As much as I can chew

When my friend Dale was asked how his Japanese language skills were progressing, he sighed and said, “So many words,” with the melancholic reflection of a man who had bitten off as much as he could chew, and then some. I’ve been feeling his pain recently. Not many months back, our editor asked me to become the art critic for this paper. Like Japanese, art would be difficult, I considered. What is it, anyway? A few years ago, after all, a couple of art students in Toronto recorded themselves torturing and killing a cat. They passed it off as art. The act was repellent, but so were the academics who rushed to the defence of their precocious charges. I remember thinking: That sounds sick, not artistic. Is the purpose of art to shock, offend, or draw attention to a poor upbringing? It can’t be. But, what did I know? So, my initial instinct was to politely decline, thank our editor for the opportunity, and ask for a simpler assignment with less pretension, like beer or hockey fights, to report upon for ^The Women’s Post~. You don’t say “no,” however, and I accepted, despite the inevitable anxiety of facing the unknown practically naked. Looking at, asking, reading, and thinking about art has been discouraging, confusing and, at times, overwhelming. It’s mostly been exhilarating, though, and it’s a much more pleasant preoccupation than Parliament Hill, Queen’s Park, and Grassy Knoll. Fortunately I’ve had a knowledgeable, educated friend helping me wade through the flak of the art world. He has recommended books, and web sites, and accompanied me to gaze, first hand, at paintings, pottery, and the like. He points out the more remarkable features of some pieces and notes the artist’s skill. With other works, however, he shows where the use of colour is weak, the perspective out of order, or where there’s an insufficient attention to detail. As with music, TV, movies, literature, and humans, not all art is good. Did all these paintings really belong on the hallowed walls of a gallery? How did they get there? Who decided? The more we looked, the more questions I saw. What is art? Reasonable answers included: “Art is not a mirror to reflect the world, but a hammer with which to shape it” (Vladimir Mayakovsky). “Good art speaks truth, indeed is truth, perhaps the only truth” (Iris Murdoch). “Art is accomplishment” (Barry Allen; my guide on the Artisan Safari). “Art is the instantiation of human significance” (Grant Whatmough). Is it right, then, to hand over the reins of an entity as cherished and critical to our society as art to the perpetrators of plain foulness, and their defenders? Humans are in the fortunate, and unique, position of being able to construct new knowledge from that which already exists. Unlike animals, who rely on individual instincts for comfort and survival, humans can build upon the accomplishments of others; the phenomenon is known as constructivism. Rather than an eternity of completing the same circles of life – relearning the same lessons – humans can constantly improve, progress, and achieve great things with (and without) a paint brush, chisel, camera, or potter’s wheel. The perpetual motion of humankind means that if we’re not moving forward, we’re digressing. The achievements of the artisans are inexorably linked to the achievements of society. Primitive man had primitive art supplies, and primitive art. Skills, styles, materials, tools, and techniques have been improved upon and passed along for centuries. In many instances, miracles have been realized. Isn’t that art? Shouldn’t the culmination of humanity’s progress, captured in a single, uncluttered work of art, leave you awed and unhooked? It has to. The new assignment has been quite an eye-opener; there’s a lot of art, and a lot of other things that fall under the category. Every picture is worth a thousand words, and asks as many questions. Fortunately, the answers are found in the quiet, civilized world of galleries. Indeed, writing on art is challenging; there’s as much to learn as I don’t know. But, with eyes wide open, I keep chewing.

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