Why we like stuff

During World War II a Dutch artist passed a progressively worse series of paintings as the work of one of the greatest masters of all time, Jans Vermeer, to the world. No less than one of the foremost authorities of Dutch art history in that day, a man who made his reputation by rediscovering a couple of genuine Vermeer paintings, certified the forgeries with genuine belief in their authenticity. The deception cut deeper – people came from to extol the aesthetic virtues of the new Vermeer paintings and gasped in astonishment before the paintings.

Meegeren's forgery"

The forger was eventually exposed due to a post-war investigator tasked with tracking down ill-gotten Nazi riches. Several large sums and a posh mansion tracked to the forger, Van Meegeren. Meegeren revealed his forgery, in part, to save himself. He wagered that it would be a forgivable offense if he was discovered to have bilked the Nazis for millions with a ridiculous hoax. Once his forgery was exposed, the spell broke immediately. People recognized the ugliness of the paintings at once, enthusiasm and hysteria gave way to revulsion and contempt. Meegeren explained that he could not paint as well as Vermeer, and to try to do so would never work. His alternative was to incorporate familiar visual cues and allow the viewer to fool themselves. After the first forgery passed, he took less care with subsequent pieces and they did, indeed, look progressively uglier and shabbier.[1]

It is a fascinating tale for a number of reasons, least of all as an insight into how we appreciate art of whatever form as a social activity. We do not listen to music or look at a painting in a vacuum. Our cultural context leaves us with a set of sensibilities, sure, but that is not what I mean. What I am getting at specifically is that our perceptions are shaped largely by how closely we feel in tune with our peers. Art is a social compact, a social event, even when you are listening to a new album with your iPod in a room alone.

None of this is revelatory, I know, but bear with me.

Several artists with troubled or criminal personal lives have made headlines recently. Michael Jackson, for dying. Roman Polanski, for getting extradited to face sentencing for raping a 13 year old girl. I have counseled in the past to do one’s best to separate opinions about the artist from evaluation of their art. But if we cannot separate our evaluations of art from our local cultural context, or social context, or even from our own personal history with the artist’s work, then how much can we separate an artist from their work? Not to Geek out too much on this topic, but I suppose our individual appreciation for art hinges on how we believe members of our social group will appreciate the work, how we believe members of those outside our social group will appreciate the work, what we think of the artist, and then a mess of subterranean cultural and personal contexts. Looking at art in a museum automatically imbues the art on display with credibility, a street artists' work is automatically taken down a notch. A band without a large following, playing in a small venue, attracts a certain audience, many of whom will abandon the band if it reaches a certain threshold of success or take some satisfaction in having heard them first. The Washington Post ran an article about Joshua Bell, a world class violin player, who set up in the subway disguised as a street musician, few people noticed the artist. In a concert hall they would pay rapt attention. Context matters almost more than the quality of the work itself.

All of this is to say that we shouldn’t close the door on any artist or their work. What works today may not work tomorrow and vice versa. If you find yourself hating on a song or painting, it’s an interesting exercise to probe your tastes.

When someone protests Dave Mathews Band or Coldplay because douche-bag frat boys listen to that stuff, what, if anything, does that say about the music - or does it say almost everything? Or if someone registers that this or that band has become a self-parody (usually said about bands that have been around for awhile like The Rolling Stones), what does that say about the music? Why do we resent some works of art for their audience or because the artists have aged with us and not given up the ghost yet?

Our own personal histories are a factor. Does a band or song remind you of someone or some place in your past. We remain loyal to artists that knocked our socks off when we were young past the point that they still rattle us, or we go the other way and resent them for sticking around and not recreating what no artist could because we are older, fatter, a little less enthusiastic, a little more tuned out and turned off and no longer have fresh senses.

Coming soon! – Music Meviews: volume III or so

Footnotes:
[1] Dolnick, Edward (2008). The forger's spell: a true story of Vermeer, Nazis, and the greatest art hoax of the twentieth century