Saturday, April 30, 2011

To define or not to define art

...That is the question.  Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the possibility of radical inclusion or exclusion, or to take arms against the impulse to define such a slippery topic...

I'm trying to make up my mind.  I'd like to be able to say that I know exactly what art is now, but despite being better-informed, I feel that I'm not much more sure about the definition of art than I was when this class started.  My opinions haven't actually changed very much.

Where do they differ?  How have my thoughts about what makes art "art" evolved?  For one thing, I'm less inclined to bring value judgments into a definition.  Regardless of the level of mastery involved in creating a work, I can look at it and say whether or not it is art (whether or not I'm correct is another matter entirely).  I do feel, even though I am still not entirely assured of my abilities to define art, that I have a better basis for judging a work.  Now, when I look at a painting, I might think about childhood wishes being expressed, or intentionality, or even significant form.  My thoughts on the definition of art lean more toward the mechanics of the craft, I suppose.

Do you choose to define art?  How much of a choice is it?


Title/first paragraph paraphrased from Hamlet, Act III, Scene I.

What are we saying?

During the rehearsal process for The Taming of the Shrew, we were thinking a lot about the text and how we wanted to present it.  Generally speaking, we played up the humor to the fullest extent, and tried to make our characters come across in what we were saying.  Particular difficulties arose when we reached Kate's ending monologue.  The director had a vision for the end of the show that was not explicitly supported by the text, but we went ahead with it anyway.  Of the people I heard from after the shows, a few people understood the somewhat less simple ending we were trying to present, and a few were a bit angry because they did not understand.  I can't, and don't, blame them.

This situation, however, puts me in mind of Collingwood's statement about art existing only in the imagination.  The end result of the art was not what the cast presented onstage, because the process didn't stop there.  The end result was in the minds of the director, the actors, and the audience.  Depending on the person, the words sounded slightly different, the actions meant something slightly different.  That was where the work of art was.

I am content to accept this, but I have to wonder: how well can we gauge the success of a work of art if it really exists in the mind?

Response to Andrea

Andrea Whitney asked: "Why do we insist on trying to say art is good or bad?"

Well, I think as with anything, we want to try to uphold standards.  It is the same with food.  If you're hungry (and in college), a McDonald's burger or Kraft Mac & Cheese can serve as a meal.  It might not even taste unpleasant.  But neither compares in taste or nutrition to, say, a salad and home-cooked chili.  The former two are indeed food, and depending on your definition, may or may not be bad.  They are, however, pretty much at the other end of the spectrum from the latter two.  This is a personal judgment of quality.  As food feeds our bodies, art can feed our minds, and we should be able to recognize good art and bad art, even if others don't agree with our opinions on the matter.  Just because something qualifies as art, doesn't mean we should stop thinking about and questioning its quality.