In a class society such as the United States, the so-called national art scene represents the rather confined dreams of a small segment of the population. It’s considered a sacred duty for artists to remain isolated from any broad community that might influence their art. Artwork must remain personal in the narrowest sense while fitting into the moment’s specifications for saleable work. Alienation is one of the requirements. A friend told me of a Midwestern painter who finally got a favorable review of her show after having worked in New York for a couple of years. The critic was elated that, in contrast to her earlier, optimistic paintings, her new work was starting to show the “angst” (read depression) of a mature artist.
The greatest form of pressure that cuts artists off from the living currents of their communities is the designation of some subject matter as “political.” As it applies to art, “political” is a clear “no trespass” sign forbidding access to whatever the ruling elite does not wish people to think about. It varies from country to country and over time. New York artist Lisa Blackshear’s paintings of interracial couples would be politically explosive in South Africa, cause some discomfort in the United States, and not raise an eyebrow in Brazil. In South Africa, the book Black Beauty was banned, for although it is the story of a horse, the linking of the two works in its title was seen as dangerously revolutionary by the censors. In General Pinochet’s Chile, teaching evolution was seen as subversive because it described a world in which change is constant and inevitable. It is therefore seen as challenging the rigid stability preached by the dictatorship.
The “political” label -- and the funding, performance space, display and publishing decisions that enforce it -- serves to prevent artists from fulfilling their function as conveyors and interpreters of their people’s dreams.
For the majority of the potentially artistic population a form of dream suppression is practiced. Organic cultural expression is discouraged by the denial of resources and the promotion of the arts as the province of a gifted few. In the crude tracking system of the schools, an artist is whoever is left when the rest are bludgeoned into silence. Those who survive this assault on their creativity may pursue it through arts schools, where they’ll be safely taught to respect taboos.
These systems of suppression and control are far from fully effective. At best they work as damage control to limit the number of artists who survive and the imaginations of those who do. But still,artists who have been successful within the cultural industries, as well as those who develop outside of the educational system, are drawn by the gravitational pull upon the artist to explore every area of communal life.
Too often, activist artists ourselves accept the “no trespass” signs of the elite, simply choosing to set up camp on the other side of them. Thus, we miss the subversive potential coming straight from the deepest springs of artistic inspiration. If we listen and convey the dreams of our people, we will ignore the signs and property lines. If we violate the warning signs, it will be while being true to our mission as artists. To grasp the full potential of cultural creation as an arena for social transformation we must go beyond seeing ourselves as simply “political artists,” “oppositional artists,” or even “voices of dissent.”
No comments:
Post a Comment