What Is GOOD Art?

What Is Good Art?

Current mood:artistic 

Over the years, I've addressed the question What Is Art?

I've received many responses (thank you), and just as many opinions on the subject. After I began reading the responses, I realized that some of the responders failed to see the difference between "Art" and "Good Art." Just because you don't like it or appreciate it, doesn't mean that it isn't Art.

I stick by my original definition:

Art is that which is created, and is perceived to be as such by humans.

The point of this blog is to inquire about what you feel is "good art," and why. The term "good" is highly subjective, which is why I am asking what you prefer. You and I may not agree on what constitutes good art.

Some enjoy Pollock, believing that his collage of splatter exhibits freedom from rigid tradition and form.

Others like the raw emotion of outsider art, unfiltered by classical training and tradition.

This art rebels against the limits of coloring within the lines, or even coloring within the canvas. The negative canvas space contrasting with the dark coloration of the wall speaks volumes. Surely this is good art!

There are those who wonder why we even need walls for art, and prefer three dimensions to convey the artistic message.

Head On, 2006, Cai Guoquiang.

Many firmly believe that truly good art should never be limited to the confines of buildings, and needs to be experienced rather than simply viewed.

The Gates (2005), Central Park, NYC

But why stop there? Exceptionally good art must be big, and not restricted to land. Right? 

Surrounded Islands, (1981), Miami, FL

 
While all of the above is Art, I don't find any of it to be particularly good.


At the end of the day, this is still what I consider to be good art:

Scene from Thanatopsis, 1850, Asher B. Durand

Experiencing Authenticity:

Authenticity – (n): The quality or condition of being authentic, trustworthy, or genuine.

American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language.

When I recently visited Baltimore for a conference, I stayed an extra day to roam about by myself.  My wandering brought me to the water along the Inner Harbor, where I encountered the famous masted ship Constellation.  As a ball cannot avoid rolling downhill, I’m unable to avoid historical markers; I learned about Constellation’s 1854 construction, but also read that it dates to the late 1790s – six pieces of wood from the original Constellation were used in the ship currently resting in Baltimore’s harbor (the exact location of these pieces is unknown). 

Historic Ships of Baltimore.

The sloop is a real ship, and it’s pretty old.  But how old is it?  Is it a mid-19^th century ship, or a late 18^th century?  I think most would agree that it’s a mid-19^th century vessel with older elements.  This sort of reuse of older components is common, particularly to large antiques.  More than once I’ve toured a historic house only to discover that the foundation dates to one year, and the rafters to another, with architectural elements brought in from all over.   
How many mediaeval builders got lazy and took stones from nearby Roman roads to place in their defensive walls?  If Romans originally quarried and shaped the stones, can we say they date to the Roman period?  Not likely, since the intent of the creators was a road, not a wall.   

Restored cars and paintings often contain new pieces intended to mimic the original.  Skilled craftsmen painstakingly recreate the damaged or missing sections to improve the appearance or function of the historic object.  
 Are those restored objects still the genuine article, that is to say – are they authentic? 

Sistine Chapel’s ceiling, before and after restoration.

One of my favorite examples of questionable authenticity is located in my favorite town.  The Fountain of Youth in St. Augustine, Florida, is located near the beautiful intercostal waterway.  A tourist trap for decades, the Fountain of Youth implies Juan Ponce de Leon landed in that location in search of his fable. (He probably didn’t.) 
  

Moreover, they feature a coquina cross on their tour that they claim was left there in 1513 to mark the spot. (It wasn’t.)  In the context of its own name, it is not the genuine article.  In its favor, however, many in heritage tourism argue that the Fountain is better experienced from the viewpoint of the recent archaeological finds, and as an example of a historic roadside attraction, not unlike the World’s Largest Ball of Twine.  If intent has changed over the years, the struggle for its authenticity has changed too.  

If Authenticity is difficult to pin down in an object- or place-centered discussion, how can we describe an authentic experience for ourselves?  Each of us is comprised of our past experiences, and we encounter external influence daily, from the media telling us how to dress and act, to cultural expectations.  All these seek to crush the person we might otherwise become.  The existentialist Sartre argues that living an authentic life means being true to our nature, whatever that may be.  Rather than aiming to be a specific type of person, one needs to ignore external influence and follow one’s heart, as the cliché goes.   As difficult as it is to ignore external influence, it is not surprising most of us are living an inauthentic life.

That can't be comfortable.

Yet this inauthenticity may not be pervasive.  Scratch the surface!  An antique car is no longer original, and though it looks like it rolled off the showroom floor, the upholstery was resewn in the 1970s, the fender has been re-chromed, the hoses recently replaced.  But it is not an inauthentic vehicle, as it remains what it was designed to be.  Perhaps in occidental culture we act more like these restored buildings and antique automobiles – we appear and behave as society expects on the outside, but upon closer examination, different components, histories, experiences and influences become apparent.  

We may follow society’s imposed norms, but express our individuality and “real-ness” through piercings, a certain style of clothing, or a wild modern art scheme in our apartment.  Sartre would probably roll his eyes at this, but he can’t tell us what our authentic life should be without forcing the paradox of being the external influence describing how we ought to live.  Socrates said it best: The unexamined life is not worth living.  As long as we look at ourselves with a refreshing frankness and truly embrace who we actually are, flaws and all, then we may live authentically.

A building may be constructed from the rubble of other, older structures, but it still exists as a genuine building.  

The ship sitting in Maryland’s harbor carries bits of an older vessel – that doesn’t mean it’s a fake ship.

We carry our own baggage, which means most of us will end up being less than perfect.  This doesn’t bother me a great deal.  If I endeavor to live my life as a good person, I won’t have a good excuse to drink.