Between the conception
And the creation
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the Shadow
—The Hollow Men, T.S. Eliot

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I recently viewed Amir Bar-Lev’s 2007 documentary, My Kid Could Paint That. It’s a compelling work that’s as painful to watch as a car wreck. It starts out as a fairly straight-forward narrative of how one anonymous little girl becomes the center of a scary media circus. However, more is afoot. Is it a story about the myth of genius? Is it a story about the meaning of abstract art? Is it a story about the role of media in the selling of art? Is it a story about art market mythology? Is it a story about parents manipulating their kid? Is it the story of a kid whose behavior changes because the camera is there? Is it a story about how the media exploits the story to create more stories? Is it a story where there is no “true” story? Is it a story about the documentarian who becomes part of the story? Is it a story about the failure of the documentary to fulfill its ethical mandate? Yes.

But what interested me most in watching the film were the thoughts it generated regarding issues of authenticity and mastery in art-making. What makes something authentically “good” in people’s minds? And why is abstract art so vulnerable to questions of mastery and intention? Sure, there’s the obvious stuff like donkeys making abstract paintings with their tails, yada, yada. If a donkey painting can “fool” us, then how do we know abstract paintings aren’t some kind of hat trick created to empty the pockets of the wealthy and gullible? Are there no rules? How do we know modern art is the real deal?

Of course Tom Wolfe was all over this in 1975, writing in The Painted Word, “Frankly, these days, without a theory to go with it, I can’t see a painting.” He argues that in modern art’s efforts to escape narrative, it became nothing but narrative.

Wolfe’s point — that modern art had essentially morphed into pure theory (”the word”) — hit a real chord with people who were, and still are, mystified by modern (and post-modern and now contemporary) art. He argued it was privileging theory over imagery. But I would argue that the general public doesn’t trust its own eyes (or its gut). Correction. They don’t trust their eyes, unless guided by what they have come to believe is the true measure by which one parses what the eye sees. Hence, one expects to recognize certain cues (or clues) to tell us a work of art is “good,” i.e., masterful or authorative (note the outdated and sexist word choices). Until recently, a sure bet for determining greatness (also a discounted notion) or at least “good quality work” was craft—fluency and facility in the use of art-making materials. The other measure, of course, was how closely the artwork resembled our notions of the figurative world.

But as craft and semblance dropped away from modern art-making, as notions of authorship and masterfulness lost their credibility, as the hierarchical model itself was dismantled and artwork became less “user-friendly” and more politically-driven, many people were left clueless. What was the measure of art? How to see it? In 1975, Wolfe asserted that there was no way to tell, unless you followed the pronouncements of modern art’s three champions: Clement Greenberg, Leo Steinberg and Harold Rosenberg. For Wolfe, this meant it was a racket, an inside job.

Today one might say, “Why measure art at all, except by your experience of it?” But that would be disingenuous, because we still measure art by a culturally-determined value system. Except now there are multiple value systems and multiple narratives (or lies, or truths) to choose from. Some still believe there is only one value system by which all things are measured. In either case the seeing, the experience of the artwork itself, is still secondary to the prism of belief through which we view the art. And ever shall be.

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As for abstract art specifically… I can tell you that some of Robert Motherwell’s abstract paintings are forceful expressions that knock my socks off. I can also assure you that many of Motherwell’s prints are nothing more than glorified interior design items. I can counsel you that Hans Hofmann‘s paintings are a hodge-podge of borrowed voices and styles, no matter what his credentials, and that Helen Frankenthaler was a mediocre painter. But I can’t tell you why. Actually I can, but it would only tell you more about me, about what I value most in abstract art. It might help you see their art through my eyes, but it still won’t relieve you of your singular perspective. As for donkey art, if you like, enjoy it!

Regarding craft in the making of art… I still value craft, though craft alone doesn’t determine an artwork’s importance for me. There must be something operating in the work besides, or instead of, a great pair of hands, especially since a lot of contemporary art is executed by hired help. Besides, much of the work I find compelling has no obvious relationship to craft. Having said that, there are certain artists whose work l love because of their sensitivity to materials, gesture, form, surface: Martin Puryear, Isamu Noguchi, Anish Kapoor, Max Ernst, Robert Stackhouse, Richard Serra and Louise Bourgeois come to mind.