I’ve been mulling over this question myself for a while, and I’m being slightly drawn to a rather techno-geeky answer.
A few years ago I went to see Blue Man Group. For those of you who don’t know them, they’re a performance art collective (for lack of a better term) that started out in New York and now does shows in a few other U.S. cities, too. I was absolutely stunned, they were brilliant. But I went back to work a couple days later and was so enthusiastic about it that I tried to describe their act to some of my friends. And I realized that that’s why performance art is so often mocked and satirized, I couldn’t describe or summarize without losing what made it special.
I’m beginning to apply that idea to other arts. No one would think that describing “Wheat Field with Crows” would be as good as seeing the real thing (and thanks to whoever posted the link in that other thread, that Van Gogh site is fascinating). A reproduction print isn’t quite good enough, either, you have to see the real thing.
So here’s my geeky definition; art is something which can’t be reduced without losing some of its essential nature. I’m a software engineer, so I know a little bit about compressing pictures and sound files. There’s always some loss of quality from the original, even if it’s too small to ever be noticed. And I think that metaphor carries over to other ways of presenting things. A print of a painting doesn’t have the brushstrokes. We accept that because we can’t get to every musuem in the world, but it’s missing something important.
Which is not to say that art can’t be reproduced, or even mass produced. Rodin made multiple casts of his sculptures, Escher made many prints of his lithographs. But if I sat on a rock and rested my chin on my hand, or told you about a cool drawing of a building where the stairs only went up, that just wouldn’t cut it.
I think the subjectivity argument is contained within my definition as well. I said it can’t be reduced or simplified without losing its essential nature, but what’s essential to one person might not be essential to another. If you only need a spark plug to be a spark plug, then any old spark plug will do, out with the Champion and in with the Bosch. But if you see the company logo and start thinking about the sticker from the cereal box that you put on your bike when you were a kid, then it matters.
Well, perhaps art is more like a verb than a noun-- it is something that can be recognized in terms of experience rather than defined by its objectness. The spark plug (or driftwood, naturally made but still often considered under the art rubric) is made into an art object when it is selected and presented for consideration in terms of its aesthetic formal characteristics. That being said, the whole “is it art?” question is a bit of trouble. Let’s just acknowledge that yes, Rambo is art, and so is a sparkplug if we look at it in that way. Then the question would be whether it is Good Art. It would be a question first of context (is it art? Well I’m considering it as if it were. . .) and then of taste (it’s art, but it’s bad or banal or common enough so that it doesn’t belong in a museum-- a qualitiative judgement, and one is free to disagree).
Capybara is on the right track. As an artist and professor I teach my students that Art is a communication between the artist and his/her audience. The artist may be communicating ideas, emotions, or any number of things. A visual artist may be trying to communicate a beautiful moment in time that they observed. I musician some emotional sequence of sounds. A writer a particularly important idea. etc, etc. Andy Warhol showed us that commercial art was Art through his recreation of tomatoe soup can art.
As for Pollack, he showed us that randomness can be beautiful. He tended to repeat himself, which is a problem for artists sometimes.
And yes, Rambo does qualify as art in my definition. But it would be an example of bad art. (IMHO)
Heinlein said it very well. (I’m paraphrasing here) An artist can look a an old woman and make us see her as she currently looks. A very good artist can look at the old woman, see the beautiful girl she used to be, and recreate the beautiful girl for us to see. A great artist can see the old woman, recreate her as she currently is, and make us see the beautiful girl she once was.
This is no longer a sufficient definition. Some artists produce works that make no communication with an audience whatsoever, for example John Cage. You might argue that this is a communication, but it isn’t, it’s a metacommunication. The artwork is constructed completely within the mind of the recipient, without any communication from the artist.
Furthermore, there are some artists who create works that communicate, but with no audience. I could go on and on, but I don’t think you want a lecture on postmodernism.
Following on from Chas. E’s comments, I have some serious personal objections to “artworks” which require extensive explanation for the audience to “get”. For example, while I may be able to appreciate the aesthetic value of a utilitarian object such as, say, a urinal, if I have to read the little placard to find out that what it really represents is “Man’s inhumanity to man”, IMO the artist has failed in a major way.
I suppose what I resent is the arrogance implicit in the assumption that the artist’s interpretation of the deeper meaning inherent in everyday objects is the only valid one. Which is why I’ve stopped reading the little cards in art galleries before I observe the artwork. If it doesn’t say something to me without me having to be told, it’s not worth my time.
There was an excellent-but-infuriating debate on BBC radio 4 a few weeks ago, with a London Art Critic and a Computer Geek debating whether computer games qualified as art. The LAC sniffed that it wasn’t because he’d only ever tried it once and it gave him a headache; the CG claimed it was because of some new technical feature which the next generation of on-line games would incorporate.
Scarcely a meeting of minds, but it did make me laugh
Art cannot ever be just so much colorful slop. For example, a wildflower field, though breathtaking and beautiful, is not a garden and vice versa. Also art is not created it just happens.
I’ve thought about this one too. I decided in the end that I personally define art as “a meaningful out-pouring of creativity.” This doesn’t mean that the piece of art is necessarily meaningful to you or I, but that it is to the creator. In this way, even the drawings of a four year old are art, since the child feels that it has meaning. Maybe even the elephant, if s/he is painting in a intentional manner, but I don’t know any painting elephants to ask. This also means that great artists can produce work that is not art, because it holds no meaning for them.
These are examples of what I consider art:
all of the visual arts like painting and drawing
sculpting and some architecture(cathedrals probably yes, office buildings probably not)
poetry and prose
music
dance
The one I still can’t decide on is acting. The script itself can be art, but it’s hard to know how much of an actor’s character is given to them, and how much they themselves create. The best I can determine is some acting is and some isn’t.
Though I don’t have a clear definition of what art is, I tend to think the answer lies somewhere nearer the artist’s side than the observer’s side.
I don’t think all art is created for the purpose of evoking a response in those who view it, hear it, touch it or smell it. Not to say that there aren’t mercenaries out there who wouldn’t prostitute themselves (artistically) for a buck or two and create something just because they know it would sell or shock you. But I think that genuine art arrives from the thoughts or feelings of its creator. It doesn’t have to be “good” or “bad” art and it is not later decided if it’s art by measuring the affects on the people experiencing it.
This is a great item to think and talk about. There are so many different ways to look at it.
