Monday, November 17, 2008

Consumerism and art

Yesterday afternoon, I decided to take advantage of a free shuttle ride going into MassMoCA for the opening of the new Sol LeWitt exhibit with a friend. I had a nice, leisurely day walking in and out of the various art exhibits, and when it was time to leave, we decided to stop into the museum gift shop.

There were the typically overpriced children's colored pencils and "contemporary art" coloring books, t-shirts printed with the MassMoCA logo as well as wall drawings from the Sol LeWitt show, mugs, postcards, etc. I ended up buying five of the postcards there, but at the same time I found myself drawn to the other, more expensive items in the store. "It would be so cool," I thought, "to have a t-shirt with giant red and yellow circles on it. And contemporary art coloring books! I could always use a new coloring book to look at and color in whenever I'm free. And I could learn more about contemporary art at the same time."

I picked up the book and started flipping through it, and I found myself both fascinated and slightly appalled by the truly paint-by-numbers-like approach that this book adopted. It was no different from what I'd expected - pages containing outlines of famous works by modern artists, all white and ready to be colored in - and yet I was turned off it as soon as I began looking through it. It struck me as a little bit terrible and disheartening that these artworks, which were all considered original and daring when they were first produced, were then so easily commodified and packaged in this coloring book, to be then distributed for a $20 fee in art museums like MassMoCA all over the country. It was enough to keep me from buying the book, and while you could argue that my postcards were printed with the same principle in mind, I rationalized that it was alright for me to buy them because I really did love the images they depicted, and because I meant to appreciate them for their own individual merit.

Thinking it over now, though, it seems to me that at least some of the artists featured in the coloring book probably wouldn't have minded at all. Andy Warhol, for example, was all about bringing commercial aspects into art. At the height of his career, he didn't even create his famous silk-screens on his own; instead, he had a staff of assistants who made the works according to his introduction, and essentially his art was mass-produced. Hence the name "The Factory" for his studio in New York at the time. He made art using brands and icons, and his most famous works, such as the silk-screened Marilyn Monroe and the can of Campbell's, all draw on household names and the fact that such images were instantly recognizable. Instead of ignoring the fact that art could be a commercial product, he incorporated the idea into his works and took Art off its pedestal, using it to explore his interest in pop culture and all things mass-produced.

Part of his success also came from the fact that he really did love the idea of mass consumption and even saw a kind of poetry in it: "What's great about this country is that America started the tradition where the richest consumers buy essentially the same things as the poorest. You can be watching TV and see Coca Cola, and you know that the President drinks Coca Cola, Liz Taylor drinks Coca Cola, and just think, you can drink Coca Cola, too. A coke is a coke and no amount of money can get you a better coke than the one the bum on the corner is drinking. All the cokes are the same and all the cokes are good. Liz Taylor knows it, the President knows it, the bum knows it, and you know it."


In that sense I'm sure Andy would have had no objections to being featured in a coloring book. In fact, he was also known for a series of paintings called "Do It Yourself," in which he imitated the style of Paint By Number kits, which were very popular then.

I think that initially I was disturbed by the idea of art being so blatantly commercialized because I'm used to treating art with reverence. Art, when I was little, meant going on an outing to a museum in New York to stand in line and quietly admire gently lit oils from behind a velvet rope. And yet, Andy Warhol proved that art didn't have to be caught, tamed, and stared at like an exotic, endangered zoo animal. Art could be treated simply as a product, and, what's more, people could come to value art that depicted mass-produced products and art that was mass-produced itself. Instead of ignoring the buying/selling aspects of artworks (which are usually discreetly handled through auctions or art expert evaluations), he chose to flash them in the faces of his audience. True, he was reviled for it - but in the end, his legacy lives on because he challenged the definitions of what was art and what was commercial. I'd love to be present at a hypothetical meeting between Warhol and Adorno & Horkheimer. I imagine it would end with Adorno & Horkheimer sternly disapproving of Warhol's works and denouncing them as the products of a sick, hopelessly commercialized mind devoid of culture and artistic sensibilities, and with Warhol shrugging and saying in his signature deadpan: "If you don't like it, I can do another color for you that'll match your living room sofa. Would you like that?"

Monday, November 10, 2008

Jammin











(excuse the off-color language)

This is one of the images that came up when I entered the term “culture jamming” into Google Images. It’s from an online comic website called “Toothpaste for Dinner.” Even though I think culture jamming is not without its merits, I had to laugh when I saw this because it made sense in that it echoed many of the common objections to culture jamming.

During our last class, while we were discussing the idea and practice of culture jamming, the question came up as to whether we believed culture jamming could be an effective way of getting people to reevaluate their consumer choices. The general consensus of the class seemed to be that putting a sticker on a bus stop ad wouldn't necessarily bring a corporation to its knees, but that it could be a thought-provoking means of starting a dialogue (at least a mental one) between the corporation and the average consumer, or potential consumer.

While I had been somewhat familiar with culture jamming before watching the documentary about it, I hadn't known that it had a following strong enough to be considered an actual "subculture." Viewing the film made me realize just how much of the culture jamming ethos I agreed with; I do believe that too many people are merely "consumers" who soak up messages from the media without giving them a second thought. And deconstructing ads is certainly an effective means of debunking those false, corporate-created messages. I've always thought it curious that TV commercials and ads instantly seem shoddy and transparent when viewed from an outsider’s perspective. For example, if I’m watching a movie and focusing on a character that happens to be watching a commercial or reading an ad, my attention is shifted to the central storyline and the character’s doings, and therefore the ad or commercial appears much paler and banal in comparison. However, if I were to come across similar pieces of media in my own day-to-day life, I wouldn’t realize how silly they were unless someone specifically pointed it out to me. Watching the culture jamming documentary was a bit like that - a feeling of recognition and understanding (along with some uncomfortable squirming at Carly the Media Tigress’s terrible rapping) came over me.

This isn’t to say, however, that I agreed wholeheartedly with the culture jammers and their arguments. Reverend Billy’s earnest espousal of the need to do away with all meanings of signs in our culture didn’t offend me personally, but I could see how other people would have been deeply upset by the “crucified” Mickey and Minnie. The larger argument he brought up of whether a cross (an acknowledged religious symbol) should or should not mean something to someone who does consider themselves a Christian detracted from his points about Disney’s sweatshop practices. This falls into another point that was brought up in class, that culture jamming can deteriorate into a senseless attack on everything – simply agitation for agitation’s sake.

Another example of how culture jamming can go wrong is through AdBusters’ new “Blackspot” sneakers. For only $75.00 (including shipping and handling) you can now “kick corporate ass” with a pair of eco-friendly, 100% organic hemp sneakers that look exactly like Converses – minus the logo.

http://www.adbusters.org/category/culture_shop/ethical_alternatives/blackspot_shoes

This new offering from AdBusters reminded me of the printed Che Guevara t-shirts that were so popular a few years back. Taking a revolutionary icon and using him or her to sell merchandise isn’t a new ploy by any means, but the Che Guevara t-shirt, when it was still popular, is a prime example of taking something original and genuine and changing it into a mere fad. Wearing the Che Guevara t-shirt because it looked unique and rebellious and seemed to stand for something vaguely cool was a common pratice. Although Che himself despised capitalist consumer culture, the t-shirt became a part of youth “subculture” and was worn by many who had no idea of who Che really was or what he did. And while the manufacturing practices used to produce “Blackspot” sneakers might be more equitable than Nike’s, the idea remains the same: you can sell anything, even the concept of consumer rebellion, as long as you make the consumer think you are on their side.

To summarize: culture jamming is effective as long as its goal remains to raise consumer awareness and encourage the deconstruction of ads. Its faults do not lie in the fact that it does not produce solutions for these problems, as that is not one of the culture jammers’ goals. Rather, culture jamming becomes flawed when it either 1) in turn tries to market itself, or 2) goes to the other extreme by simply attacking anything smacking of “authority,” “the establishment,” or “the Man.” As long as culture jamming continues to carefully tread the line between selling out and immature teenager-like acting out, it can be an effective means of provoking thought about corporate agendas.