This is an article in two parts to discuss the current controversy of
cultural appropriation. The second part regarding the appropriation of First
Nations art will appear next week.
Most professional artists understand the ground rules of art in general.
It’s pretty simple. If you’re a talented, dedicated and knowledgeable
professional artist who sells work on a regular basis you don’t need to copy a
particular style from another artist or appropriate anything from anyone.
Professional artists are influenced by all kinds of styles, past and present,
but the idea is to use one or more style in a work in such a limited fashion
that you can claim the recombination to be yours alone. The idea is to put your
own hand and mind into the work. It’s not about being completely original,
which is incredibly difficult and problematic, but about being yourself. This
is the western tradition. And professional artists understand that our tradition
is one of many around the world and that if we have reason to be influenced by
other cultures, either by proximity or by commission, we have to do the
research and be respectful.
Ocean Guard is a nine foot long oil painting on canvas initially inspired by First Nations art. |
To make the visual art world even more
subjective many people would agree with art historian H. W. Janson’s statement
that the history of art is the history of aesthetics, the history of styles of
art as they change over time and in different parts of the world. Janson is
excluding the history of right and wrong action, story telling, and all sorts
of other social functions that art provided for society in their time.
Anyone in Thunder Bay is allowed to trek over to the Painted Turtle and
go home with paints, brushes and canvas and paint whatever their heart’s
desire. In the privacy of your own home you can paint beautiful flowers,
trucks, rock stars, pornography, or be even more gauche and paint Elvis on
black velvet.
However, the moment you take your painting of Elvis from your home and
place it in public view in a gallery and put a price tag on it you are entering
the civic world. In the civic world, where you have the freedom to express
yourself that expression is limited by laws, copyright laws and customs because
in a democracy other people also have the right to be protected from theft,
slander, hurtful imagery, damaging lies and hate speech.
Other people also have the right to free speech and they can say
whatever they want about your tacky painting of Elvis on black velvet. If they
think you’re a terrible painter they have a right just as you do to say what
they think. If your price tag is clearly too high because you clearly have no
talent, took only one course in art, and spent only a couple hours on the
painting, anyone viewing your work has a right to question its value. If you
make false statements about your work, the public has the right to question
your motivations. And we don’t know your motivations because we cannot see what
is in your heart.
I
can limit my biases in order to benefit the public by writing upbeat reviews
for art shows that I don’t personally like. Thankfully, with so many talented artists in Thunder Bay, there are few of those. Art is often mysterious, subjective
and so personal that my opinion is only that, my opinion. Yet I have avoided
writing about a few shows because I felt the artwork was either terribly
unprofessional or because I felt the artist was appropriating another artist’s
work.
In presenting my opinions about appropriation last week I pointed out
that artists can’t help but to be inspired by other artists’ works, and that
it’s hard to gauge an artist’s sincerity because we can’t read other peoples’
hearts. You would think that writers and visual artists are good at reading
their own hearts and avoid appropriating another artist’s work, especially
First Nations artwork, but we westerners, the colonizers, have a long history
of inbuilt biases and we can be quite clever at creating arguments to assuage
any feelings of guilt.
One visiting professor I interviewed admitted to obtaining images for
her drawings by copying directly from photos found on the Internet. In her
inflated intellectual answer to my question about her source material she
called what she did “research” while her face turned pink with embarrassment.
Another visiting artist was clearly appropriating First Nations art.
Suspicious about his intentions I read articles and an interview he did on the
Internet. With only a distant First Nations relative he was whiter than me, and
he gave a subjective cultural argument: “We are all human.” More importantly
there was not a shred of personal creativity to his work. Although he was a
nationally recognized artist I thought it was an act.
Recently in Toronto an artist had her art show cancelled because of
complaints that she had appropriated First Nations art. The controversy
spiralled into a national debate to be followed by an equally controversial
debate over the appropriation of First Nations literature. The debate was
fascinating and pointed out a real misunderstanding about the differences
between inspiration and appropriation.
Often it is a matter of degrees of separation. As an example, my most
recent image of a giant fish was partly inspired by woodland art. I copied
nothing directly, but I was relying on my memory of familiar shapes. For me the
imagery in my painting was too familiar so I reworked the painting to make it
more my own. I played with lines and shapes and colour and even perspective
incorporating other influences into the painting.
The result of playing around and being open minded is a painting that
could be good or it could be kitsch. Either way I didn’t waste my time. I came
up with all kinds of patterns and ideas that I can use in other future works
that will have little or no reference to woodland art.
My knowledge of the issues is pretty limited and may be biased by my
colonial ancestors. For a reviewer like me it’s a joy to write about artists
who are clearly enjoying their inspirational rides, but it’s also a thrill to
write about art that is not part of my culture at all, about artists who are
committed to the telling and retelling of the stories of their community.
Us colonizers have been living with the fantasy concept of the “noble
savage” since 1715. As art historian Alan Gowans points out, “The Noble
Savage’s irresistible attraction for the European mind corresponded directly to
appeal of the idea of Mankind’s natural goodness, and its concomitant: ‘We’re
all right; it’s society that’s wrong.”
I
can’t begin to tell you how this concept messed with white people’s heads
regarding our treatment of First Nations people and their culture, mostly
because I’m no expert. But there are a number of good books that can help both
us white folk and First Nations people, especially us artists, to understand
the issues. I defer to Mary McPherson’s list situated on this same page.
In order to write a third part of this article I will have to do a few interviews and a lot of reading. That might take a while.
In order to write a third part of this article I will have to do a few interviews and a lot of reading. That might take a while.