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Frank Zappa, and of course Lord Morgue, introduced a good point there, one that Duchamp and others beside had already contemplated and considered. Ultimately, the not-so-simple questions, 'What is Art?' or 'Is this Art?' are not limited to those who are viewing, but also to the artists themselves, and it is a question that has, in our post-post-modern age, has become central to many artists' outputs and MOs. This must be even more the case for artists who feel that art is their vocation, and yet question it, doubt it, are cynical about it... See, for instance, Bruce Nauman's work The True Artist Helps the World by Revealing Mystic Truths-- Nauman enshrined that statement in bright lights precisely because hewanted to see whether it felt true when he said it, as it were, out loud...
In a way, then, it is a question as old as the role of the artist. It is older than Zeuxis or Pygmalion. And Duchamp's Fountain was their incredibly concise and self-conscious heir in blurring the lines between Art and the Real World (even with a prophetic element of the scatological included to enhance the truth of Zappa's later point).
The idea of the spark of originality was perhaps best put to the test when Yves Klein sold a chunk of the Immaterial, a void imaginary space that would, depending on the amount of faith that one has in Art with its capital A, contain only that spark of originality... (Although he had other points too, and was also not shy of being glib).
However, my problem with the original question is that it is often more interesting for artists than for other viewers. Art like the above will constantly run the risk of becoming too intellectual, too isolated, too much of a crossword puzzle: not knowing Deleuze or Baudrillard or Benjamin etc leaves you on the outside, abandoned in your ignorance and, in the mindset of too many people, unqualified to judge or even appreciate the work. A great irony-- art that challenges its pedestal too often finds itself stranded on another one... |
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