Abstract modern art, which is often viewed as pretentious nonsense, isn’t all that bad.
For any number of reasons, it’s easy to dismiss the artistic quality of modern art. Words like “lazy” and “derivative” are often thrown down by those disapproving of said pieces. One such hot topic of this debate is Italian artist Maurizio Cattelan’s piece Comedian, consisting of a fresh banana duct-taped to a wall.
That’s it, that’s the piece.
It’s ridiculous, right? Being able to do something so simple and egregious and somehow garner acclaim in the art world. Yet does that decide whether something can be considered art? Does the absurd simplicity of a piece with seemingly no effort gone into its creation mean it’s unworthy of its status as art? There are several counterarguments to be made against the scorn of those adamant about their dismissive views on modern art.
Cuban American visual artist Félix González-Torres is responsible for the creation of some of the most prolific and moving works of modern art. During his life he produced several simple, albeit moving pieces of contemporary visual art. Perhaps the most notable, however, is a piece named “Untitled” (Portrait of Ross in L.A.).
The piece is simple in its medium, standing as a pile of candies wrapped in various coloured wrappers, often placed in the corner of an exhibit. To passing onlookers it’s nothing more than a pile of candy that somehow — one might say by way of its creator’s grift — swindled its way into an art gallery. The absurdity of modern art is an invitation for interpretation. Like many works of art, the context of its creation is necessary.
The piece was created in 1991, the same year González-Torres’ partner Ross Laycock passed away following AIDS-related complications. In this sense, the pile of colourfully wrapped candies with an intricately managed weight serves as a metaphorical portrait of Laycock, immortalizing him through the piece.
Visitors are invited to take a candy from the pile, taking with them a piece of Laycock’s memory and becoming part of the piece themselves. However, in doing so, they are demonstrating the decrease in Laycock’s weight due to his illness, placing them in the position of watching someone’s life slip away.
I could very well recreate this piece within the walls of the apartment I am writing this in. Sure, I would have to go through the effort to gather supplies and tediously ensure all candies are wrapped in colourful wrappers and that the pile is the accurate weight, but I could still recreate the physical piece.
And yet, it wouldn’t be the same.
My makeshift pile of candies carries no emotional weight regarding the lived experience of González-Torres. My replication is no more than a pile of trash on the ground. Sure, it’s functionally the same, but by lacking the lived experience connected to the life of the creator, it’s not the same.
Additionally, González-Torres could have chosen to approach the “portrait” aspect more literally by painting a visual portrait of Laycock. While portraits warrant their occasion, the decision to use this contemporary medium allows visitors to become part of the piece, taking with them a candy to reflect on the life of Laycock and the love González-Torres had for him. Simply knowing this and choosing to eat the candy can evoke an emotional response.
With this we can understand the mission behind various works of modern visual art. It’s true that we turn to all art to exalt us emotionally. Paintings stimulate our vision, drawing our eyes across a canvas in awe. Music of all genres provide auditory stimulation, using sounds and melodies to dictate our emotions and shed light on them.
Modern art differs from these other forms as it relies on the interpreter’s intuition. A pile of candy is perfectly easy to recreate, but the pile of candy is given meaning and tells the true story of an artist’s experience. Appreciating such art is a test of our ability to engage our emotional states.
One common critique of modern art is that it is “lazy,” requiring, as it were, no effort to produce. The rebuttal to this isn’t that one could easily make it but chose not to, but rather the notion that not all art needs to be a result of exhaustive physical efforts.
For instance, one could exert immense effort into painting a landscape. After hours of meticulously replicating the land, they complete their portrait: a near one-to-one re-creation of their chosen landscape. It’s a task that requires significant technical skill and effort from the artist, but that does not necessarily entail that the piece itself is emotionally rich to everyone, especially not if it is a rigid re-creation.
While this is not to discredit landscape painters, who by and large can use landscape paintings to evoke moods and tell stories, it demonstrates that the effort put into a piece does not automatically decide its artistic value or emotional potency.
Let’s take music as another example. One could tirelessly train themselves as a technically flawless vocalist, but it’s glaringly obvious if they don’t possess deeper artistic intention that elicits a raw emotional response from listeners. We see this all the time in so-called “department store pop music,” that, while art in its own right, may not be revered for rawness and grit found in less polished or less technically perfectionistic styles.
Ultimately, art’s ability as a tool for artistic expression and emotional stimulation cannot be chalked up to rigid metrics of effort.
So, what’s the deal with the banana?
A fair criticism of modern art is its prominence in the sphere of wealthy individuals. Comedian was sold to Chinese cryptocurrency entrepreneur Justin Sun, who, after laying down a pretty penny for a banana, ate it on stage in front of all the fellow patrons slobbering over the piece just minutes before it was sold.
A banana taped to a wall isn’t exactly what one thinks of when it comes to art. Perhaps though, the art is in the joke itself. The very fact that the artistic identity of something as ludicrous as a banana taped to a wall has been the source of debate for years and stirred up such vehement vitriol is the art.
Comedian represents a satirization of itself and, ultimately, a satirization of the very people who try to discern what art is. It’s a banana taped to the wall, it’s not meant to be taken seriously, it doesn’t even take itself seriously.
It’s a comedian, after all. It’s one big middle-finger to the wealthy few willing to shell out millions for something so absurd and discuss its merits. You could even say it’s a satirization of my argument, but that doesn’t discredit its right to be called art.
Works of modern art, be it a banana taped to a wall or a pile of candy, aren’t art for what they are as objects, nor their functionality, nor the skill required to create them. It is the cultural myths and personal stories surrounding their creation, along with the conversations we have about them, that transform them into art.