Anarchy and Art

Anarchy and Art

If a self-governing system guides the creation of an art, determining its own balance and design , regardless of content, and  if art could avoid the pitfalls of indulgence such as ego and marketplace,  it would be more capable to transcend. With really accomplished works, we sense an unspoken order, albeit personal  and impenetrable by words, unruly, anarchic. Anarchy and chaos are hardly interchangeable terms; order does exist – it is the self-imposed rigor we admire which needs not even recognize any external constructs. It may seem, therefore, irrelevant, not interacting in a broadly meaningful way due to its rarefied nature.

If chaos is the question, consider how the paint drippings of J. Pollack become valuable art through the interpretations of intermediaries who determine the codes of expression. These critics have some sort of decoder ring of meaning which translates into, among other things, commercial success for artist and investor. Ah, modernism. I love it when you interpret for me.

Cubism gives us order of an almost complete other echelon, with nods to real-world objects simply for the sake of reference. Please do not tell us the “subject” of this painting is a still-life.

Duchamp extended the rules of chess to an intricate verbal and symbolic game of shifting pieces. At some point, such a construct becomes more than personal, for a game usually takes at least two. An exquisite corpse played by one would probably only make sense to a schizophrenic.

So what happens when the phrenetic, isolated, manic madman we call the artist comes out of his self-indulgent bubble or lets the ego’s membrane become permeous, while still holding on to its tenuous identity? He (or she-but that’s it with the bow to gender) may to decide to collectivize, write a fucking Manifesto. Choose revolutionary subject matter, or pragmatic design in the service of propaganda. Constructivism? Encompass the spirit of the age? Futurism?

Fast forward to the now – mass media memes LOL-ing across the screens we choose to use to communicate. If I want to express myself in a fashion that will be understood and accessible, (which I do, more  or less), it seems I must use the glossary of postmodern-pop-street culture. Otherwise I run the risk of remaining irrelevant, or in retrograde. All things being equal (and reproduceable), the challenge is two-fold: to admit or embrace that an effort at utterly original work is a chimera; and, that relying on pastiche in lieu of content is an unworthy pastime.

An analogy: we speak in English, we who speak English. We could either invent a new language which would be not only a hollow gesture but a gargantuan effort, an impossible task with dubious rewards requiring more than a human’s lifetime to even approximate what this tool can already do. (With Borges and Wittgenstein mocking us at every step).

To continue, if we admit defeat on this idea of reinventing the wheel… We are left with grandfather’s toolbox. Fun stuff, he built a house. It’s still standing, needs work. Do we fix it up, grow vegetables and raise goats? What if we give it away to someone and move on? That’s what I’m talkin’ about. Build a treehouse or an ark, sail the coming seas on Goodship Anarchy.

-to be continued-

Who’s the Captain???