Quite Useless: Some Notes on the Purpose of Art
Quite Useless: Some Notes on the Purpose of Art
Brief Thoughts for Better Invention
“We can forgive a man for making a useful thing as long as he does not admire it. The only excuse for making a useless thing is that one admires it intensely.
All art is quite useless.”
— Oscar Wilde, “The Picture of Dorian Gray”
The artist is the inventor of beautiful things.
Most view art as ‘creation,’ but I reject the word. Creation is reserved for nature. We, the artists, are inventors. We take what already exists and innovate. There is nothing special about art. It is not more than the most common flower. Yet, our animal culture upholds art as a paragon of meaning and humanity. It is a signal of excellence and prestige to most of us. It is not excellent or prestigious, though. Art is a farce. It is merely the dark mirror we hold to our own experience. There is nothing special about it because there is nothing special about us. We are dust. Art is ephemeral. Art is useless.
Then, why art?
It may seem that I am contrary in denouncing art’s value and existential in proclaiming we are all dust. Understand, it is not that I think art serves no purpose or that art is pointless (or that we are such). Art is invaluable, and so it is useless. It is also impenetrable by perception, and so it is useless. Art confounds us. It brings us together and it divides us. The critic’s role was once to unify this aspect, but now the critic is quite needless. Criticism is now practiced by everyone to varying degrees of success. The Internet has ensured we have access to all thought and opinion at all times. Behind thought and opinion, there is only what is, despite perception. This is how art was before civilization, and it returns there now as the advent of information technologies affords us all the capacity to care a lot more and a lot less about everything.
Then, why art?
All art is as a mirror with no edges. What is reflected is all that we can accept, and there is no denying it. One can only alter one’s perception. Never the art. The art is unassailable. If people reject it, then they must destroy it. Otherwise, it is undeniable. Art is powerless, but in perceiving art we bestow on art such a power that we actually believe it holds the lofty visions we make. But it is not true. Art merely reflects what we project upon it. This is the craft of the artist, and their invention is to craft a clever mirror, one that softens or hardens one’s perceptions. But all art is quite useless.
To reveal art and conceal the artist is art’s aim.
In considering an artwork, we should not consider first the master or the context of their work but our own relationship to the work. None dictate the worthiness of an art form. The worthiness of an artwork may be derived from its capacity to compel meditation in us. If an artwork does not compel meditation, that is worth meditation. There is no artwork that is not unto itself. This is a chief characteristic that drives our attachment to art and artworks. This relationship is dependent on the master and the audience. Independent of their perception, all art is quite useless.
When I take on a piece, my only goal is to finish it. There is no ambition for the craft, only the practice. Whatever comes is not the result of intellectual effort but strictly manual labour. Art requires thinking by necessity, but it does not rely on thought. Art relies on the will to invention. It is only through invention that art will ever come to be. Thought alone is the seed of a good piece but thought alone drowns the artist. It would be better for the artist to destroy their guitar than to sit wondering what to play next.
Art is certainly characterized by the struggle of the artist to work through a piece successfully (to their perception). But there is no glory in this conquest. If there were, then we would all appraise farmers as the chief masters of artistry in the world. The glory of the practice derives from the capacity and consistency of expression, not from the contradiction inherent in the struggle. One must imagine Sisyphus happy because there is nothing more reasonable in the face of struggle than to be consistent in expression. Joy for the struggle opens the door to non-judgement of one’s work and patience with medium. This joy is a guiding post for the young artist and a comfort trap for the experienced master. Capacity and consistency are key to exploring artistic expression. These drive the art forward and humble the artist, keeping their self-awareness from constricting their capacity for expression.
The artist is not and will never be the artwork. This is critical to understand. Art is often an extension of the artist, but it must never be perceived as a function of them. It is not a creation, but an invention. It is for the good of all rather than the glory of the one. We do not express ourselves to be called to, but to be heard. What is heard travels further than what we seek to hear. To be witnessed and to provoke others to witness each other is the only hope the artist should maintain for their practice. All other ambition does not serve art. There’s nothing wrong with other ambitions in artistic practice. However, we ought to clarify that ambition does little for practice.
The morality of art consists in the perfect use of an imperfect medium.
Medium leads. The outcome of an artwork is dictated by medium alone. An artist does not fail an artwork unless by means of medium failing also. The chief concern of the artist should be for union with medium. To interpret the world through medium is not easy. One must be out of one’s own way. There are many approaches many have taken to this. There is no One Way for You. You will have to endure the practice of throwing yourself against doors until they open for you. Some may never open. This is the struggle of artistry, but also its reward.
There is no separation between the art and the artist but for the separation inherent in medium and master. What is invented is not invented for the sake of the master but from the existence of the medium. Medium precedes the master in the capacity for expression. Medium must lead both for the master and their audience. There is no separation between the master and their audience. They are the same. In this way, we can expect that the invention of the artist comes not from the anticipation of their audience but from their own witness. When an audience receives an artwork, they can understand that they are receiving a mirror that reflects everything but the artwork. The artwork is the reflection. The efficacy of an artwork is limited to the efficacy of its reflection, which is ultimately limited to the efficacy of its audience.
In this way, art stands independent of interpretation while our comprehension must be utterly dependent on it. Thoughts?
No artist desires to prove anything.
Medium leads. The master is not a guiding hand, but a supplicant. What lofty ambition the artist may hold for an artwork should die on contact with effort. Art will always exist independent of ambition. It is not for ambition that the artist takes up their medium. The artist takes up the medium for invention. All else is merely the effect of the artist as the audience. What goals or ideas the artist has are a critical dialogue with the artwork, and not the purpose of art. A work can be made without an idea, but an idea can never be made without work to have preceded it. This is why the idealism of ambition is best left aside during the creative process. There is only space for work.
In confronting an idea and wrangling it into artwork, the master cannot tarry about their own preferences or perceptions for the piece. They instead take it upon themselves to let the mirror reflect their own process and, in this way, develop both their craft and their artwork. Their invention will forever stand isolated from their idea. Once manifest, ideas have no purchase. We are dealing with material reality. This is the work. There is no space for expectation or ambition. There is only the craft, and when it is done, there will be nothing but useless art. It is then in the master’s best interest to let what remains lie and move on to the next artwork.
An artist will destroy themselves on an idea, but a good artist will never let the non-reality of ideas interfere with the reality of their craft.
Art for art’s sake? Always, therefore, never.
Some will be very happy to know that the Mona Lisa is worth exactly no more or no less than feces smeared on a black canvas.
Some will be very upset to realize that the Mona Lisa is worth exactly no more or no less than feces smeared on a white canvas.
We have this ongoing discussion about art for art’s sake and I think it is frankly absurd. Obviously, it is all art for art’s sake, and sometimes the sake of art is not art’s sake alone. It’s rather simple when you don’t bring all manner of obfuscating philosophical jargon into the debate. Art can just be art and also be slightly more than just art. That is how most things are. We do not have to define everything, thereby fragmenting our vectors of meaning ever more and ostracizing our kin from comprehending something so simple and humane as art. Definition ought to be no mann’s master.
The big take, of course, is that art cannot exist for art’s own sake because there is too much influence on the artistic process that is not-art. This makes utter sense but is also not sensible for artistic practice. Anyone who has made art knows that the process often takes on a life independent of the artist’s will. My argument does not advocate for the practice of art for art’s sake. Rather, I think it would be monumentally foolish as an artist to practice only an art that insists upon itself. The non-art influence is indispensable to the artistic process, especially for younger artists. Yet, that influence invites its own romantic idealism that is perhaps worse for art than the pretention of art for art’s sake. We should consider a middle way that holds space for the two opposing perceptions that seem to serve each other well.
For me, this middle way is identified as avant gauche, or before-awkwardness. I try not to worry about my perception or ambition during the development of a piece. If I can accept it this way, then the audience must. They have no choice. Any criticism is irrelevant, only a mutation of what the critic did not do. I do not serve the art or myself. I am merely the traveller, and my medium is the long road swallowed by the horizon. This has worked well for me this past year as I have broken back into writing pieces which all have ambitions and goals and ideas, none of which help me to actually produce the piece beyond spurring my will. Producing the piece means letting go of all else that is not the practice. When I write, I work only with the capacity of language. All pre-conceived notions vanish. What remains is what we would call the finished artwork. When I finish, I am done, and I can see that what I have done is quite useless.
I am delighted.
I wrote this piece to begin a dialogue with myself on the philosophy that has resonated with me these past few years. While this could have been regulated to a ‘Journal’ piece, I felt that letting it stand on its own would be just as good a practice. All the writing here can be considered ‘finished’ only insofar as they are available for consumption. The Distended Orthonym is intended to be an unfolding archive of thought and matter as they develop through my practice of the craft. This piece was influenced by Oscar Wilde’s prelude to The Picture of Dorian Gray. It is a good piece of writing I have considered often and revisit annually. We were also influenced by Stephen Marche’s On Writing & Failure, which I highly recommend to any inventors, but especially to writers. And since I’m recommending books, I’ll also toss in Ray Bradbury’s Zen in the Art of Writing because it is a brilliant and inspiring little collection of essays on artistry. If you purchase any of these, please go and purchase them from your local independent bookstore. Fuck Amazon. Fuck Indigo, too, if you live in Canada.
Thank you for reading, Sweet Witness.