Greg, my employer told me a story early Monday morning about abstract art. He described a trip he took with the girls to the Weisman Art Museum. One of the pieces was a bean bag, and Izzi was excited to see it. She was also excited to run over and jump on it, because let’s face it, that’s what makes a bean bag awesome. Greg did a great imitation of his own reaction, waving his arms and shouting “Izzi don’t! It’s art!”
What makes a bean bag art, exactly? This and similar questions have sloshed around in my head this weekend after my cute husband took me to the Walker Art Center for our first date night of the year. I try very hard to keep an open mind, but my husband and I both found that our appreciation for what he casually terms “weird art” is somewhat limited. There are many, many, abstract pieces that I really enjoy and could stare at for a long time. But an architectural piece that appeared to be an empty room, a metal pipe leaning against a piece of black construction paper that hung on the wall with thumbtacks, a photograph of a disemboweled dog, these can grate on me after a while.
The strange thing is, I’m a big fan of expanding the definition of art. I plan Women’s Creativity Nights every couple of months (the next one is February 20th, and you should be there if you’re female), and at these events I try to challenge and encourage women to show off anything that they’ve created. Over the last year I’ve been delighted to see the creations of many women who’ve told me point blank that they’re not artistic at all. Seeing that creativity emerge is not just for their benefit either. In fact, I’d say that my motives are almost entirely selfish. I want to see all the creativity in all the people around me coming out and blooming, no matter how it looks once it’s out. I’ve never had the tiniest bit of trouble appreciating anything that those women have brought into my house.
So what’s the difference here? Is it merely the human contact? I wonder this sometimes when I walk into a gallery that feels frustrating. If I knew the artists, if they were here describing their process and their dreams, would it make the art come alive for me? Maybe it’s possible to expand not only my definition of art, but my love for the hearts that created it, such that I could feel that for artists that I’ll never meet. I wonder.
Most of the artists I have met try to set up their art to provoke a specific reaction or feeling (particularly the modernists). So maybe being disgusted at the disemboweled dog is how you are supposed to feel. I agree that it’s not so much like other art. It requires digging and thought. And not everything works, and not everything is easy to tell.
I totally agree with you, and I’m sure that’s just what the disemboweled dog was about. I think the trouble arises when an hour in an art museum makes a viewer feel just plain jerked around. There is a difference between provoking and manipulating, but that difference is often too subtle to pin down.