The World As We See It

A lot of artistic isms sprouted in the early twentieth century—Cubism, Futurism, Expressionism, Primitivism, Fauvism, to name a few.  They varied aesthetically and theoretically, but they had one thing in common: their adherents were no longer interested in representing the world as we see it.  Indeed many believed the very notion of representing the world "as we see it" was confused or illegitimate.  This was an abrupt about-face from Impressionism, which had revolutionized the art world just 30 years prior.

Edouard Manet, Boating, 1874

Disillusioned with the stale and limiting (as they saw them) conventions of the art academies, Impressionists had moved their canvasses outdoors to paint objects as they appeared in nature.  Manet and his clan were particularly interested in the effects of light and air on the visual experience, and they developed new techniques to capture these effects with greater immediacy and accuracy than ever before.  Representing the world "as we see it" was the goal, and some of these revolutionaries eventually claimed they could paint the visual experience with "scientific accuracy."

Vincent van Gogh, Fishing Boats on the Beach, 1888

But Cezanne, van Gogh, and Gauguin wanted more from their canvasses than Impressionist ideals and techniques could yield.  And there was no going back to the art of the academies.  Each began painting something other than what he saw, sacrificing a measure of lifelikeness to greater artistic ends (and in the case of van Gogh, with gorgeous results).  Each inspired future artists to do likewise.  And each posthumously inspired one of the isms mentioned above (stay tuned for more on that).  This was the beginning of Modern art.  

The Rise of Modern Art

When you read the history of Western art at the turn of the twentieth century, you get the feeling the rise of modern art was inevitable.  So many people, in different places and for different reasons, broke with tradition and began producing radically new kinds of art—and all at the same time.  The names of the artists, where they lived and worked, what they were going for—these seem almost incidental.  It was going to happen anyway.  Sometimes the new art (and the theory behind it) seems to have nothing to do with what came before (e.g., Cubism).  Other times it seems to be a corollary of art history to that point (e.g., Expressionism).  Always it seems to be a paver in a road that art history was destined to travel.  

Georges Braque, Violin and Candlestick, 1910

 

Emil Nolde, The Prophet, 1912

Plato vs. Pollack

On Plato's theory of art as imitation, Professor David Clowney of Rowan University writes:  "It is at least plausible as a theory about representational painting, drawing, and sculpture; and it can be stretched to fit some abstract work, as in the case of Brancusi and Mondrian.  But even with such work it leaves a lot out.  With an artist like Jackson Pollack it leaves out everything; what do his drip paintings imitate?"

Jackson Pollack, Lavendar Mist, 1950

I think Professor Clowney has it the wrong way around.  We shouldn't use Pollack's drip paintings to critique Plato's aesthetics; we should use Plato's aesthetics to critique Pollack's drip paintings.  Twenty-three hundred years after his death Plato's dialogues are taught in schools and universities around the Western world.  Will anyone remember Jackson Pollack two millennia from now?  That the art world calls his drip paintings "art" (not to mention "groundbreaking" and "influential") says more about the art world than the paintings.  Pollack's drip paintings should be called "decoration" not "art."