Notes from a little blue book, part 4

IF Barzun’s characterization of the post-1920 serious visual artist is accurate . . .
And IF the type is an angry and willful agent of change, being antagonistic and hostile . . .
THEN what does it feel like to walk in the creative life of such a type? What are the experiences of such a vocation? What are the outlooks for such a career?

Jacques Barzun probably posed the modernist “artist” as a type or as one among many in a class. To do otherwise would mean that he omitted the role of wider theories and of broader creative movements. There are, however, plenty of examples (of individual artists and movements) to support the accuracy of his characterization—agents who intended to humiliate or cleanse or harm or educate their audience. Barzun’s conclusion seemed to be that artists who assumed this role tended to be short-sighted, ineffective, and not particularly thoughtful.

Another assumption probably built into Barzun’s critique is that the “artist” he wrote about was an exceptional talent, or the kind of blue-chip artist that attracts critical attention (in an age where the critic is as much the creative genius as the artist.) Barzun was poking at the mainstream critical/historical spectrum. Outside the glare and attention devoted to this status, imagine what the life of a serious artist becomes. Being existentially alone and angry is not healthy or flourishing. Most people can’t sustain isolation and antagonism over the long haul of life without being consumed by its ills and traumas.

Notes from a little blue book, part 3

IF we consider the differences between what an artist perceives as resistance from their audience and what their audience perceives as acceptable standards (which is a tension usually expressed in conflict?) . . .
THEN, we should not be surprised by both parties being unclear about the artist’s role in community.

For example, wrote Jacques Barzun, a coherent dynamic of artistic styles—the dominant versus its responsive variants—usually benefits a society’s appreciation of art. Whereas, a multitude of individualized and scattered styles (strong pluralism) encourages society to withdraw from being engaged with art and retreat to being merely interested in it. Barzun did not mention Duchamp by name, but the French iconoclast’s bold assertion that the gesture of art resides in the naming accomplished by an individual “genius” aligns with Barzun’s timeline for the complete bewilderment caused by an ultimate priority for individual liberty.

Notes from a little blue book, part 2

IF the artist is labeled by their public as having a “mad” temperament . . .
and IF the artist acknowledges their “mad” temperament as a badge of honor . . .
THEN, Barzun suggested, the artist and their public are at liberty to disengage from shared commitments.

The artist can boast that their madness gives them a clearer vision than the rest of us. The artist’s ruling passion becomes self-consciousness, in which the artist usually poses themself as being lonely and skeptical. Barzun cautioned against the pose, for being outwardly and inwardly injurious—it works against the spirit of the collective, and it nurtures resentment. As the artist assumes this role and embraces its accompanying prerogatives, especially in more extreme or pure expressions, artistic agency is used to show us up and to make us helpless against its provocations.

Jacques Barzun, “Art in the Vacuum of Belief”

Notes from a little blue book, part 1

IF life has lost momentum and lacks “satisfactory material” for art to work with . . .
IF the role or purpose of art is to enhance life . . .
THEN: 1. perhaps “we who make up the contemporary world are not lively,” 2. perhaps “we are not in love with life,” 3. perhaps we don’t “think life can be noble or good,” and 4. perhaps we think of life as a “sentence we must endure.”

Thus, Jacques Barzun reacted to Nietzsche and his notion that the use of art in modern times is to enhance, enrich, or ennoble life. Barzun, in The Use and Abuse of Art (a little blue book published in 1974), wonders whether mankind has lost faith in life’s essential character. He wonders if there is anything—belief or faith—that can still be affirmed.
Generally, such speculations may be proved by the abundance of art’s antagonisms toward society and by the artist being viewed as mad. Or, if it’s true that life lacks confidence, then it’s also true that art will struggle to find suitable material. Or, if the modernist, avant-garde antagonisms of art reach a stalemate with society, where all parties more or less accept a stance of tolerance or interest, then many serious artists will wrestle with the inclination to become hacks for the sophisticated elites.