That's not my art

"Art should astonish, transmute, transfix. One must work at the tissue between truth and paranoia."

 ~ Brett Whitely

Today I went to see this Ansel Adams exhibit.  I saw 70, original, signed pieces and I came away feeling that I should never, ever, pick up my camera again, for fear of further bastardizing the brilliance of the art form that this man just about perfected. 

Recently this photograph, Rhine II, sold for 4.3 million dollars.  It's by Andreas Gursky.

Really?  I've read arguments justifying the $4.3 million, and I've read the confusion.  Personally, I don't get it.  It may be technically outstanding in terms of digital editing; it may be vibrant and large scale; it may challenge what some see as the place of photography in the art world.  But...

It illicits nothing in me.

So, back to Ansel Adams.  You want to talk about technical masterpieces? Have you taken a look at Tetons and Snake River lately?

I stood in front of this original, signed print this morning, and it brought tears to my eyes.  The details, the tones, the composition, the printing... it all comes together as a masterpiece that illicits an emotional reaction.  Don't even get me started on Moonrise, Hernandes, New Mexico.

I understand that a lot of people are sort of tired of Ansel Adams.  He's overexposed, if you'll pardon the pun.  Most people probably associate his work with wall calendars and postcards.  But that doesn't change the brilliance of his work.

Perhaps I need to go stand in front of the Gursky to see if being in front of it stirs my soul even just a little bit.  It's not that I don't like his work.  I like his work quite well.  I like this one, Beach, in particular.

Shanghai, too.

I like them a lot more than Rhine II.  But I don't like them $4.3 million's worth.  If I had $4.3 million - hell, if I had $4,300, to spend on art work, I would scour the art world for something that spoke to me, something that I could stare at and reflect upon for the rest of my life.  That's what I'd like to ask the buyer of Rhine II.  I'd like to ask that person what Rhine II says to them.  

Duchamp said that anything an artist produces is art.  That's a pretty broad definition, and maybe that's how Piero Manzoni got away with packing his own excrement in a can and selling it as "art."

I don't believe that a definition of art is relevant unless it resonates with the individual looking at the art.  If the piece does't speak to me, it's not my art.  It might be "art" - it might be someone else's art, but it isn't my art.  

Rhine II isn't my art.