…But is it ‘Art’?

There has been a long-standing debate whether certain practices or pieces of work should or shouldn’t be called art. First of all, one needs to describe what is understood by the term art in order to set the outlines of such a discussion. This can be done by an acknowledgement of the various contexts and histories that go along with certain readings of the word. Furthermore, looking at the essence and purpose of the sphere of art, there are major differences between the so-called Western (European and North American) and Eastern (Asian) points of view, to that of certain tribal communities, for example. Each reading goes along with its concrete context and specific receptions within this context. Nevertheless, what is most interesting for audiences, critics and artists alike in the current day and age, is the quesiton ‘what can qualify as art and why?’.

Talking about the general idea of art, however, there isn’t a universal, commonly agreed description of what it is, since it is always evolving and adapting. Until now people have regarded art as a diverse range of human activity, and its resulting products, that involve creative manifestations generally expressive of technical proficiency, talent, beauty and emotional power, or conceptual ideas. This is, therefore, the essence of what art should be – something that moves the spectator, the receiver, the reader, something that makes them think and feel. The art world, on the other hand, is a much more complex notion. It is a field burdened with the task of conceptualising this essence and creating a somewhat coherent infrastructure for its existence and circulation. In other words, anything can be regarded as art, as long as it reasonably justifies its place in the art world. Often the two concepts get mixed up, because after all, there can be no art without the art world and vice versa. The questions we ask here, however, are how can we fairly evaluate a piece of work as art or not? Is it enough to look at a given piece only through the prism of talent and proficiency, or is there something more beneath the surface, something that can be truly inspiring and thought-provoking?

In order to answer some of these questions, we need to look back at certain historical developments and ideas, and how they have influenced our perception of contemporary art.

The age-old question: Can there really be “art for art’s sake”?

“Art for the sake of art” is a slogan dating back to the 19th century, when people from the intellectual circles of Paris started using it to describe the idea that art is, and should be, separated from all utilitarian functions and independent from any social values. In other words, according to this belief, one should focus solely on the skill and craftsmanship invested in the making of a particular piece of art or the virtuosity and skill with which it is executed, without taking into consideration the deeper meaning or the wider impact of the piece. However, the idea that works of art can exist in a vacuum, unaffected by the circumstances of the artist or untouched by the context in which they were created has led to the establishment of a dominant view of the art world, one which is substantially harmful to some more unorthodox artistic practices, which do not rely solely on talent or proficiency. Such marginal, unconventional practices include some forms of performance art, installation, experimental theatre, body art and other mediums, in the past referred to as the equivocal low art. These practices do not always take into account the skill of the artist because it is irrelevant. What is important is the message and/or the effects which are accumulated through the piece. In other words, it is the bigger context, the hidden deep meaning or the audience’s personal interpretations that matter in this case.

Some critics and audiences view modern art pieces, ones which are radical, unconventional, or simply conceptual, as non-art, because their effects and meaning are not delivered in a traditional manner. That is to say, the message is not straightforward and readily available to the viewer. Often such work is difficult to comprehend or accept because one needs to engage with sensitive, intimate and therefore complex questions. In such cases, critics and audiences might argue that a certain execution and final product cannot be referred to as a piece of art, due to its irregularity, alleged lack of meaning, or even – because of its ‘apparent’ simplicity.

One example of such unusual artwork is My Bed by the English artist Tracey Emin.

The installation was exhibited at the Tate Gallery in London in 1999 and consisted of the artist’s unmade bed with personal everyday objects, such as underwear, a pair of slippers, tissues, condoms, bottles of vodka and other detritus, in a scattered state around it. The work was created as a powerful image, the aftermath of a four-day long self-imposed starvation, consuming nothing but alcohol, after a mental breakdown. Ermin explains that this was a depressive state, a semi-delirium, caused by personal troubles and relationship difficulties. Despite some critics’ ardent disapproval, the root and inspiration for the piece represent an honest, outrageous, yet unapologetic, personal statement. The work gained vast media attention with some reviewers arguing that anyone could present an unmade bed with a pile of junk around it and proclaim it as art. However, Emin’s response is that, first of all, no one else has in fact created and exhibited such work, thus making her idea, to take the bed out of her room and place it in a gallery context, unique. The underlying effects of this action, therefore, stem from the fact that as a conceptual piece My Bed is no longer simply a woman’s messy house furniture, but an idiosyncratic archive of personal experiences, pointing towards mental health awareness issues and engaging with institutional critique – asking who, what and why has the right to inhabit an art space? Emin chose to expose all the chaos, decay and disorder that comes with depression in the most abrupt possible way – without concealing anything, without rearrangement, without artifice.

This goes to show that nowadays the art world is becoming evermore complex, with artists, audiences and institutions trying to navigate sensitive topics and multilayered issues, while simultaneously engaging with and producing meaningful, powerful art. Questions of social, political, cultural, economic and even personal essence are all entangled in the readings and receptions of a piece of work. This is making the work of critics and curators all the more difficult. Not to mention the obscure practices which merge and blur the boundaries between art and life, such as Breyer-P-Orridge’s decision of transforming their body and quotidian life into a curated art project, or Anne Bean’s work with various personae outside traditional art spaces and into her everyday life. How do you categorise something as being art or not? Is the context in which it was created/showed/performed all that matters? Or is it the reception of the piece that is most valuable? Even then, how should one decide which elements are important to the piece and which are irrelevant?

Subjective vs. Objective

Discussions around these questions have been circulating in the art world for decades, ever since the first Futurist Manifesto in 1909 by Filippo Tommaso Marinetti. It is believed to be one of the first starting points to send the idea of art into a whole new direction. This is when artists started experimenting more and more, yearning to cross boundaries, escape limits, and go beyond the traditional modes of expression. As one of the many avant-garde movements that followed, Futurism was mainly concerned with innovation – new ideas and beliefs, which centred around a rebellion against beauty and good taste, renouncing all the themes and subjects of traditional art.

Artists were not interested in the approval or disapproval of critics and audiences. Rather, they wanted to create art inspired not so much by subjective experiences and emotions, but by objective realities, like the advancements of the modern world, in the face of new technology, science and machines.

Later, in his famous book The death of the Author (1967), literary critic Roland Barthes lays out another prominent idea – that the meaning and therefore significance of a text cannot be determined by the author’s initial intention, rather it is up to the readers’ interpretation to bestow it with essence. According to this theory, one cannot rely on the biography or identity of the creator to distill a definitive meaning and a certain definition to the creation. This allows for a much broader understanding of a piece of art, since every individual reading would potentially carry multiple backgrounds and connotations, varying degrees of comprehension and would therefore pay attention to diverse aspects in different ways. This is an interesting point of view with regards to the art world as a whole. Particularly with the question whether a piece of art can be isolated as a stand-alone phenomenon (with a preliminary message and a foreseen effect), always linked to some sort of a universal criteria, or, each artwork is dependable on a multitude of, sometimes uncontrollable, elements (the audience’s reaction; the sociopolitical context; cultural and historical background; economic situation, etc.).

This is not to say that the artist’s identity and circumstances are of little or no significance. Sometimes, especially in autobiographic performances, for example, the identity of the artist is the essence of the work. Nevertheless, it is always up to the uncontrollable force in the face of the audience’s receptions, to make sense of it and therefore to give meaning to it. It turns out, it is difficult to judge a piece of art separated from all these elements, regardless if we realise it or not. The prism through which we look at and analyse a certain artwork is always informed by our preconceptions, knowledge and experiences. This is the hidden power of contemporary conceptual art – two people looking at the same thing can have two completely distinct thoughts and experience, and therefore understand it in a different way.

One viewer might be more concerned with the aesthetic qualities of a piece, another with its connotations and emotional effects, and so on. Therefore, the main issues regarding what qualifies as art, circle around questions of aesthetic values, utility values and truth values – all of which do not have a unequivocal standard. Does this mean that it is irrelevant and meaningless for critics to try and explain artworks? Short answer would be – no, because the very endeavour of putting a frame around the experience is what makes it part of the art world. Moreover, there is a long history of art, which informs and problematises current approaches to the sphere, making it all the more interesting and challenging.

High Art vs. Low Art

To trace the root of these debates, we need to go further back, to the 18th century, when the distinction between forms of art in the categories of high and low is believed to have taken shape. Fine art in the forms of painting, sculpture, theatre and music were held in high regard, as attention was focused on the talent of the artist and the mastership with which the work was executed – the details and forms, all aligned with the general criteria of critics in the sphere. On the other hand, low art was considered less masterful, something to be enjoyed not by a selected few with refined taste, but by the masses, a cheap form of entertainment. This concept, however, developed into something more than just a categorisation of the different branches of the art world. It imposed an almost universal claim of what is and what isn’t worthy of critical attention. In other words, this distinction set a tone for what was to be considered art at all. Nowadays, however, there is substantial shift in this understanding because certain forms and mediums, which would be considered low, are paving their way to a more renowned spotlight, affirming their significance and therefore value as pieces of art. Performance art practices, for example, started off as marginal activities, which nevertheless proved to be a radical catalyst for social and cultural change.

Performance Art

In the beginning of the 20th century, cultural and socopolitical atmospheres in Europe shifted. The access to both higher and lower art forms became more widespread, making the lines between them blurred and somewhat irrelevant. Artists were focusing more on the message and impact of their work rather than their skill and perfect execution.

Despite the effort of some regimes to dictate the taste of the people (such as Socialist Realism in Eastern Europe), unconventional performances flourished. But when artists were not conforming to the state regulations and were creating unique and difficult pieces, their work was deemed as perverted, as non-art, something to be condemned and forgotten. Nevertheless, artists found numerous ways to continue to create innovative, imaginative, challenging, disruptive works which later proved to be a vital development for the art world as a whole.

As time progressed, so did the approaches to art and art-making. Nowadays, the sphere encompasses a vast number of modes and strands which continue to grow. For example, NFTs and digital art are yet to be analysed and discussed in the context of contemporary culture, as they have a great impact not only in the sphere of art, but also in the realm of social media, AI creative practices, and even economy and finance.

So… is it art?

To close off the current reflections, let us bring this classic into the discussion – a banana, duct-taped to a wall. Does it qualify as art? Short answer – it does if you want it to. As mentioned before, art is primarily subjective. The work, titled Comedian, was conceived in 2019 by the italian artist Maurizio Cattelan and was displayed at Galerie Perrotin’s booth at Art Basel Miami Beach. It was sold for US$120,000.

Despite the mass outrage regarding the price, there is a lot of underlying meaning linked to the piece whatsoever. The majority of the media coverage focused on the simplicity of the work, deeming the sum of money as inexplicably high. What the buyers received, however, was not the banana itself (which would rot eventually, thus ruining the work), but the idea for the work. As conceptual art, it consists of a certificate of authenticity with detailed diagrams and instructions for its proper display. The uniqueness of the piece is in its sarcastic nature and the references it makes. The title Comedian can be seen as a tongue-in-cheek vaudeville reference to slipping on a peel. Cattalan is also known to use Duchampian strategies in his work in order to highlight the ridiculousness of some institutions and the absurdity of some modern tendencies. In an interview, Bill Powers, Half Gallery owner and art dealer, says:

”The genius of Cattelan’s banana is that it draws out the mainstream media’s suspicion that all contemporary art is a type of emperor’s new clothes foisted on rich people. Was it Warhol who said, ‘Art is whatever you can get away with’? Case in point.”

This is a bright example of how a simple, yet clever idea can bring the whole art world and social media on their toes. It was reported that insane crowds formed in front of the gallery, security got involved, and official queues were set up. This led to the installation being removed because it posed a serious health and safety risk, as well as an access issue. However, it still remains as a prominent moment in art history, whether one sees it as art or not per se.

Art is a magical thing. Something that belongs to each and everyone, regardless of their position or origin. One does not need to be an artist, art critic or to study art history in order to appreciate and understand it in their own way. Even with complex contemporary performances or bizarre conceptual pieces – frustration, anger or confusion are all purposeful emotional effects which can lead to a thought-provoking experience.

So, next time you wonder whether a certain piece is in fact an artwork or not, ask yourself this – does it make you think and feel in a certain way? If yes, then how and why? The very act of asking youself these questions already means that the piece has done (most of) its job.

Bibliography

Elise Taylor, The $120,000 Art Basel Banana, Explained <https://www.vogue.com/article/the-120000-art-basel-banana-explained-maurizio-cattelan>

Genesis P-Orridge, Nonbinary: A Memoir (Abrams Press), 2021

Rob la Frenais, Anne Bean: Self Etc. (Intellect Ltd, London), 2019

RoseLee Goldberg, Performance Art: From Futurism to the Present, (Thames and Hudson, London) 2011

The Routledge Companion to Aesthetics, ed. by Berys Gaut, Berys Gaut, Dominic Lopes, ”High Art Versus Low Art”, John A. Fisher, (Routledge, London), 2000

Tracey Emin on ‘My Bed’ | TateShots <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uv04ewpiqSc&ab_channel=Tate> [02 April, 2015]

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