Hey, wanna live here?
Monday, April 21, 2014
From "The Shape of Content," by Ben Shahn, 1956
Such prevailing values exercise a powerful effect upon art, both in the making and in the judging. Consider, for instance, our own highly cherished concept of freedom. It is our proudest value, the one for which we are ready to sacrifice everything, so that we find ourselves inclined to sacrifice liberty of speech and even liberties of action -- lest we be even suspected of opposing freedom. The concept of freedom in art takes interesting forms: freedom of execution, for instance, is a basis for evaluation. How often do we read the critical comment that this or that work appears "labored." And on the other hand, the calligraphic, the easily brushed style is highly admired; it has a free look about it. Extreme care is "tight" and not good; extreme freedom is "loose" and considered desirable. Art becomes increasingly free; it has freed itself of craft, freed itself from academic discipline, freed itself from meaning in many cases, and freed itself of responsibility. In some of the recent phases almost the only ingredient left in art besides paint seems to be freedom.
Sunday, April 20, 2014
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
Having done a good job yesterday of putting forth why prayer flags are bad, let me do the other side of the coin today. I checked into some of the recent blog posts about how prayer flags are being used in real (non-Buddhist) life and discover that they're being used as little banners or cheerful signs rather than having much religious or symbolic significance. They're being hung over sickbeds or outside houses, conveying good wishes to people having difficult times.
And what's wrong with that? Nothing, except maybe the name "prayer flags."
I've made little doodads for similar occasions, sometimes tiny quilts and sometimes collages. They're perfect for times when you want something more than a card to say thank you or happy birthday or get well.
If people called these little doodads "get well flags" or "wish pennants" or something, I would have absolutely nothing to quibble at. In fact, I would cheerfully sign up for a blog hop or whatever to show some that I have made, and suggest ways that other people could make some for their own friends. But something about the term "prayer flags" strikes me as inappropriate, not least since prayer may or may not be a part of the package. It's just as inappropriate as if people in some non-Christian culture were to wear cute necklaces that they called "rosaries" or in some non-Jewish culture were to wear little knit caps they called kippah or yarmulkes.
And finally, let me walk back some of my comments from yesterday's blog post, when I was complaining that when you appropriate images or symbols from another culture it can't lead to good art. I still stand by that statement, but I was probably too harsh in discussing the prayer flag trend in terms of art, just as you can't use the term art when discussing much of the stuff described and sold to or made by fiber craft enthusiasts.
Again, it's nomenclature -- maybe if magazines promoting wish pennant challenges wouldn't use the word Art in their titles I wouldn't be roused so frequently into crabbiness. What most quiltmakers produce is decorative craft, even fine craft, but it's probably not art, certainly not High Art. If we could all agree on that we (and here I mostly mean I) wouldn't get caught in the quicksand of trying to apply the standards and expectations of High Art to stuff that isn't in the same ballpark.
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
The Quiltart list has been abuzz with discussion of prayer flags, a discussion that I kind of started. Somebody had posted to the list about a project having to do with prayer flags, which elicited a few comments. But then I happened to be browsing in one of the online fiber art shops and discovered a bunch of prayer-flag things for sale -- magazines, books, kits to help you make prayer flags. Apparently one of the quilting magazines had sponsored a challenge in which readers had to make prayer flags. There's even a blog devoted to a "prayer flag project." And I was mystified.
I wrote back to the list: "So what's with the prayer flags? ... Is there a sudden nationwide Great Awakening of Buddhism? Or is this some kind of trendy appropriation of some other culture's sacred objects because they're small, cute and easy to make? Next year will everybody be making (and buying kits for) little slips of paper to leave between the stones at the Wailing Wall?"
In the ensuing discussion, somebody commented that she asked several of her Buddhist friends whether they were offended by non-Buddhists making prayer flags, and the answer was no. In fact, she wrote, "the spreading of beauty, and the dialogue that may be generated by the creation of a prayer flag, would be a positive impact."
I think that's a remarkably generous response from members of a group whose religious artifacts have been hijacked. I'm not sure we'd see similar tolerance if, for instance, people from other cultures -- or even from our own culture -- appropriated Christian symbols and practices. Heck, we already haven't -- look at the outraged response when Chris Ofili made Madonnas supported on feet of elephant dung or when Andres Serrano photographed a crucifix submerged in a bottle of urine. And that happened even though arguably the artists were treating the religious symbols with respect.
Another post to the Quiltart list said, "It never occurred to me that a sacred image, used in a reverential, thoughtful way could ever be offensive." Obviously it can (Serrano describes himself as a devout Catholic but his work has been destroyed several times by people who said they were offended by it), but that's the subject for another discussion. My question is whether the prayer flags are actually being used in a reverential, thoughtful way.
But avoiding offense is only one reason to be cautious when appropriating the symbols and sacred things of another culture. The other reason is that it's often a sign of artistic bankruptcy.
When an artist uses a preexisting symbol, image or concept in his own work, it should be for a reason. If you use something from your own cultural heritage -- let's say, for instance, a quilt -- it's generally because you're wanting to comment on how that heritage has affected you, how it has changed or not, or how it relates to today's society. If you use something from somebody'e else's heritage, viewers will justifiably wonder why you have chosen it as part of your message.
That's my problem with a lot of the mixed media work seen in the craft magazines, especially in theme challenges. When readers are asked to make prayer flags or shrines, or to make collages using birds or 1930s luggage labels, they are in fact being asked to adopt images and practices that mean nothing to them. And when you make art based on arbitrary images and concepts that mean nothing to you, how can it be good art?
Years ago there was an equally spirited discussion on the Quiltart list about people who make art with trendy images such as mushrooms, butterflies, frogs or whatever the tchotchke du jour happens to be. People commented that there's nothing wrong with that if you really like mushrooms, butterflies, etc. I suggested at the time that if a student of mine showed up wanting to make art with butterflies I would probably ask her: How long have you been using butterflies in your art? What does the butterfly mean? Is the butterfly you? What's this butterfly doing? Is this artwork optimistic, pessimistic, fatalistic, cheerful, sad, or what? Has your treatment of the butterfly changed since you have been using it?
I suggested that answering these questions (or not) would quickly separate the artist who is validly using the butterfly from the dilettante who has just grabbed up on the cutesy little doodad of the moment. But meanwhile I'm skeptical of the prayer flags, and unhappy with the entrepreneurs who encourage people to use them in faux art and sell kits to help with same.