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All art is experimental

Posted By Chris Matarazzo On In artistic unknowns by Chris Matarazzo | 7 Comments

I realized, after rereading my post from last week, that I hate the word “experimental” as it applies to the arts. Done right, all art is experimental. I recognize the need for artists in every discipline to be able to stretch their legs — to try new things. But the thing is, I don’t see art without any boundaries as much of a help in the growth of human expression. An artist who creates only to be different; who creates only to “break the rules” might be making a statement, but I am not sure that statement is as much about art as it is about desperation.

Of course, the problem is that my opinion is my opinion when it comes to deciding when art leaves the realm of validity and crosses into the realm of novelty. There is no way for me to tell the world what it should think about art. That’s the beauty of art.

I wouldn’t deign to tell other creative types where they should draw their lines in terms of what is good or bad, no matter how clearly defined those lines are in my own head. I won’t evaluate particular artists, but I can propose a sort of artistic geography for everyone else to fill in as they wish.

Picture this: at the center of society, there is a place of understanding. In this place, just about everyone “gets” certain things about art. In terms of visual art, they understand that someone is a good painter if he can make a person look like a person. A songwriter is good at what she does if she can write a catchy chorus; a composer if he writes a piece with a good melody that you can whistle. A choreographer is understood by the masses to be good if his routine moves with the beat — kicks on “two” and “four.” In terms of writers, the audience wants a good plot — a page-turner.

Bear in mind, all of these things are good, from an artistic standpoint. But my astute and creative readers are saying, “That’s a simplistic view. Art needs to be more than that.” True enough.

So, now, the artists start to mess with things. Enter Picasso, who fragments his visions into geometrics and monotones. Enter Dylan who more or less chats over rhythmic chords and enter the French impressionists with harmonic movement instead of soaring Romantic themes. Choreographers begin to fiddle with expression over reactions to rhythm. Novelists write stories in which nothing much happens — at least, not on the surface.

(None of this is meant to show accurate historical progression — just different approaches by which the masses might be confused.)

People start to lose track. “Where is the realism in the face? — the “hook” of the song? What happened to good old Beethoven? Why do all of these characters just sit around and talk?”

We’ve now moved a bit away from the conventional, but we can still see an old dude playing the guitar, even if he is all angular; we can still hear guitars with a singer over them; we hear the same instruments and a guy is waving a baton at an orchestra; dancers are still doing cool leaps; characters still live recognizable lives. The masses have something to hang their hats on, but they are getting uncomfortable. (That can be good.)

Then, people come in and blast it all apart. Even the innovators of the past get labeled as corny. Shoenberg [1]starts atonality so that structure is imperceptible to the musically uneducated; visual artists start peeing on newspapers and stapling them to mannequins; dancers begin to convulse on stages like fish, seeming to have no idea there is music playing behind them.

Is this bad? No. Not if you don’t think so. But the general public now has a problem.

The popular audience is now, if even remotely aware of this “experimentation,” completely in the dark. Nothing makes sense anymore. They have been left behind.

“Serious” artists feel an obligation to innovate, now — to toss aside conventions and common expectations. Now, the general artistic audience is left behind and no one but critics and artists knows what is going on. (And even then, many are intimidated in to pretending they “get it,” because they fear being labeled as unsophisticated.)

My question is this: What now? Many would argue that “experimental” art is necessary for the life or creativity. I agree. But I think experimentation can take on subtle as well as obvious forms. The subtle forms are more important to artistic development.

It’s terribly snooty to call only radical departures from the norm “experimentation.” My own father’s concept of big band arranging, for an easy example, has a character that no other arranger has ever captured. (Shameless promotion: check out his work for City Rhythm Orchestra [2].) But that doesn’t mean he made the trombonist fill his horn with spaghetti — it means he took the standard elements of music and subtly crafted them into his own voice by manipulating harmony and instrumental blends. That, to me, is experimentation in the most vibrant form: original but accessible.

Every painting; every song; every story; every piece of choreography is fair game for experimentation. But that doesn’t mean a complete abandonment of what is expected or of “rules”that are, in some cases, centuries old.

Maybe it takes more skill to innovate subtly. I think it does. It’s one thing to throw paint at a canvas and another to develop an ability to capture the human form in oils. But there are many points in between to hit, many of which are affecting and brilliant. It is up to each of us to decide when an artist has moved too far from convention.

But to echo my piece from last week, if you leave your audience behind, what do you have? I believe in art for people’s sake, not art for artists’ sake.

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Chris Matarazzo [6]

Chris Matarazzo is a writer, composer, musician and teacher of literature and writing on the college and high school levels. His music can be heard on his recent release, Hats and Rabbits [7], which is currently available. Chris is also the composer of the score to the off-beat independent film Surrender Dorothy [8] and he performs in the Philadelphia area with the King Richard Band. He's also a relatively prolific novelist, even if no one seems to care yet. His blog, also called Hats and Rabbits [9], is nice, too, if you get a chance...