I’m in the company of some artsy, geeky, intellectually insatiable folks, right? Then I’d like to pose another question, if I may, for the betterment of our inner-philosophers who can’t help but peruse certain axiomatic questions that engrossed Plato, Tolstoy, and Bell in kind.
When can art be called “good art”?
An art historian whom I asked this question had never had occasion to make such a judgement, miraculously. Therefore, a definition of “good” was somwhat meaningless. To him art is significant for its anthropological clues, exceptional for its timeliness, exquisite for its societal parity.
A poet to whom I asked this question thought good art exhibited some kind of technical feat. To him, ideas may be artful but are not “good art” until the craftmanship flickflacks your head with whiplash.
I confess that my own definition of “good art” is a formless, primordial goo. And I don’t know that if I shackled down a denotation that it’d necessarily be for the better. Right now all I think is that “good art” renews experience. How it does that or through what means, is up in the air for me.
Anyone else care to add another perspective?
I’m not even sure we can speak in terms of “good art” or “bad art.” We can perhaps speak in terms of complex or compelling or satisfying art. “Good” and “bad” seem too gross a set of categories.
Where do we put, say, Maxfield Parrish, an obvious technical talent, but a cloying, schmaltzy artist? Where do we put the obvious or intentional schlock that still has value of some kind – the John Waterses and Mike Judges of the world who produce juvenile or tasteless products as social commentary or artistic broadside?
Hairspray and Beavis and Butthead are works the depth and complexity of which are either not apparent on the surface or depend entirely on their social and artistic context. They’re “good” in that way, but you’ve got to “get it” to get how good they are.
Dadaism is nonsensical unless you understand the social and intellectual and artistic ferment (all puns intended) that created it. Tristram Shandy is incomprehensible and difficult unless you know what it’s trying to spoof.
I suppose my point is that art has to work somehow – on a spiritual or emotional or intellectual level. It not only has to have an internal logic but an infernal one, a bedevilment of (or perhaps an inspiration from?) its time or place or unified purpose. Bach works as music, but it also works as worship.
I had ready a massively witty and morbidly deep response that ranged in its examples from John Waters to Beavis and Butthead, but was thwarted by technical difficulties.
So I shall try again: I don’t think we can simply say art is “good” or “bad.” After all, some art requires a deep knowledge of art history or cultural context to even make sense, much less be judged as “good” or “bad,” thus the examples of Waters and the Mike Judge comedies. Are these works of great technical brilliance? Hardly. Do they do important things? Most certainly.
Likewise, Maxfield Parrish had great technical proficiency, but chose to use it to produce the artistic equivalence of cotton candy.
Dadaism or Laurence Sterne are both infuriating if their programs are not clearly understood. They’re “good” art not for reasons of beauty of form or verisimilitude, yet they required a good deal of technical skill to pull off.
So I’m not sure “good” is the right way to say it. Perhaps satisfying art works somehow – it’s compelling in a cultural or intellectual or emotional or spiritual way.