Final Draft

This is a title

One Word

            How do you define a word that defines your life? The way you see the world, others, yourself; all of it revolves around this one word. But you don’t know what it means, what it really means. You try your best to meet that word’s expectations, to make something of yourself in the process, yet all the while wondering where these standards came from in the first place. Did they come from some group of people who all decided on the definition of this word eons ago? But what do they know about the present, your present? No, you can’t trust them, they’re stuck in the past. So you look to other present people’s interpretations: scholars, experts, your peers. Sure, you can create your own interpretation based off of theirs. Yet, doesn’t that make it only half yours? Doesn’t that mean you will never create anything completely original, all because of this one little, elusive word that you’ve based your entire life’s pursuits on?

            This is the maddening dialogue that my brain likes to have with itself whenever I am faced with the word “art.” I live and breathe art, always have and always will. Ever since I first discovered by father’s magnificent drawing talent as a child, I’ve been living out my personal vendetta to one day become half as talented as him. I remember pouring over his thick sketchbooks with him for hours, dreaming of my bright future as a world-renowned artist.

Dad's 15 lbs
John M. Zink

Pink on the wing
John M. Zink

'

Two of my personal favorites, 

both done painstakingly 

in colored pencil by my father. How could I 

not be inspired by such talent?

Today, I still follow that extreme aspiration to the best of my ability, hoping that one day I will completely hone my talents as he did and all of my hard work will pay off.

            This work ethic is what really built up my deep respect for his and others’ masterful artwork. Unlike my father, I was not born with natural talent (which he still had to keep up through practice, of course), so I trained myself even harder by taking this truth to heart. The attention to detail, high skill, and unending patience that I’ve observed in fellow artists has inspired me to no end; so much so that I’ve decided it must be these very qualities that entail art’s definition. Because of this, any piece that is claimed to be “art” by a different, more shallow set of standards irks me deeply. In every piece, I spend every ounce of my being on storytelling, developing a style unique to the artwork, and presenting a pleasing composition with my only reward being a passing grade, while someone else puts a line on a canvas and becomes a millionaire. Yet, put both our pieces next to each other in a museum and one will not be considered less “artistic” than the other by most who view them.

            I realize that my view may seem very close-minded, even a little pompous, and maybe it is. I am aware of this flaw, and I embrace it fully. In every other aspect, I try to have an open-minded approach, but my view on art is the one exception. The simple fact is, when you spend so much time and effort on one thing, it becomes special to you. At least, it does for me, and because of this, I garner a deep sense of pride and accomplishment with everything I create, even if I’m not quite satisfied with the way it turns out. I just can’t see how someone who puts a line on a canvas is able to say, “Hmm, I’m really proud of this and can safely say that I’ve spent my time wisely.”

            While maintaining my strong opinions on the matter, I still want to be able to understand the reasons behind different artistic standards. Tracing art from its origins to the present, it’s always had many purposes: persuasive (advertising), representational (religious art), calming (art therapy), and so on, but those purposes belie its true world-changing potential. It’s when others fail to recognize or attempt to reach that potential that I become insulted as an artist, and leads me to doubt art’s definition once again. If I can’t define my purpose, my world begins to fall apart, and my childhood dream slips further and further away. This is my daily conflict, one that I hope to overcome by exploring and understanding art’s many definitions and uses.

Artistic Origins, Accepting the Challenge

            After realizing my calling in my youth, I immediately set myself to work. I knew that the road to acquiring my skills would be long and arduous, and so I began with baby steps. I would draw or doodle in any spare moment I could find, and took my academic classes in middle school very seriously in order to have the freedom to take as many art classes as I wanted once I entered high school. For many years, my artistic approach was independent and carefree, the product of my own whimsy. And then high school came along with a brand new challenge: art teachers.

This art teacher’s lesson website is a perfect 

example of my teachers’ approach: 

strictly organized and a complete, objective 

breakdown of the art creation process

            My art teachers in high school restrained my artistic freedom by restricting our projects to their own interpretations of art’s true meaning. They always saw the subject as objective, forcing my classmates and I to follow a strict set of “art principles.” It was frustrating, to say the least; what happened to art being expressive, personal, and, most importantly, subjective? Despite their limitations, I worked as hard as I was capable to meet their standards, sometimes staying up nights on end just to finish a project. I strove to build up my work ethic, and as a result produced some decent quality work. Since then, I’ve surrounded myself with people who appreciate, environments that complement, and extracurriculars that agree with this value of work ethic.

             After high school graduation, I sat down and reflected upon everything that I'd accomplished. During this reverie, I realized several important things about my past and myself. Firstly, that my art teachers were smart in enforcing rules upon their students’ art techniques. I see know that they made those rules so that they could be broken later. They knew that as beginners, we’d benefit greatly from a more objective approach and that when we were confident enough in our skills, we could learn to break those rules on our own—strengthening our own ability of self-expression and originality in the process.  Secondly, that time is my best friend, and at the same time, my greatest enemy. When I have the time to sit down and make something great, I usually do. Unfortunately, my perpetually busy schedule denies me this luxury. Because of this, I am forced to manage what little time I have and make sure what I do with it is worth it; wasted time is wasted life. Lastly, that I had to find a more solid reason why I was submitting myself to such a tough life of long work hours in order to continue along this rocky road to self-discovery. To me, there is great significance in each human’s obligation to leave behind a legacy, to change this world in some way for the better before we die. I like to think that my legacy is to appeal to the hearts and minds of others, and maybe even present them ideas they would've never have considered through my creations. With these epiphanies, I was quickly approaching the definition I’d been searching for; my elusive purpose was within reach. I was proud of myself, of everything that I'd studied, and everything that art stood for. Unfortunately, my naivete and  blind faith in my medium did little to soften the blow of what I was about to discover through my college studies. The day that I became aware of “modern” art is the day that everything that I knew about art, my passions, my world, was warped beyond repair. 

The Media Divide, What’s considered art?

            I used quotes here on purpose: there’s a big difference between what I consider to be modern art and “modern” art. To better explain where I’m coming from, let me offer a comparison:

Cafe Terrace at Night
Vincent Van Gogh
1888

            

Black square in a white background
Kazimierz Malewicz
1915

          

                          This is modern art.                                               This is what I call "modern" art.

The Modern art period, which we are still currently in, began around the late 1800s with the end of Romanticism and the introduction of Impressionism. However, in this case, I use the term more as a descriptor to support my opinions rather than an indication of different art periods—so, modern meaning ideal and "modern" meaning less than that ideal. The creator of the website where I first discovered Malewicz’s “Black square in a white background” explains this controversy very well by comparing simplicity with the artwork’s ability to “speak for itself.” When the artwork becomes dependent upon the artist’s biography, moments in which the viewer can never relate to, that’s when it crosses the line between creative art and “modern” art. The idea has fallen so far into the artist’s pompous abstraction that the viewer can find no natural connection to the piece, which again ignores art’s true purpose of an exhibition of imagination and skill. Even the generic title is indicative of that, like he was trying to be cleverly blasé in using such an uncreative title. This fact is made even clearer when Malewicz’s thought process behind the piece is revealed: “What I have shown wasn’t an empty square, but a feeling of aimlessness. The black square in a white background was the first direct form of expressing aimlessness. The square = feeling, white background = nothing except for that feeling.” He uses loaded wording to describe these supposedly deep themes, themes carry no visual cues to help us reach his interpretation. The piece achieves simplicity but cannot speak for itself, and therefore fails in its definition as art.

            If a black box on a white canvas is supposed to deliver a feeling of aimlessness, then what is this piece meant to convey?

http://www.iloveblocks.com/thisisart.html
(Is that guy seriously perusing these pieces? Or was he just hired
to stand there? A hearty thumbs up on the website title too)

Irony? A statement? These may be strong messages, but how can these be considered art when the viewer is denied the inspiration that true art normally brings to the table?

            Ben Lewis, a contemporary art critique with an affinity for challenging others in his field, presents another excellent example of “modern” art while revealing his own views on this standard of art during a conference:

The beauty is that his cynicism in this video is hardly misplaced. If the idea of two men guarding a shoebox isn't preposterous, then I don't know what is.

Art as a Product, Commercialism

            In response to his own conflicts about the beast that modern art has become, Ben Lewis investigates this consumerism culture within the art world through his documentary The Great Contemporary Art Bubble.

The introduction of The Great Contemporary Art Bubble. (I would advise watching until 2:00 

then skip ahead to 6:00 to avoid being privy to his pointless obsession about his fancy new electric car)

Chlordane-UL-C
Damien Hirst
2007

            As Lewis states in his documentary, pieces such as these are sold for millions, even billions of dollars daily. After watching this clip from it, my mind was flooded with enraged questions that I already knew the horrible answers to. Why do these artists continue to submit to 

Untitled
Mark Rothco
1968

this consumerism culture? Money. Why do the consumers continue to buy these horrible paintings? The fame of the artist’s name. Do the shallow consumers create these artists? Or do the shallow artists create these consumers? Both. What is now considered modern art is nothing less than a catch 22 of cash flow when boiled down to its ugly core. The value of art has officially switched from emotional to physical; I will forever be baffled by and refuse to accept this ridiculous, backwards process of art appreciation.

The End, The Final Definition

            It's a Friday night, late Friday night, and the house is dark and silent. The only sounds I hear are the ticking of the cuckoo clock in the dining room to my right and soft snores from above. There's a half-empty canvas on the kitchen table, and I sit in front of it, staring and motionless. My pencil waits patiently enclosed in my cramped right hand, and my eyes feel red and strained. I rub my eyes with my left hand and sneak a glimpse at the clock above the stove. The bright red numbers gleam eerily back at me in the darkness: 4:38.  I stare at them for a moment, using all my willpower to force them to freeze. TICK. The cuckoo clock's minute hand shifts into place, and my eyes snap back to my canvas. My hand begins to move. I draw a thin, shaky line down the side of the canvas. Unhappy with the result, I begin to erase the line. TICK. My body jumps. I redraw the line. Why does it look the same? TICK. I erase it again. I turn the canvas and try a different angle. TICK. Still shaky. Why is this line so stubborn? Quick glance: 4:45. Five hours until class, plenty of time. I erase the line a third time. TICK. Plenty of time. Another line, another erase. TICK. Another line, another erase. TICK. Plenty of time. CUCKOO, CUCKOO, CUCKOO, CUCKOO, CUCKOO. I don't know why I look when I already know the answer. 5:00. One line has taken me 22 minutes. Plenty of time............
            This is an example of my usual artistic process, with the story ending with me rushing to class having had little to no sleep, unsatisfied and anxious for the critique. I slave over my art: it's never finished, never good enough, and never my best work. Hopefully this gives more of a reference for my frustrations about the beyond simplistic, borderline insulting pieces I've shown you. 
           There is one good thing about my rude wakeup call from these horrible examples of art: I have been made aware of this charade. I’ve come a long ways from my innocent beginnings and was faced with many lies and farces. But, with art as my muse, I feel as though I’ve come out on top. Through my explorations of different art standards, I’ve developed a critical eye, and gained the capacity to approach my pursuits armed with all the knowledge and passion that they deserve.

Kraken's Escape
Emily Zink
2010

            And so, I’ve finally arrived at the final definition of the word that defines my very existence: Art is the combined use of skill, patience, and creative imagination in the production of beautiful or thought provoking objects that exhibit style and a memorable story. What’s ironic about this definition is that the majority of it is not my words; they belong to the teacher whose website I showcased earlier. The very same teacher that reminds me of restrictions imposed on my personal approach to art. Nevertheless, I wholeheartedly agree with his/her definition; it encompasses nicely all of my favorite qualities of art along with the qualifications necessary to reach art status in the first place. Hopefully with this definition supporting the backbone of my endeavors, I can one day reach that point where I can say, “I made a difference. I contributed to this world for the better.”

            This is a call to all my fellow art lovers and educated innovators: break free from these commercialized bonds and rediscover your originality and freedom of self-expression. Deny these half-baked, shallow interpretations of such a beautiful and deep subject that colors our world. Reclaim our passion, our creativity, our imagination, and let it shine through each of our life pursuits. Be not a "Black square on a white background," but a flying pig or a cafe terrace or a beta fish in a vase of roses instead. As long as I draw breath, I know I will.  

Works Cited

Blok, Irina. "this is art." Iloveblocks.com. n.p., 2008. Web. 1 Dec. 2012.

"Chlordane-UL-C, 2007." DamienHirst.com. n.p., March 2012. Web. 30 Nov. 2012.

Google Images. Google Inc, July 2001. Web. 29 Nov. 2012.

Hansen, Stacy. "Introduction Lessons." Teachersnetwork.org. n.p., n.d. Web. 2 Dec.                      

          2012.

"The knowledge about the artist and the way the pieces are taken." ThinkQuest.org. 

          Oracle, 1998. Web. 30 Nov. 2012.

"Untitled, 1968 by Mark Rothko." MarkRothko.org. n.p., 2011. Web. 2 Dec. 2012.

Youtube.com. Youtube, LLC, 14 Feb. 2005. Web. 1 Dec. 2012.