Mark Vallen on political art
Posted December 20th, 2005 by eliot
Mark Vallen has a great essay up on his blog Art for a Change responding to Larry Beinhart’s recent article bemoaning the lack of “political” art in a recent group exhibit. Reading both Beinhart’s original article and Vallen’s reply made me think of our recent discussion with rations about art, marketing and authenticity, and I’ve got to say I’m still torn. Beinhart writes:
Our public dialogue is anemic. The Right has hijacked the pulpits. Public relations speech and imagery are the order of the day. Public policy is sold the same way as cheap goods at Wal-Mart, with no regard for their quality or utility, or our need for them, but only to move product and contribute to the grosses of the grossest….
152 artists were given an opportunity to show a small piece of work. Each and every one of them, individually, made a decision not to be political, social, religions or scientific…. the artists abdicated. Universally.
No czar or commissar told them to, no corporate sponsor paid them to, nobody from Homeland Security came around and hinted that they would be taking names, no influential critic said the age of relevance is dead, no greedy gallery owner said I can’t sell anything with a political or social theme.
No doubt he’s painting with a broad brush here, but his frustration is familiar. Vallen’s response, however, transcends the political/apolitical dichotomy Beinhart sets up by arguing that all art is political, whether the artist knows it or not:
Beinhart falls into the trap apolitical intellectuals in the art world often find themselves ensnared in; the notion that art is somehow beyond or removed from politics — and that it only becomes political when artists make a concerted effort to make it so. For most people “political art” conjures up visions of clichéd Bush-bashing posters, works effortlessly categorized as propagandistic, easily separated from the mainstream — and so dismissed without difficulty. It is a label given to a small number of works with a perceived or overt left/liberal bias, and as such, a categorization that deflects identifying the political workings and tendencies of the status quo and its attendant cultural institutions. The term “political art” is never used to describe the works of a David Hockney or Ed Ruscha, and the dominant cultural establishment that backs such artists is on no account referred to as “political” — though it clearly is.
Vallen is making the case that “establishment” art is by virtue of its position conservative. (The history of CIA support for abstract expressionism would seem to back him up on this point).
In a related essay he makes a different point, asking if the “transcendent qualities of art” places it “above the corrupt world of politics and the vulgar materialism of society.” All three essays are worth reading in full. I don’t have any grand pronouncements here; I think I tend to support Vallen’s argument, but I default to Beinhart’s when I’m feeling frustrated with the state of the world, the art scene, and my own efforts.
Generally speaking though, Vallen’s two arguments — that all culture is political and that art can transcend conventional politics — are pretty much my starting points for thinking about art, politics, commerce, advertising, freedom, hope, and all the rest. I’d like to hear what people think; drop us a line or leave a note in the comments.
Image at top: Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) by Mark Vallen.
December 20th, 2005 at 6:45 pm
maybe you’ve read this before but here’s an excerpt from “in these time” of an interview with Vonnegut:
How have you gotten involved in the anti-war movement? And how would you compare the movement against a war in Iraq with the anti-war movement of the Vietnam era?
When it became obvious what a dumb and cruel and spiritually and financially and militarily ruinous mistake our war in Vietnam was, every artist worth a damn in this country, every serious writer, painter, stand-up comedian, musician, actor and actress, you name it, came out against the thing. We formed what might be described as a laser beam of protest, with everybody aimed in the same direction, focused and intense. This weapon proved to have the power of a banana-cream pie three feet in diameter when dropped from a stepladder five-feet high.
And so it is with anti-war protests in the present day. Then as now, TV did not like anti-war protesters, nor any other sort of protesters, unless they rioted. Now, as then, on account of TV, the right of citizens to peaceably assemble, and petition their government for a redress of grievances, “ain’t worth a pitcher of warm spit,” as the saying goes.
——–
i think vonnegut is a good example of an artist who is very much politically aware but whose own art is politically charged but not aimed–like BORF’s.
if you’re interested the full interview is here:
http://inthesetimes.com/comments.php?id=38_0_4_0_C
December 20th, 2005 at 7:04 pm
thanks for bringing up my creator. i guess vonnegut falls towards vallen’s second argument, on the value of art lying in its transcendence. slaughterhouse five has the best example of this, in the first part, when vonnegut’s friend tells him that writing an anti-war book is the equivalent of writing an anti-glacier book.
one thing i will say about the banana-cream pie quote you brought up: in the context of his writing and his commitments it makes sense and i can appreciate it. but: a friend of mine was very active in the movement against the first gulf war. she helped organize a major rally at columbia university on the eve of the war, when everyone was feeling completely under siege by pro-war propaganda and media/government fervor. there were thousands of people, a long list of exciting and distinguished speakers a number of conscientious objectors who were facing serious jail time for refusing to fight. they were followed by the keynote, kurt vonnegut, who walked onto the stage, stood in front of the mic, said that every anti-war movement had the effect of a banana cream pie falling off a ladder, and walked off the stage.
in that context, it’s pretty heartbreaking. and the war went on, ended, and started again. so it goes.