Sorry for not posting earlier (I’m a very late riser), and thank you Lisa for your impromptu post. I know that some of you readers also follow my own blog, The Thinking Eye; for those who don’t, I’d like to briefly introduce myself. I’ll do so by following up belatedly on Karl’s Monday post, trying to get at some of my writerly goals and biases by way of my location. Since I also spend time on the Internet (a sort of place, perhaps), this makes a good companion piece to my recent off-site post on Art & Perception. From September of last year, my home has been Ithaca in Upstate New York.
Although I like to discuss Ithaca on my Eye and elsewhere, it often seems absurd of me to do so. A city of something like 50,000 people (the population varies with the coming and going of students), it is not, and has never been, an important art center on the order of Haarlem or New Amsterdam (although it was of some significance in the early film industry). Most likely, it will never be one in the future. Ambitious artists around here tend to gravitate towards NYC, which is about a six hour drive away. I like to travel there myself, as much as I can. Still, Ithaca is where I live, and it effects the way I think and experience art. (I live here by choice, so I try not to sound like I’m complaining too much.)
As a college town–home to Cornell University and Ithaca College–the place is hardly bereft of culture. In fact, it is something of a miniature melting pot, a mixture of different nationalities, religions (a major center of Tibetan Buhddism), and art-forms (music being much stronger than the visual arts). Unfortunately, most of the culture that I value most is not native-grown, but imported. Cornell’s Johnson Museum has a fine a fine permanent collection of art, with particular strengths in in Asian and American art. In addition, the museum and other branches of the school brings in a wide variety of exhibitions, artists and scholars. I try to take in as much of this as I can, digesting interesting bits through my writing. The problem is that most things of interest art-wise come from elsewhere, and are funneled from the top down. This presents problems for me both as a (lapsed) artist and as someone interested in writing seriously about art. I’m working on the latter, at least.
I moved here from Boston last year (mostly for personal reasons) after completing several years of undergraduate study at the School of the Museum of Fine Arts. My final year there was spent at Tufts University (which is associated with the SMFA), studying things other than studio art. Because of this time period, and because I felt (correctly or not) that I had used up a surge of ideas beginning in 2001, I have shifted my attention from making art to writing about it. While many artists seem to regard this as a waste of time, I believe that it is valuable. If nothing else, I am good at it.
Karl’s claims that “the action in the great living art centers of today is not all that impressive”, citing New York, Berlin, and London. I would like to politely disagree. I have never been to Berlin or London, but I have been to NYC, Chicago, Boston, Washington D.C. and Paris, among other places. While I’ve seen plenty of bad art, I’ve also seen a great many things of interest (to me, Karl’s tastes are clearly very different). My main interest is not in the art of the past, the kind enshrined in museums. My main interest is in the living arts of today: not because I think we’re living in the greatest of eras, but simply because the culture is active. I enjoy being in the midst of this culture.
Eventually, I plan to move to New York; in the meantime, where I am is alright.
Arthur,
I enjoy learning more about your city. I agree, you are good at writing about art. The importance of this type of work should not be underestimated.
Dan Bodner agrees with you about New York — lots of bad contemporary art, but also a great deal of interest in the contemporary scene. Obviously I need to take another look. Perhaps I had too high expectations for a great art center — that I would easily find the great art.
I am also interested in the living arts of today, or at least a subset of them. But the art of the past always has an influence on us. I feel I can choose which of that art I want to be influenced by. To me, 1950 has no more importance than 1450 (and probably less). But that does not make me less interested in creating art for our time.
To me, 1950 has no more importance than 1450 (and probably less).
Karl – why less?
Oh Lisa,
It’s just a matter of personal interest, not a criticism of 20th century art.
The idea that styles, forms, and techniques transcend history is an interesting idea, and one that probably deserves more attention. What you do with these sources might be more important then the place or time period they come from. Certainly, I don’t want to deny the possibility of making great art today in the Renaissance manner (or in a way that borrows from it). Still, the idea that 1950 trumps 1450 is pretty deeply embedded in my mind. I’m sure that living near New York, instead of in Europe plays a big role. Not that there isn’t a lot of bad, overly derivative 1950’s style work being done.
Karl that was a lame answer – what about the 1450s is of more importance? I’m curious about what it is you see and are attracted to.
Arthur:
The idea that styles, forms, and techniques transcend history is an interesting idea, and one that probably deserves more attention. What you do with these sources might be more important then the place or time period they come from.
Ok, you sure have my attention. I’d love to read your thoughts on that. Actually, I’d love to just learn more about it – got any suggestions on where I might start?
Our minds are not limited to where are bodies are.
It takes time and effort to search out the work that matters to us.
Wake up early.
Paul,
I was inspired by Karl’s claim that the art of 1450 is just as as valid a source as the art of 1950. This goes against both my own training and a lot of traditional art history. The former taught me (not without ambivalence) that you should always try to be up to date. Therefore, the work of hundreds of years ago is more or less irrelevant. The latter often teaches that art history is teleological, that is, that it is progressing toward a certain goal (greater realism, greater abstraction, greater spiritual signigficance, etc.).
But if Karl’s position is right, not just for him, but in general, than neither of the above positions makes much sense. You can just pick and choose whatever you want from the past.
D,
It just so happens that I’m reading Sleep Thieves, a pop science book by psychologist Stanley Coren (specifically pages 91-93). He confirms the conventional wisdom that people are divided into “larks”(morning people) and “owls”(night people). Presumably, these types are genetically determined. These two types, he says, have “biological clocks” that are out of sync with each other. These clocks regulate not only sleep patterns, but related factors like body temperature, and the production of various hormones. He writes that “asking owls to keep he schedule of a lark, or vice versa, generally leads to greater dissatisfaction and lower efficiency”. Of course, I’ve also heard that sleep time is primarily a matter of habit. And I hear that sunrises are beautiful.
I have trouble discerning between art of the past and art of the present.
I mean I’m quite aware of what movements, styles and techniques were prevalent during various periods, but the problem I have is deciding where the past ends and the present begins. Where do you draw the line? We can probably all agree that 1450 is in the past, but of course so is 1950, and so is 2005. In one sense you could say that by the time a work of art makes it into a gallery it’s already art of the past. For me it’s easier to think of anything not still in progress as being part of the continuum of past art, with some works more recent than others.
Arthur, it is kind of you to credit me with having the idea that art of the distant past can be important in contemporary work — but this is absurd.
You wrote, in context, “the work of hundreds of years ago is more or less irrelevant.”
Arthur, did you ever hear of the Renaissance? Did you know that the Renaissance is only one example of a renaissance of art, a thing that happened repeatedly in the ancient world as well (even then, there was ancient history).
Of course you know these things. So I’m wondering, what in the world are you talking about?
I was simply writing of an message implicit in some of my art training. Of course I don’t believe that.
David,
You make a good point. I guess I used 1950 as a shorthand for the contemporary, because that was what Karl seemed to be doing. Of course, me being born in 1979, it does seem like a long time ago. Certainly I am aware of the many changes. As for 2005, yes, its technically part of the past, but I have no problem referring to work made that year as contemporary. The historical changes are just too small to be relevant to most discussions. Where you draw the line is a matter of context and personal choice.
I basically think of 2005 as contemporary too, but I was just using that as an example of how arbitrary the cutoff is. I do sincerely think of it as a continuum though. I picked up some ideas from a Renaissance marble floor outside the Duomo in Siena last April that I’m putting to use today in my abstract work with linoleum.
Arthur,
Thanks for clarifying.
David,
One big issue in psychology and cognitive science is, how long is “now”? Siena. Loved it there.
The Short Now might be nanoseconds. The Long Now could be 10,000 years or more.