ambient art letter
Dear fellow burgeoning art critics,
Elevator music, hotel room art; the corporate pressure to create with selling in mind— the capitalization of expression!
So I went into a new little art gallery yesterday. I pass it walking every day, and have been a bit curious since it opened, but never went in. However, we live in an open world, and the door was unlocked when I tried it.
It centers women, female artists, about 60 of them. And while I did like a lot of the art… it was due to more technical execution, curiosity about the mediums used, unraveling how they did it. The art did not make me think about life, meaning, philosophy, fears— any of those hallmarks of the human experience that connects us; what I look for in art, what pins me in place in a gallery, what makes me think.
This art was clean of human fingerprints, ready for target end caps; it required no introspection to experience. It made me feel like I didn’t matter— these art pieces were calculatingly made to sell, for prestige, the technical work and medium only serving to enhance its authenticity, a perfect mix of ‘genuine article’ with the capitalistic hijacking of a minimalist aesthetic, ready for mass consumption.
Were these ladies artists? of course!
Did this art take work and skill? yes!
Did they make it with selling it in mind? I cannot know, but I suspect so.
Is this the modern direction of art? a blandly ‘interesting’ tapestry, with a thread of the authentic visible when the discerning eyes looks more closely— made with interior decor and pinterest boards in mind.
So. I went into a gallery, and the art didn’t make me think; which made me think. Was my personal benchmark for ‘art’ not then achieved?
Did I like it? Yes. It was nice. It made me think I should purchase it, to decorate my home. Not so I could take it with me, to continue staring at it, unraveling its mysteries, absorbing it— no. The puddle of intrigue was already well absorbed after the first viewing. I wanted it so it could become a nice, airy background to my day to day.
Ambient art, like a low tinkle of jazz in the lobby.
Is this a new phenomenon? no of course not. Modern pseudo-impressionism, to me, seems to aim at impressionism without giving an impression of anything.
And I find it to be uncanny, a little morbid, a waste of human life and potential. Like someone had the opportunity to say something meaningful, but instead told me to buy something. I could talk about AI art here, but I find AI art to be a little more interesting if I am honest. It is a parody,a reflection of life and the human experience, warped. But this art— it felt severed from humanity, connectionless; almost creeping into mind-control, like advertisement. That this art was made, intentionally, by a human; somehow makes it worse!
But is it pretty? Yes of course! I think that was the point really, wallpaper, not art.
But even while I love wallpaper and its design, Walter Crane and William Morris being fascinating artists; it is odd to see Wallpaper carefully framed on a gallery wall.
A conclusion— I don’t know. I do not want to make art like this. I am weirdly disgusted by it, even as I do think it is pretty and nice. Something cozy, vaguely feminine, natural, floral… to hang on the wall; in your room at the asylum.
Signed, your amateur art critic, much to my own chagrin,
Aimee
ps— ”The Longing for Less” by Kyle Chayka, can be found on my 2023 finest reads list, and the letter above is part of an ongoing internal conversation I seem to be having with that book, since I finished it last month. It is a minimalist history; through music, art, and architecture— and while I would not rate it five stars, I do love the way it has made me think, and I do recommend it.