The Emperor’s New Prose
Isle of the Dead, the best known paintings by Swiss Symbolist artist Arnold Böcklin (1827-1901). A nice illustration of our search for meaning, I thought.
I happened to be in and around the vicinity of a few online fringe writer’s groups and had the opportunity to see what was being written. I was appalled. Sturgeon’s Law of course applies (90% of everything is crap), but even bearing that in mind, I could not find that better 10% anywhere. I set about in amongst the work in progress section to find a piece I could offer feedback for. I wanted to find something good, something that I could genuinely praise. After going through everything everyone had ever posted, I gave up.
Some might say at this point that I don’t “get” contemporary art, but nothing could be further from the truth. The problem is I have a very good grasp of “modern” and “postmodern” art and influences. I’m very comfortable in and around the “avant-garde”. The problem is, especially in the world of writing, I can see the smoke, the mirrors, and the slight of hand.
I was particularly amused by something a good friend of mine wrote on the subject, especially since it’s so close to my own sentiments. Because I can’t link to it, easily, she has given her permission for me to quote the whole thing. And yes, I borrowed her title.
The Emperor’s New Prose
Jessica De’Eath
02/07/2009
There’s a fine line between being avant-garde, and being lazy. There’s a difference between being purposefully vague and con-artistry. Anyone can create a piece of contemporary art. There are nearly 7 billion people creating contemporary art every day of their lives. Humans are pattern recognition engines, we spot the patterns, sometimes we call it art. Indeed, human agency isn’t even required in the creation of art at all. Only at the viewing end. If I was to stack up a pile of wood on a beach, people would walk past it and give it no more thought. But do the same in an art gallery and people would start to try and understand its significance. This significance is of course contrived. Indeed, the avant-garde is about testing the limits of art, and the limits of humanity. That is fair enough.
But when the profound and the profane sit side by side, how do we tell them apart? Truth is the only way to tell them apart is to take a good long hard look at the creator.
If Umberto Eco, writer of the most beautiful and philosophical novels, was to one day produce something that fell into the category of the avant-garde, then would suspect that he might be onto something. He has already proven his skill as a writer, he is free to experiment, and he would be beyond criticism. I would be willing to guess, he was taking a damn good crack at profundity.
But the profane? This is where the con-artistry comes in. New writers who have no skill have discovered that they can hide behind the opaque walls of the avant-garde. When the onus of understanding and interpretation is on the reader, the writer is free from the need to have any skill at all. But I see your bluff, and I call you on it.
Her point absolutely spot on. Surely everyone is familiar with Picasso, but just in case, here is a link to one of his paintings.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Picasso_Portrait_of_Daniel-Henry_Kahnweiler_1910.jpg
Back in the days of Picasso he naturally got a lot of stick because of the nature of his work. One of the criticisms thrown at modern artists, was that it didn’t take any skill to produce the “crap” they were making. But of course this is nonsense. Picasso was also a talented artist in his own right. Follow the link and check out “portrait of Sylvette”
http://www.prints.co.nz/page/fine-art/PROD/1101
So it’s perfectly acceptable for someone who has demonstrable skill in a field to set about pushing at the boundaries of his or her ‘art’. They have won the right to do so. And the viewers, readers, critics, whoever at least have that guarentee they are not wasting their time completely.
But do not be fooled when talentless morons hide behind the boundaries of the avant-garde and postmodernism because they are too lazy to develop any real skill. It takes years of practice and hard work to become good in any discipline. There is no royal road to art.
Why should we go along with a bunch of fools who would like it to be the case? Anyone can pick up a keyboard and type out nonsense into a wordprocessor or onto a blog, into their my space page, out into the newsgroups. In fact the whole internet is full of the stuff. The problem is not finding content, but finding some content that isn’t vacuous.
Photo 'Orange Abstract' by Faeryboots. The abstract doesn't have to be contrived. Source 1.
When, as Jessica says, the onus of interpretation is on the reader, would the reader not be better served looking for meaning elsewhere? Once you reach a certain level of random noise, then the message is left in the writer’s head and all that is visible is a pattern that the onlooker’s mind must interpret. If all the reader is getting out of something is what meaning they themselves derive, then that same meaning could be derived elsewhere anyway. By conceling meaning, the writer has removed him/herself from being necessary. There are plenty patterns in the world to interpret, why waste your time interpreting an artificial one?
Photo 'Lake Manyara' by Cessna206. Taken from the air, it reveals nature to be a great modernist. Source 2.
I know given two random patterns, one contrived by an ass-hole and the other contrived by a series of unique events, I would be much more inclined to spend my time on the second. For a start its inception is more interesting. What geological forces created it? What chance happenings led to a poetic death? What strange phenomea led to the apparent face of the Virgin Mary appearing in someone’s toasted cheese? What could convince someone to pay 20,000 on ebay for said toasted cheese with bite out it. However in the case of some fool, simply brain-dumping garbage onto the internet, I am not inclined to wonder, because the culpret had the opportunity to tell us, and said nothing. He/she had the opportunity to say something, and remained silent. Someone might suggest, “well they did ‘say’ something”. True. They wrote, and did the great injustice of filling up a page that said no more than if the page had been left blank.
I’m sure we’ve all heard the story of the Emperor’s new clothes. The emperor hires two tailors (con-men) who promise him the finest suit of clothes. They promise him it will be made from the finest cloth. Indeed, they tell him, this special cloth is invisible to anyone who was either stupid or unfit for his position. When the emperor finally gets his suit, he is horrified to discover that he cannot see the (non-existent) cloth. So he pretends that he can for fear of appearing stupid. Indeed, none of his ministers speak up because they are afraid of letting it be known that they can’t see the clothes. Everyone goes along with it because everyone acts as if they can see the clothes, and those who cannot are left wondering if they are the only ones. The tailors dress the Emperor in mime. Then he goes naked on a procession through the capital to show off his new clothes. In the middle of the procession, a small child speaks up, “But he has nothing on!” The crowd realize the truth of the child’s words. The Emperor, carries on.
Like the story of the Emperor’s new clothes, we must beware of the same fallacy in art, and in writing especially.
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Image Sources
Source1 http://www.flickr.com/photos/faeryboots/3625535506/
Source2 http://www.flickr.com/photos/7519597@N05/3055946034/
