Impostor Art

Popularly, when nonintellectuals wish to praise their most cherished books, movies, music, or any other media, they characterize it as “art”. If questioned as to why The Royal Tenanbaums or OK Computer is art, they frequently cite how stimulating it is to experience or the virtuosity of its creators. If further pressed, they may retreat into one of two implicit arguments:

1. Art is a synonym for “really good media”
2. Art is subjective

The first can be dismissed out of hand. “Art” is a very loaded word and it invokes pretenses of intellectualism and meaning. If one wants to communicate that a piece of media is merely very good, there are a few thousand other more accurate adjectives to say so, lest “art”, much like “awesome”, “fantastic”, and “terrific”, loses any connotation beyond an undefined, but extreme degree, of goodness.

The second position has far more merit and is the shared opinion of many academics. It asserts what I assert, that art’s unique ability to communicate defines it. For example, Picasso’s Guernica and Dostoevski’s The Brothers Karamazov present a view of the world that the audience could never understand equally as well through prose alone. However, the subjective view takes it one step further, fracturing into many possible standpoints. It may contend that,

1. The artist’s intentions and abilities are irrelevant and its message is whatever interpreters agree is the best interpretation.
2. All interpretations of the meaning of a work are equally valid so long as the specific interpretation can sufficiently cite the work.
3. The experience of any emotional “meaning” through any media turns the media into art, regardless of one’s ability to cite reasoning within the text (literal or metaphorical) or even to put specific words to what that meaning is.

(1) is what most academics mean by referring to art as subjective and is not a viewpoint with which I totally disagree. Other academics may mean (2) if they have an affinity towards relativism. (3) is in another ballpark all its own, the equivalent of showing up in Wembly Stadium with an intention to watch hockey. This definition is completely uncritical and self-affirming, neutering the word of any meaning it may have had. To paraphrase The Incredibles and others, if everything is art, nothing is art.

If art communicates something only you personally can understand, it really isn’t communicating anything at all. A beautiful waterfall, rock formation, or ocean view has its merits, but it doesn’t “communicate” in any true sense beyond pleasantries like “nature is trying to tell me something”. Your ability to take a look at a mountain and realize you need to change careers or marry the girl is a function of you talking to yourself, not the mountain telling you something you didn’t already know. True art is not a mountain, existing out of chance and the dalliances of nature, but a communication of truth above and beyond your preexisting knowledge base. Whether or not the author intended that specific message is immaterial.

Modern “art” that is only art in that meaningless third sense abounds in the popular culture of the young, educated adults who should really know better. Even worse, it often seems like the “art” is designed specifically so that it sounds meaningful, without possessing any meaning in particular, making it especially malleable for those inclined to such vagueness. Although I won’t go into detail on any of these, here is a list of such titular impostor art popular today.

• The Hitch Hikers Guide to the Galaxy
• The Perks of Being a Wallflower
• Anything by Radiohead
• Any song by Coldplay that isn’t related to love
• Anything by David Lynch
• Anything by Wes Anderson
• Juno
• Anything by Quinten Tarantino
• Garden State

There are several common threads running through these. Their underlying dishonesty is the presentation of a vague emotional detachment from modernity and artful dodging or jousting when it comes time to ask why the emotional detachment is so vague. The “artists” or their fans may pretend that the vagueness is an analogue for profundity, which it is as much as the emperor’s clothing was gold.

For example, Reckoner by Radiohead.

Reckoner
You can’t take it with you
Disavow the pleasure

You were not to blame for
Bittersweet distractos
Dare not speak his name
Dedicated to all you, all your needs

Because we separate
It ripples our reflections
Because we separate
It ripples our reflections

Reckoner
Dedicated to all you, all your needs

I’ve listened to this song far more times than I would prefer to admit. The sullenness of Yorke’s voice just sucks you in. The important question is, what the hell does it mean? That the modern world is sad and impersonal and we just need to find a true love to get us through our ridiculous lives, like the “meaning” of the majority of “art” I listed?

I don’t consider myself some literary savant, but can ANYONE tell me what the song is supposed to mean without being flippant about it?

To cite another specific example, here are the lyrics from Politik by Coldplay

Look at the earth from outer space
Everyone must find a place
Give me time and give me space
Give me real don’t give me fake
Give me strength, reserve control
Give me heart and give me soul
Give me time, give us a kiss
Tell me your own politik

And open up your eyes, open up your eyes, open up your eyes, open up your eyes

Give me one ’cause one is best
In confusion, confidence
Give me peace of mind and trust
Don’t forget the rest us
Give me strength, reserve control
Give me heart and give me soul
Wounds that heal and cracks that fix
Tell me your own politik

And open up your eyes, open up your eyes, open up your eyes, open up your eyes
Just open up your eyes

But give me love over, love over, love over this

I feel like I’m beating a dead horse, but there is something fundamentally different than pretty sounding words and something that actually has meaning behind it. Look at the ingenious foresight and subtlety that went into something like Prufrock or Lyrical Ballads and tell me that Garden State belongs in the same category as either.  There is a sharp distinction between the former two, which explain fundamental aspects of the human condition, and the latter, which tells us, that dude, you just gotta live life. That distinction, the place where you draw the line, is where art begins.

I’ll reveal a couple clues that often suggest you might be enjoying impostor art.

If the “artist” refuses to discuss the meaning of his work or gives intentionally vague responses, acting as if the discussion is beneath him, you might be enjoying impostor art.

If ostentatious wordplay or similar virtuosity is the focal point of the “artist’s” oeuvre, you might be enjoying impostor art.

If you’re reading/listening to lyrics that smell oddly familiar to a poem you were forced to read in 11th grade, but you cannot make out any real meaning to the lyrics despite years more wisdom, you might be enjoying impostor art.

If the protagonist in the movie you’re watching comes from a rich background and acts unnaturally stilted in speech or mannerism, you might be enjoying impostor art.

If the “art’s” focus is to set up the “artist” so she can deliver clever, snide comments about mainstream values, which upon consideration, have absolutely no factual basis at all, you might be enjoying imposter art.

Art either implies profundity or has no rhetorical meaning at all. By uncritically accepting whatever band, artist, novelist, or filmmaker is presented to us as artistic, we corrupt the accuracy of any definition of art we may have had. Anointing any media we happen to identify with as “art” is ridiculously elitist, if you think about it. If you don’t enjoy thoughtful, cerebral art – true art – that’s fine. Just please don’t insist that The Brothers Karamazov isn’t art any more art than Juno is.