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 17th-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.

The Truth Unfolds: Objective Evaluation of Art

When enjoying a work of art, is it ever possible to pursue an objective evaluation, without any influence of one’s personality at all? And if so, to what extent? How do we judge what merit, if any, a work of art has?

If you’ve ever discussed a work of art with your friends or family, chances are somebody proclaimed at some point that art is subjective anyway. What’s the point of discussing it if the immediate perception varies from individual to individual?

At first, there seems to be merit in this approach. As an individual, certain works may speak to us more than others; one person’s poem is another one’s gibberish. What purpose could there be in discussing something which will vary in its perception from person to person?

Moreover, such discussions often stay firmly away from discussing any form of technique, instead concentrating on ‘the message’. If a person believes firmly in the underlying philosophy of the artwork, that person is much more likely to consider it a success, regardless of its technical qualities.

But these approaches are inherently problematic. First, while the perception of an artwork can vary, there are real-life differences which make one painting/poem/movie more powerful than another – things like technique, how well thought out the idea is, how it is presented. Second, evaluating an artwork along the lines of the idea alone is flawed, since the evaluation will result in the viewer merely feeling confirmed in his or her beliefs, rather than actually bringing something new to the debate and highlighting why something works.

‘The Canon’

What makes a work canonical? A cynic may view it as a form of conspiracy, whereby a circle of elitists makes a point of suppressing any dissenting voices and tries to maintain those writers who represent a certain group. But this hardly acknowledges why people actively seek out, say, Sappho’s poetry or George Eliot’s novels even centuries after their deaths and why they were popular in the first place. Or why, for example, Yeats’s plays aren’t performed particularly often, whereas his poetry is widely regarded as some of the most powerful literature ever written.

That’s not to say that many highly talented artists don’t get lost throughout the centuries. Seeking to revive the interest in forgotten artist is most certainly worth it. There are even cases when some established writers may use their influence to suppress others. But to see this as the norm, rather than the exception, is to undermine the sheer beauty of Shakespeare’s tragedies, Bach’s concertos etc.

So while we can hardly say that ‘the canon’ represents the greatest art ever created, we can say that among the canon are some of the greatest works ever created. So how to we establish what is great art? We can probably approach it along two lines: the idea and the execution.

Execution

The execution in creating a work of art refers to anything related to technique. The palette or brushstroke in a painting, the sound and rhythm in a poem, the shots and pacing in a film are all aspects of this. Along these lines, it is probably the easiest to make a strong point for the ‘objective quality’ of a work of art.

This also includes knowing when to break a rule. This, too, requires strong knowledge of the technique being broken, and how to break it to create a certain effect. Just creating the artwork without knowledge of any rules at all results in a convoluted mess, and I know of no great artist who hasn’t been thoroughly interested in technique at least to some extent.

The trouble with this is that most people don’t have enough time, energy or sheer (nerdy) interest in technique to get to grips with it, resulting in few people arguing from a technical standpoint – meaning that the only aspect which can truly be judged objectively goes unnoticed by most.

Idea

The idea – the underlying philosophy, politics, ‘moral’ – is the other aspect which critics often put to scrutiny, and it is here that we find it difficult to make an objective statement. Certainly – again regarding the technique – we can discuss how well an idea has been transferred to the reader via the artwork, but putting that aside, how does one evaluate an idea?

A Marxist may frown upon anything written by a conservative; a liberal may frown upon anything composed by a medieval writer. A firm critic of Emerson may find it extremely difficult to take anything by Walt Whitman seriously.

I suppose the success of any objective evaluation of the idea can only emerge through the open mindedness of the observer. Being open to new ideas means you’re more likely to get joy out of perceiving something you generally disagree with – but that is obviously difficult, if not impossible, to embrace completely. And, obviously, even with a good knowledge of technique, it doesn’t mean that one is capable of throwing one’s subjective opinion out of the window, either.

So… is it possible to evaluate art objectively?

Well, to a certain extent I would say yes. By ignoring the ‘message’ of the work of art entirely, one can definitely make a good and well-founded argument regarding the technical quality. But that doesn’t guarantee that the artwork will be enjoyed by all equally – or even by anyone, for that matter. A perfectly executed poem may still be incomprehensible or just plain unpleasant to read by merit of having less insight than a tax declaration.

The trouble with evaluating art purely objectively is that it’s… well, just plain uninteresting. Knowing how a certain technique is working doesn’t necessarily mean you can ‘feel’ it for yourself. The subjective experience must go into the evaluation, otherwise it isn’t useful – we are human, after all, and therefore want to know why we experience what, not the why without the experience.

Is objective evaluation even necessary?

‘Why do you even want to discuss art objectively? Do you just want to go out of your way to condemn certain artists?’ No, to the latter question. The purpose of discussing art in an objective way isn’t to create hierarchies, lists and the like. On the contrary, it’s to get to grips with the artwork and to understand why and how it is achieving its effects.

What’s the alternative? Viewing it as untouchable, as a sacred relic which may not be considered critically by anyone. It merely exists to be admired, and that’s the end of it. This is both unproductive and cowardly – since it evades the discussion – and results in a form of idealisation of the artist. But nobody is perfect, artists among them; putting their art up for scrutiny can help us see how they did what, and thus help us create more great art – or rediscover lost art with the same tools and see how they are just as powerful.

Moreover, without critical engagement – as objective as possible – with the work of art, it becomes difficult for us to gain a greater understanding of it. If you wish to know more about something, you question it – and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that.

Closing thoughts

In the end, viewing a work of art entirely objectively isn’t impossible, but not necessarily desirable. However, that doesn’t mean that one shouldn’t discuss aspects which can be evaluated objectively, since it feeds into the appreciation of the subjective aspects of art – neither can exist without the other, and using them to achieve a greater understanding and interest in the art can help anyone in their endeavour to grow.

What do you think? Is art purely subjective? Am I wrong? Then please leave a comment below and tell me why. Did you like the article? Then please share it on the social media of your choice by clicking one of the tender buttons below.

How Useful Are Classifications?

Renaissance, Romanticism, Modernism: we often label any given movement, artist or work according to an overreaching label for the sake of classification. But how useful are these terms, if at all? How much authority should be given to them?

It’s 2nd August 1492. Two farmers meet, somewhere in Spain, after a hard day’s labour. The crops don’t look promising; a famine is threatening their lives. Everything looks dark and gloomy. Together they pray for the love of God to give them some form of consolation.

The following day, Columbus discovers America. The farmers, as usual, go about their daily lives, but things are changing. They feel a bit wiser than the previous day, and more awake to novelties. When they meet in the evening, one of them says to the other, ‘Thank heavens we live in the Renaissance! Wasn’t it dreadful in the Medieval period?’

Needless to say, the farmers from our little story never existed, but it demonstrates that using common classifications for a work of art, artist, or Zeitgeist, are not always particularly useful. It’s not as though the rise of a new philosophical or artistic movement made any immediate difference to the way people felt. No – to them, things would probably feel much the same.

This problem isn’t even limited to ‘ideological’ awakenings, but stark historical changes as well. What difference would the fall of the Western Roman Empire have made to a Roman peasant living in the southern tip of the Italian peninsula? Probably not much.

However, while using such classifications doesn’t come without its severe issues, they still have remarkable benefits. So, to help you make up your own mind about whether you think they make any sense, here are a few ideas for and against using classifications.

Lack of historical consensus

Most historians place the beginning of the Renaissance at the beginning of the 14th century. Others name the discovery of America. Others, again, place it at the conquest of Constantinople by the Ottomans in 1453. The problem, obviously, is that experts never seem to reach a consensus.

But they also disagree about ‘sub-periods’ included in a particular period. When was the Medieval period? Do we include the Anglo-Saxons in it? How far into the Renaissance do we extend it? If a poet like Yeats uses tropes from the Romantics, does that mean the Romantic period can last until the early-mid 20th century?

Also, how do we treat artists, philosophers and such who don’t adhere to the general tropes of a classified movement although they fit into the correct time period? Do they belong to another? Doesn’t that mean that the definition of the classification should change, since it obviously also includes others?

The problem lies in the fact that in any given time period or movement, there are too many individuals, many of whom have their own idiosyncratic ideals and ideas as to what their movement should include. Therefore, theorists can take their arguments in any number of directions in order to make a case for their own personal interpretation of how we should classify X and Y. There is no true or false answer; just perspectives from extremely different backgrounds.

Lack of fundamental impact on lived experiences

For the most part, the overarching labels for certain philosophical or artistic movements wouldn’t affect the general population. Michaelangelo wouldn’t have thought of himself as a Renaissance man as much as an Italian living in the late 15th / early 16th century; Dickens wouldn’t have considered himself as a Victorian, but as a Brit living in the 19th century.

That’s not to say that these movements had no impact whatsoever on the general population, but that they didn’t to the extent that one might think. For most people the transition to a new period would have seemed seamless – with the exception being large-scale events, of course, such as the French revolution.

As such, we need to acknowledge that classifying certain people as members of a certain group isn’t particularly useful, since to them the transition wouldn’t have been of immediate consequence. Yes, they would feel progress and change, but not from one day to another, and not in the sense that they’d see it as the result of a particular philosophical or artistic movement.

Lack of philosophical consensus

This goes back to my first point. There are probably no two philosophers or artists who shared the same ideas within the same movement. This is even more evident in rather broad labels, such as the ‘Modernists’. What would the Harlem Renaissance have in common with Dada or the Surrealists? Probably not much.

Finding common ground, therefore, can prove to be neigh impossible. With a movement as large as Modernism, we soon reach a point where we can locate different schools, all Modernist, which have virtually nothing in common. In other cases, some movements were even created as a rejection of a former school with the same overall label (such as Vorticism versus Futurism).

And yes, the differences among smaller movements also make classifications difficult. Whistler was only a part-time Impressionist; Dante Gabriel Rossetti’s later Pre-Raphaelite paintings were much more idealistic than the movement’s earlier focus on hyper-realism would demand.

Need for taxonomy

One strong reason for using such classifications is our innate need for taxonomy. This is certainly the case with the Sciences, where we need to define certain objects as precisely as possible in order to understand and contextualise them. While artistic and philosophical movements are highly complex – as we have seen – it’s not entirely impossible.

The ideal thing to do would be just to identify the period and the name, e.g. T.S. Eliot – American-born poet in the first half of the twentieth century. But that’s quite a mouthful – so we can say he was a Modernist poet, although we haven’t defined Modernism yet (and good luck with that!).

On the other hand, it would probably be possible to cite overarching labels, subcategories etc. – e.g. Modernity (the modernisation of the Western World) – Modernism (all philosophical movements stemming from Modernity) – Vorticism (a particular movement within Modernism) – Wyndham Lewis (an artist who was part of the Vorticists). Setting this up for each artist and philosopher would, of course, take a long time to do and be of questionable use, but for people obsessed with taxonomy – why not? But yes, it still doesn’t solve the problem of artists changing throughout their lives and occasionally switching movements (if they even see themselves as part of a school).

Need for simplification

Related to the above point, having categories, classifications or labels makes it easier to understand what any given person is talking about. If I declare that Langston Hughes was a Modernist, others probably know that I’m talking about the time period and very rough classification, not that I am saying he has a lot in common with Pound or Williams.

In that sense, it saves time. When talking to people casually about art you’re (usually) not approximating a precise definition for everything, so using simple and wide-reaching labels for things serves one simple purpose – simplification. And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with this. Although it’s not ideal using classifications, it makes our lives easier, enables quicker and simpler communication, and therefore does very well serve a decent purpose.

Closing thoughts

As we have seen, classifications are of limited use, but not completely useless. It’s always important to remember that they serve the purpose of assisting you in identifying ‘things’, not shoehorning those ‘things’ into a box. As such, all these movements and periods are in a state of flow, not blocks which follow each other directly.

Do you agree or disagree? Can you think of other arguments for or against using classifications? Then why not leave a comment? Otherwise, if you liked this post, why not share it on social media? Then please click on one of the tender buttons below.

Art for art’s sake: James Abbott McNeill Whistler

Aesthete. Idiosyncratic charmer who had a habit of making enemies. Sometimes friend of Oscar Wilde’s. Sometimes impressionist, sometimes advocate of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. James Abbott McNeill Whistler had a large range of sources and reformed his style many times throughout his career. But what makes his art so appealing to this day?

Like so many American artists of the late 19th century, Whistler felt drawn to Europe. Due to his father’s work, he spent many years in various countries during his youth, including Russia and the United Kingdom. After moving to Paris in 1855 to study art, he never returned to the United States.

Although he travelled across Europe multiple times and sought inspiration from various locations, his heart always seemed to be drawn to London. Consequently, he painted many of his most famous works there, undoubtedly inspired by the variety of artistic movements working in London around that time.

Despite the range of sources he took for inspiration, many critics place him firmly within the aestheticist camp. As such, he firmly believed in the gospel of doing ‘art for art’s sake’ and befriended many prominent decadents, among them Oscar Wilde – but he also had a habit of making enemies. After a lecture by Wilde, Whistler believed the dandy was poking fun at him, resulting in a lasting feud. Allegedly Basil, the painter who is murdered in Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray, is partly an ironic depiction of Whistler.

Not only an aestheticist

But Whistler was also acquainted with artists from other schools, such as the Impressionists (Monet, Manet and Degas), the Pre-Raphaelites (Dante Gabriel Rossetti), the French symbolists (Stephane Mallarme and Marcel Schwob), and many more. This culminated in a style which is idiosyncratic, fascinating, and unquestionably his.

Unlike the typical focus on high realism of his contemporaries, Whistler always emphasised the impression of art and believed that all art should strive towards the conditions of music. Hence, many of his paintings are titled with terms from music theory – such as nocturne or symphony.

Whistler emphasised simplicity and the economy of means, the importance of technique, and harmony. He insisted that the artist should interpret what he saw rather than depict it ‘as it is’. He was also a strong theorist, publishing a range of material on art theory and advocating his vision to the best possible degree.

But it won’t do to discuss an artist in theory, so here are three of his Nocturnes which I find particularly engaging. Let’s take a look, shall we?

Nocturne: Blue and Silver – Chelsea

This is the first of Whistler’s popular Nocturnes, painted in 1871. Rather than depicting a realistic vision of the Thames, he tried to capture the overwhelming beauty of the Thames by night. By titling it ‘nocturne’ he separated the work from any sense of subjectivity it may have had from the painter and makes it entirely artistic through his use of technique.

The view shows a section of Chelsea with Chelsea Old Church on the right. The details are kept to a bare minimum, and yet it unquestionably evokes the sense of the river and the night time. You get a sense that the city never really sleeps, as indicated by the individual lights which brave the otherwise pervading grey and blue of the scene.

Nocturne in Black and Gold – The Falling Rocket

This slightly later painting from 1875 depicts the Cremorne Gardens, one of the old pleasure gardens which have since closed their gates. It is the final of the London Nocturnes and displays a firework display in a foggy night sky, again with little detail but individual streaks of light breaking the otherwise dark palette.

Through the lack of clear lines, Whistler makes it difficult for us to distinguish between the individual aspects of the painting, but his use of light, shades and especially the smoke nevertheless marks out the general layout. You feel a slight sense of bleakness as you look upon the painting with its dark colours, but the surprising explosion of the rockets wakes you to a moment of realising the beauty of the scene.

Nocturne: Blue and Gold – Old Battersea Bridge

Here we have another Nocturne from the period around 1872-1875, this time of the Battersea Bridge across the Thames. Sadly, the bridge has now been replaced by a more modern one. Whistler is more interested in detail, so it is possible to make out the Chelsea Old Church on the left and the fireworks in the background.

Again, the dark palette makes the entire scene feel tranquil and quiet, if it wasn’t for the firework display. The fisher in the foreground seems to be going quietly about his business and the Thames is generally surrounded by an aura of solitude. It demonstrates the diversity of the city – some people are still awake to celebrate with fireworks, whereas others are quietly starting their daily labour. The whole painting, as such, oozes atmosphere and invites you to spend the night time roaming around the Thames yourself.

Closing thoughts

As you can see, with Whistler you can often find paintings depicting one area and one time of day, with similar moods, which yet all tell their own story and give a different aspect of one big picture. I hope you find him as engaging as I do, and that you found this article informative. Do you have anything to add, any personal impression about the artist or his work? Then please leave a comment. Otherwise, why not share it on social media? Then please click on one of the tender buttons below.