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Peeks and Piques!
Writing
and the Arts
By
RAYMOND J. STEINER
ART TIMES January/February 2007
I’VE
BEEN AT this business of writing about art for over 25 years — a
bad habit I initially picked up in my college days about 40 years ago
but had the sense to hold in abeyance until, in 1984, we launched ART
TIMES and I once again gave in to
the addictive vice. Next to money — which, in my estimation, has
almost totally corrupted art, artists, dealers, arts publications and
organizations — the written word has probably done more to undermine
the value and intent of art than have the never-ending stream of wannabes
that glut the artworld — and the sad thing is, so many artists —
even serious ones — have willingly jumped on the bandwagon in the
pursuit of its debasement. I refer here to one of
my favorite piques, something I’ve harped on in the past and which some
of you may be tired of hearing about, namely the notoriously absurd “Artist
Statement.” (I’ll bypass for now the ever more intrusive wall placards
mounted in museums and galleries alongside artworks that can readily speak
for themselves since, in most cases, the artists are not complicit in
the insult.) OK. So we can understand (if not condone)
how they’ve let the lure of money (yes, yes, they do have to eat and pay the bills) turn what was once a
noble profession into a marketable enterprise, and art — once believed
to have a noble mission — into a commodity, but how can they have
let the written word gain so much power over what is undeniably an older
and perhaps more reliable form of expression? Artist, League teacher,
Rick Pantell once quipped: “When they invite a poet to give a reading,
do they ask him to paint a picture?” Of course not! The one artform is
not interchangeable with the other. The one cannot “explain” or clarify
or “stand” for the other. At best, such “artist statements” obfuscate;
at worst, they pronounce to the world that the art has failed to communicate
on its own terms. At the very worst, such statements reveal that the art cannot
stand on its own and needs such shoring
up to find acceptance (and a gullible buyer). So, why then do gallery
owners insist that their artists supply a written statement as to what
they are doing in paint, clay, ink, or whatever? We do not, for example,
have to understand the Flemish language to “get” what van Dyke is saying
in his paintings. Or, Italian to “get” Michelangelo. Or, German to “get”
Dürer. Their visual language is clear — much clearer, in fact, to
those who can’t speak the languages if those artists were to communicate
in their native tongues. When — and more pointedly — has the
visual language been co-opted by the verbal? Painter Will Barnet once
said to me, “One word is worth a thousand paintings” — purposely
reversing the old adage to prove his point that the critic has firmly
taken over the reins, making his word speak “louder” that the work of
art. Will’s theory is that although educated people can read, most cannot
read a painting —
which, believe it or not — takes a certain amount of effort (and
we all know how much the public enjoys effort). In brief, it’s simply
easier to read what some “expert” says about an artist and his work than
it is to undertake the job on one’s own. Surely there were artists schmearing
cave walls eons before the first critic stepped up to the plate. How did
they manage to shoulder aside the artist and take the lead? Even a moment’s
reflection will tell you that there is no way that the visual language
of art can be “translated” into a verbal one. In fact, there is hardly
a reliable way of translating one verbal language
into another. I try to prove this point in my lectures on the art of art
criticism by asking my audience how many have ever read a Haiku poem.
Invariably a fair amount of hands go up. My next question is, “How many
of you read Japanese?” Considerably fewer hands — if any —
are raised. The point I then make is that if you cannot read Japanese,
then you have never read a Haiku poem — merely a translation of
one. How much more difficult then, to try to “translate” art — or
music — or dance — into a verbal construct? For those of you
who are now visualizing me seated upon the very branch that I am strenuously
trying to saw off, let me assure you that I am fully aware of the irony.
The simple fact is — and I wholeheartedly agree — I can’t translate art into words — but I can
try to use words to persuade you to
go and see — for yourself — a particular exhibit that I have
found “speaks” to me. All I ask is that you don’t confuse the two —
words are words and art is art. No more no less.
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