With Everything But the Monkey Head 5
On the other hand, isn’t it just the case that out of such concentrations as this new intensity in the arts (Kind of reminds me of that real estate bubble. You know which one.): art as investment, art as profession, art as achievement, art as academic qualification – out of all that sometimes come these great Chardinian-like im/explosions, these upheavals, that leave us, for just a moment, with the immense relief and gratification of knowing that we really weren’t all wrong; that there was, after all, something more important.
I am not one to spout Malthusian scenarios. Perhaps it is premature, or maybe I am just too reluctant to place my foot too solidly into such a disagreeable position. I would certainly not, given the array of daunting, if not just incomprehensible, fissures that are in real time erupting around us (pick one of any number), denounce anyone else for moving in that direction. Still, for the moment anyway, I am going attempt to stick with the wink/nod/glimmer/grimace kind of positivism that looks forward to something green sprouting in the freight yard.
The question for me and my kind is whether we will be able to recognize and/or accept that sprout. Since the beginning of the industrial age, just to start somewhere, these sprouts have generally been duplicitous. Technology has almost always been a double-edged sword; making our lives simultaneously easier and more difficult to navigate. No wonder there are those now finding solace in material(isms); perhaps in the vain hope that something outside of ourselves will come to our rescue and solve all of our profound dilemmas.
We will continue to maintain the hope of a better existence because we are able, as futurists articulate science fiction, to envision a more enviable condition; but we also know that we are required to cope with the infinite, sometimes absurd, variety of human behaviors, the ones that not only create rich experience, but also those, such as greed, anger, and distrust, that lead us to wars and prevent us from being able to distribute resources equitably.
I was once told, when I asked someone on what basis a particular decision was made, that it was made on “the rule of sense.” I always appreciated that determination, and have actually tried to confide in it. But it only takes an election season, or a session of congress to make me question it as a life rationale. The opposite of utopia is what? Cynicism? And, like it or not, there seems to be no general agreement on sense.
This is it, reality: human, post-human, anthropocene, material (And yes I acknowledge that the earth will go on without us, but what does it matter?). Personally, I want to be on record that, at least for me, we cannot ignore the damage that continually rains on our psyches due to the supremacy, and the covert and incestuous nature, of capitalist consumerism. We can accept it and participate in it all we want, but I contend that such passive immersion reduces us. It is soma.
(Sigh.) Forget Chardin. Forget Malthus. Things will continue as they have for centuries and longer. It is the way of things. We careen from moments of joy, reside in staleness, slide into sadness, if fortunate into momentary despair. In that vein, the art world will continue on its several paths: including the capitalist/acacemic/beaureaucratic path we have discussed previously – and it should. This evolving establishment incarnation provides a vehicle for those who find joy and relish in such intrinsic energy and endeavors. Out of this might come ground-breaking, mind-opening research that aids us in seeing a clearer world. If “non-academic” artists are given equal opportunity to focus on studio research applications, as we also mentioned earlier, equally brilliant work might also prevail.
For others, alternatives will arise and/or be created. Some, those that provide promise of profit (in a general sense) will be capitalized. Others will be marginalized. That is not all bad. There are not only creative, but also radical, possibilities within marginalization. Not that one necessarily enjoys residing within that state of exclusion (and silence), but there is a certain freedom available in not having expectations written one-to-ten on a stone tablet.