General – Page 2 – The Aestheticist

A Defence of Difficult Art

Introduction

Wow! To address the elephant in the room, it’s been over half a year since my last post. Calling this slacking off is the understatement of the century!

It’s been a particularly busy half a year; I’ve recently moved and I was suffering from a severe back pain which was preventing me from spending too much additional time in front of the computer (aside from regular work).

And Christ, how the times have changed! We find ourselves in the midst of a pandemic. A recession is looming on the horizon. But I’m generally lucky and have had ample opportunity to keep myself busy, despite everything.

But let’s start with today’s topic – a defence of difficult art!

Why this topic?

This post is a take on an issue which seems to be fairly present in today’s society – a general dislike of all things considered difficult art. That’s not to say that ‘difficult’ art doesn’t have its followers. It certainly does. Nevertheless, there’s a growing number of people who dismiss it out of hand without giving it a chance at all.

Why might that be?

A big portion of it has to do with the general perception that difficult art is elitist. That it is only meant to be for a particular group of people, and that it, as such, goes out of its way to be exclusive, rather than inclusive. Whether or not this adheres to reality doesn’t matter – they dismiss the art.

Consequently, many consider by default those people who enjoy ‘difficult’ art (or even old art, which many consider difficult just by merit of their age, and thus strangeness to a contemporary audience) are pompous or elitist as well (i.e. – ‘you only enjoy it because you feel like you should’).

Furthermore, some artists who create difficult works are often considered elitist as well – as though the difficulty were an inserted aspect with the intention of frightening off a wider, popular audience and hoping for an ‘elite’ audience.

The problems with this perception of difficult art

The issues with this way of thinking are many. First, it obviously bars the individual who is drilled into thinking this way from actually attempting to enjoy such art – it is a great pity since a lot of great art can be difficult when approached the wrong way, but some of these artworks have survived the centuries based on their merits – so dismissing them out of hand is close-minded at best, and arrogant at its worst – if considered under the pretence that it’s not worth engaging with it because it just reinforces a social elite. Difficult contemporary artworks may be lost to the centuries because they are being dismissed without being given a chance.

Worse still, if the insistence on art being easy spreads, then it will necessarily dumb the world of arts down. That’s not to say that only difficult art is great, but that deliberately making it easier will of course strip an artwork of some of its merits since its inherent difficulty is often a by-product of a composition which is dealing with a lot of complex matters at once – dumbing it down will soften the effect and create a worse work of art.

Third, forcefully insisting on easy artworks is extremely condescending to everyone – it creates the claim that the masses aren’t capable of understanding difficult art and that, therefore, they should only be confronted with works which they can comprehend and enjoy in a heartbeat. It’s purely undemocratic and in itself comes from a genuinely elitist position.

The solution to the perception of difficult art?

Discussing an issue in wider society won’t be fixed by merit of a single blog post. However, perhaps reading this will lead to some self-reflection, or if you find yourself engaging with difficult art yourself on a regular basis you may take your time to nudge friends and family gently into the direction of approaching some themselves – some of them may genuinely become interested.

I believe it’s important to acknowledge that in many cases an artwork’s difficulty is merely a result of whatever the artwork requires by its very nature. As such, it should be accepted for what it is – there are countless examples of great artwork which are easy and countless examples of those which are difficult.

In other words, an artwork should be as difficult as it needs to be. The reader/viewer/listener needn’t engage with it (lack of time or interest in the subject matter etc.). However, they should not dismiss it because they seem to be capable of reading the artist’s intentions and judging them to be elitist prats.

Trusting the general readership to be capable of understanding the artwork, and trusting the artist to create something which is as difficult or easy as it needs to be, is democratic. It can be rewarding to the participant who engages in the art. Indeed, with the right approach, I believe anyone can understand any work of art, even if some may take more time.

Closing thoughts

The one thing I didn’t include is examples of artists many people consider elitist. There are quite a few.

In poetry, T.S. Eliot or Ezra Pound spring to mind (although many dismiss the latter due to his politics, which I find more justifiable). Closer to contemporary times is Geoffrey Hill, who also made a statement about the democratic nature of difficult poetry. In art, many consider anything born in the wake of modernism difficult. In music, people again see the modernists, or even Wagner before them as difficult. A writer-friend of mine rolled his eyes when someone mentioned Kafka recently!

No, examples abound, and it would be a great pity if their art were lost to the world in a dystopian future in which everyone thinks that difficult works of art – both new and old – hold no value whatsoever and that they think they can dismiss them as elitist nonsense which the world no longer needs.

Do you disagree? Anything interesting to add which I hadn’t thought about? Then why not leave a comment in the comment section below? If you enjoyed this post, why not share it on the social media of your choice? Then click on one of the tender buttons below.

The Horror of Saturn Devouring His Son

An inhuman, horrifying expression. A dark palette reeking of bleakness, save the pale skin of the victim’s body. There’s little doubt that Francisco Goya’s Saturn Devouring His Son is a masterpiece of the Grotesque – but what makes this painting so effective?

In Roman myth, there is a prophecy that one of the sons of Saturn would overthrow the titan in the same way that he overthrew his father previously. Attempting to counteract the prophecy, Saturn ate his children immediately after their birth. Only Jupiter escapes thanks to his mother and eventually fulfils the prophecy.

A nasty story indeed, when a father would not only kill, but gobble up his children – and it has consequently inspired many artists. You may be familiar with Peter Paul Rubens’ Saturn, a Baroque piece depicting Saturn hunching over his son, holding the infant with one arm and biting his chest. It is excellently crafted, depicting the titan’s power over the child through his piercing eyes and his muscular stature.

But while it is undoubtedly brilliant, and the child’s horrified gaze will undoubtedly give any viewer a shiver down their spine, it doesn’t even come close to the sheer terror of Francisco Goya’s take on the myth. But what is it that makes it so haunting?

The painting

When comparing Rubens’ with Goya’s version of Saturn, we can’t help but be amazed at the stark differences. Yes, there are many similarities: the scene is obviously the same, both feature largely a dark palette with a few exceptions on the bodies, and both are unquestionably terrifying.

But Goya’s painting seems to stand out more. Instead of the clearly human, muscular body, here we have a slightly off-looking, deranged, with not-quite-fitting limbs and a posture which seems more animalistic than human. Instead of a well-groomed beard, his hair appears unkempt and wild; instead of a calculated and powerful grasp with a single arm, his claw-like hands grasp the child’s body like a predator feasting on its prey. Whereas Rubens’ Saturn wears a cloth for clothing and grasps a staff, Goya’s Saturn appears naked.

But the most striking difference lies, perhaps, in the gaze. Rubens’ version depicts a piercing, determined gaze; the patriarch dominating the situation and taking control of his own destiny (or so he thinks). Goya’s painting? An egregious, mad gaze, seemingly out of control, and a gaping hole for a mouth. When looking into his eyes one would suspect that there is no soul present – or at least one which has been corrupted for a long time.

Why is it so unsettling?

The terror of Rubens’ painting stems from the scene, primarily. It is a nasty situation; the boy is in utter agony, the heartless father continues nevertheless, as cold and calculating as ever. It is a display of terrible power the god has over his own family, evoking an unsettling feeling through the depiction of cannibalism and the murder of an infant.

Goya’s painting, on the other hand, dwells in the realm of the uncanny. The scene is the same, but rather than depicting something which we understand very well as humans – power – this Saturn has lost all human features, despite his human shape. This Saturn is creepy, merely living out his urges, and is therefore something we dread – he represents a loss of control.

The depiction of the child, too, is void of humanity. Instead of the gaze of terror, here we have a decapitated body, and Saturn is in the progress of biting off one of the arms. The other one may well already have been bitten off (although it could be folded to the front). It’s a lot more gory than in Rubens’ version, despite the lack of a facial expression.

In short, the painting evokes some of our darkest fears. Loss of humanity, vulnerability, cannibalism, murder – a psychopath in frenzy who has lost all control over his own body, a madman suffering from a hysterical stroke, all combined in a bleak depiction which is sure to cause many a viewer nightmares.

Background

Goya’s life was not a happy one. After becoming deaf in 1792, surviving two deadly diseases, and constant (understandable) worries that he was going insane, he bought a house near Madrid known as the Villa of the Deaf Man (not named after him), where he decorated the walls with a series of 14 works, now known as the Black Paintings, including Saturn.

Goya was, at this point, entirely embittered, resentful, and disappointed with the political situation in Spain. The pictures are, as the name suggests, all bleak and feature depraved takes on their subject matters. They are equally intense and unsettling and were probably never intended to be displayed publicly.

Interpretations: necessary?

Aside from the surface-level depiction, art historians have interpreted the painting in many ways across the years. For some it represents the conflict between youth and old age, an allegory of the political situation in Spain, the wrath of God, a representation of his relationship with his own son, an allegory of the French revolution or of Napoleon.

But does the specific intention behind the painting really matter? I would suggest that the painting represents all of this, and more. It is a depiction of the general human condition when taken to an extreme situation and is, as such, applicable to a whole range of specifics.

And this is perhaps part of the genius of the painting. It is so wide-ranging, so understandably human in its display of a loss of humanity or the fear thereof, that it, perhaps, helps us understand a wider range of human terrors through its sheer depiction of animalistic frenzies.

Closing words

Do you like the painting? Anything to add? Do you disagree? Then why not tell me so in the comment section below? Otherwise, please share on the social media of your choice by clicking on one of the tender buttons below.

Top 10 Kunstlieder

Ah yes – the Kunstlied. One of the most popular genres in classical music. Often associated with the Romantic period, their lyrical, contemplative nature is ideal to brood over the beginning of Autumn. Here are my top 10.

A Kunstlied (German for ‘Artistic song’) is a poem set to classical music. Unlike the traditional Lied – which often has roots in folk music and lyrical ballads – it is particular in that it is ‘artistic’, i.e. it has a definite composer to it and is often artistically more complex in nature. A traditional Lied, on the other hand, would be passed on orally throughout the centuries (the lyrics, the melody, or both).

Especially the 19^th century and the Romantic period popularised the Kunstlied. Consequently a lot of the typical themes depicted in them are pastoral or romantic in nature. Composers continued to create Kunstlieder well into the 20^th century.

Without further ado, here are my top 10 Lieder!

Mondnacht (Moonlit Night) – Robert Schumann

Based on the renowned German Romantic poet Joseph von Eichendorff’s ‘Mondnacht’, this Lied is a perfect example of the Romantic spirit in Germany. The lyrics depict a speaker yearning for some form of transcendental beauty evoked in the world of nature. Watching the sky widening he compares and projects his own life and feelings into the scenery. Schumann’s music similarly captures the dream-like feeling and gently increases the intensity as the speaker gets more involved.

Find the translated lyrics here.

Here performed by Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau:

Ständchen (Love Song) – Franz Schubert

You can’t really have a top 10 list of Lieder without at least one Schubert in it. Here’s my first. This one is another prime example of Romanticism, although the poem itself is less well-known than Eichendorff’s. It’s quite a simple love song, actually, in which the speaker again evokes nature and begs his lover to fulfil him. Slightly old-fashioned, certainly, and the lyrics wouldn’t be significant if it weren’t for the sheer gorgeous music that Schubert presents, bringing Ludwig Rellstab’s poem to life. Just listen for yourself – it’s absolutely delightful.

Find the translated lyrics here.

Here performed by Peter Schreier:

Tagebuch eines Verschollenen (Diary of one who disappeared) – Leoš Janáček

Perhaps my most unusual entry, and it’s actually a cycle, rather than an individual lied, Tagebuch eines Verschollenen is based on a text by Josef Kalda, composed in 1917-1919. It’s more dramatic than lyrical, containing a plot in which a rich farmer’s son falls in love with a gypsy. Ostracised by society, he begins a new life with her in nature; his family disowns him. Several days after he disappears they find a chamber with his poetry which confesses his doings. The music is conservative in comparison with the composer’s operas, but nevertheless very successful.

No English lyrics available, though the section titles can be found here.

Here performed by John Heuzenroeder, Adriana Bastidas Gamboa, Justyna Samborska, Judith Thielsen, and Maarja Purga:

Die Uhr (The Clock) – Carl Loewe

Based on a little-known poem by the little-known poet Johann Gabriel Seidl, Carl Loewe’s ‘Die Uhr’ is a general contemplation about time and how we measure it using a watch. Loewe isn’t one of the most-beloved Lied-composers, but in this one he displays a finesse in changing the mood quickly from regular and ongoing, via more dramatical elements when talking about the death of the speaker’s father and jubilant when contemplating the birth of his child. During his lifetime Loewe was more beloved than he is now, having popularised many ballads as a sub-form of the Kunstlied.

Find the translated lyrics here.

Here performed by Hermann Prey:

In der Fremde (In the Strange Land) – Robert Schumann

Another composition based on Eichendorff, Schumann’s ‘In der Fremde’ is a beautiful musical rendition of explorations relating to abandonment, solitude and meaninglessness. It’s a lot bleaker than ‘Mondnacht’ both in its themes and musical presentation. Here we have an abundance of minor keys and a generally pessimistic take on the Romantic sensibility, giving you an overall feeling of what it would be like to be hopelessly abandoned in this world. Even the second stanza, which seems, at first, to be calmer in nature, ultimately represents a longing for death rather than a way out of the situation.

Find the translated lyrics here.

Here performed by Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau:

Gretchen am Spinnrade (Gretchen at the Spinning Wheel) – Franz Schubert

Another Schubert, and this one is actually composed to the lyrics from Goethe’s Faust, when Gretchen contemplates her never-ending love for the titular hero. This one is particularly brilliant: the piano accompaniment mirrors the ‘rolling’ sound one would imagine on a spinning wheel. It is fast-paced and dramatical more than lyrical and provides a perfect sense of the desperation Gretchen feels at this time, realising that she can no longer live without Faust. Knowing of her tragic outcome provides us with a particular sense of mournfulness.

Find the translated lyrics here.

Here performed by Jessye Norman:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GeKgNMKcUng

Wesendonck Lieder (Songs of Wesendonck) – Richard Wagner

While Wagner is definitely more at home in the world of opera than that of the Kunstlied, his Wesendock Lieder are nevertheless beautiful to listen to. He wrote them while working on Tristan und Isolde, so he was already very accomplished at this point in his career. They are based on the poems of his friend – and part-time muse – Mathilde Wiesendonck. Altogether, they invoke a sense of unfulfilled love and Wagner’s skill in dramatical renditions of music – all things he was simultaneously building into Tristan und Isolde, of course.

Find the translated lyrics here.

Here performed by Waltraud Meier:

Les illuminations (The Illuminations) – Benjamin Britten

The newest entry on this list, Britten’s Les illuminations are based on part of Arthur Rimbaud’s collection of the same name. The poems – published in the 1870s – can be considered a dreamlike precursor to surrealism in their hallucination-like evocation of their themes, tackling many different subjects throughout the collection. Britten’s music is particularly efficient in highlighting that, managing to capture a range of moods within the roughly 20 minutes of runtime. Always eerie and powerful, curious and beautiful, they are definitely worth checking out.

Find the translated lyrics here.

Here performed by Ian Bostridge:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8XQGHOfIdYY

Der Erlkönig (The Erl King)– Franz Schubert

Final one by Schubert, I promise! Very popular in general, it nevertheless needs to be said that this is very unusual for a Kunstlied in that it is entirely dramatic in its telling of a single narrative. It’s based on Goethe’s ballad of the same name which tells the story of a father trying to bring his sick and hallucinating child to the doctor in the middle of a stormy night. The brilliance of the music is undeniable; it always feels urgent and tragic and moves seamlessly between the four different characters in evoking different moods (the narrator, the sombre father, the terrified child, the tempting hallucination of the Erlkönig).

Find the translated lyrics here.

Here performed by Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau:

Das Trunklied vom Jammer der Erde (The Drinking Song of the Earth’s Sorrow) – Gustav Mahler

Alright – yes, I’ve written about this one before. But I just can’t help myself. Since it was composed at an important point in the history of art at the emergence of Modernism, Mahler’s Kunstlied captures the general Zeitgeist perfectly in a rendition which is extremely effective, pessimistic, and dramatic in its music. However, there’s little I can do here to capture the general magnificence of this Lied after having written so extensively about it elsewhere – so just go and listen to it, or else read my other post should you think it worth your time.

Find the translated lyrics here.

Here performed by René Kollo:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ypf4kGQ1IGQ

Closing words

Can you think of other Lieder I might have missed? Or are there some item on here you absolutely detest? Then why not leave a comment in the comments section below and we can have a chat about it. Or, if you liked this post, why not share it on social media? Then please click on one of the tender buttons below.

The Artist and the Importance of Tradition

With the still strong notion of being new and surprising at all costs, many a contemporary artist may find it uncomfortable tackling the problem of how to handle tradition. Throw it out of the window? Embrace it? In this post we’ll consider several aspects.

Turner Prize 2018

In 2018, I had the pleasure of being asked to visit the Tate Britain on the opening day for that year’s Turner Prize to write a review. While not new to thinking and writing about art at that point, I was still in my early days as a critic, and thereby unsure what sort of approach I should take. Should I be generous because the contestants were young artists? Be brutally honest? Evaluate their applicability to current events?

What I ended up doing didn’t really matter in the long run, for what I got to see there wasn’t art in the traditional sense. Of course, you may wonder what art in the traditional sense means, but in this case it refers simply to the fact that there wasn’t a single sculpture, painting, not even some form of craft. Instead, all four entries were films. Long, slow, drawn-out films, essentially in the same style, just reflecting on different events.

Aside from the fact that this style of film is so old that it was parodied by Monty Python many years ago, it clearly shows that there is a strong disregard for tradition in contemporary art. That’s not to say that people don’t read old novels, read old poetry and enjoy old art. But it does mean that there are many artists who simply don’t seem to use the knowledge of tradition to improve their own artwork.

The World of Poetry

The problem is especially apparent in contemporary poetry. It’s not so much that good modern poets aren’t inspired by poets of the older generations – some of them certainly are – but rather that a culture is festered which encourages potentially great poets who have high ambitions to take an anything-goes approach (provided it speaks about the correct subject matter).

The result of this is the type of ‘raw and honest poetry’ which sounds like the sort of thing you might read on the back of a napkin in a dark corner of your local Wetherspoons, or else on Tinder or Instagram posts; little more than inspirational quotes which all sound the same and make you feel warm and fuzzy inside because they pose as having a deeper meaning or feeling to them than they genuinely do.

It makes it practically impossible for young poets to get decent feedback. In any given writer’s group or online forum, poets presenting their work for critique will be confronted with hoards of people offering one-line responses saying something along the lines of poetry being too sacred to touch; being afraid of offending the poet because poetry is apparently autobiographical, or because apparently a poem is only good when it comes out as a finished product in a 5-minute sitting.

Juvenile artists and the lack of technique

It all goes back to the lack of knowledge of traditional art. Nobody expects everyone to have extensive knowledge of poetry, but spending just an hour or two looking at various poems throughout history should be eye-opening and do a good job of at least improving criticism (and thus starting an upward spiral).

If the current attitude towards tradition doesn’t change it will result in more of the same. Inspirational quotes, not poetry. A complete disregard of any poetic techniques. ‘So what?’, one may ask? Well, it will result in things being passed off as poetry which don’t provide joy through sound (resemblances of vocals, and consonants, a good use of rhythm, alliterations…), any joy through meaning (because thoughts aren’t developed skilfully), any joy through anything which is the realm of technique, in short. Instead, all evaluation of poetry will be based on feeling ‘inspired’ or through pop-cultural references. Both of which are types of joy which one should let go of if one seeks genuine sentiments.

The good news is, of course, that there are still a lot of poets around who do pay attention to technique, and who don’t promote this toxic culture. But, alas, it is very prevalent in non-professional circles, and it will be a danger to the world of arts in the long run…

Tradition and the Individual Talent 1919

In 1919, TS Eliot wrote a beautiful little essay, ‘Tradition and the Individual Talent’. Here, Eliot proposes more or less the opposite idea to the ‘anything goes’ approach. He advocates for the artist to know absolutely everything about literary history and using that knowledge plus the poet’s understanding of current society to formulate new poetry. Needless to say, this may be too extreme; his approach towards removing the individual entirely from poetry would turn the poet into something inhuman.

Nevertheless, the one thing to be learnt from the essay is that tradition is indeed important. Perhaps not to the extant that Eliot demands, but certainly along the lines of Ezra Pound (who in ABC of Reading actually provides a concise list of writers to be inspired by), in that one can be selective and seek out particular artists to learn particular aspects of technique, conceit or emotion from.

With tradition, you have the entire history and development of art at your fingertips. Why re-invent the wheel? If something worked in the past, why not use it and develop it to create something which you know will work, rather than do something seemingly random which doesn’t work and call it ‘experimental art’?

Without tradition, you are isolated in your own little world. The only input you have is from the people surrounding you, current events and personal feelings. An artist without some understanding of tradition is essentially stumbling in the dark and may or may not occasionally find a rose petal lying around.

Political problems with tradition: hiding the past, shunning the past

Part of the reason for shunning the history of art may be that the morals of the past are equally shunned. Back then everyone was racist, sexist, xenophobic, you name it – therefore using anything from back in the day would be to embrace part of a toxic culture.

Aside from the fact that this is an arrogant approach, assuming that we are in all ways better than our ancestors, it is also extremely narrow-minded. The reason we are supposedly morally better and more enlightened than the people of the past is precisely because our ancestors came up with these ideas in the first place.

Moreover, closing one’s eyes to the past doesn’t bar one from making the same mistakes our ancestors did. Stupid ideas can crop up anywhere but knowing how it played out in history – and that in detail – means one can prepare for the worst. And it also means that we can filter and use the good ideas from the past for our own benefit in our daily lives.

Missing merits of the past and accomplishments of the ancestors

But back to the arts. It is a common misconception nowadays that art was developed through a series of revolutionary breakthroughs. In reality, many revolutionary movements in Art can be considered as developments of what came before – responses, rejections, extensions. Woolf, for instance, was heavily inspired by Walter Pater and the Aestheticists, while Emily Dickinson was a great admirer of the metaphysical poets.

It’s just a grave error to do away with everything and to assume that self-expression is all you need. Art may stem from the individual sensibility, but not using craft and knowledge to improve it in a way so that it works as art (and not as the diary of a teenager) will mean that it is and will remain a piece of juvenile art, and not an accomplished work.

Where would we be had the Elizabethans not introduced the individual to art? What would we be like had the Enlightenment not deified reason? Would we be anything like we are had the Romantics not emphasised emotion above all? All these things shaped our lives; learning about them and understanding what made their art so beautiful will always be of benefit to any aspiring artist today.

But how to use it

This is not an invitation to paint, compose or write in an archaic form, of course. One could, but it would be laughable and certainly not well received by anyone. It’s basically a system of looking at traditional material, studying it, understanding it, disregarding what doesn’t work, ignoring what is just a thing of the past (e.g. archaic language), and using what does work.

To bring one crude example: Paradise Lost is brilliant for its use of metre and narrative flow. But the sentences are full of inversions (Milton was often criticised for essentially using Latin syntax in an English poem) and archaisms – so it goes without saying what one would learn from him.

In short, it’s about using tradition to further one’s own art, not about creating art in the style of another artist. This involves studying many artists, rather than one – otherwise one runs risk of just becoming a carbon copy. It is a way of embracing the past to look forward to another summer.

Closing thoughts

Creating art without tradition is driving in a car at night without the headlights on. It’s wilfully ignorant and won’t lead to any good results. Depending on the amount of tradition one uses, creating art with it can be like driving a car with a variety of gadgets, not just the headlights.

But what do you think – do you agree? Any points I hadn’t considered? Is this all a lot of nonsense? Then correct my post by posting in the comment section below. Otherwise, why not share it on social media? Then please click on one of the tender buttons below.

What Types Of Creative Artists Are There?

In a world with an overabundance of art, it can often be difficult to find a starting point to look for something special. What do you seek if you’re an emerging artist looking for inspiration? Who should you start to read or listen to if you wish to educate yourself in the world of art? And what different types of artists are out there?

I am not going to discuss any specifics of content, style, technique or ideas in this post. The great variety of brilliant art forbids it – there are so many different influences and ways of determining what a great work of art consists of that to reduce it to one blog post would be a ridiculously futile attempt. A Michelangelo has practically nothing to do with a van Gogh, a Bach practically nothing to do with a Stravinsky, and a Cervantes practically nothing to do with a Woolf. And yet all these people are perfectly brilliant, in their own way. This will not be a list of different types of schools, media (film, music, literature…) or people.

Instead, I am attempting to find overarching categories of creative artists that emerge in practically every generation. Think of it, perhaps, as an informative list of types of artists. Using it, you will be able to know what to look out for when studying the arts from a given perspective. It also will help, perhaps, to know what to avoid.

The word ‘art’, nowadays, has been thinned and diversified so far that it becomes impossible to define it – make a claim that x is not art and you’re sure to get a response saying, ‘who are you to determine what true art is?’ That doesn’t mean that you can’t make attempts at defining types, however – especially the type of artist we might term ‘creative artists’ (composers, writers, painters), as opposed to ‘performing artists’ (singers, musicians, actors, dancers).

Those who go with the flow

The first – and possibly most numerous – type of artist is the one who goes with the flow. Those with a – hopefully cunning – awareness of the current zeitgeist, a knowledge and understanding of what the currently most accepted and effective form of technique is and the ability to use it to their advantage by producing art very much ‘of its time’ to make a point.

In the best case, these types of artist become true masters of a particular period, time or school. They perfect their craft at a certain time. These types are not innovators as much as they refine their school. That’s not to say that they don’t innovate at all, but it is, at most, innovation within their field. Examples of this type may be Mozart for Vienna Classic, Bach for Baroque music or Pope for 17^th-century poetry.

In the worst case, these types of artists are little more than imitators of innovators or masters of a given school. They become noticed because they write or paint things which are relevant to current events or for writing in a contemporary style; but they lack the foresight of the innovators and the skill of the masters. Yeats criticises them in ‘To a Poet, who would have me Praise certain Bad Poets, Imitators of His and Mine’:

You say, as I have often given tongue

In praise of what another’s said or sung,

‘Twere politic to do the like by these;

But have you known a dog to praise his fleas?

This type of artist sadly exists in abundance and in every period, although time usually does a good job of having them end up being forgotten. If nobody ends up being inspired by their work, they are most certainly not going to be remembered as great artists.

Those who break the flow

The second type consists of the innovators; those who invent new methods or find new themes to write or paint about. Their work tends to shock at first, but after a period of lukewarm reception sometimes finds a large and enthusiastic audience. They spend a great deal of their time experimenting with novel styles and techniques to discover new possibilities within their medium.

In the best case, this drives the world of art into a new direction. Rather than having art growing stale and uninteresting, it is kept alive, relevant and engaging. That’s not to say that they don’t become the masters of their style, but it is always the innovation which remains the more interesting part of their work. Examples of this type include Beethoven in the transition from Classical to Romantic music, Woolf and Joyce in literary fiction, Pound and Eliot in poetry, or the Impressionists in visual arts.

In the worst case, these types of artists don’t really innovate for the sake of furthering the world of art, but for the sake of attention. This is, in particular, a contemporary problem: the last 150 years saw a great many innovative artists who did great things, and as such they are generally praised more than those who perfect the craft – sadly to the extent that new or just plain bad artists will innovate for the sake of attention. As long as it is shocking, incomprehensible or just plain weird, they are sure to get some form of attention – and if anybody complains about it, the artists claim they were just being ‘experimental’.

Those who seek to please

Free from the constraints of academia and theory, free from the doctrines of an art world which constantly judges the contemporary nature and relevance of an artwork, this type of artist writes, paints or composes with a wider audience in mind. Their goal isn’t to create art that will last the ages, but art which will be popular and please as many people as possible.

In the best case, these types of artists will create truly endearing work, even if they may not be technically speaking ‘as good’ as some of the other types. Their work often falls under the category of popular fiction, and involves authors such as Rowling or Tolkien, a lot of the music industry, and a range of painters who paint pretty landscapes even today.

In the worst case, the constraints of the market replace the constraints of academia and the world of arts. Instead of doctrines telling an audience whether and why something is good or not, the market will run its course and end up praising something utterly awful because it has some merit within itself which makes it popular despite a complete lack of technique, relevance or even decency.

Those who seek nothing

The final type of artist is those who create for themselves. They have little interest in theory and dislike the constraints of the popular market. The art they create is primarily meant for themselves; their art is a vessel through which they try to formulate their private ideas or feelings. It is often wild and difficult to fit in a particular category; their themes can but needn’t relate to current events.

In the best case this type of artist creates work which is very refreshing. With little outside influence, the style can be rather unique, the ideas unusual and surprising, and the overall execution thereby different from anything else that has come before.

In the worst case, the lack of interest in the art world means that the work is often juvenile. If it is a particularly gifted artist it may not be juvenile, but through a lack of interest in the wider world of arts, it will generally go unnoticed.

Limitations of this list

Needless to say, this list has its limitations. It may take each possible type of artist into consideration, but not every artist falls neatly into one of these categories. Indeed, many may be part of multiple groups – especially the first two. Without a doubt, Picasso was a great innovator, having founded many schools, but he was also perfectly apt at perfecting each of them before moving on to the next. Yeats is similar. While he may not have founded many of the schools he was a part of, he showed a great finesse in furthering them and at the same time perfected his craft.

The second issue revolves around the difficulty in determining when a mastery of a school becomes the innovative drive towards another. An apt analogy may be to compare it with evolution: millions of examples of microevolution over the course of a long period of time will at some point have created a species which is recognisably something different than the species at the start. In the same spirit, someone constantly twisting and improving aspects of a certain school of art will have arrived at a completely different point.

Finally, the distinction between popular art and serious art is also extremely blurred. Seamus Heaney – while not a best-selling author to the extent of, say, Stephen King, was nevertheless popular enough to live on his poetry alone (a very rare feat indeed, in our day and age). Conversely, ‘popular’ authors can also write technically accomplished and encourage discussions about a variety of topics – although I would argue that this just emphasises my first limitation, ergo, an author writing to please can also be an innovator or someone who perfects a particular school.

How do we use this list?

With these limitations in mind, a new enthusiast of art or emerging artist can use this list to understand ‘the old masters’ better. By looking at a variety of art across time it becomes increasingly clear which artists brought something new to the table, which ones brought it to perfection, and which may be good, but not necessarily ground-breaking.

While many great artists are lost in time (and can thereby be rediscovered eventually), the best bet for someone starting out is to stick with those who have stood the test of time. By being popular inspirations for other artists, their work lives on and they remain in memory long after their death, whereas those who inspire little will be forgotten sooner or later.

It’s just an interesting way of looking at art and seeing where the transitional periods are, considering what influences brought about a particular change and how it is reflected in the work of a certain period, rather than memorising dates which tell you that ‘school x was lasted from the year yyyy until zzzz’.

What about contemporary works of art?

With the vast amounts of art produced on a daily basis today it becomes especially important to know what to take in and what to leave alone. Using this list can also help in that effort, because it shows that some works can receive attention which may not be deserved and only short-lived.

This especially refers to the first two types of artists – the go-with-the-flowers and the innovators. A work may receive a lot of praise from artistic and academic circles by merit of it being new and shocking, or otherwise because it is speaking directly to contemporary events – even if, in the first case, there is little thought and feeling behind it beyond its shock-value, or in the second case is little more than a piece of propaganda.

A generally good rule-of-thumb is to trust your guts. Does the work of art do anything for or to you? Does it contain something which hooks you? If it does, is this based on a momentary whim or will the experience of the artwork change your perspective, your outlook, your mood – in short, will it stick with you? Don’t fall into the trap of dismissing everything out-of-hand, however. Just because it is being praised and is particularly difficult it doesn’t mean that it is good, but it also doesn’t mean it’s necessarily bad, either.

Closing thoughts

With the masses of art out there, any emerging artist or student of the arts may be at a loss where to start. This list may provide a useful starting point in that endeavour. But are there alternative ways of going about it? Or is there any type I should have added to this list? Then please leave a comment in the comments section below. Otherwise, why not share it on social media? Then please click on one of the tender buttons to let everyone know of your discovery.