Art patronage may be hard to imagine for many independent modern artists. Patronage is the practice of political, religious, or social leaders financially supporting individual artists or groups of artists, often on a commission basis. While 20th century patrons like Gertrude Stein and Albert C. Barnes, and a plethora of institutional grants, have helped support individual modern artists, they benefit only a tiny percentage of the artistic community now required to be half entrepreneur, half artist.
While artists have always publicized and promoted their art, the 19th and 20th centuries marked a change in how social investments in the arts were distributed in the West. The rise of democratic governments and capitalist economies have led to a collapse of many artistic communities, dwindling public and private funding, and a shift in financial resources now stemming from private galleries, museums, and academic institutions. Artists have been left to fend for themselves like never before.
But software, social networking sites, the spread of information, and innovations in artistic tools and techniques have also empowered artists. While the older systems of organization and support are dying out, a new wave of technological and economic opportunities to expose one's work have exploded. The fact still remains, though, that artists are leading an increasingly independent lifestyle led by one's ability to innovate both in art and in business.
Are our societies unable to support the growing number of working artists? Or is it due to the difficulty for markets to price and democracies to support the most value subjective industry in the world? Is it because of the dissemination, or concentration, of modern power through the money economy? Or the growth and uncertainty of a globalized job market?
Whether these developments are positive or negative is an endless debate, but as with most questions in art, it's typically a bit of both. Patronage and public support funneled significant amounts of money to small groups of artists, while capital entrepreneurship gives many more artists the chance to spread their work. But cultural policy in the United States has only a fraction of the power of French and English institutions, with a population less willing to spend tax dollars on investments in the arts.
Organization, however, is critical. Artists coming together to share, collaborate, and support each other may be our way to restore the social and cultural prestige the arts deserve. It may be more "bottom up" than ever before, but maybe that's the way it should be.
That is our intention with Red Bellow; to create a new world founded on the organized voice of millions of artists ready to create a new world. A world of art. We, the adventurers.
Red Bellow. The world's a stage.
Friday, July 15, 2011
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Technique, Technique, Technique, then Art (?)
"To him, all good things…came by grace; and grace comes by art; and art does not come easy."
A River Runs Through It
"[Abstract art is] a product of the untalented, sold by the unprincipled to the utterly bewildered."
Al Capp
A common tension in art criticism arises between the focus on technical ability and artistic expression. Our first quotation implies that the creative process is a necessarily difficult and complicated path, and that "grace" only comes after mastering this difficulty. The second quotation describes the importance many established artists and art critics place on traditional technique. Abstract, abstract expressionist, minimalist, and much of performance art does not depend on traditionally honed or formally trained technical ability, inciting skepticism as to the quality of such work.
What do we mean by technique? Technique is a specific way or approach to creation, defined by a set of standards, forms, and methods. All artists employ technique, but that technique can be traditional or personal. Traditional technique is founded in historical standards, forms, and methods, while personal technique breaks from or originates outside of a given tradition. Traditional technique is measured against historical norms for quality disseminated in cultural institutions such as classical art schools, teachers, competitions, and literature. These systems are so engrained in our culture that most Americans have a sense of what a violinist "should" sound like, a ballerina "should" look like, and an actress "should" act like.
When should an artist let go of the desire for technical perfection? How significant must technical slips be before they detract from an audience's enjoyment of a piece? Must technique precede art, or art precede technique?
While these can only be answered by the artist or supporter themselves, we believe that technique can be its own art. That passion, emotion, and style can emerge from working with and through historical standards, methods, and forms, not just around them. That human beings can thrive on the complexities of form and our inevitable relationship with it. That technique should be seen not as a hurdle or barrier to art, but as a journey through art itself.
Red Bellow. The world's a stage.
A River Runs Through It
"[Abstract art is] a product of the untalented, sold by the unprincipled to the utterly bewildered."
Al Capp
A common tension in art criticism arises between the focus on technical ability and artistic expression. Our first quotation implies that the creative process is a necessarily difficult and complicated path, and that "grace" only comes after mastering this difficulty. The second quotation describes the importance many established artists and art critics place on traditional technique. Abstract, abstract expressionist, minimalist, and much of performance art does not depend on traditionally honed or formally trained technical ability, inciting skepticism as to the quality of such work.
What do we mean by technique? Technique is a specific way or approach to creation, defined by a set of standards, forms, and methods. All artists employ technique, but that technique can be traditional or personal. Traditional technique is founded in historical standards, forms, and methods, while personal technique breaks from or originates outside of a given tradition. Traditional technique is measured against historical norms for quality disseminated in cultural institutions such as classical art schools, teachers, competitions, and literature. These systems are so engrained in our culture that most Americans have a sense of what a violinist "should" sound like, a ballerina "should" look like, and an actress "should" act like.
When should an artist let go of the desire for technical perfection? How significant must technical slips be before they detract from an audience's enjoyment of a piece? Must technique precede art, or art precede technique?
While these can only be answered by the artist or supporter themselves, we believe that technique can be its own art. That passion, emotion, and style can emerge from working with and through historical standards, methods, and forms, not just around them. That human beings can thrive on the complexities of form and our inevitable relationship with it. That technique should be seen not as a hurdle or barrier to art, but as a journey through art itself.
Red Bellow. The world's a stage.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Art and Competition
Our most recent Twitter post hinted at a rich discussion concerning the impact competition has on the creative process that we felt deserved further investigation.
Inherent in the complexities of this topic is the inescapable ambiguities surrounding the purpose of art. Before any formal theory of art was introduced, typically beginning with Plato, items we may now consider art functioned as religious or cultural objects. This could be the worship of a deity, a symbolic item signifying a tribe, or an object imbued with mystical medicinal purposes. Art has experienced a colossal shift from this "art in context/culture" to "art in, of, and for itself" (formalism), and with that an explosion of reasons for its modern purpose.
For reasons of our exploration, we will consider the impact competition has on expression, one of many accepted purposes of art. These two forces -- competition and expression -- contrast similarly with the difference between pre-historic and modern art. The objective in pre-historic art and in competition is above and outside of the objects themselves. The significance of an African idol and a basketball exist outside the objects themselves, namely a deity and a game's objectives. Modern art and expression, however, find more of their value in the object and art themselves. The value of a Van Gogh resides predominantly in the piece itself, not a cultural setting or act. The value of personal expression comes predominantly from the person themselves, not external standards or criteria.
How does the introduction of external standards or criteria -- other competitors and panels of judges -- influence expression? In other words, how does the introduction of a pre-defined purpose for art influence the artist's realization of the piece's own purpose? Expression is inescapably altered, for better or for worse. The personal preferences of judges and relative skills of one's competitors influence how a pianist might play, a singer might sing, or a dancer might dance. Artists are free to ignore these pressures during competitive performance, but these pressures form the essence of competition itself.
These pressures can lead to both positive and negative returns for growing artists. They can provide world-class advice, direction, and guidance from judges with a wealth of experience or their fellow competitors. They can help build the concentration, confidence, and presence required of modern stage performers. But one's own expression can also be considered an effective social tool rather than an enriching personal and social experience.
Artists are constantly presented with the challenge to balance two different forces in the artistic process: the drive to express, and the drive to compete. While they both satisfy different purposes, and therefore have their own merit, we can agree that modern art faces a unique dilemma that other competitive activities don't: that so much of the glory of art comes not from external, objective sources from but from the unending flow of internal, creative human potential.
Red Bellow. The world's a stage.
Inherent in the complexities of this topic is the inescapable ambiguities surrounding the purpose of art. Before any formal theory of art was introduced, typically beginning with Plato, items we may now consider art functioned as religious or cultural objects. This could be the worship of a deity, a symbolic item signifying a tribe, or an object imbued with mystical medicinal purposes. Art has experienced a colossal shift from this "art in context/culture" to "art in, of, and for itself" (formalism), and with that an explosion of reasons for its modern purpose.
For reasons of our exploration, we will consider the impact competition has on expression, one of many accepted purposes of art. These two forces -- competition and expression -- contrast similarly with the difference between pre-historic and modern art. The objective in pre-historic art and in competition is above and outside of the objects themselves. The significance of an African idol and a basketball exist outside the objects themselves, namely a deity and a game's objectives. Modern art and expression, however, find more of their value in the object and art themselves. The value of a Van Gogh resides predominantly in the piece itself, not a cultural setting or act. The value of personal expression comes predominantly from the person themselves, not external standards or criteria.
How does the introduction of external standards or criteria -- other competitors and panels of judges -- influence expression? In other words, how does the introduction of a pre-defined purpose for art influence the artist's realization of the piece's own purpose? Expression is inescapably altered, for better or for worse. The personal preferences of judges and relative skills of one's competitors influence how a pianist might play, a singer might sing, or a dancer might dance. Artists are free to ignore these pressures during competitive performance, but these pressures form the essence of competition itself.
These pressures can lead to both positive and negative returns for growing artists. They can provide world-class advice, direction, and guidance from judges with a wealth of experience or their fellow competitors. They can help build the concentration, confidence, and presence required of modern stage performers. But one's own expression can also be considered an effective social tool rather than an enriching personal and social experience.
Artists are constantly presented with the challenge to balance two different forces in the artistic process: the drive to express, and the drive to compete. While they both satisfy different purposes, and therefore have their own merit, we can agree that modern art faces a unique dilemma that other competitive activities don't: that so much of the glory of art comes not from external, objective sources from but from the unending flow of internal, creative human potential.
Red Bellow. The world's a stage.
Monday, June 27, 2011
The space to savor
While the discussion on the many ways we enjoy art will be approached in a future post, we wanted to introduce what we believe to be an inescapable component of the artistic experience: the space to savor.
At Red Bellow, we believe that art is an adventure, and that an adventure is a removal from the continuous loop of life's routines. In this space between adventure and life, there is room to savor life's experiences. In this space, we focus on depth, not breadth; absorbing, not consuming; tasting, not eating. Art helps us balance the focus on substance with a focus on sensation. And by focusing on sensation, we sense more.
We are often caught in strings of events whose combined meaning attempts to replace the enjoyment of each. With the modern explosion of productive and communicative opportunities, it has become increasingly difficult to choose the pleasures of an extended moment over a string of many. What we gain in quantity, we give up in quality. Instead of seeing, we watch. Instead of listening, we hear. Instead of feeling, we don't.
Art creates the space to savor by focusing us on the infinite depth of the finite. Dance bathes us in the endless rhythms of movement by focusing us on one dancer. Music covers us in the countless waves of sound by focusing us on one instrument. Poetry exposes us to the unlimited expanse of language by focusing us on a few words. Art reveals that single moves, waves, and words are filled with more sensations than we could ever collect. A four string violin has infinite frequencies. Art focuses us on the latter.
Red Bellow. The world's a stage.
At Red Bellow, we believe that art is an adventure, and that an adventure is a removal from the continuous loop of life's routines. In this space between adventure and life, there is room to savor life's experiences. In this space, we focus on depth, not breadth; absorbing, not consuming; tasting, not eating. Art helps us balance the focus on substance with a focus on sensation. And by focusing on sensation, we sense more.
We are often caught in strings of events whose combined meaning attempts to replace the enjoyment of each. With the modern explosion of productive and communicative opportunities, it has become increasingly difficult to choose the pleasures of an extended moment over a string of many. What we gain in quantity, we give up in quality. Instead of seeing, we watch. Instead of listening, we hear. Instead of feeling, we don't.
Art creates the space to savor by focusing us on the infinite depth of the finite. Dance bathes us in the endless rhythms of movement by focusing us on one dancer. Music covers us in the countless waves of sound by focusing us on one instrument. Poetry exposes us to the unlimited expanse of language by focusing us on a few words. Art reveals that single moves, waves, and words are filled with more sensations than we could ever collect. A four string violin has infinite frequencies. Art focuses us on the latter.
Red Bellow. The world's a stage.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Recording and Reproducing Art
With the growing popularity of street art and a renewed discussion on the modern desire to record and reproduce artistic work, we contribute to the discussion with commentary on the sources of this desire and the idea of a "disinterested" approach to appreciating art.
Red Bellow has been challenged with the the task of recording public art performances, and believe the desire to record comes from two sources: historical consciousness and global reproduction. By historical consciousness, we refer to the desire for common experience across time as we share and record our experiences with future generations. By global reproduction, we refer to the desire for common experience across space through instantaneous mechanical reproduction.
What impact do these desires have on the creative process and experience itself? (See our June 20th Twitter post for more on this.) On the creative process, we see musicians limiting their songs to under three minutes for radio play, and dancers adapting their choreography for video cameras. On the creative experience, we have moved from LPs to CDs, increasing ease of use but decreasing quality of sound (analog vs. digital), and watch spoken word poets adapt their vocal work for printable books.
Were predictions of these effects the reason Shaftesbury and Kant encouraged a "disinterested" approach to appreciating art? Anthony Ashley-Cooper, 3rd Earl of Shaftesbury and Immanuel Kant developed the idea of "disinterestedness," that an accurate evaluation of art is only possible when the observer is uninterested in owning the object of art itself. The focus should not be on the object but on the pleasurable feelings beauty conjures in the observer. Trying to transport that feeling across time and space objectifies the art, and distracts from the intended experience of the art.
The ability to record and reproduce gives us instant control and possession of the art object. We have the pleasure of watching Anna Pavlova dance The Dying Swan, Charlie Chaplin on screen, and listening to Van Cliburn's 1958 performance of Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto No. 1. But we often fumble with our cameras during live concerts, are accustomed to low quality audio renditions, and adjust our art to fit the interests of a global audience.
Red Bellow works with our artists to decide whether recording a performance is the right choice for their event. While we want to communicate the influence and talents of our artists as far as possible, we understand when artists want to keep their work in the present.
Whether the enjoyment of art is in the past, present, or future, Red Bellow is committed to spreading the adventure of art as far and as deep as our community desires.
Red Bellow. The world's a stage.
Red Bellow has been challenged with the the task of recording public art performances, and believe the desire to record comes from two sources: historical consciousness and global reproduction. By historical consciousness, we refer to the desire for common experience across time as we share and record our experiences with future generations. By global reproduction, we refer to the desire for common experience across space through instantaneous mechanical reproduction.
What impact do these desires have on the creative process and experience itself? (See our June 20th Twitter post for more on this.) On the creative process, we see musicians limiting their songs to under three minutes for radio play, and dancers adapting their choreography for video cameras. On the creative experience, we have moved from LPs to CDs, increasing ease of use but decreasing quality of sound (analog vs. digital), and watch spoken word poets adapt their vocal work for printable books.
Were predictions of these effects the reason Shaftesbury and Kant encouraged a "disinterested" approach to appreciating art? Anthony Ashley-Cooper, 3rd Earl of Shaftesbury and Immanuel Kant developed the idea of "disinterestedness," that an accurate evaluation of art is only possible when the observer is uninterested in owning the object of art itself. The focus should not be on the object but on the pleasurable feelings beauty conjures in the observer. Trying to transport that feeling across time and space objectifies the art, and distracts from the intended experience of the art.
The ability to record and reproduce gives us instant control and possession of the art object. We have the pleasure of watching Anna Pavlova dance The Dying Swan, Charlie Chaplin on screen, and listening to Van Cliburn's 1958 performance of Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto No. 1. But we often fumble with our cameras during live concerts, are accustomed to low quality audio renditions, and adjust our art to fit the interests of a global audience.
Red Bellow works with our artists to decide whether recording a performance is the right choice for their event. While we want to communicate the influence and talents of our artists as far as possible, we understand when artists want to keep their work in the present.
Whether the enjoyment of art is in the past, present, or future, Red Bellow is committed to spreading the adventure of art as far and as deep as our community desires.
Red Bellow. The world's a stage.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Art as Adventure
Adventure is a moment removed from the continuum of life. It is rocketing into space, running into the woods, and jumping into the abyss. Straying from the desired course. And yet the adventure, like the dream, isn't only desired, it is required. It is a voyage both into and outside of life, in order to keep the continuum intact.
Art is an adventure. It removes you from the world while embedding you in it. It focuses you on a piece of existence in order to grasp all of it. It unites you with what is common, and connects you to what is not. It transports you to the space between what is and what can be. And in that space, there is time to think, to feel, and to live.
We believe in the adventure of art. We believe in enhancing that adventure for supporters, and creating the adventure for newcomers. We believe in thanking the artists that create that adventure, and giving them the space to share it. We believe in the organization of these voices into a local, national, and worldwide network.
We believe that we can build a new world. A world of art. A world of adventure. We, the adventurers.
Red Bellow. The world's a stage.
Art is an adventure. It removes you from the world while embedding you in it. It focuses you on a piece of existence in order to grasp all of it. It unites you with what is common, and connects you to what is not. It transports you to the space between what is and what can be. And in that space, there is time to think, to feel, and to live.
We believe in the adventure of art. We believe in enhancing that adventure for supporters, and creating the adventure for newcomers. We believe in thanking the artists that create that adventure, and giving them the space to share it. We believe in the organization of these voices into a local, national, and worldwide network.
We believe that we can build a new world. A world of art. A world of adventure. We, the adventurers.
Red Bellow. The world's a stage.
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