The Over-educated Eye? Open Thread
Terry Teachout raised an interesting question in his Saturday "Sightings" column in The Wall Street Journal (yes, I know there's a workaround to view it for free, but I have growing ethical reservations about that, so I'll retype the money quote and note all typos are mine) about whether being too well-informed interferes with appreciating/enjoying art. He discusses the critic's point of view and theater in particular, but the ideas can be applied to viewers of the visual arts as well:
Having said that, Bambino and I had dinner this weekend with a dear friend of ours who's in the movie/television business. Although I'm hard pressed to think of anyone with more knowledge about the creation of films (he's written, produced, and managed actors), I'm also had pressed to think of anyone who enjoys films more than him, even on the second, third, or more viewings. So I asked him about Teachout's column. He rejected the premise outright. He acknowledged that naivete can play a role in art appreciation, but that coming to a work fresh, with as naive approach as possible, is actually a matter of choice. Teachout seems to be saying that as well when he notes that he was "no less right to worry about [him]self."
But still, I wonder. The exhibition we have up at the moment, for example, includes a film by Cathy Begien that I've now seen close to a hundred times (seriously, we took it to an art fair and it's only seven minutes, so I did the math). Still, each day in the gallery, I'll treat myself (that's how I think of it, as a treat) and enter the darkened space, sit on the bench, and watch the film again alone. I make no conscious effort to approach the work from a naive point of view. I can recite the entire thing from heart. And yet, still, it thrills me each and every time. I laugh, I tear up, I feel all warm and fuzzy. Each freakin' time.
So this has me wondering if there isn't some combination of conscious approach by the viewer (a reminder to leave your jaded self at home) and inherent innovation in the work itself (Cathy's film is remarkably fresh for me, even today) that defines work that holds up to repeated viewings. I can still have my breath taken away upon approaching some of my favorite paintings, for example, even though I know they're around the next corner in this or that museum. And artwork in our home will still soothe the savage beast in me after a grueling day of work and commuting.
Still, I know what Teachout is saying when it comes to approaching work from a critical point of view. Doing studio visits, I find myself more often than in other settings conscious of my tendency to think in formulas (i.e., this artist's work = so-and-so's + who'sit's). Perhaps setting is everything here. I don't think in formulas when lingering on a work in our apartment. I don't think in formulas when revisiting a favorite in a museum. I do when approaching a curated exhibition in a museum though, or encountering work for the first time.
I guess the trick is to know when to take off your critiquing hat and don your art lovers cap. But I'm still not sure about this and hence turn the keyboard over to you all, y'all, y'ins whatever (we really do need a distinctive second person plural pronoun, don't we?). Consider this an open thread.
[T]here's no getting around the fact that the more you learn about an art form, the harder it becomes to enjoy it in a straightforward, uncomplicated way. The literary critic R.P. Blackmur had this phenomenon in mind when he observed that "knowledge itself is a fall form the paradise of undifferentiated sensation." Go to "Swan lake" for the first time and you'll be blown away by the flood of gorgeous new sights and sounds that spills over you. Go 20 times and you're more likely to notice that the orchestra played out of tune and the ballerina did 21 fouettes instead of 32.How can knowledge not get between you and the immediate experience of art, though, I began to wonder after reading this. As we discussed a while back here, innovation is widely seen as a big part of what makes art rewarding experientially...if you've seen it all, where does the "surprise" element come into play?
That's not snobbishness. It's connoisseurship, and it's a good thing---unless it gets between you and the immediate experience of art. Gratuitous pickiness is a soul-killing trap against which the critic must always be on guard. I reviewed eight bad shows in a row last fall, and by the time I finally saw a good one, I'd started wondering whether there might be something wrong with me. I was right about the plays---but no less right to worry about myself.
Having said that, Bambino and I had dinner this weekend with a dear friend of ours who's in the movie/television business. Although I'm hard pressed to think of anyone with more knowledge about the creation of films (he's written, produced, and managed actors), I'm also had pressed to think of anyone who enjoys films more than him, even on the second, third, or more viewings. So I asked him about Teachout's column. He rejected the premise outright. He acknowledged that naivete can play a role in art appreciation, but that coming to a work fresh, with as naive approach as possible, is actually a matter of choice. Teachout seems to be saying that as well when he notes that he was "no less right to worry about [him]self."
But still, I wonder. The exhibition we have up at the moment, for example, includes a film by Cathy Begien that I've now seen close to a hundred times (seriously, we took it to an art fair and it's only seven minutes, so I did the math). Still, each day in the gallery, I'll treat myself (that's how I think of it, as a treat) and enter the darkened space, sit on the bench, and watch the film again alone. I make no conscious effort to approach the work from a naive point of view. I can recite the entire thing from heart. And yet, still, it thrills me each and every time. I laugh, I tear up, I feel all warm and fuzzy. Each freakin' time.
So this has me wondering if there isn't some combination of conscious approach by the viewer (a reminder to leave your jaded self at home) and inherent innovation in the work itself (Cathy's film is remarkably fresh for me, even today) that defines work that holds up to repeated viewings. I can still have my breath taken away upon approaching some of my favorite paintings, for example, even though I know they're around the next corner in this or that museum. And artwork in our home will still soothe the savage beast in me after a grueling day of work and commuting.
Still, I know what Teachout is saying when it comes to approaching work from a critical point of view. Doing studio visits, I find myself more often than in other settings conscious of my tendency to think in formulas (i.e., this artist's work = so-and-so's + who'sit's). Perhaps setting is everything here. I don't think in formulas when lingering on a work in our apartment. I don't think in formulas when revisiting a favorite in a museum. I do when approaching a curated exhibition in a museum though, or encountering work for the first time.
I guess the trick is to know when to take off your critiquing hat and don your art lovers cap. But I'm still not sure about this and hence turn the keyboard over to you all, y'all, y'ins whatever (we really do need a distinctive second person plural pronoun, don't we?). Consider this an open thread.
Labels: art viewing, knowledge
posted by Edward_ at
9:35 AM
20 Comments:
I agree with your dear friend. The more levels of awareness the viewer takes to art, the more levels of appreciation are possible. I can really enjoy a work's technical facility without enjoying the content/intent or vice versa.
But I also do understand Teachout's comment as well. There are days of gallery viewing where I see nothing, nothing which I find interesting and I despair. Is it my jaded eye or does the work just suck? And then I will walk into one more gallery, see fabulous work, and walk on air the rest of the day.
Blackmur’s remarks were a poor example, he was ‘judging’ a performance, not Swan Lake itself.
Ed asks, "How can knowledge not get between you and the immediate experience of art, though, I began to wonder after reading this. As we discussed a while back here, innovation is widely seen as a big part of what makes art rewarding experientially...if you've seen it all, where does the "surprise" element come into play?"
In spite of what we might say, I think ‘knowledge’, as a state of having previous experience with the artwork, becomes part of ones subsequent experiences. The degree this may affect us as a viewer may be somewhat mitigated by time and memory, familiarity. That first experience, the one that blows you away, fires up the endorphins and dopamines, well, it is just like the first stage of falling in love. I suspect that as an emotional state it has a shelf life.
This doesn’t mean that we don’t continue to love something, the quality (nature) of the experience subtly changes as we revisit the artwork over time. We notice things we didn’t see previously, our experience of the artwork becomes richer, more complex, deeper.
In thinking about the "surprise element" I look back upon an experience I had at an exhibition of Matisse at MOMA. Wandering through the galleries, I came into a room with a handful of Matisse’s paintings from the 1940, paintings I didn’t know about. I was just blown away, I didn’t understand why, I did understand that I was standing there in the gallery, looking like a dope trying to hold back my tears. I thought about it afterwards, my experience didn’t give way to analysis, and in the end all I could do was give Matisse credit for doing something remarkably right.
So in this case, the "surprise element" was true surprise on my part, the experiential jolt that comes in a first meeting. What may be more to the point of Eds question may be related to the issue of transgressive surprise as intent, the desire to shock or create the spectacle. Taken in this context, "surprise" requires an effective distinction between the background noise and what is to cause the surprise. In a quiet room, if someone shouts, we are surprised. In a cheering sports arena, one has to shout just to be heard by the person standing next to you, the background noise has elevated and absorbed the shout, no surprise there.
The distinction I am trying to make here is that there is an initial surprise, the falling in love analogy, which I expect is hard to re-experience in exactly the same way. There is also, the eyes wide open, knowledgeable engagement with the artwork where we may find ourselves surprised not so much by the artwork itself but by our continuing emotional connection with it.
It is a bit of a paradox.
But there is a difference, I think, between naivete and openness. An unaware person can still be very closed to new experiences, while a knowledgeable person can be open to seeing things freshly. Or vice versa. I think it's more about attitude than expertise.
I would hate to be an art, film or literary critic. The idea of viewing art for the purpose of coming up with an expert opinion about it would drain all the joy out of the experience for me.
There is a quote from the French poet Paul Valery, which is also the title of a wonderful book about Robert Irwin. Paraphrased, "Seeing is forgetting the name of the thing one sees."
Some pictures can take a long time to complete, but I don't usually find myself getting bored with a work in progress. I do look with a critical eye of course. Working on a picture gives the opportunity to change it, obviously, so the viewing experience will change from day to day. At a certain point, the picture will be "finished." The question is, when is a painting really "finished"? Is it finished when the artist puts the final touch and the paint dries, or is it finished when the viewer has looked at it enough times that nothing new happens?
I have noticed that my perception of "finished" pictures changes with time, sometimes over very long time scales (years). Sometimes the picture improves, sometimes it becomes unbearable. What is happening here? I think what is going on is that certain pictures create structures that simply cannot be taken in all at once.
Ed, from your examples you seem to think in "formulas" with new work (new to you, that is), but not with familiar pictures that you love. Perhaps the explanation is that with the familiar, you have moved past the superficial formulas to appreciate the depth of the work. Another explanation might be that most of the new work you see ain't that good, but what is in your favorite museum or your apartment is.
I think with truly great works of art, we are moved regardless of our level of knowledge, expertise, openness, or anything else. What makes a work of art great is that it moves us, any of us.
Only after that point does the rest come into play. When I hear a critic say -- as your guest columnist did a few days ago -- that a piece of art has "strong formal qualities," alarms go off in my head. To me, saying an artwork has strong formal qualities is like saying a fat girl has "such a pretty face." What they're saying amounts to "This thing actually doesn't move me at all, and in fact is not especially worthwhile in any sense, except clearly the artist has studied up on his art history."
Which is okay, I guess, if you like that sort of thing. But such interpretations only come in -- in my opinion -- after the work has or has not blown you away. That initial response is below, beyond, at a different level from thinking.
Stan Brakhage said "you've never seen a film til you saw it 50 times".
Duchamp(s) was "something becomes interesting after you do it 50 times" (or whatever his exact terms)
Personally I think it all varies. I can see a fantastic film by Kiarostami that is trying to get a precise point across. I will be very
moved and call it a masterpiece but the morning after I feel like I've got my lesson. While another film will entice me to look
back and forth because elements of the mise-en-scene, or costumes, or acting behaviors will obsess me.
And in fact because our moods and knowledge change everyday, we always at every minute come back to a work of art
from a fresh perspective. The way cognition works, you can make a simple analogy with computer memory: wrether you are
using ram or rom memory. I might be confusing the terms, but I'm referring to archive memory versus active memory, memory
actually in use by a computer application. That's how cognition works. And so these assets change every minute, and part of
what trigger these changes is desire, to the degree that anyone's mind would be in constant struggle between desire and
need, and how this would affect their feelings and intellect (I'm trying to resume cognitive science here, gosh). This is the
equivalent of saying that pleasure and feelings can govern your intellect, and why one could spend more time enjoying a
stupid piece of junk (say, bad porn) rather than ponder intellectually for hours about the history of linguistics. It all depends,
some people only ever have fun when they are titillated intellectually, but the question remains wrether intellect is triggered
by need or feeling.
The journalist is wrong in the sense that he forgot to mention that secret porn film that he looks back over and over in his
bedroom at night. The best art should be able to invite as much fascination as that piece of dirt.
But he is right in the sense that if you see an artist do what you saw being done 20 times already you might
easily be bored or get upset. That's why sometimes we film buffs enjoy returning to the original version of a film
than look back at its dozen remakes.
About cinema:
Personally I come partly from this field, and what annoyed me in the cinema world
is exactly that people into it were total film buffs (I consider myself to be too, you'll
see me at every festivals), but knew nothing about art, apart a couple experimental
films from the mid 20's.
Also, for some who have experimented both with short film and video installation,
I am very annoyed, and am sorry if it's the case presently at Winkleman, of artists
presenting their short films (beginning and end) in the context of art exhibits.
The sound is generally awful, the seats uncomfortable, and the place smells
of paint and plaster. I am very upset by video artists because as someone
who has been experimental both fields, I feel able to make a difference between what to
present in a gallery space and what to present in a film festival.
I think the presentation of short films in galleries will be a temporal trend, now
that there is youtube and so many facilities to present shorts. It won't be long,
with the help of people agreeing with what I just said, that common sense
will make people realize the difference between a Rodney Graham installation loop,
and a mere humoristic film vignette by Jesper Just.
I am not saying that film is bad, just that the gallery is not the architectural set-up
for it. I suggest the bigger galleries who intend on pushing film,
to build a decent video room for projections, with comfortable chairs
and fair sound system, a bit apart from the more installative
walls of their galleries. But I think the future of monoband video art is
sponsored broadcast on youtube or similar. That's what's going to happen
when video artists will TRULY WANT people to see their art instead of cramming
it ridiculously in tiny gallery spaces.
There, that was my Cedric VS Video artists statement ;-)
Cheers, ;-)
Cedric Caspesyan
centiment@hotmail.com
Cedric, if you wrote shorter comments I would read them.
Hmm...Very confusing post, both graphically and ...almost like I've repeated every sentance twice.
I used the word "upset", but I think I wasn't touching the point I meant. Nowadays, short-filmakers wannabe-visual-artists are enticed by gallerists to create short films in extremely limited edition (say, 6 copies), so that that they can earn money by selling them to art collectors, while no one ever see the darn films in the place where they are fit to be presented (a screening room, a festival).
Thereafter you see Moma wasting a whole space to present a video monoband, and to me that is just so much waste considering the little space they have at play there. I think video artists are NOT visual artists when they refuse to take consideration of the visual elements that are at play when viewing a video work in a museum setting. Demonstrations (performance), slow-moving canvas, multi-panels, loops, some of the "strict" (non-installative) video art is museal, but many video artists of recent use video art to present narrative short films like we are used to see since the Lumieres Brothers. I think there is either a lot of dishonesty in that, or that both people from visual arts and cinema are dangerously misinformed about what each other is doing.
Voila,
Cedric Caspesyan
centiment@hotmail.com
PS: and now people have started presenting Brakhage in museum galleries...Ha ! What a joke. Have you even met Brakhage ?? I did.
And you know what his dream was?
To have a film presented in a Imax screenroom.
I'm sorry anonym but how can I resume a whole book of Kant in one stupid sentance??
At least I manage in 3 or 4. Hopefully. ;-)
Cedric
I think the important thing to remember is that it is the constant pursuit of knowledge that is the thing that keeps one refreshed and enthusiastic. I think to say that one has become jaded BECAUSE they have knowledge is incorrect- they are jaded because they have forgotten to continue the pursuit OF knowledge.
Every once in a while I see that that newbie gleam in a student's eye. They get that there is an endless journey ahead of them. And I think that we sometimes look back at where we have been and dwell on that and forget to look ahead. It IS a choice to decide to continue the search, no doubt. If one is weary of seeing Swan Lake after the 50th time, I say expeience something else perhaps outside of your comfort zone, like experiemental dance or something, or experience Swan Lake from a new perspective like as a crew member or costume shop person, whatever. Learn a new artistic language.
On a related note I think I heard on the news (or "neuuz" as my word verification for the day spells it) recently that adults can still grow new brain cells and develop new neuro pathways. YAY!
This is confusing and I read the article twice.
Teachout wants to be a tourist. (period)
Teachout wants to be entertained each and every time. (period)
Teachout doesn’t want to think too hard in his free time. (period)
Teachout is justifying his stupidity. (period)
This is my conclusion.
Oh dear!
I forgot...
mls
I make no conscious effort to approach the work from a naive point of view. I can recite the entire thing from heart. And yet, still, it thrills me each and every time. I laugh, I tear up, I feel all warm and fuzzy. Each freakin' time.
Biblical scholars have coined a useful term for this particular frame of mind: "Postcritical naivete."
Interesting, but something I'm always intrigued about is the role of instinct in naivete, and wrether instinct is truly the first, the primordial critique.
I wonder what these guys means?
Cheers,
Cedric Caspesyan
centiment@hotmail.com
MLS,
And after I came to your rescue the other day, asking someone to offer evidence of their critique of you, here you go, blasting Teachout with no examples to back up your laundry list of ad hominem complaints. Seriously, folks, if you're gonna fire away at someone, do load your weapon with something more than empty insults.
Ed,
I think you have it just right in the last sentense when you said "I guess the trick is to know when to take off your critiquing hat and don your art lovers cap". While the former may be a day job for some and thus needs to be done (however jaded it might get) the latter comes from passion within...
Nice post...
Let’s just take the 2 paragraphs you posted. My comments are between ++++….
[T]here's no getting around the fact that the more you learn about an art form, the harder it becomes to enjoy it in a straightforward, uncomplicated way.
++++Fact? There is no such thing as straightforward or uncomplicated in any individual. There is no clean slate. You are always making relationships. When I said tourits I meant somebody that encounters a new enviroment or situation lightly. Can we recreate the first “high”? Talk to a phicicist. “…art form”? Tricky, a group. He is talking about culture, not the arts. Who can be sure that any or some will be separated one day from the rest. Also, by saying “arts” he is becoming a cultural critic and not an art critic, theather critic, etc. Yep, he is a Post-Modern commentator. Art, the arts are complicated. Period. An art object or idea, a sound, a movie scene can be loaded with layers of meaning. It is the nature of art to be more than what it appears to be. The difference between an art object or idea and a tool. It works in your concious and unconcious mind. Any good art(s) has a subliminal content. It contains an obvious and not so obvious part. “..enjoy..”, please, even porn has layers of meaning and hidden triggers. Even good porn is complicated. The more you understand the better it is or fooled you are by it!!! Enjoyment and surprise are not the same.++++
The literary critic R.P. Blackmur had this phenomenon in mind when he observed that "knowledge itself is a fall form the paradise of undifferentiated sensation."
++++Not a very good critic I could say but interesting and scary. Knowing or knowledge is basically what differentiates us from animals. Blackmur wants us to be the dog under the tree. We only lived on our instincts for a short period of time in our evolution. We have bigger brains to accumulate knowledge. We are not born with a clear genetic set of rules to follow like animals do. Even our belief in god could be a product of evolution. We are not wired to experience undifferentitiated sensation. We need the differentiated sensations because it creates the knowledge for good or bad, moral and unethical, dead or alive in order to survive biologically.+++++++
Go to "Swan lake" for the first time and you'll be blown away by the flood of gorgeous new sights and sounds that spills over you. Go 20 times and you're more likely to notice that the orchestra played out of tune and the ballerina did 21 fouettes instead of 32.
++++Nonsense. Do I need to explain to you how dumb it is to say this? I hope not. It ignores the evolution, advances and discoveries of Ballet. Did you stop looking at paintings because you saw a few. Did you stop at Giotto? No. Because? 21 fouettes was unheard of once (?), 32 takes a master (perhaps) and the choreography of Balanchine (during or after) is very different from? You answer. ++++++
That's not snobbishness. It's connoisseurship, and it's a good thing---unless it gets between you and the immediate experience of art.
++++Terrible but let’s go easy on Mr. Commentator-light. Art and snobbishness. Oh dear. Arts people are snobish, the horror. We hated when they say that about us. We hate it and he knows. The stereotype, am I surprised, no. He doesn’t know what a true connoisseur is. The unique best is not what moves them. Context is necessary.+++++++
Gratuitous pickiness is a soul-killing trap against which the critic must always be on guard. I reviewed eight bad shows in a row last fall, and by the time I finally saw a good one, I'd started wondering whether there might be something wrong with me. I was right about the plays---but no less right to worry about myself.
++++You are a commentator like most of us here. Let’s quote a theather critic, fully. Read and never remove the hat you choose for yourself.+++++
The Herald Tribune-Jay Handelman
Critic John Simon keeps dishing it out
John Simon is best known to some readers as the theater critic who focuses as much on an actor's physical appearance as on acting ability.
That's not really true, but a few sharp-tongued reviews and having food dumped over your head in a restaurant by an angry actress will accentuate such a reputation.
After all, while explaining his exacting standards, he once said, "You shouldn't eat ---- when you can eat caviar."
In person, he seems soft-spoken and genial, hardly the feisty critic who has launched endless debates over his sometimes stinging views. And it's clear that he loves his profession and cares about the state of the theater and the minds of those who attend.
For 37 years, Simon was the imposing and tenacious theater critic for New York magazine until he was unceremoniously "retired" two years ago. But he didn't really retire. At 81, he now writes for Bloomberg.com and is heard on satellite radio programs.
Happily, he's still as opinionated and sharp-witted as ever, as he made clear during a talk to the American Theatre Critics Association during a recent New York gathering.
He's thoughtful and philosophical, reinforcing the idea that theater critics need to know a lot about pretty much everything, because you never know what subjects will be addressed in a play.
I can't count how many times I've been at a show and wished I had read up more on a historical event or figure, or better understood a particular philosopher's views.
"A critic has to be as good as any writer," Simon told the group. "A critic has to be as good as any good teacher," and a "critic should be a thinker, to know as much about the world as possible. You should think about what's going on in the world and reflect on it as it pertains to a play."
Simon has clear views on what critics should be but wonders if enough people have what it takes, so he has created a type of rating system.
"If you like eight out of 10 shows that you review, you should be in a different business," he said. If you like six to eight, you might be aware enough to write "puff pieces" about shows. If you like five out of 10, "then you don't exist. You're too perfect." If you like two to four of those 10 shows, you might be able to be a reviewer, and if you like zero to two, "you may be a critic, but there's no guarantee."
Without such stringent standards, the theater will continue to be dumbed down, he said. "Theater is in bad shape in general. There are fewer great talents working in the theater" because so many have moved on to television and film.
"I don't know that critics can make a difference," but they can try by being tough on shows, he said.
Simon was accused of being "racist, anti-Semitic, misogynist, vicious and derisive" because of a 1981 review of "Richard III." An ad in Variety quoted him as saying that an actress in the production "should never be cast as anything but an itinerant gefilte fish with a nervous condition."
He has never shied away from getting personal about a performer's appearance, because it all feeds into how a role is played and perceived by the audience, he said.
The reaction to such comments explains why he believes that critics need to have a sense of humor "to face what you have to face. And it's good for the readers."
Some years ago, David Mamet said New York Times critic "Frank Rich and John Simon are the syphilis and gonorrhea of the theater."
Simon's response: "I don't know about the syph, but what would the theater be without a clap or two?"
That's why theater lovers have been applauding (and sometimes booing) him for years. Shortly after he lost his New York magazine job, Simon published a three-volume collection of his theater, movie and art writings, "John Simon on Theatre," "John Simon on Film" and "John Simon on Music," all published by Applause Books.
______
Contact Jay Handelman at jay.handelman@heraldtribune.com.
I sure hope I'm not the only one saying WTF?
Yes.
It is only you Chris.
mls
mls
PS
...read Holland Cotter today, "Wack!"?
...about Kangas?
David - I think you nailed it:
"A naive person can... be very closed to new experiences, while a knowledgeable person can be open to seeing things freshly. Or vice versa. I think it's more about attitude than expertise."
Like most things in life, your feeling at the end of the day has very much to do with your own attitude.
MA
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