Dadaism is a movement that arose in response to the horrors of World War I. The Dadaists blamed all elements of the "prevailing order" for the war, including all cultural institutions. Dadaists believed it was necessary to destroy all the emblems of bourgeios society and to start anew. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dada; Retrieved October 31, 2007)
The Dadaists opened a type of cafe/theater/gallery called the Cabaret Voltaire where works of Dadaist artists were displayed and where poets, writers and artists performed on stage. The performances were designed to shock and to provoke as much controversy as possible. There were poems recited by groups of artists speaking different words simultaneously, strange dances by artists wearing grotesque masks and costumes, stomping and banging of pots and pans, incantations of writings by ancient mystics, and other performances that were deliberately bizarre and non-sensical. (http://www.peak.org/~dadaist/English/Graphics/cabaret_voltaire.html; Retrieved October 31, 2007)
The Dadaists undoubtedly had a major influence on modernism as the first openly counter-culture art movement and as a force for breaking down barriers between various art forms and within the field of visual art itself. By questioning everything and holding nothing as sacrosanct, it gave artists total freedom to express themselves creatively.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Kaprow Mirror Activity (Performance Art)
Honestly, I found the Kaprow mirror activity to be silly. If I tried hard, I'm sure I could invent some metaphorical meaning for the mirror/reflection/image aspect of the activity and create a narrative surrounding it that invests it with deeper meaning. But, to do that wouldn't be an honest reflection of my actual experience of the activity. I must confess I have never been a big fan of performance art--it really has just never resonated with me. It often comes across as very self-indulgent and is often so oblique that it fails to engage the average viewer.
The broad philosophy of performance art (at least as it originated in Dadaism) is to break down the barriers between art and life; to take art out of the galleries into the broader world. Performance art has never seemed, to me, to accomplish this "breaking down of barriers" very effectively. Rather than being a democratizing force that makes art more accessible to the viewer, performance art often seems to create more barriers because people just don't get it--there is a sense of division between the artist and the public that is even more profound than with "object" art. With "object" art, the work can be appreciated on many levels, and even if the viewer does not grasp any deeper meaning that may be present in the work, the visual elements of the work can be appreciated on their own terms (craftmanship, composition, etc.). Therefore, the viewer does not feel entirely shut out of the experience of the work.
With performance art, the artist needs an audience (I'm sure some artists would argue with this--e.g Kaprow brushing his teeth--but if there is no audience, how or why is it a peformance?)--but the audience is often left wondering what the point of the performance is. Performances such as standing in a public square and cutting off all your hair or sitting on a stage and having the audience cut off your clothes with scissors beg to be infused with meaning and interpretation, but the intended meaning often is so elusive as to be off-putting to the general public. If the meaning is unimportant, and the purpose is not to entertain (otherwise it would be categorized as theatrical) and there is no visual object to appreciate, I'm left with little understanding of its value. If performance art is simply a means of self-reflection for the artist, like yoga or meditation, I don't understand the purpose of the public performance. These thoughts reflect my present understanding and responses to performance art, which I readily confess are not highly educated opinions, as I have not had wide exposure to the medium. I am prepared for my ideas about it to change with further exposure to performances or writing about the medium that will enlighten me a bit more about it.
The broad philosophy of performance art (at least as it originated in Dadaism) is to break down the barriers between art and life; to take art out of the galleries into the broader world. Performance art has never seemed, to me, to accomplish this "breaking down of barriers" very effectively. Rather than being a democratizing force that makes art more accessible to the viewer, performance art often seems to create more barriers because people just don't get it--there is a sense of division between the artist and the public that is even more profound than with "object" art. With "object" art, the work can be appreciated on many levels, and even if the viewer does not grasp any deeper meaning that may be present in the work, the visual elements of the work can be appreciated on their own terms (craftmanship, composition, etc.). Therefore, the viewer does not feel entirely shut out of the experience of the work.
With performance art, the artist needs an audience (I'm sure some artists would argue with this--e.g Kaprow brushing his teeth--but if there is no audience, how or why is it a peformance?)--but the audience is often left wondering what the point of the performance is. Performances such as standing in a public square and cutting off all your hair or sitting on a stage and having the audience cut off your clothes with scissors beg to be infused with meaning and interpretation, but the intended meaning often is so elusive as to be off-putting to the general public. If the meaning is unimportant, and the purpose is not to entertain (otherwise it would be categorized as theatrical) and there is no visual object to appreciate, I'm left with little understanding of its value. If performance art is simply a means of self-reflection for the artist, like yoga or meditation, I don't understand the purpose of the public performance. These thoughts reflect my present understanding and responses to performance art, which I readily confess are not highly educated opinions, as I have not had wide exposure to the medium. I am prepared for my ideas about it to change with further exposure to performances or writing about the medium that will enlighten me a bit more about it.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Duchamp - The Large Glass
Duchamp's Large Glass (The Bride Stripped Bare by Her Bachelors, Even) strikes me as a good source of material for art critics and historians, but a frustrating, and not particularly satisfying, experience for the average viewer. Duchamp intended that the work be understood intellectually, and not only visually, but the complex notes and diagrams that would give the viewer some starting point for thinking about the work were simply thrown in a box and were never, as I understand it, put into a form that made them readily accessible to the viewer. The author of the Duchamp biography agrees that "[t]he notes from the Green Box are essential to any understanding of The Large Glass...They constitute the verbal dimension of a work that is as much verbal as visual...." Without the notes, the work is essentially incomprehensible, as the viewer is provided only with the enigmatic title. Duchamp was interested in the power of titles to grab the viewer's attention and encourage contemplation, and the title in this case does do that to a degree. But it is hard to get very far without further guidance.
Before reading the biography, my reaction to the work was that it was an extreme example of Duchamp's interest in playing with the power of titles to engage the intellect and force the viewer to search for meaning. It is clear that the image suggests something mechanical, and the top panel seemed, to me, to contain something suggestive of a banner for displaying messages or proclamations. To me, the fact that the posted messages in the banner are empty ("stripped bare") seemed, perhaps, to be Duchamp's way of mocking the idea that art must have important messages or meanings to convey (along the lines of his readymades). I drew from that idea the message that this exalted thing--"art"--might be symbolized by the bride referenced in the title (cultural symbol of something that is idolized/idealized/full of symbols and imagery (e.g. white dress, veil, ring, etc.)) who is being stripped bare. Duchamp, in other words, was stripping "art" free of the need to have meaning.
After reading the biography and the summary of Duchamp's Green Box, however, it was clear to me that my interpretation was not at all what Duchamp intended. Quite to the contrary, Duchamp specifically intended the work to be understood as a cerebral, as well as visual, exercise, and that the work is, in fact, deeply embedded with meaning. This understanding left me feeling frustrated that I, as a viewer, did not have access to the Green Box in order to have the "cerebral" experience that Duchamp intended. The painting did engage my mind on some level, but the meanings I injected into the work did not really capture anything that Duchamp had in mind when creating it. The complex workings of the machinery and their metaphorical significance are interesting (though far from completely understood), and it seems that the average viewer has been deprived of the opportunity to fully experience the work. This is curious, as Duchamp believed that the viewer was an essential part of any work of art--that the viewer's interpretation was necessary to complete the work. If Duchamp truly wanted the viewer to the part of the experience of "completing" the Large Glass through his or her interpretation of it, giving the viewer access to materials that are essential to a level of understanding beyond wild guesswork seems necessary. Not having done so adds to my impression of Duchamp as someone who values the freedom of the artist to create far more than the experience of the viewer who will behold those creations.
Before reading the biography, my reaction to the work was that it was an extreme example of Duchamp's interest in playing with the power of titles to engage the intellect and force the viewer to search for meaning. It is clear that the image suggests something mechanical, and the top panel seemed, to me, to contain something suggestive of a banner for displaying messages or proclamations. To me, the fact that the posted messages in the banner are empty ("stripped bare") seemed, perhaps, to be Duchamp's way of mocking the idea that art must have important messages or meanings to convey (along the lines of his readymades). I drew from that idea the message that this exalted thing--"art"--might be symbolized by the bride referenced in the title (cultural symbol of something that is idolized/idealized/full of symbols and imagery (e.g. white dress, veil, ring, etc.)) who is being stripped bare. Duchamp, in other words, was stripping "art" free of the need to have meaning.
After reading the biography and the summary of Duchamp's Green Box, however, it was clear to me that my interpretation was not at all what Duchamp intended. Quite to the contrary, Duchamp specifically intended the work to be understood as a cerebral, as well as visual, exercise, and that the work is, in fact, deeply embedded with meaning. This understanding left me feeling frustrated that I, as a viewer, did not have access to the Green Box in order to have the "cerebral" experience that Duchamp intended. The painting did engage my mind on some level, but the meanings I injected into the work did not really capture anything that Duchamp had in mind when creating it. The complex workings of the machinery and their metaphorical significance are interesting (though far from completely understood), and it seems that the average viewer has been deprived of the opportunity to fully experience the work. This is curious, as Duchamp believed that the viewer was an essential part of any work of art--that the viewer's interpretation was necessary to complete the work. If Duchamp truly wanted the viewer to the part of the experience of "completing" the Large Glass through his or her interpretation of it, giving the viewer access to materials that are essential to a level of understanding beyond wild guesswork seems necessary. Not having done so adds to my impression of Duchamp as someone who values the freedom of the artist to create far more than the experience of the viewer who will behold those creations.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Iconography - Logos
Apple Computer's "apple" logo is a perfect example of inconography in branding, as the apple is a fruit laden with cultural, religious and historical meaning. Rooted in the biblical story of Adam and Eve and the lore of Sir Isaac Newton, the apple is ubiquitous as a symbol of knowledge in Western culture. The bite taken out of the apple is a more subtle and interesting symbol, yielding a variety of possible interpretations. Perhaps the "bite" is a play on the computer term "byte." Or, the bite from the apple could refer directly back to the Garden of Eden, symbolizing the "partaking" of the fruit from the tree of knowledge, suggesting that Apple is pursuing knowledge or that in buying Apple products, the consumer will be able to access knowledge. The bite could also have overtones of anarchy, suggesting that Apple will be destroying established systems of knowlege and creating new ones. Whatever the original intention, it is a great logo--simple, elegant and able to transmit both subtle and direct messages to the consumer about the company.
Image from: http://www.tmsgraphics.ca/tmsgraphics/pages/logo.html. Retrieved on October 18, 2007.
Logos are full of such iconography, ranging form subtle to not-so-subtle. A great example of a not-so-subtle, yet very effective, logo is the NBC peacock. The peacock, obviously, is a symbol of color, and NBC's ad campaign when it rolled out the original peaock logo in 1956 made this connection quite clear for anyone who may have missed it. It was an
effective weapon in the tv color wars, which this logo helped NBC win by communicating to consumers that NBC was the place to see "real color" on television. The current logo, which was introduced in 1986, presents the peacock in an even more simplified, stylized form. The peacock's head has been turned from left to right, subtly conveying that NBC "looks to the future."Images from: http://www.classicthemes.com/50sTVThemes/themePages/nbcLivingColor.html. Retrieved October 18, 2007.
Taking the time really study some of the world's most famous logos has been a fun and valuable exercise. I likely have been getting the "messages" conveyed by the logos subconsciously as a consumer, but contemplating those messages directly and understanding the skillful ways artists have woven the intended messages into the visual images has given me a new appreciation for their power as symbols.
[As for the terminology, it is my understanding that a symbol is a visual image that has meaning for the viewer because of cultural, historical or religious events, stories or beliefs. An icon is a symbol or sign that has been used to convey a particular message. A logo is a symbol [or sign?] that is used as a trademark in connection with a product, service, company or organization. As for the difference between a sign and a symbol, I'm still a bit fuzzy on that. Some things I read used "sign" as a category under "symbol," others used "icon" and "symbol" as a category under sign, etc. etc.]
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Pattern in Decorative Arts
Studying patterns in tile, wallpaper, fabric and other decorative arts during the past few centuries, it seems that, until the 20th century, decorative patterns generally fell into two categories: nature motifs and geometric designs. In the West, it appears that floral and leaf motifs were predominant in the decorative arts for a considerable length of time, at least from the Baroque period through the Victorian era, up until the turn of the century. In the East, both nature motifs and geometric designs are evident. Chinese wallpaper has historically featured intricate, elaborate patterns of flowers, trees and birds. Islamic tiles also featured floral, leaf and bird patterns early on, although later tile designs tended more toward geometric patterns radiating out from a central point.
In the East, I do not see evidence of significant shifts in pattern designs during the 20th century. In the West, however, the 20th century seems to have brought significant changes in pattern designs that follow the various movements and innovations in art and architecture. In the early 1900's nature motifs were still predominant, but they became more abstracted, in the style of Art Noveau, a movement led by British pattern designer C.F.A. Voysey. In the post-war era, patterns designers seemed ready to fully embrace "modernism" and experiment with new idioms. The influence of artists such as Miro, Klee and Calder is evident in the whimsical, abstract patterns in wallpaper and fabric during this period. The 60's and 70's ushered in bigger, bolder, more forceful patterns that could exist in the airier, more open spaces of modern interiors. In the West today, it seems that in pattern design, as in fine art, anything goes. Computers have enabled designers to continue to innovate with complex, abstract patterns, but there also seems to be a hearkening back to the nature motifs of the Baroque and Victorian periods, with an effort to modernize them and make them relevant to contemporary life.
In the East, I do not see evidence of significant shifts in pattern designs during the 20th century. In the West, however, the 20th century seems to have brought significant changes in pattern designs that follow the various movements and innovations in art and architecture. In the early 1900's nature motifs were still predominant, but they became more abstracted, in the style of Art Noveau, a movement led by British pattern designer C.F.A. Voysey. In the post-war era, patterns designers seemed ready to fully embrace "modernism" and experiment with new idioms. The influence of artists such as Miro, Klee and Calder is evident in the whimsical, abstract patterns in wallpaper and fabric during this period. The 60's and 70's ushered in bigger, bolder, more forceful patterns that could exist in the airier, more open spaces of modern interiors. In the West today, it seems that in pattern design, as in fine art, anything goes. Computers have enabled designers to continue to innovate with complex, abstract patterns, but there also seems to be a hearkening back to the nature motifs of the Baroque and Victorian periods, with an effort to modernize them and make them relevant to contemporary life.
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