Day 97: Friday
Good Morning Zak,
So it’s no secret that lots of people find contemporary art disillusioning. When most people think of modern art they probably think of scribbles and random shapes and lines. It’s become almost a cliche; these proported masterpieces look like they could have been painted by a child.
Well that’s exactly the premise of the project I’ve begun with my students at the elementary school: if a child could draw it, then why not ask one to go ahead and do so?
My example of the project
We’ve been studying Kandinsky. You know, the random-shapes guy.
Today’s “Sames and Opposites:”
“Area for dogs”
Humans are different from dogs; there are no areas for humans.
Seriously, none! The dogs have absolutely no reservations about following us even into church…
But back to Kandinksy. As the poster-boy of the so-called Expressionist movement, Kandinsky is one of those figures that shows up in every textbook.
Composition VIII, Kandinsky
So how random are these shapes, actually?
Well, in music, we tend to associate the Expressionism with the so-called Second Viennese School, a movement that probably represented the acme of structural rigor in Western Music history. Like, these guys were intense. You wouldn’t wanna sit down to tea and cookies with one of them.
So anyway, it’s basically the exact opposite of random. The music of Weber, Berg, and Schoenberg is about as far from random as you can possibly get.
BTW I know it might seem reckless to just haphazardly mush all different art forms together under the same umbrella term of ‘Expressionism’, but… well… it probably is reckless. The main reason we do it is because of Schoenberg’s several famous encounters with Kandinsky, who was a synesthete.
Synesthesia is the phenomenon in which one type of sensory stimulus (such as Schoenberg’s music) causes a person a second type of sensory experience (imagining colors, for example). No cure for this has yet been found… fortunately.
The funny thing about Expressionism and the Second Viennese School is that when people say the music sounds random, well, frankly, they’re right. When Schoenberg told his student, John Cage, that he had no sense of harmonic structure, Cage—in his typical chillness—just did away with structure all together.
What surprised some people was that the new music of Cage and the American school ended up sounding basically the same, despite being—quite literally—completely random. Now days people flip coins, roll die, and use other aleatoric processes to choose pitches.
You heard me, aleatoric. It’s a more pretentious version of the word “random.”
Frankly the only thing wrong with the phrase, “a child could have made that” is the connotation. The negativity is insulting to children. As far as the art itself goes, though, the observation is entirely accurate. Contemporary sensibilities on both sides of the Atlantic are united by a prevailing interest in child-like wonder over narrative positivity.