Following on from my previous post – which was more of an announcement that there will be more posts soon – I want to just further contextualise my research with the hope of identifying for you its purpose and what I hope it is able to achieve. Ultimately, I hope you can find something new or something useful that can help in your advocacy for outsider art or, if you are an artist yourself, can help you understand why your experience of navigating the UK cultural sector may have been particularly challenging.
(more…)Category: Outsider Art: Theory and Thoughts
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Researching the art world’s blind spot
Hugest apologies for such a long absence. Life things have been happening over the past couple of years – including (but not limited to!) becoming a parent and getting my head down to finish my PhD. After six long years, I have now finally completed my PhD research and I am really excited to share this with you over a number of posts on this blog. Please do comment or contact me if you’d like to join in the conversation. I’d really like for this to be a shared space to reflect, ask difficult questions and utlimately look towards reshaping the systems and structures that continue to make the UK art world incredibly exclusive.
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Changing the way we see success: is outsider art becoming the new mainstream?
Although it has not yet reached the highs achieved by auctions of ‘mainstream’ art, the monetary value of ‘outsider art’ is creeping up. This blog is written in light of the recent Christie’s auction of outsider art from the William Louis-Dreyfus Foundation which took place earlier this month.
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Art competitions and their barriers
As my research continues, I have been looking at the notion of the art ‘competition.’ More specifically, I have been looking at the barriers that surround these competitions; focusing on the application and selection processes.
In many parts of our lives, we are encouraged to fit into an already existing and established ‘box.’ This box, if you will, has been made by and for people who already exist in privileged positions. As Penny Jane Burke and Jackie McManus note in a 2011 article for Discourse: Studies in the Cultural Politics of Education:
“Inclusion often works as a disciplinary technology to ‘include those who are excluded into the dominant framework/state of being, rather than challenging existing inequalities within the mainstream system, or encouraging alternative ways of being.”[1]
Although writing about inequalities in the application process for art courses at universities in the UK, many of the points made by Burke and McManus also relate to the application and selection process integral to many art competitions. The steps of any application process are almost seen as necessary – and they tend not to be questioned. To be in for a chance to win, you must apply, and to apply, you must follow the rules. And those who win deserve to win because they have earned it. They have been voted the best of the rest, and that result is the correct result because the system is the system and it works.
Burke and McManus note that “meritocracy is premised on the belief that all individuals who work hard, and have the prerequisite ability, can succeed within a fair and democratic system.” However, they continue by saying that what is not taken into account here is that this idea “does not address differential social positions and power relations, which provide some social groups with greater access to the valuable cultural and material resources necessary to ‘play the game’ and succeed.”[2]
There is so much assumption placed in an application process. Assumption that the applicant will know what is being assessed, assumption about who might apply, and an assumption that the applicant will be able to easily follow the application process. This is especially important to note when many competitions come with a hefty application process and more often than not, a hefty entry fee too. In essence we are asking people to spend a lot of time and money that they may not have on entering something where they really have no way of knowing their possibility of success.
In their 2000 article, Nachoem M. Wijnberg and Gerda Gemser identified three basic types of selection system; “market selection, peer selection, and expert selection.”[3] They explain these types of selection system in the following ways:
“In the case of market selection, the producers are the selected and the consumers are the selectors. In peer selection, on the other hand, the selectors and the selected are part of the same group. In the case of expert selection, the selectors are neither producers nor consumers, but have the power to shape selection by virtue of specialized knowledge and distinctive abilities.”[4]
Traditionally, peer selection was the predominant method of selection – think of the Salons and Academies where artists rose through the ranks and were responsible for selecting newer, emerging artists for exhibition. However, in more recent years, expert selection has become the favoured method. This shift has happened due to several factors, but the most pivotal is perhaps the emergence of dealers who have necessitated the assistance of art critics to bring attention to their chosen art or artists. Eventually, Wijnberg and Gemser note, “the modern art museums would also begin to exhibit works by artists in the same group in order to highlight current trends, thus supporting the efforts of both the ideological dealers and the art critics.”[5]
The issue with all three selection methods is that the “value of most cultural products is generally hard to ascertain, in part because the standards to be used for this purpose are seldom clear and rarely obvious.”[6] Therefore, Wijnberg and Gemser highlight that:
“An innovation attains value only if it is considered valuable by the selectors that control a given selection system. This may lead to serious problems for art that contains innovations that are not valued within an existing selection system. In many instances, therefore, art that is innovative will only be successful if the innovators that champion it succeed in changing the ways in which value is determined. This often means changing the selection system itself.”[7]
The issue here is that existing processes mean that value-based judgements made by selectors can only be subjective, and therefore an artist’s success in a competition format depends heavily on the aesthetic taste of the ‘judging panel.’ So, this is one issue with the art competition format.
Interestingly, in Burke and McManus’ research into the admissions process for UK arts courses, they found that the “’worthy’ student seems to be associated with the ‘unusual’ and the processes of creativity that involve risk-taking and invention (characteristics historically associated with the white, euro-centric forms of masculinity).”[8] We are asking applicants to jump through hoops that have been created by a certain group, and therefore, will innately be more accessible for that same certain group.
Burke and McManus suggest a critical approach for selectors. There needs to be a sense of “critical reflexivity, to interrogate the ways that their decisions might be shaped by exclusive values and perspectives, which profoundly influence how candidates are (or are not) recognized as having talent, ability, and potential.”[9] But I don’t think we just need selectors to be more critical, I think the selectors of the selectors need to be more critical. It is no good simply trying to mould and coach someone to fit our existing expectations. We need to evaluate and change the existing inequitable systems.
I would be really keen to hear from you about your experiences of entering an art competition. How did you find the application process? Was it a good experience? Was it a bad one? Please do feel free to comment below, or drop me an email: kdoutsiderart@yahoo.com.
References
[1] Penny Jane Burke and Jackie McManus, ‘Art for a few: exclusions and misrecognitions in higher education admissions practices,’ in Discourse: Studies in the Cultural Politics of Education, Vol. 32, No. 5, 2011, pp 699 – 712, p 700
[2] Op. Cit., p 701-702
[3] Nachoem M. Wijnberg and Gerda Gemser, ‘Adding Value to Innovation: Impressionism and the Transformation of the Selection System in Visual Arts,’ in Organization Science, Vol. 11, No. 3, 2000, pp 323 – 329, p 323
[4] Op. Cit., p 324
[5] Op. Cit., p 327
[6] Op. Cit., p 323-324
[7] Op. Cit., p 324
[8] Burke and McManus, Op. Cit., p 706
[9] Op. Cit., p 710
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Discovering Outsider Art: The Narrative of Otherness
Recently, I have been returning to the classic texts of outsider art in an attempt to uncover where the marginalisation of this type of work really began. My research has uncovered a few key areas that illustrate how ingrained the idea of ‘otherness’ and ‘us’ and ‘them’ is when it comes to outsider art and the artists who create it. This marginalisation and imbalance of power is so embedded in the culture of outsider art; in how it emerged, in how it is described, and in how it is valued, that it is difficult to move past its history and look towards a new, integrated outsider art that enjoys the same reverie as works that are readily welcomed into the cultural mainstream.
Drew Davies, Mr Roger My research has first led me to explore the emergence of outsider art. And here, already, we can see structural power imbalance at play. If we think back to the key developments in the emergence of outsider art, we see a pattern; outsider artists being ‘discovered’ by those already in positions of influence and power.
The first major – and most obvious – example is Jean Dubuffet and his coining of the term Art Brut. The story of Dubuffet and his support for Art Brut is an excellent illustration of how the system works. Dubuffet, for a start, was already an accepted part of the cultural mainstream. He was an artist in his own right; a disillusioned one, albeit, but accepted nonetheless. It was his position on the ‘inside’ that enabled him to throw caution to the wind and leave the mainstream for a world of raw and unfettered creativity. This example speaks to sociologist Howard Becker’s idea of the Maverick artist; an artist who has already achieved acclaim and acceptance within the mainstream who then goes it alone, creating more daring and outrageous work. Becker uses Duchamp as his key example, but Dubuffet equally fits the mould in his search for something different and other. The idea being that you have to already be on the inside to make real change – and to get noticed for it.
Jack Oliver, Ratfink Now Dubuffet’s name is inextricably linked with Art Brut and outsider art forever more. In his position as the creator of Art Brut, Dubuffet held – and still holds – all of the power. Often, it is not the artists whose names we recall when we talk about the category of outsider art, but Dubuffet’s name; he is now the father of this genre.
Like Dubuffet, there were other European artists who before the First World War were becoming disillusioned with the art world. They were dissatisfied with culture and society as a whole and were looking for something more authentic. It is these artists we see looking for inspiration in other communities, countries and continents – think Picasso and his intrigue with the primitive, or Kandinsky and his fascination with art made by children. It is similar to how the middle classes now seek authenticity in other cultures through travel. But still, it is a search for the other, a search for something different. This directly relates to a number of European artists becoming interested in the art of psychiatric patients following the publication of Hans Prinzhorn’s Artistry of the Mentally Ill in 1922. They were looking for something other, and they found it here, in the work of those who were removed both physically and socially from the worlds of these mainstream artists.
Cloud Parliament, I’d Like To Be Shod There is a history of this type of dissatisfaction amongst mainstream artists. But, almost always, their new and shocking work eventually becomes accepted as ‘progress’ and is welcomed into our historical canon – for example Surrealism, Expressionism, Fauvism, Cubism. This, however, has not been the same for outsider art. It has remained on the outside, a parallel running alongside the canon of the twentieth century mainstream.
Aside from artists already in acclaimed positions within the mainstream, we also have psychiatrists and medical professionals to thank for the emergence of the category of outsider art; particulary, of course, the work of psychiatric patients. I have mentioned Hans Prinzhorn already; psychiatrist, art historian and founder of the Prinzhorn Collection, but there are numerous others including Walter Morgenthaler, Dr Paul Gaston Meunier, Dr Charles Ladame. Whether we agree with the sharing of work by patients in psychiatric hospitals (with the issues of ethics and consent that come with it), what is at the core of this side of the emergence of outsider art is vulnerable artists being presented to the world by medical professionals. Again, people who already hold some kind of societal influence.
Robert Haggerty The third group that emerged during my research is arts professionals who hold some clout in the art world. Ultimately, it is curators, collectors, dealers and directors who shape the canon, and therefore the possibility of acclaim, celebration – and even just visibility – lies at their door. In his 2011 book ‘Groundwaters: a century of art by self-taught and outsider artists,’ Charles Russell tells the story of Alfred Barr, the first director of MoMA. Barr was in fact a great believer in the value of outsider and untrained art, organising a number of exhibitions that showed his support. His vision, however, was not matched by MoMA’s board of trustees, and Barr was consequently removed from the position of director. Although he remained employed in the collections department, MoMA has shown very little support for untrained art ever since. Here, we have the perfect example of how powerful people can change the course of history. Who knows what kind of art world we might be experiencing today if the work of untrained and outsider artists had garnered more support from MoMA’s trustees at the time.
So, even just the way outsider art has emerged as a field is made up of unequal power dynamics and issues of otherness. It is no wonder then, that there is difficulty in encouraging those inside the mainstream to see this work in the same light as trained artists. There is such a strong history of marginalisation here, right from the very beginning, and what is most apparent is that in this display of ‘us’ and ‘them,’ what we most desperately need are the voices of the outsider artists themselves.
As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts. You can post them in the comments below, or email kdoutsiderart@yahoo.com. Thanks for reading!
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There is no such thing as outsider art…
… Only outsider artists
Scottie Wilson, Image courtesy of http://www.artsy.net First of all, I apologise for my absence, and I hope everyone is managing to stay safe and well in the strange times we are all living through. It’s been a tricky couple of months trying to get hold of books etc. for my studies due the closure of libraries during the pandemic. As things here in the UK start to re-open again, I am now able to resume my research – and, because of the slight break, I am feeling more motivated than ever.
This month, I have been re-familiarising myself with many of the key texts published in the outsider art field. I have been returning to books by Gary Alan Fine, Charles Russell, John Maizels, Colin Rhodes, and, this week, the simply titled 1972 book ‘Outsider Art’ authored by the late and great Roger Cardinal. This book really can be considered the defining text. It is where the term ‘outsider art’ originated from and was written as an English equivalent to Jean Dubuffet’s numerous texts on Art Brut.
Augustin Lesage, courtesy of http://www.outsiderartfair.com Cardinal’s book does offer an introduction to the field and the term itself, but it is predominantly a close analysis of several ‘outsider artists’ and their work. Including, but not limited to, Adolf Wolfli, Scottie Wilson, Augustin Lesage, Madge Gill, Raymond Isidore, and Aloise Corbaz. However, it is not these individual reviews that interest me; instead, it is Cardinal’s refining of the term outsider art and what he asserts it does and does not encompass. Although much more liberal in his definition than Dubuffet and his strictly ‘anti-cultural’ Art Brut, Cardinal does suggest that he refers mostly to schizophrenic, autistic and innocent artists when he talks about outsider art. He excludes, quite notably, naïve art and primitive art. Naïve art because it is created by hobbyists who, although untrained, aim to have their work accepted and admired within the traditional canon. Primitive art because, although visually different to what we in the Western world might see as art, it is in fact very much part of a constructed societal culture.
This is all interesting. However, it is Cardinal’s assertion that the realities of those who make ‘outsider art’ are so disparate and diverse that we cannot group them under one term that strikes the biggest chord with me. In essence, he says that there is such a thing as an outsider artist, but there is no such thing as outsider art. If this is the case, then we cannot consider outsider art as a group, school or movement that we can massage into the mainstream canon.
Aloise Corbaz, image courtesy of http://www.rawvision.com “To talk of art brut is, then, to talk about a large number of independent artistic worlds that ought not to be envisaged as forming a block, much less a school.” [Cardinal, p 46]
This is a particularly strong theory because it goes some way to explaining why outsider art continues to be marginalised by the mainstream art world. Historically, art schools and movements that have grown out of rebellion against the cultural and artistic norms of their time have eventually been welcomed into our celebrated Western art history. Think German Expressionism, the avant-garde artists of the early twentieth century, Surrealists, Fauvists. Rebellion has always happened, and despite the shocking nature of the work at the time of emergence, the movements noted above have come to be a comfortable and recognisable part of our cultural history. This, however, is not the case with outsider art. It has continued to linger on a parallel path, just off the main thoroughfare that is the accepted Western canon. Sometimes it knocks at the door, sometimes it is welcomed right in, but always it is asked to leave – usually through the back door, and quietly at that.
Raymond Isidore, image courtesy of http://www.kdoutsiderart.com I know that Cardinal’s views on the term outsider art became much more inclusive as time went on, but I think his original theory here is absolutely key. It comes down – as always – to our need as human beings to categorise and group, and to our inability to understand or accept difference. Perhaps by acknowledging this, we can begin to look at work made by outsider artists as what it is – individual displays of incredible creativity. Maybe this want and need to group it, to define it, is preventing us from truly enjoying it.
What do you think? Is there such a thing as outsider art? What about outsider artists? Let me know in the comments below, or drop me an email: kdoutsiderart@yahoo.com.
You might also be interested in a series national arts charity Outside In are running on outsider art. It includes a number of fascinating blog posts by artists and arts professionals on the idea of outsider art – click here to take a look.
References
Roger Cardinal, Outsider Art, Studio Vista, 1972
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The Conditions of Success?
Recently, whilst undertaking some research around the role of the critic and what makes artists ‘successful’ in the art world, I came across a transcription of a lecture given by Sir Alan Bowness, Art Historian and Director of Tate (1980-1988), at the University of London in 1989. The talk centred on the idea of artistic achievement, and was titled The Conditions of Success: How the Modern Artist Rises to Fame.
Bill Traylor, Man and Large Dog, Smithsonian Institute In the text, Bowness outlines his idea that there are four steps that lead to an artist achieving recognition and success in the art world. What I found most interesting about this quite rigid ‘how-to’ guide is how little room for success it leaves for those who are not able to complete one of the steps. This, of course, ties into my interests around what continues to separate so-called outsider art from the cultural mainstream.
Early on in the lecture, Bowness asserts that “there is a clear and regular progression towards artistic success. There are,” he says, “in my view, conditions of success, which can be exactly described. And success is conditioned, in an almost deterministic way. Artistic fame is predictable.” These ‘conditions of success’ revolve around the idea of recognition. Recognition from whom, and when this occurs during the artist’s career.
The first condition is peer recognition, and Bowness quite boldly claims that this initial type of recognition is “at first a matter of personality as much as it is of achievement.” He goes on to speak about his discovery of David Hockney during the 1960 annual exhibition of the London Group (Hockney at that time being a 22 year old first year student at the Royal College of Art): “it was quite obvious to… a thirty year old art historian/critic like myself that here was an exceptional talent.”
Aloise Corbaz My immediate issue with this condition is that it first requires the artist to already be rotating in artistic circles and communities. This is generally not the case for artists who are considered to be working outside of the mainstream. It is a condition that relies heavily on an artist having travelled the traditional route – art school, formal and informal networking, student exhibitions, etc. Some of the most well-known outsider artists (think Bill Traylor), did not start creating work until much later in life, and many lived or had lived lives on the outskirts of artistic communities and therefore outside of the possibility of any form of peer critique.
My second issue is that this also requires the artist to have a peer group that is already well established in the art world – or at least one that in some way already holds some kind of esteem. It relies on networks created at some of the most prestigious art schools in the world. Networks that include artists and creatives who already have some kind of influence or sway. This is something that not all aspiring artists are privy to. My final point on this condition is that not all of those we now see as ‘outsider artists’ (for want of a better phrase) originally saw themselves as artists or makers. How then, without even seeing themselves in this way, would they be able to integrate into these important artistic circles and achieve peer recognition?
Adolf Wolfli The second condition that Bowness claims illustrates that someone is on the right path to success is recognition from those who write and talk about art. He notes that “the writer has two important functions: the first is to help create the verbal language that allows us to talk about art… The second… his contribution to the critical debate.” This condition comes, of course, with issues relating to the role of the critic, which I have written about at some length in previous posts. Who are these critics, and what gives them the power to recognise some people as artists, but not others?
The third condition for success is the recognition of patrons and collectors. Now, this where these conditions begin to become a little inextricable. They become tied to one another, and it becomes increasingly more tiresome to differentiate between the influence-r and the influence-d. Those who write about art (the critics, the curators), undoubtedly influence what sort of art prestigious collectors and patrons will buy and sponsor, and likewise, collectors and patrons with power and authority in the art world will have a hefty load of influence over which artists are celebrated by critics and exhibited by curators.
The final stage – the pinnacle – that artists must reach and ‘complete’ is that of being recognised by the public. This, Bowness claims, is what shows that an artist really has become ‘famous.’ To me, this is an interesting idea. From my previous posts – (one example here, and another here) – it seems almost to go without saying that the previous conditions for success will have a huge impact on whether an artist reaches this stage. Without some kind of celebration or support from critics, curators, or collectors and patrons, an artist will struggle to have their work seen by the public. And if the public can’t see the work, how can they possibly judge whether it is a success or not? It is apparent that an artist cannot skip a step on Bowness’ staircase to public acclaim and fame.
Scottie Wilson, Geometric Face 3 Bowness does talk about the psychological and socio-economic factors that can impede the artist’s journey to success. These factors, he ascertains, play a huge part in whether an artist really can make it to the top. For example, neither Van Gogh, whose mental health issues became a huge barrier, or Gauguin, who simply could not be in the right place at the right time, achieved acclaim or success in their lifetime. This says a lot about the journey for outsider artists – historical and contemporary – who in many different ways continue to come up against psychological or societal factors that will impede their success. What if they can’t afford – or simply aren’t able to – relocate to a big city where there is a vibrant artistic community? Does this mean that fame is just simply not within their reach?
Another of Bowness’ statements does not sit well in relation to the work of outsiders. He says that:
“The creative act is a unique and personal one, but it cannot exist in isolation. I do not believe that any great art has been produced in a non-competitive situation: on the contrary it is the fiercely competitive environment in which the young artist finds himself that drives him to excel.”
This, of course, raises many questions about the very nature of outsider art, much of which is created in isolation, and is not created as part of a competitive relationship with peers. I disagree wholeheartedly with this statement from Bowness. I think it relegates the act of making art – something so unique and innately human – to a formulaic, almost business-like endeavour.
Madge Gill, Untitled But it is Bowness’ final statement in the text that I struggle with the most. He states that “to imagine that there are unrecognized geniuses working away in isolation somewhere, waiting to be discovered, is simply not credible. Great art doesn’t happen like that.”
From my experience, this is exactly how great art happens. Perhaps the artist is not hidden away, hiding in isolation, but they simply have not been discovered yet. Maybe there are not even trying to be discovered. I think it is naïve to think that we all already know the greatest artists and the greatest art that has ever existed. To think that the best art is already publicly available – we already know where it is, who’s made it, where it’s being made, why it’s being made. I think this simply cannot be true. Think how many people are out there now, all over the world, making art – not for any specific audience, not for any specific purpose, but making, nonetheless. And to think that we cannot consider that to be ‘good’ or ‘successful’ art because it has not already been recognized (by peers, by critics, by collectors, and by the public), just seems to me incredibly absurd.
Bowness’ conditions of success once again outline the rigid, self-feeding system that epitomises large parts of the mainstream art world. Each condition depends on the previous, and all are working in each other’s best interests. This is just one of many examples highlighting how exclusive the art world is as a system. It leaves little room for success for those who are not already on the inside.
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Outsider Art and the Art Critic
Over the past couple of months, I have been trawling through reviews of outsider art exhibitions published in the UK national press. It has been an interesting exercise, returning to some of the exhibitions I have visited over the past 10 years; this time, with my researcher’s head on. After diving into several of these reviews – most of which focused on the Wellcome Collection’s Souzou: Outsider Art From Japan, the Hayward Gallery’s Alternative Guide to the Universe and the Whitechapel’s Inner Worlds Outside, I started putting together a list of words and phrases that kept cropping up; words that actually seem a little out of place in a review of an art exhibition.
Lee Godie, Black Haired Woman, courtesy of ArtNet Mysterious, disturbing, criminal, eccentric, alienated, troubled, miserable, painful, tragic, psychosis, obsessive, chaotic, unhinged, imbecile, insane, lunatic, depressing, ranting, desperation, relentlessly garbled, utterly ridiculous, lost touch with reality.
The above are just a few of the words and phrases that jumped out at me. It’s not the most positive list, but this kind of sets the tone, as you can imagine, for what these exhibition reviews included. This emotive and, quite frankly, dramatic language is not uncommon when it comes to literature associated with outsider art exhibitions – whether that is in the press, in exhibition catalogues, or alongside the art in the exhibition space. This led me down a bit of a worm hole, thinking about the role of the art critic in representing outsider art to the wider public.
As I have mentioned before, we don’t teach our students about outsider art (in the UK, anyway) when they enroll on an art history course at any level, and usually, when a friend or family member asks what it is I’m researching and I answer with ‘outsider art,’ the majority of people look very puzzled. Actually, I was once asked if outsider art meant art that was created outdoors. But this puzzlement is understandable – the general public never hear about this work, and for the most part, many of even the most well-known outsider artists are only really known within the outsider art field. Because of this, we rely heavily on what we read about outsider art; from curators, from historians, and from critics. And because the work is, for the most part, pretty unknown, the language these curators, historians and critics use can be dramatic – or even voyeuristic to some extent. Human beings love hearing about the ‘weird and the wonderful,’ and they love hearing about people who aren’t like them (just think about the fascination a large part of society has with watching Netflix documentaries about serial killers). So this is what the critics play upon.
Martin Ramirez, courtesy of ArtNet When writing about outsider art, critics have an extra bonus in that the majority of (certainly the ‘traditional’) outsider artists did not consider their work to be ‘art’, and therefore did not write or talk much about it themselves. This means the critic is able to imbue their own views onto this work, and, particularly with the national newspapers, reach much wider art and non-art audiences. This kind of power and freedom (no fear of reprisal from the artists) is no doubt a factor in the overdramatising of this type of work. It is important to consider the role of the curator in this story too. Critics need some to pin their review on; something to ‘appraise against’; a theme or a narrative. Many exhibitions of outsider art are group shows lumping together anyone and everyone who might fit comfortably (or uncomfortably) under that spacious umbrella. So critics are left to review disparate works and people, finding common themes where they can; and this common theme is often health or disability.
The role of the critic in the wider art world is also paramount here. The art world is a market system, and there are people who run the system for their own or others’ gain. Critics are just a small cog in this wider network of sales, exhibitions, and fame. A small, but important cog. Critics are self-imposed definers of taste. They say what’s good and what’s not good, and, much of the time, their views will be plumped up by ulterior motives. I have mentioned Howard Becker and his sociological views about art in previous posts. He talks a lot about the theory of reputation, and how reputations (of artists, and of works), “develop through a process of consensus building in the relevant art world.” He also notes that “the theory of reputation says that reputations are based on works. But, in fact, the reputations of artists, works, and the rest result from the collective activity of art worlds.”[1]
Marcel Storr, courtesy of Artforyum I found a nice quote by critic Laurence Alloway, which I’d like to finish with. He nicely summarises what he thinks the role of the critic should and shouldn’t involve:
“I think art criticism should be part of the communication system of a mass society, not elite-dominated, not reduced to a single tradition, and certainly not possessing any absolute value.” [2]
References
[1] Becker, Howard. S., Art Worlds, University of California Press, 2008
[2] Kalina, Richard, Imagining the Present: Context, Content and the Role of the Critic, Routledge, 2006
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Three Ways Capitalism Impacts the Insider Art World
In this thought-piece, Jerry Fresia discusses how capitalism has impacted on the art world (inside and outside) over the past century.
Work by Jim Sanders
Power and the Capitalist Class: Capitalists don’t just sit off to the side minding their own business. Their business is the accumulation of capital (money and productive assets). They buy politicians, sit on the boards of museums and universities, and with major grantors, very high end gallerists, and an army of agents, they can shape and define what art fits into the insider art world of high end galleries, major art fairs, and auction houses. Central to the insider art system is the grooming of artists whose work supports their ideological needs, who are malleable, and, therefore, willing to accept direction into the inside circle.
The capitalist class first exercised its cultural power as a class when it defined, designed, and promoted a group of artists that articulated its ideological needs as an emerging hegemonic class following World War II. These soon-to-be-inside artists became known as the Abstract Expressionists. Using numerous capitalists back galleries and museums – primarily MOMA NYC which was created by the Rockefeller family – and the CIA (secretly directing the full range of art activities in western Europe as well as intellectual journals for 17 years), capitalists, during the post-war era, made it imperative that all artists pushed to the inside had to make work that was totally abstract, that is, “politically silent,” and free from any European influences. In other words, the American capitalist class, at that point in time, had enough power to create, in effect, a cultural factory. Out of this cultural factory, American Expressionism and the phenomenon of artists dependent upon capitalist cultural power, otherwise known as ‘inside artists’, were born.
Work by Manuel Bonifacio How Work is Produced: Capitalism is a specific way of making our houses, cars, computers, and even the way we grow our food. It is a system of production. Within this system, there are people designated as bosses: these are the people who work with their minds and do mental work. These people are the owners, sometimes referred to as planners. Not too long ago, they were called the bourgeoisie. And then there are the workers who in their work life are told what to do. They work with their hands and do mindless work. They are sometimes referred to as blue collar people, people who work on the line, or just plain workers. Not too long ago, they were called the proletariat. In the art world, they are called assistants.
All major artists, for a hundred years, prior to WWII were outsider artists. They controlled their own work in studios or out of doors and inveighed against the bourgeoisie regularly. They were consciously independent. No one told them what to do in their work. But by the 1960s, some artists began adopting capitalism a way of making their art. They called themselves “executive artists” or “ideas men” and turned their studios into factories, using other artists (assistants) as workers to make their art. Notable among these executive artists were Frank Stella, Andy Warhol, Claes Oldenburg, James Rosenquist, Carl Andre, Robert Morris, Damien Hirst, Jeff Koons and others. Roy Lichtenstein predicted that all (inside) artists would eventually adopt factory values and practices in their work. These capitalist artists, working closely with capitalist financiers, marketing specialists, and luxury goods manufacturers were absorbed into the capitalist-class run museums-academy-auction-house troika. This is the core of what may be called the ‘inside.’
Work by Alan Doyle The Inside-Outside Artist Division: Work that is dependent on the approval of gallerists, financial backers, is produced for a particular market, or made in collaboration with luxury goods manufacturers, can be said to be instrumental, that is, produced as a means to satisfy some end external to the artist. This instrumental rationality is what defines the inside artist. His work (and it is mostly his) is always based upon a calculation: what must I do to please another and maximize market value? Every artist who works within this charmed inside circle is infected by this way of being and thinking. Wonder or mystery may not enter spontaneously into his process because his process is always a controlled activity of production. This uninviting situation is born of dependence and obedience that is central to the values of capitalist production.
At the moment that the inside artist is born, so too is the excluded ‘outside’ artist. Because she has not been directed into the inside circle, she is free from the need to make art that meets criteria external to herself. Independent and free, she is able to find passages into a realm where wonder is revitalized. She is free to give greater expression to play in her work as she feels the need. In other words, her work is authentically an expression of who she is. Her process is an activity of expression and of becoming.
Obviously, the outside artist needs the material rewards that accompany inside artist status so that she is able to sustain the liveliness of her work in comfort. But addressing the question of how the outside artist might go about achieving that end requires a further discussion of strategy. The point here, only, is to think in terms not of the art product, or genre or quality of the product of the outside artist vis-à-vis the product of the inside artist or of ways of penetrating the inside circle, but to think in terms of celebrating and protecting the process out of which the work of the outside artist has been given life. The inside-outsider separation is along that fault line.
By Jerry Fresia
http://www.fresia.com -
Sustainable arts careers for people with disabilities
Earlier this month, I was lucky enough to be invited to join a panel discussion in London organised by Pertti’s Choice in my role as Step Up Coordinator at Outside In. The panel focused on the issue of ‘sustainable arts careers for people with disabilities.’ It chimed nicely with the work I do on Outside In’s Step Up training and professional development programme, which ultimately aims to challenge who is able to take up positions of authority in the art world. I was joined on the panel by Ese Vienamo, who works for the Arts Promotion Center in Finland focusing specifically on ‘outsider art,’ and Sami Helle, from Finnish band Pertti Kurikka. In this post, I wanted to outline some of the topics we covered during the discussion, and reiterate some of my key thoughts.
Pertti’s Choice pop up in London I started by introducing the current system in the UK, which really highlights the work that needs to be done in recruiting people with disabilities to positions within the arts sector. Arts Council England (ACE)’s 2015-16 Equality, Diversity and the Creative Case report showed that only 4% of staff at National Portfolio Organisations and Major Museum Partners were disabled, compared to 19% of the general population. These figures highlight the ongoing under-representation of disabled people in the arts sector, despite ACE and and other organisations’ attempts to diversify the arts workforce.
The challenges we face in the UK arts workforce, to me, are defined by a system that has existed in the same, traditional way for a number of years, but is no longer fit for purpose – perhaps has never even been fit for purpose. We expect people (whatever their background or situation) to fit into this existing system, rather than offering a flexibility that can accommodate people who have different needs or requirements. The arts sector is notorious for its long hours and low pay, and is structured in a way that if someone, for example, struggles to travel at rush hour, this might put them out of the running for a job that they would otherwise be perfectly competent at. I think this is epidemic throughout the UK workforce more generally (the 9-5 working week, for example, is not suitable for everyone), but in the liberal world of the arts, which actively encourages and seeks out diversity, we should – and can – expect more.
The panel As a sector, our inability to diversify our workforce leads to a vicious cycle that continues to create an elite system that many cannot gain entry to. The majority of people working in the arts are from a white, middle-class background, as highlighted in the Department for Culture, Media and Sport’s ‘Creative Industries: Focus on Employment’ report in 2015, which shows that in 2014, 91.9% of jobs in the creative economy were held by people in more advantaged socio-economic groups, compared to 66% of jobs in the wider UK economy. People tend to ‘seek out their own,’ and this means that much of the art we see in galleries, theatres, cinemas, is created by and for people from a white, middle-class and able-bodied background. This is an issue I feel very passionately about because I think as a nation we are missing out on inspiring, innovative and stimulating art simply because we are not able to open our minds to different ways of working.
We are dealing with challenges like ingrained preconceptions about people with disabilities, people from low socio-economic backgrounds, and people with mental health issues, as well as a system that is structured in such a rigid and traditional fashion. We need to come together to challenge both of these things in order to create significant and lasting change, and this should be happening from the ‘bottom’ and the ‘top.’ Change is difficult, and it takes time, particularly if there is a system that has existed historically. We need to be approaching this from the top-level (government, CEOs, the big arts institutions), and from the bottom (working with individual organisations to think about diversifying their workforce and how this can be done in a manageable way).
Pertti’s Choice pop up in London Discussions around these issues have certainly been started, but there is a long way to go. As a sector, we need to change our mindset, see flexible working as the norm, and certainly start seeing the diversification of the workforce as something that will enrich our artistic output, rather than as something that is tokenistic and needs to be done to ‘tick boxes.’
Making these changes starts on an individual level, at each and every arts organisation in the UK. Change doesn’t start at the interview process, or even the application process. It starts before that. It starts with the language we use in job descriptions and person specifications, it starts with where we advertise our jobs, and it starts with a different mindset that is actively seeking out perspectives that are different to our own, ingrained narratives. It starts with flexibility – how can people apply for a job (do they have to fill out an application?), can the interview location be flexible? Can the time and date of the interview be flexible? Is there flexibility in the role itself for the right person, and is this outlined in our advertising. We need to be working with people who might not be able to fit into the existing system for whatever reason to help make the system work for them.
Sitting on the panel at Pertti’s Choice pop up in London So, my final word – let’s stop assuming that we should be moulding everyone to fit into the same, broken system, and instead, start actively thinking about we can be changing this system (even in the tiniest way). It is not a one-size-fits-all; it takes communication and flexibility. Because after all, a more diverse workforce = more diverse art.
KDOA 