On the last page of today’s paper there’s a little filler article, ‘5 ways to freshen up a room this fall,’ and number three and four are about art. Number three suggests arranging a ‘collage’ of artworks on one wall, and number four notes ‘picture rails are chic,’ and suggests putting up narrow shelves to hold the art and avoid making all those little holes. The illustration shows a rectangular coffee table and a thinly upholstered bench in front of a wall full of art, sketches and prints. This apartment is identical to the other couple of hundred two and a half room efficiencies in this block, and if there was only some way to soften the stark brutality of this drone-like existence, to establish some notion of individuality and aspiration in this little box sanctuary. You could call finding art worth looking at number six.
That’s not what they say in the sunday paper. In the homebuyer’s guide there’s always a centerfold featuring a palatial contemporary million dollar estate with landscaping, pool, and tennis courts but there's never any art on the walls. At best the professional designer considers art an accessory and even at that an unpredictable element likely to influence everything else, so some sort of abstract complementary to the carpet and drapes is a daring as it goes. Folks who live at this scale have so much stuff to do -- they can jump in the pool, watch gigantic television, and maybe hang out with friends in one of those pristine department store displays they call living rooms. By an large people who live this way are too insulated, too distracted, too sated to be interested in art, and it shows.
On the other hand, it’s not unusual for poor people to know an artist or two, neighbors also getting by with old cars and paying low rent, and a piece of their art is a friendly reminder of that person. Along with maybe a painting or two handed down and a couple of sketches, an arrangement of art can be made that reflects the personality of a home’s inhabitants. A wall covered with art, different styles in different shapes and sizes, tends to take the attention away from worn places in the carpet, a chipped and dented formica kitchen set, and the odd mix and match thrift store furniture many folks start out with, and sometimes live with all their lives. If the art is pretty good those things won’t seem so important. Not just that, but a poor person is more likely to be familiar with success and especially defeat and has had to scramble to adjust to conditions as they are. As a result they're more likely to revere the accomplishment making art at all represents.
The rich have enough money to buy art, but mostly they just want to outbid their friends, and vacuous non-objective time-bound trophy art is their reward, a DeKooning on everyone’s yacht so chic. Poor people must sacrifice to own art, ensuing trips and foregoing newer furniture, an investment in a future more humane and realized than various kinds of fighting for entertainment and name calling politics are likely to provide. A product made by hand, the creation and expression of a single human being ought to have reasonable value against all else made by machines, and poor people feel the financial bite of adding it to their lives, a certificate of ownership they’ll feel whenever they see it ever after.
That’s not what they say in the sunday paper. In the homebuyer’s guide there’s always a centerfold featuring a palatial contemporary million dollar estate with landscaping, pool, and tennis courts but there's never any art on the walls. At best the professional designer considers art an accessory and even at that an unpredictable element likely to influence everything else, so some sort of abstract complementary to the carpet and drapes is a daring as it goes. Folks who live at this scale have so much stuff to do -- they can jump in the pool, watch gigantic television, and maybe hang out with friends in one of those pristine department store displays they call living rooms. By an large people who live this way are too insulated, too distracted, too sated to be interested in art, and it shows.
On the other hand, it’s not unusual for poor people to know an artist or two, neighbors also getting by with old cars and paying low rent, and a piece of their art is a friendly reminder of that person. Along with maybe a painting or two handed down and a couple of sketches, an arrangement of art can be made that reflects the personality of a home’s inhabitants. A wall covered with art, different styles in different shapes and sizes, tends to take the attention away from worn places in the carpet, a chipped and dented formica kitchen set, and the odd mix and match thrift store furniture many folks start out with, and sometimes live with all their lives. If the art is pretty good those things won’t seem so important. Not just that, but a poor person is more likely to be familiar with success and especially defeat and has had to scramble to adjust to conditions as they are. As a result they're more likely to revere the accomplishment making art at all represents.
The rich have enough money to buy art, but mostly they just want to outbid their friends, and vacuous non-objective time-bound trophy art is their reward, a DeKooning on everyone’s yacht so chic. Poor people must sacrifice to own art, ensuing trips and foregoing newer furniture, an investment in a future more humane and realized than various kinds of fighting for entertainment and name calling politics are likely to provide. A product made by hand, the creation and expression of a single human being ought to have reasonable value against all else made by machines, and poor people feel the financial bite of adding it to their lives, a certificate of ownership they’ll feel whenever they see it ever after.
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