Do you like art? Do I like art?Do you like art? Do I like art?
After plaguing myself with doubt and insecurity for many years, I've actually become an artist. Hooray!
Of course, I'm not the kind of artist that I once idolized, sure. I haven't made my biggest dream happen, yet. Nonetheless, I spend a good portion of my time producing my ideas into tiny soldiers that move out into the world to do whatever they have to do. I make art and I earn something for it. In simple terms, that's an artist.
But, do I like art? There's a discussion to be had.
This will be a series where I discuss my musings on the art I see in the world, the value of art I hold as an ideal, and the progress I'm making in my own work. It may also become the space for me to vent my discontent with artificial intelligence, who knows?
the catalystthe catalyst
This week will bring the first session of an art class I've enrolled in: a real in-person art class to learn the skill of screen printing. I'm very excited. I haven't taken a formal art class before. I've been educated in literature, but everything else I do is coming from a desire to create and someone else on the internet doing it first.
I thought I might take you along with me as I take on this class. And I'm taking a page out of @TotallyHumanWriter 's book with his Unphiltered series. I'll try filling the void he has left behind with the conclusion of these thoughtful pieces.
the state of artthe state of art
I'm coming into this with some derogatory fuel against the institution of art as it showcased for us in prized exhibitions for public viewing. I went to the art museum last night. I found out that the same organization who outfits the class I'll be taking also holds up the function of the art museum I often pass on the street, and this weekend, the newest show opened. So I thought, hey, why not? It'll be fun to get in the building and maybe I'll even meet someone doing the same class, I don't know, what the hell?
Turns out, this was a profound waste of time, even unsettling. Two things happened at the start which tinted the evening toward ruin. Checking in with the staff at the desk, I tried one single line of pleasantry. The way this man looked at me in response was to remind me that he was not my barista. Okay. We move on. Then I began to take in the artist's work in the short paragraph presented at the entrance, filling in detail on the exhibit, the artist, and who sponsored the prize they won. From the first sentence, I knew I was going to need to neutralize the expression on my face.
I can easily sum up the contents of this exhibit: enlarged coloring book pages, the same tiny photograph 5 times, words on the wall in neon light, playground-like structures of aluminum.
It may not be fair for me to give a critique of this artist, since I was moved to a snap decision about it based off of a few words, so I won't. I'll critique the vibe of the event: it was discomfort. Perhaps because I was alone and didn't know anyone, perhaps because the art was condescending -- oh shoot, I wasn't going to be critical of that. I tried to find one thing I liked about it, any of it, and you know what it was? The stairwell. Someone put googly eyes on a pipe and I thought that's more like it. It was the one hallowed space where I felt I was a person again. Even my brief excursion to the restroom (simply to disappear from the crowd for a moment) was intolerable given the close proximity to the company who moved through it.
I'm not sure I can say what it was exactly. I do a variety of things on my own, this is not out of character for me. Given that, I don't think I can attribute my discomfort to that source. I just think these art people were icky. Genuinely[1]. I haven't felt so deeply out of place since I was a teenager.
I'll propose a reason for this. I think art at that level, or at that scale, isn't concerned with anything in common with me and what I'm concerned with. I think it is spectacle. I think it is means-to-an-end. Or scratch that, maybe it's actually kayfabe. Maybe it's sophisticated porn. It wears self-obsession like a cologne so expensive you couldn't possibly discern a single whiff of it. The character Ellsworth Toohey who Ayn Rand created in The Fountainhead, this would have been his party, for sure.
So I ask myself, do I even like art?
If it's hung in a museum and it's less than 100 years old, maybe not?
If it isn't asked to engage with people, if it isn't bringing something new to our attention, if it isn't....so what is it?
More on this later ✌🏼
There was one guy standing around who was not utterly put together, but was wearing a printed button up opened over an Aphex Twin tee I recognized. Had to mention him, he was the one guy out of the sea of people who I thought, yeah I could talk to him. ↩
Captivating intro!
Is there a reason you didn't mention the artist/gallery? Your dislike of it made me curious.
Nowadays, before I answer any question, I have to be sure I understand the definition of the employed language. In this instance, art is something I understand the meaning of but also know that the contemporary understanding is not what I take to be art. The referent and the referrer have a mismatch.
Wittgenstein said there was no such thing as a private language, but I suspect consensus reality has invented one that is only understood by people who like the redefining of things that ought not be redefined.
I read your reflection with interest, and I can understand the sense of estrangement one sometimes feels when entering certain environments in contemporary art. It can happen to feel out of place, or simply unable to find a connection with what is being shown.
Personally, though, I tend to move with a slightly different attitude. I don’t define myself as an artist; I prefer to think of myself simply as an amateur painter. Not out of false modesty, but because I feel that painting is something that should be practiced with humility, over the long stretch of time that real work requires.
When I encounter works that I don’t understand or that don’t resonate with me, I still try to remain curious. I look at the color, the composition, and the way the work has been made. Even if it doesn’t speak to me, I assume that for the person who created it, that gesture had meaning.
For this reason I try to avoid making broad judgments about art as a whole. Art is a vast territory with many different paths. Some feel close to us, others less so, but all of them come from a personal search.
So I understand the discomfort you describe, and in part it feels familiar. At the same time, I prefer to stay in a place of quiet curiosity, without the need to decide what is or is not art. Sometimes it is enough simply to look carefully and allow each work to find its place, even if it is far from our own way of seeing or making.
If anyone is curious about my small path in painting, they can find it here:
https://isolabellart.it.com
I think art of all genres is so hard to engage with now.
Anyone can publish, which exploded our idea of the total control of 'museum' gatekeeper.
But our lives are now flooded with images and messages vying for attention. Navigating art in 2026 is a challenge!
It's almost as if the gatekeeping function provided some value!
Of course. We need gatekeepers more than ever, but the self-publishing (and now AI) genie is out of the bottle.
Now I wish you had taken a photo of that stairwell haha
No.
It's pointless, pretty despicable, and a humongous waste of time and effort. Abolish.
Yes.
Pathetic.
damn say less lol
Soz :(
sounds like a breh for sure
the world needs more googly eyes
Speaking of kayfabe, it'd be fun to play along in some meta-kayfabe. What does it feel like to inhabit the art snob; deeply open to the NPR-approved narrow cone, ungenerous in every other possible way, wearing your MFA like a portable bidet, vegan when you're sober, screaming with fear underneath that Zara jumper?
I have to agree with you that I generally don't like gallery art. Might be better said that I don't like viewing art in galleries. There's something about the art museum adventure you describe that sounds like pretty much every time I've been to an art show.
Maybe it is rich people art that I don't like. Whatever the case, it's never very cool.
I'm curious to follow along with your screen printing adventures. Will you be using your new skills on paper or do you have plans for a clothing line?
The whole documentary is absolutely incredible, but this scene from Style Wars that depicts the earliest examples of hip hop graffiti styles being incorporated in art galleries has always fascinated me.
I’m not sure if it grabbed the timestamp, but it starts around 49:27.
hoping to make plebprint.shop cooler
Hey, this reminded me of my recent visit to Body Worlds in Amsterdam! Body Worlds is not an art exhibition, but I experienced it as one. It was what I think art exhibitions should be like. I was in awe, and it really made me think. Our bodies are incredible!
The exhibition starts with a long, detailed disclaimer about how controversial it is, though. I'm glad I initially missed this disclaimer (we accidentally didn't start at the beginning). It allowed me to experience the "art" on my own, without other people's takes on it.
Excited for this series!
You must have avoided that Casino Royale moment.
Thanks for sharing. I like art a lot. Like a lot. Not sure the art museum is the best place to look for modern art and I wouldn’t discount it because of what you find there. Upon reading this post, I think you may dig this great quote from one of my favorite artists. This has hung above my desk for over a quarter century.
[1][2]
I’ve very much enjoyed your artwork (the zine in particular (despite missing it most of the time)) and am glad to hear you’re pursuing yet another medium.
not an endorser or even approver of pornography myself, but I think the larger point stands ↩
arguably, his whole point is semantic, but I think the argument beneath the semantic layer is so profound ↩
Oh yeah thank you for adding this
It resonates with me, I think coming to SN to share my art is my “sneaking under the fence”