In esquire magazine, back in1965, Tom Wolfe called the automobile, particularly the customized and personalized west coast version, america’s only true art form. The qualities he documented weren’t about safety, or comfort, or drivability. Back then there were four domestic car companies, each producing several makes, and they all put out new models every year -- it was glorious. About august of each year they’d start dropping hints about major style changes coming up for the new year, exotic paint jobs, fins and chrome, but underneath it was the same old bedsprings on wheels they’d been making since before the war. The windows rattled after a year, the seats came apart in two, and the steering column would crush your chest in a head-on, but those weren’t concerns at the time. Safety and efficiency didn’t stand much chance against young women in bikinis posing next to rocket cars, headlights galore and horsepower.
Influence from the outside finally changed things. The Japanese, along with others, brought a new set of values, efficiency, economy, dependability, all such as that. After about a decade people began to see the difference, and now all cars drive better and last longer. Average folks aren’t stupid after all, but in a crowd can be manipulated, forced to choose among limited options, and finally diminished in spirit and even physically maimed for the benefit of the few. Turns out those same few also pick the art. Right out in public they juggle millions, swapping sanctified ‘signature’ art back and forth. It’s a form so pointless and devoid of meaning that the bottom ninety five percent don’t see anything there at all, and let them get away with it, evading legitimate taxes and acting like they’re smart. Still, can’t fault fellow americans. All the abstract art up in motel lobbies and corporate board rooms seems to lend a kind of legitimacy, but as art it’s mute, has nothing to say, and after a while no one expects more.
All this begins to change when people become aware of other options. One day an organization forms to paint murals in the town, and local art begins to be recognized in businesses, in restaurants and such. Before long someone organizes a public painting event or a studio tour, and the community responds. When people begin to realize there’s more to individual identity and self expression than driving a snazzy car or drinking a certain brand of beer, visual art becomes the preferred way to make the house speak for its owner, mood and attitude, a silent reminder of who you are when friends drop by -- and even when home alone.
Eventually the detroit aesthetic favoring all that extra iron, the byzantine grillwork and the star trek inspired dash, just went away. The major domestic auto makers changed their business model, and began providing a more worthy value to their customers. Similarly, once a common citizen sees enough original art to awaken their own dormant ability to find and recognize meaning and substance, some of the miasma of our long commercial stupor lightens and big soup cans can be seen by light of day. Opening that door, finding solace and commonality in works of art, grants the individual a new arena for self-discovery and expression, of self-regard and autonomy. Paintings from the neighborhood, and perhaps a little beyond, are literally worth more than all the ultra expensive stuff on the news and featured in national magazines, and won’t cost near as much. Times are changing, and finding a sense of self in our current cultural free-for-all, and nailing it down with a few pieces of art, is becoming a more common strategy. This isn’t science fiction anymore.
Influence from the outside finally changed things. The Japanese, along with others, brought a new set of values, efficiency, economy, dependability, all such as that. After about a decade people began to see the difference, and now all cars drive better and last longer. Average folks aren’t stupid after all, but in a crowd can be manipulated, forced to choose among limited options, and finally diminished in spirit and even physically maimed for the benefit of the few. Turns out those same few also pick the art. Right out in public they juggle millions, swapping sanctified ‘signature’ art back and forth. It’s a form so pointless and devoid of meaning that the bottom ninety five percent don’t see anything there at all, and let them get away with it, evading legitimate taxes and acting like they’re smart. Still, can’t fault fellow americans. All the abstract art up in motel lobbies and corporate board rooms seems to lend a kind of legitimacy, but as art it’s mute, has nothing to say, and after a while no one expects more.
All this begins to change when people become aware of other options. One day an organization forms to paint murals in the town, and local art begins to be recognized in businesses, in restaurants and such. Before long someone organizes a public painting event or a studio tour, and the community responds. When people begin to realize there’s more to individual identity and self expression than driving a snazzy car or drinking a certain brand of beer, visual art becomes the preferred way to make the house speak for its owner, mood and attitude, a silent reminder of who you are when friends drop by -- and even when home alone.
Eventually the detroit aesthetic favoring all that extra iron, the byzantine grillwork and the star trek inspired dash, just went away. The major domestic auto makers changed their business model, and began providing a more worthy value to their customers. Similarly, once a common citizen sees enough original art to awaken their own dormant ability to find and recognize meaning and substance, some of the miasma of our long commercial stupor lightens and big soup cans can be seen by light of day. Opening that door, finding solace and commonality in works of art, grants the individual a new arena for self-discovery and expression, of self-regard and autonomy. Paintings from the neighborhood, and perhaps a little beyond, are literally worth more than all the ultra expensive stuff on the news and featured in national magazines, and won’t cost near as much. Times are changing, and finding a sense of self in our current cultural free-for-all, and nailing it down with a few pieces of art, is becoming a more common strategy. This isn’t science fiction anymore.
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