Defining Modern Art

THIS WEEKEND, I had the pleasure of visiting the Grand Avenue location of the Musuem of Contemporary Art downtown, which forced me to reflect on the relation of graffiti to modern art and the way space is used. Many of the paintings and sculptures that line the walls of M.O.C.A. are ones that would probably be thought of to be universally thought-provoking, but there were a few that I found to be strange additions which seemed to focus more on the process of making the art than the art itself, such as a completely black canvass that was untitled. How are these better than graffiti, and why are these things backed financially? As I walked through the museum, I found myself enamored with the descriptions and the way in which artists pitch themselves, specifically, a modern artist named Pierre Alechinsky who wrote, "When I paint, I liberate monsters. One does not chose the content, one submits to it." With each work of art, I found myself more interested in the writing and attitudes that artists hold towards their work than the work itself.

Upon leaving, I noticed a series of chalk drawings that someone had created on the sidewalk near the parking garage that looked like a series of intricate crop circles. How was this not art? It didn't have the artist's instruction manual. Maybe everything is art, but pitching yourself as an artist is half of the battle. The chalk circles didn't get a description about inner demons, and therefore, people weren't going to pay to ruminate over their meaning. This forced me to conclude the hierarchy at play: perhaps the most talented artists (specifically in graffiti) making statements are not recognized simply because they don't get the chance to pitch themselves. All of the artists in the gallery were supported by huge financial donors, but how does one even get a meeting with these donors? Knowing people.

Maybe the real artists are ones like Prime as featured in Ruben Martinez' "Going Up in L.A.," whose vision for art was not selfish, and even actively wanted to involve other people: "I want to have a big lot when I grow older," he said, leaning forward, a small gold crucifix swinging in front of his dark blue sweatshirt. "It'll have big, long, movable walls. I'll put canvasses up, and have kids and artists there, have it be like a big maze of art. Then, with the money I make in one day, I'll buy some more canvas and change the maze." For "contemporary art", few pieces in the musuem actively involved the spectator, and the descriptions definitely catered to crowds with their undergraduate degrees. The purpose of art is that it is supposed to be universal: it can mean something to anyone. Graffiti is easy to see. It is in our faces every day as we drive to school, work, the daily grind. You don't have to pay a price for it, and you definitely have an opinion on it, good or bad, without needing a paragraph written about it. It just breathes a life of its own without explanation.

Although graffiti art is rapidly gaining recognition with an upcoming documentary on British street artist Banksy, graffiti tours, and new styles popping up everywhere, why aren't these artists getting paid big bucks too?

--Thea Green

(photo: banksky, credit: cannon snapper, flickr creative commons)