Art history sucks
So it's official. Art is dead; I'm going to seminary. Thanks to the TRANS conference this weekend for putting the finishing touches on my disillusionment with the art academy. High-powered academics are remarkably insecure, exhibiting a peculiar combination of intellectual hubris and adolescent social politics. It's all about status, which is to say, about perpetuating the illusion that your work actually amounts to something more than word games (cf. Derrida, who was cited repeatedly and excessively at the conference), to allay the creeping suspicion that it was meaningless to begin with.Or more to the point, "The more the words, the less the meaning, and how does this profit anyone?" (Ecclesiastes).
Still, there were some memorable words from the ever-provocative Nicholas Mirzoeff, for whom I have respect because he actually seems to believe in something:
"Visual culture is dead. It's been dead for 15 years. I don't mean the image is dead, I mean the discourse that we invented to critique art history is dead. It's time to get political."
"It's time finally to REFUSE art history. If you don't believe me, go to the store and get a book called 'Art Since 1900.' Then you'll see."
Labels: Personal
posted by M. Weed at
3:48 AM
3 Comments:
“High-powered academics are remarkably insecure, exhibiting a peculiar combination of intellectual hubris and adolescent social politics.”
Dude, that’s just human nature. In my job I work with academics everyday and they’re all divas, even the cool ones. I get along pretty well with them all (for the most part) because I give them “the love” they need. I listen to their stories, argue with the ones who want to argue (and they get to feel superior about it because I am clear just a stupid plebian), and play it cool with the ones who want to play it cool.
I swear that people are about as unique as cats. There are some cinnamon tabbies, some black and white spotted ones, some grey ones, and a bunch of varieties that look a little different but basically they’re all just cats. Talk to any cat owner. They all have stories about their cats, as if their cat was the most interesting creature that ever walked. Then compare their story to any other cat owner’s story and you’ll find that all cats do exactly the same shit (this is also true of parents, all baby stories are exactly the same). Why is this? Because all cats want the same shit: to eat, shit, fuck, sleep, and maybe play a little when they get bored. Come to think of it that pretty much sums up the human experience too. Academics are just people (cats) with an inflated sense of self-worth and a couple extra letters after their names.
The screenwriter William Goldman (Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, All the Presidents Men) famously said “Nobody Knows Anything”. I think that’s the answer to the universal questions that you ask yourself. If you accept that statement as an axiom it makes the struggle go a lot smoother.
Is there life after death?
Is Deconstructionist thought just total bullshit?
What notes can I put together to make the perfect song?
Nobody Knows Anything.
The best you can do is the best you can do…and that’s all.
Just my two cents, but what the hell do I know.
Cheers,
Ed Ballinger
Sorry I dicked that up and posted it twice. Blogger was saying "unable to process your request".
Oh well, my comment is so insightful you get to read it twice.
rock on
Thanks Ed, I love you dude, and appreciate your thoughts. I think I've been asking a version of your final question all along... my question is simply "what is the best that I can do?" and I'm muddling through figuring out what that might be.
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