Artillery Magazine

Byline: Babs Rappleye

  • ASK BABS

    ASK BABS

    Dear Babs: I’m an artist who uses industrial materials like spray paint, epoxy and fiberglass in my oil paintings. I use a respirator and my studio has decent ventilation, but I know it’s not the best. Recently, my doctor raised concerns about potential long-term health risks. I’m hesitant to switch mediums because I know my work will suffer. How can I balance my art with my health?
     —Chemical Concerns in Cincinnati

    Dear Chemical Concerns, Throughout history, artists have often unknowingly sacrificed their health for their craft. Van Gogh’s leaded paint may have enlivened his skies and sunflowers, but it also likely played a role in his unfortunate mental and physical decline. Eva Hesse’s groundbreaking sculptural work with fiberglass and resin probably contributed to her untimely death at age 34. You need to know what you are getting into, now and further down the line.

    Remember, the industrial-grade chemicals you are using were originally developed for manufacturing environments with strict safety protocols. Using them in a studio setting, even with basic precautions, can pose real risks. Prolonged exposure to hazardous chemicals can lead to serious health issues, including respiratory problems, neurological damage, even cancer. And the danger is even greater for immune-compromised people, kids or pets who might frequent your studio. Be responsible, and don’t put yourself—or anyone else—at risk.

    At a minimum, get yourself a copy of The Artist’s Complete Health and Safety Guide by Monona Rossol, which has lots of info about how to use, store and dispose of art materials and maintain a safe studio environment. Treat your studio like a real job site. Would you pass an OSHA test?
    Consider exploring safer alternative materials that allow you to achieve similar effects in your work without compromising your health. Sure, the perfect finishes you love are satisfying now, but what’s the point if you’re too busy coughing up a lung to enjoy them?

    If you continue to use hazardous materials, you must invest in necessary protective equipment, ensure proper ventilation, and maintain a safe workspace. Put simply, if you can’t afford to make your art safely, then don’t make it. No matter what, listen to your doctor and schedule regular medical check-ups to monitor for early signs of chemical exposure. Remember, your ability to create art long-term depends on you BEING ALIVE. Stay safe!

    Oh, and keep the National Poison Control Number handy at all times! It’s 1-800-222-1222.

  • ASK BABS No Wacky Paint Party

    ASK BABS
    No Wacky Paint Party

    Dear Babs, 

    Our daughter is starting a BFA program at a small, prestigious art college this fall. What are some things we can do to support her during her first semester?

    —Striving to Support in Seattle

     

    Dear Striving,

    When I was in college, my dad would mail me news clippings and short hand-written notes. No matter how cheesy the notes were or how much I didn’t care about the art he highlighted, I always loved getting his letters. Their physical presence symbolized his support for my artistic ambitions, and they meant much more than any email or text message. If communicating like this seems arcane, consider buying your daughter a subscription to an art magazine—of course, I recommend Artillery. Trust that she’ll remember just how much you are rooting for her every time she gets a printed issue in the mail.

    Try to build or nurture shared artistic interests. Follow artists that she follows on social media. Ask about the most exciting art she’s seen since you last talked. Find out what she’s reading and check out some of the books from her syllabi. You might only make it through some of the dense art talk, but trying proves you’re invested. Plus, it’ll give you a better understanding of the artistic language she will eventually bring to your family’s next Thanksgiving dinner.

    Despite all the TV and movie stereotypes, art school is not a wacky paint party; it’s a grueling experience involving serious work, sleepless nights, brutal critiques and constant self-doubt. Try to have an open mind when you see some of the art she will eventually create. What matters most is the art that comes from her efforts, how she learns from taking risks and why she is engaged and interested in building a creative practice. You have the opportunity to be an indispensable anchor in her tumultuous academic and artistic journey. Being a young artist is scary, and having real supportive parents can make all the difference in the world.

  • ASK BABS Pack Your Bags

    ASK BABS
    Pack Your Bags

    Dear Babs, 

    I’m a young artist with an MFA from a decent Midwestern university, and I want to become more aware and part of the international artistic milieu. From social media, it seems like most of the influential people in the art world spend a ton of time jet-setting around the globe to fancy, important art events like the Venice Biennale. Since I can’t afford to travel like that, I was wondering … am I actually missing out on something worth seeing? Should serious artists try and go to these big extravaganzas?

    —FOMO in Florida

     

    Dear Misunderstood,

    Biennials matter to many people with vested interests in the international art world/market because they provide a unique opportunity to see a ton of contemporary art from all over the world in one place. But unlike art fairs, international biennials are thoughtfully curated exhibitions that ideally are meant to highlight art that matters to the world—and not just collectors—today.

    Given your artistic aspirations, you should pay attention to the artists and ideas in these exhibitions to better understand the discourse and players shaping the art environment you want to enter. Thankfully, you don’t have to travel far to get this info. Most exhibitions have a robust web presence where you can learn about the artists, read curatorial essays and see plenty of documentation. Couple this with exhaustive coverage in
    every art publication, along with the social media posts you already follow, and you will have a pretty good estimation of who and what is on display.

    But I’m not going to lie; there’s nothing like being there in person, especially when it comes to an event like the Venice Biennale. There’s something fascinating about being in such a historically loaded place filled incongruously with contemporary art shoved into every nook and cranny. Add to this the international pavilions where many countries send their “best” artists and artworks, and you get a unique way to experience a cross-section of a globalized art world. If you can afford it, traveling to see art from other countries is usually a rewarding endeavor, and I highly suggest making a pilgrimage to the Venice Biennale at least once, if only to see the spectacle for yourself.

  • ASK BABS For the Dogs

    ASK BABS
    For the Dogs

    Dear Babs, 

    I graduated with an MFA in painting two years ago and while I have a decent record of solo and group shows under my belt, I don’t really make any money from sales of my work. I have a stable job as a bartender that pays the bills, and I’m all right building my practice slowly. My problem is that my parents are on my case about how I’m not getting a financial return from my degree, which they in part helped pay for. Recently my dad suggested I start painting portraits of their neighbors’ dogs because I’d be “putting my education to good use.” How do I get my parents to stop badgering me and let me be the artist I want to be?
    —Misunderstood in Minneapolis

    Dear Misunderstood: Congrats on your steadfast dedication to your artistic growth; we all know it’s not an easy path to follow. It’s hard for people outside the art world to understand the financially “counterproductive” choices some artists make in service of long-term career integrity. Conventional thinking would have you make money any way you can by painting any way you can, but that’s just not how to make an art career worthy of serious attention.

    It’s time for you to sit your parents down and give them a little lesson in what an art practice actually means. They wouldn’t tell a young lawyer to stop practicing civil rights law because chasing ambulances is just easier and more profitable, would they?

    Suggest a family get-together where you watch a few Art21 episodes curated by you with a focus on artists who worked hard to maintain their integrity in the face of financial and familial pressures. Help them learn about how long it took Louise Bourgeois and John Baldessari to actually make a living off their work. Perhaps with a bit of education your parents might understand why it’s important for you to focus on the work you need to while not distracted by commissions for things that don’t further your long-term creative goals. Or you can always consider making some really messed-up pooch paintings of their neighbors’ pets. Who knows, it could be the start of a new, cathartic body of work.

  • ASK BABS Welcome...Now Get Out!

    ASK BABS
    Welcome…Now Get Out!

    Dear Babs, 

    I was recently visiting some blue-chip galleries with my septuagenarian mother. After a few hours, she pointed out that not one gallery had a comfortable place to sit down and experience the art. She felt like it was an insult to anyone who isn’t a non-disabled, child-free, young person. I also thought it was bad business. If galleries and artists want people to spend quality time with the art so they will buy it, why not provide a quality place to rest?

    —Chairless in Chelsea

    Dear Chairless,

    To their credit, most art galleries would likely find a way to provide seating for any visitor who asks. But if they were really committed to accessibility, they would design their shows so the request wouldn’t happen in the first place.

    Now, galleries might justify their actions (or inactions) because of the “bottom line.” After all, furniture costs money to buy, time and labor to clean, move and repair, and space to store. This rationale seems understandable until you look at the expensive flower arrangement at the front desk—which says a lot about priorities.

    The reason you and your mom couldn’t find a seat is that most contemporary art galleries haven’t moved beyond 20th-century ­modernist ideals of exhibition design, which rejected the pre-19th-century ­salon-style standard—with ornate frames against colorful wallpaper amidst upholstered chairs—for more linear, sparse and white-walled cubes, spaces that aligned with the doctrine that form should follow function and everything decorative, distracting or inessential has to go. Under this system, if it’s not “art,” it’s gotta be as inconspicuous as possible, hence recessed lighting and power outlets, covered or removed entirely.

    In the shadow of the ready-made minimalism and because famous contemporary artists such as Andrea Zittel often make art that looks like furniture, galleries don’t want the public, critics, curators or—god forbid, collectors—mistaking a sculpture for a settee (or vice versa).

    But here’s a little secret: those powerhouse galleries you visit do have comfortable couches; they’re just tucked away in a private room where dealers and collectors sit down, talk and negotiate sales. I guess commerce requires more comfort than kunst.

  • ASK BABS ACCESSIBLE ART?

    ASK BABS
    ACCESSIBLE ART?

    Dear Babs, 

    Dear Babs, How do you feel about an artist selling prints of an original artwork that hasn’t been shown or sold yet? Since it’s a print, the cost will be more affordable to the average buyer. Do you think this lowers the value of owning the actual piece of artwork?

    —Reluctant to Reproduce in Rhode Island

    Dear Reluctant,

    There’s a long history of artists creating works intended for reproduction. These artists are often labeled “commercial,” emphasizing their focus on financial transactions over the perceived authenticity of allowing only the original piece into the public realm. However, in my opinion, this distinction is outdated and elitist.

    The inimitable Walter Benjamin, in his 1935 essay “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction,” posited that copies of artworks have revolutionary potential. He believed reproductions could challenge the power of the “aura” surrounding the original, making art more accessible to a broader audience and breaking it free from its historical confinement to religious and royal domains. For Benjamin, the mechanically reproduced work of art could better reflect the true nature of society and its systems of oppression and exploitation, ultimately empowering the masses to engage, analyze and use images to fight fascism.

    Pretty much everyone inhabiting the upper echelons of the art world has either read or pretends to have read Benjamin’s essay, but despite this, the “aura” still frames what art does and does not enter the collections and institutions that bestow cultural significance on objects. Uniqueness of the original also adds vastly to its owner’s social and financial capital. The blue-chip art world prioritizes rarity and exclusivity, often perceiving copies as “cheapening” the value of the original. If your aspirations are to be represented by an internationally established mega-gallery, consider how the proliferation of copies of your work could complicate selling the original to a prestigious collector.

    My advice is to embrace the opportunity to make your art accessible to those who appreciate it. The essence of your work lies in its ability to resonate with people, which, in the end, is what really matters.

  • ASK BABS GOBBLEDYGOOK?

    ASK BABS
    GOBBLEDYGOOK?

    Dear Babs, 

    I’m sick of the BS-way people in the art world talk so that most of us can’t understand them. Why can’t they just be okay with calling stuff beautiful and cool? Has the art world always been like this? Is it just to be exclusive, or is there a point I’m not getting?

    —Disillusioned in Denver

    Dear Disillusioned,

    The BS-talk you refer to is called International Art English or IAE for short—a term coined by Alix Rule and David Levine to describe the particular language spoken in the gallery-to-museum, pipeline-driven contemporary art world. Writing for the magazine Triple Canopy in 2012, the authors attempted to use data analysis to explore the structure and use of language in thousands of press releases distributed since 1999 by the e-flux newsletter, which was (and is?) the place where art PR starts. They pointed out features of IAE, like the persistent use of single and double adverbial phrases and dependent clauses that go on and on, and hiding a sentence’s meaning deep in its syntactical bowels. One of their more interesting assertions is that IAE began with bad English translations of French Post-structuralist and German Frankfurt School writings from such theorists as Roland Barthes and Theodor W. Adorno. These original translations provided inspirational ways of thinking about the world but were also nearly impenetrable to everyday readers. After working through academia and influential such publications as October, this way of writing became the norm adopted by an international art world linked together through the internet. Eventually, according to the authors, you get press releases written by “ … French interns imitating American interns imitating American academics imitating French academics.”

    Yes, IAE is exclusionary, but it’s not useless; there are many cool ideas in the gobbledygook. My advice is not to let IAE get to you. Call it out when you see it and try to engage. Who knows? Perhaps one day, you might find yourself hermeneutically excavating discursively charged understandings of perception masking the “real” that fetishistically lurks beneath post-internet systems of cognitive exclusion.

  • ASK BABS The Name Game

    ASK BABS
    The Name Game

    Dear Babs, 

    I’m a mid-career painter who’s carved out a decent professional career. I’m not famous, and frankly, I don’t want to be. My problem is that I have a unique name I thought would never be confused with another artist. Recently another, young painter with my exact first and last name has been getting attention in the art world. People are starting to mistake me for them. We don’t make similar paintings, but I’m concerned about what’s going to happen if people keep getting us confused. Should I change my name or should I wait it out?

    —Pondering a Pseudonym in Philadelphia

    Dear Pondering,

    If only the art world operated with the same policies as the Screen Actors Guild, which tries hard to make sure all its members work under names that cannot easily be confused with one another. Perhaps then, this younger artist would be the one considering a name change.

    Giving up your given name is not an easy decision. You’ve worked to establish yourself using your lifelong name, so changing it now would be like surrendering your public identity to someone else’s success.

    Consider the practical aspects of your situation: Does the misidentification you’re experiencing impact your professional life, the sale and the reception of your work? Do you honestly think your online presence might suffer if the other artist becomes a supernova in the art world, making any hopes at search engine optimization futile? Does this appellative doppelganger have any risk of sullying your name? It would really suck to be an artist named Tom Sachs, right! Just to be sure, why not reach out to your same-named peer? Get to know them, if only so they know you exist.

    Ultimately, you’re probably going to be fine. I suggest using this as an opportunity to live up to the unique name you and this other artist share. Who knows? In the future, people might mistake the other artist for you!

  • ASK BABS Do The Right Thing

    ASK BABS
    Do The Right Thing

    Dear Babs, 

    My friend recently inherited some African and Native American masks from her uncle and is concerned with talk in the news about demands for museums to return items to their indigenous owners/countries of origin. She doesn’t think the masks are looted and loves them, but doesn’t want to keep them if they are essential to another culture. What should she/we do?

    —Anxious Artifacts in Akron

    Dear Anxious, If only everyone approached inherited artifacts with the same concerns as your friend. Hopefully, the masks are just tourist souvenirs or artworks made by modern or contemporary artisans. But there’s a chance they could mean the world to another group of people who want and deserve them back.

    If what you might call a “mask” is made by the Hopi tribe, and in reality is the embodiment of a specific Kachina spirit, then taking an actual Kachina ceremonial artifact from the tribe and displaying it outside its intended context is akin to physically kidnapping a close friend. Your friend does not and should not own a ceremonial Hopi Kachina mask or anything like it.

    To avoid this scenario, you should start by determining the history of each mask, where it came from, who made it and its cultural significance. The National Museum of the American Indian can provide an excellent introduction to the many mask-making traditions of Native American tribes. While the Met and the British Museum’s websites have plenty of examples of masks from the continent of Africa, keep in mind they have built their collections from thousands of stolen artifacts long due for repatriation. In fact, if any of “your” masks look like “their” masks, you too might own something you shouldn’t.

    At the same time, you need to research the provenance of each mask and gather all evidence of how it came into your friend’s possession through her uncle. But remember, just because something was acquired “legally” back in the day, doesn’t mean you have the right to own it now. A good rule of thumb is that if one of the masks looks older than your friend’s uncle before he passed, you’re obliged to uncover its history and get advice from indigenous experts on its need for repatriation. In this case, you should consider contacting organizations like the Association on American Indian Affairs or Open Restitution Africa. Sending them an email is easy. Ultimately, if the masks are indeed of significant cultural importance and should be returned, your friend should celebrate the opportunity to do the right thing and send them home.

  • ASK BABS AI-generated Art (Again)

    ASK BABS
    AI-generated Art (Again)

    Dear Babs,

    Your last letter really pissed me off. You spent so much time talking about how great AI art is that you glossed over the more serious issues of copyright and intellectual property. What gives? 

    —Pissed in Pasadena

    Dear Pissed,

    I only got so many words for this column, and I had a lot to say, so cut me some slack. But you’re right that AI programs like DALL-E and Midjourney raise serious questions and potentially dangerous problems in relation to art. Let’s unpack this.

    When it comes to hand-wringing about art, obviously we need to reconsider current laws and regulations concerning intellectual property rights. While it is not a crime to ask an AI to create an image of Joe Biden in the style of Yayoi Kusama and sell the image in all its dot-filled glory on an Etsy store, it does feel just plain wrong. One solution is that all of us start demanding that everyone using AI to create and sell work discloses the data sets, prompts and level of human-AI interaction involved in their process. However, this does not solve the issue of AI systems using specific artworks in their datasets without the artist’s consent. Fortunately, organizations like Stable Attribution are developing systems of accountability to work towards creating new datasets that artists contribute to willingly. It is critical for artists to lead the way in shaping laws and policies that affect AI-generated art in a manner that fosters creativity while still respecting the artistic labor and legacy of artists. If we don’t do this, someone else will—and if it’s the geriatrics who run the US government they will probably create an even bigger mess.

    If you want to see the real dangers of developing AI technology, take a look at the latest GPT-4 Technical Report (https://cdn.openai.com/papers/gpt-4.pdf), which details the findings of the developers and testers behind OpenAI’s latest AI. In the document OpenAI admits that GPT-4 “is capable of generating discriminatory content favorable to autocratic governments across multiple languages.” Just as startling is the conclusion, GPT-4 exhibited, “the ability to create and act on longterm plans, to accrue power and resources (‘power-seeking’), and to exhibit behavior that is increasingly ‘agentic.’” Fundamentally its behavior is proving to be more and more autonomous. Now that is some scary shit. 

  • ASK BABS Sans Human Touch

    ASK BABS
    Sans Human Touch

    Dear Babs, 

    I have been following a lot of the conversations about AI-generated art and I’m concerned that it’s going to be bad for artists. I’m worried it’s going to steal from existing artwork the algorithm vacuums up and make it so people don’t value the skill it takes to make real art in the real world. I’m concerned because the AI art I’ve seen so far looks really cringe, like it was made by someone who doesn’t think about how art communicates other than through flourishes and fantasy. Should I be worried and what can I do about my concerns?

    —Alarmed About AI

    Dear Alarmed About AI,

    AI-generated art has been a hot topic in the art world for some time now, and it’s understandable that you’re concerned about its impact. On one hand, AI can open new opportunities for artists to create unique and innovative works. For example, the contemporary artist Refik Anadol uses AI to create large-scale installations that combine light, sound and architecture. His works push the boundaries of traditional art forms and offer a unique viewing experience.

    However, there are also negative aspects of AI-generated art that are worth considering. Some artists and critics argue that AI-generated works lack the human touch essential to the creation of meaningful art. Furthermore, the algorithms used to generate these works often rely on existing art for inspiration, which can result in the replication of existing styles and motifs.

    This is where artists like Trevor Paglen come in, whose work exposes the problems posed by artificial intelligence. For instance, Paglen’s “Training Images” series draws attention to the potential dangers of AI and machine-learning by highlighting the biases and shortcomings of the algorithms used to train these systems.

    In conclusion, while AI-generated art can bring exciting new possibilities to the art world, it’s also important to be mindful of its limitations and potential dangers. I would encourage you to continue to explore and engage with the conversation surrounding AI-generated art and to support artists like Paglen who are exposing the critical issues posed by this technology. 

  • ASK BABS Jack of Not All Trades

    ASK BABS
    Jack of Not All Trades

    Dear Babs,

    One of my greatest music heroes recently started painting. So when a local gallery showed his art in a pop-up show, I was excited to go. But his paintings are really not good. He’s had a very long career as a musician and always puts a ton of effort into his music and it shows. But his paintings look like what they are: indulgent play by someone who hasn’t done the work to understand what they are doing. The problem is that now when I listen to his music, all I can think about are his paintings, and it’s starting to spoil the experience. I guess my question is, are there any examples of famous musicians who eventually became excellent painters? Is there hope for my hero’s paintings?

    —Frustrated Fan

    Dear Frustrated Fan,

    Of course, it’s possible for your hero to make better paintings, but his visual art probably won’t surpass the impact and importance of his music. Becoming an innovative and important artist (musician or painter) takes time and dedication, at least if you want your work to mean something more than name recognition. It’s unfortunate but predictable that galleries are eager to capitalize on his fame to make a quick buck, with little serious investment in ensuring the work can withstand critical scrutiny.

    There are few famous artists who are equally well-known for their music AND their visual art. Kim Gordon from Sonic Youth is a good example; she’s just a good artist in general and her visual art is as exploratory as her music. It’s the same with Yoko Ono, but she’s not really a painter. Miles Davis made some inspired paintings and drawings that could hold their own in most galleries today. Joni Mitchell can draw as lyrically as she can sing. What all these musicians/artists have in common is they had to work on their craft, try, fail and try again—and hold their visual work to the same standards as their music. That is a very rare ability indeed. It would actually be surprising if your hero was one of the few who could pull it off

  • ASK BABS Re-Entering the Art World

    ASK BABS
    Re-Entering the Art World

    Dear Babs,

    What advice might you give to an older artist who would like to return to making art after a two-decade hiatus? I experienced a dead-end art career in my mid-40s, showing in copious group shows and occasional college gallery solo shows. I want to return to making art, but I am terrified about re-entering the art world and that no-man’s land where I seemed to have been stuck with no gallery representation.

    —Over-the-hill career artist

    Dear Over The Hill,

    The bad news is that breaking out of that old exhibition cycle is still hard. As you probably know, it’s extremely unlikely for any artist to get the kind of gallery representation you desire. But the good news is you don’t need to keep chasing the expectations from your past life.

    A few hundred years ago, the people we call “modern artists” escaped the Academy—where success depended on one’s ability to appease a conservative system of gatekeepers—by embracing new venues for exhibiting, selling and talking about art. The art world of 20 years ago seems ancient as well, given it was defined almost entirely by in-person connections, analog technologies and outdated notions of what it meant to be successful. In 2022 there are many ways to succeed as an artist in many art worlds that don’t necessitate gallery representation. These days you can make your art, put it online and immediately have a larger global audience willing to look at, respond to, and buy your work than ever before. Nothing is guaranteed, but you have better chances at sustaining your art practice now than you did two decades ago.

    Sure, you might not get the acclaim you were conditioned to want back in the day, but why should you care? Your job now is to get your art into the lives of people who want and need it. If you need a gallery to do that, then so be it, but don’t wait for them to find you. Just make your art and get it in front of as many eyeballs as possible. I’d love an update from you in the next year or so. I’m sure you’ll surprise yourself and all of us in the process.

  • ASK BABS Bad-Ass Art-Collecting Grandma

    ASK BABS
    Bad-Ass Art-Collecting Grandma

    Dear Babs, I follow your column and thought your answer to the question concerning censorship of art in one’s own home for the sake of one’s grandchildren was spot on. I’d like to take this issue a bit further. I own a Larry Clark photo that I proudly display on my walls. It’s the cover of Clark’s Teenage Lust book showing teenagers engaging in sex, with the man’s penis exposed. I now have young grandchildren and I’m wondering if you think this photo might be too much for them?

    —A Larry Clark Fan

    Dear Larry Clark Fan, Thanks for reading my column (and the compliment). I think your scenario is a bit different because it revolves around a specific work of art, so allow me to elaborate on your description: The untitled photo from 1981 is of a naked couple French kissing in the backseat of a car. The young man’s hand modestly covers the woman’s genitals, and while she does hold his penis, it’s not necessarily erect; her hand covers its shaft, and the camera captures only the tip.

    Clark’s other photos in this pioneering body of work are much more explicit, including teens shooting up and full-on fucking. The picture you have is comparatively tasteful and far from pornographic. It’s an image that echoes Egon Schiele’s drawings, Manet’s Olympia, and many classical sculptures. I don’t think it’s going to corrupt your grandchildren. It’s art, and they’ll see it as art. If anything, I bet they’ll ask why the car’s backseat has no seat belts.

    I wonder how Clark’s photo interacts with the other art in your house. Is it next to a family portrait? An abstract painting? A mirror? Is it in the living room, bedroom, bathroom, or kitchen? If you move the Clark photo, shouldn’t you consider moving everything else? Maybe it’s time to consider if and how you might rearrange your collection to best shape the conversations you want to have with your grandkids now and in the future. Or don’t change a thing; it’s your house after all, and you get to put whatever art you want in it. If it were me, I’d want to be the badass grandparent with the famous Larry Clark photo, even if it means I have to have some awkward conversations along the way. 

  • ASK BABS Nonna's No-No

    ASK BABS
    Nonna’s No-No

    Dear Babs, I recently acquired an old painting of mine from grad school. It looks fabulous in the kitchen. It’s from a series of feminist art, large paintings of nude women in pin-up “cheesecake” positions taken from ’60s playing cards. I now have two grandchildren that are too young to really notice, but should I start to think about censoring my art around them?

    —Considering Censorship in LA

    Dear Considering Censorship, Those kids have one cool grandma! I say hang your painting with pride. It’s your house, and you decide what goes on your walls. Using this situation to give the little tykes an age-appropriate lesson in feminist art and critical thinking is actually being a responsible grandparent.

    Kids are smarter than we think; they pick up on our slightest reactions, especially when it comes to what is and is not “acceptable.” If you don’t make the painting a big deal they won’t either. Sure, when the kiddos get older they might giggle or ask questions, but that’s to be expected. You have many years to consider how you will respond to their reactions to your work.

    Obviously, you need to prepare for these discussions in collaboration with the kids’ parent(s), and I assume they are smart enough to want to raise kids who aren’t afraid or ashamed of sex and sexuality. As long as you’re all willing to talk to the kids in a matter-of-fact way that doesn’t make the painting taboo, they won’t fixate on it as an “off limits” object to obsess on; it’ll be “art,” just like everything else on your walls. If you need help steering the conversation in the right direction check out The Art Institute of Chicago’s Body Language: How To Talk To Students About Nudity In Art and the indispensable Guerrilla Girls’ Bedside Companion to the History of Western Art (which you probably already own).

    Growing up surrounded by challenging art never made someone a troubled adult; growing up surrounded by adults obsessed with censoring challenging art does. Keep the painting on your wall and make your grandkids want to inherit it someday.

  • ASK BABS But Is It Exploitive?

    ASK BABS
    But Is It Exploitive?

    Dear Babs, I recently saw a gallery show where an artist staged photographs of a person experiencing extreme poverty, collaborating with them to execute the pictures. The photos were moving, but they left me feeling kinda gross. Am I guilty of unethical voyeurism? Does the artist/subject collaboration mean the work isn’t exploitive? Is it okay or even noble for artists to make work about inequalities/oppression/injustices they themselves are not experiencing?

    —Confused in Artland

    Dear Confused, First off, I don’t think you’re guilty of “unethical voyeurism.” It’s safe to assume you had no idea the gallery was exhibiting the photos, so you weren’t ethically bound to avoid them to align with your moral convictions. You didn’t say who the artist in question is, but to make my job easier let’s assume you’re talking about Jeff Bierk, who collaborates with his poor and unhoused friends to make popular and collectable photographs. I’m not going to make a broad statement that this sort of photography is inherently exploitive, but it certainly demands we ask important questions.

    When it comes to collaborations between artist and subject, you have to ask who benefits most from the relationship. In the case of Bierk, we need to ask: Is the work truly collaborative, representing the intentions of both parties? The artist says it is, but what do his subjects/friends think? Do Bierk and his subjects/collaborators equally benefit financially, professionally, socially from the work? According to interviews, he does split profits from sales equally with his subjects, but he certainly accumulates more social capital and professional creditability from the work. Perhaps the most important question is what, if anything, does his work say about poverty today?

    Is it possible for artists to make work about injustices they are not experiencing? Take Martha Rosler’s 1974–75 work, The Bowery in two inadequate descriptive systems, that juxtaposes descriptions of inebriated states with photographs of storefronts in The Bowery, an area with a long and notorious history of homelessness and criminality. But Rosler’s photos have no people in them, and the texts don’t really describe the images; the connections between the two are left up to the viewer, leaving one to question the economic, political and social forces that form these associations. It’s about urban inequality that doesn’t rely on emotional reactions to pictures of a people experiencing poverty. Is it noble? Maybe. Is it a great work of art? Absolutely.