyrics of which can make me chuckle on even the lousiest of days – but really the whole thing from one end to the other. I was willing to pay whatever anyone was asking for it but it seems to be extinct. And then voila! Here it is! What a find! What a blog! What generosity! YAYYY! Thank you Cat and LauraDoe!

Let your heart be light
From now on,
your troubles will be out of sight

Have yourself a merry little Christmas,
Make the Yule-tide gay,
From now on,
your troubles will be miles away.

Here we are as in olden days,
Happy golden days of yore.
Faithful friends who are dear to us
Gather near to us once more.

Through the years
We will be together,
If the Fates allow
Hang a shining star upon the highest bough.
And have yourself A merry little Christmas now.

…

I do not know how many people read this blog. To judge by what the wordpress stats give me, not too many at all. 12 today. 5 yesterday, none the few days before that, then 4 and so on. But recently I found out that I do not see all the viewings. And not only the ones via RSS but even regular page viewings. Some of those seem to slip the radar as well. So, really I have no idea.

I also do not know why I keep this blog. It is not really a diary. I have a separate one for that and that is private. And when I look at what I write here – quite frankly I am appalled: It is “me me me” straight through all the way. I cannot write about what I really want to write about. That is forbidden to me. So, I have nothing but my boring self. My alts. My this. My that. My opinions. Me me me. I am very tired of “me”.

I travel a lot. Many airports. I board the plane from one which looks almost exactly like the one where I finally leave it. Traveling minstrels we are these days – academics. I walk a lot of streets in the cities that I end up in. Sometimes there is an invisible someone with me. We sit in cafes. We smoke our cigarettes standing on sidewalks. We do not talk very much, we do not need to. It is understood. I miss that companion who has been walking by my side for a quite a while now. Who gets impatient as I insist on buying more shower gels and soaps and curly hair shampoos wherever I go. Who leaves me in front of all the colored flasks and tubes and wanders off in pursuit of other interests. Which is quite perfect. I will delight in all the great new toys when we meet again at the exit.

I no longer wish to talk about things that are stopgaps. Like “me”. So, I think I will shut up for a bit. Until I find something to say that isn’t altogether about “me”. Could be quite some time, that…

…

Students can be such demanding little critters – hhh…

For some unknown reason the nosey parkers are still snooping around in my blog it seems – and this despite my strictest instructions to the contrary! I thought that I had made myself abundantly clear more than a year ago when I pointed them in the direction of the great urban outdoors, of which there really is no lack of at all in this city; rather than sitting at home perched behind their screens reading the ramblings of their boring old instructors! Alas, absolutely to no avail…They are still in here! So anyway, I was cornered by a few of them on the service shuttle coming back home into the city the other day and they wanted to know what my top 10 favorite songs by The Who are. There is, of course, no easy answer to such a question, so I begged for some time to give the response the utmost attention that it needs. And here it is  – my Top 10 The Who songs list (I think):

1) Who are you?
2) Guitar and pen
3) They’re all in love
4) Slip Kid
5) Won’t get fooled again
6) New Song
7) Squeeze Box
8) In a hand or a face
9) Empty glass
10) Behind blue eyes

Except here’s the problem with this list: First I have had to leave out things like “Eminence Front” and “However much I booze”! Being limited to just 10 that is? Second, I love all these songs equally?

They also wanted to know the same thing with Queen. (I can hardly believe this but apparently they actually listen to these bands! Love them! These songs were written a long long long time before the oldest of them was even born? !!!) With Queen, the answer is somewhat simpler. I feel that Queen albums need to be listened to in their entirety. Like The Who opera albums in a way. So, it would be very tough to make a list there. Also, with Queen I love their stage presence almost as much as the music they make and the two things are really more or less welded into one whole in my mind. And again, although when on stage they arranged the flow of the songs into different sequences than the ones of the albums, there still seems to have been a deliberately orchestrated continuity in the way the songs got seamlessly blended into one other. Also visually, I should add. When I listen to them, in my mind’s eye I “see” Queen as much as I “hear” them somehow. The most money I have ever spent on a concert ticket was for a Queen concert. And nowadays I love to watch all their concert DVD’s over and over again. The cockiness, the humor, the imagination, the sheer unabashed in-your-face drama of the man… But, all that said, if you still want to push me up against a wall with a gun, I will say “We will rock you” (of course), “It’s a hard life”, “Who wants to live for ever”, “Brighton Rock” – and then finally… My all time anthem:

I want it all, I want it all, and I want it now!!!
You couldn’t possibly have phrased that any better than you did Freddie… (I know he wasn’t the one who wrote the song, Brian May was – but…)
:-)

http://monty-chan.blogspot.com/

You get to a point where you realize that there isn’t much of a point to the point to begin with.

I have been building for Burning Life. Could be that totally bleak landscape of those sims. It is the first few days and there is hardly another avatar in sight. A few people have rezzed a few things in some of the neighboring plots but basically, for the past few days it was me, by myself, standing on that cracked up desert ground building a tower. How we kid ourselves, thinking to ourselves that what we do is even remotely relevant to anyone except ourselves. But, right now, it isn’t even relevant to me. Whatever it is that I do. Or do not do. And I am not only talking about “making stuff”, but the whole nine yards.

Anyway, I am going to be afk for a while. Which is probably just as well.