At Wit's End

So we arrive at day two, and let me tell you, it’s definitely not any less as interesting as the first one was. 

How, you ask?

Well, this one – it was all about art.

Now you might protest saying that the previous one was all about art too, how can this one be any different?

This one, my friend, was a more philosophical exploration of art and all that it entailed.

So it’s a sunny Tuesday morning when we walk through that significant orange door and settle into our respective chairs, bags in hand but definitely not as cautious as were the class before. Well, by 'not as cautious', I mean not expecting to be surprised out of our minds, that is. We were expectant of a deeper look-see into what installation art entailed.

Well, we were surprised.

Should be getting used to that by now, I suppose.

It’s not like it was a humungous surprise, though. It wasn’t a completely radical change in approach to the entire course structure. We weren’t lobbed at with bags of thread and bamboo and asked to make an installation out of it, right then and there. It was more of a mental exercise, to be clearer.

What is art, in relation to you?

And so Narendra (I am in awe of his wisdom – I am not even kidding) begins to speak.

You look at art like you would your significant other, he said. Think of it like a relationship. At first, you may be attracted because of its beauty and intrigue, but you really ought not to stop right there, for that is a poor base to build a relationship upon. No, you must go deeper than that. See what the artist is trying to say. Observe. Experience.

Don’t just stand and stare at the layer of ice. Peep through the solid and see the ecosystem underneath.

At least, that is what I discerned.

I’m not going to talk any more about art, he says. After this, it’s all about installation. But you must understand how to look at art. How to experience art. Art is your significant other. Regard it like you would him or her.

And with that in mind, we settle down to watch an interesting documentary.

A very interesting documentary, indeed.

It’s called Ai Weiwei: Never Sorry, and it’s the biography of a very controversial installation artist named Ai Weiwei that came to public notice around the year 2008.

What an enigma.

He was a rebel, you know. He was a rebel who was intolerant of corruption, injustice, and most especially, dictatorship. An artist and an activist by profession, as he grew with age, he began to get into an increasing number of clashes with the Chinese Government, mostly for their totalitarian ways – key incidents include the controversy that surrounded his reluctant contribution to the design of the Bird’s Nest (2008 Beijing Summer Olympics), the demolition of the Shanghai studio which he chose to treat as a celebration than as an event for mourning, the citizen’s investigation into the Sichuan earthquake’s student casualties (the details of which were kept confidential by the Chinese government), his assault at the hands of an unnamed Chinese police officer (this was firmly discounted as rubbish), and countless other measures that he undertook in order to battle the authoritarian government.

One thing that particularly sticks out for me, however, is his exhibition with the sunflower seeds.

Sunflower Seeds is actually made up of millions of small works. Each are apparently identical but are actually unique. These seeds are actually handcrafted and painted by specialists working in small-scale workshops in Jingdezhen, China. Far from a wholesale production, each piece is really a product of patience and dedication. Together, there are a 100 million, and each seed is a part of a whole. It, in the words of the curator of the exhibition, is a commentary on the relationship between an individual and the masses.

Never have I seen anything so poignant and thought-provoking.

In fact, the entire documentary was such a shock to my belief system. The surprising thing was that he was not afraid, no matter what happened. When his blog was shut down, he took to Twitter. What he was arrested for a few months and let back out on strict confidentiality agreements, he was back to speaking out within the next few. When he disappeared with no trace whatsoever, his ideals continued to live on in the minds of his supporters, continuing to spread caution and awareness and bringing people around to the truth.

He is perhaps one of the most influential artists I have ever learned about in a long time.

And so, as the credits roll across the screen (accompanied by a very cheeky video of him singing a Chinese song that had us all giggling into our hands, thank you, Ai Weiwei), we sit there and contemplate. And in order to help with our serious contemplation, our darling facilitator decides to go all 1-2-3 on us and split us up into three random groups, all with one particular question to ponder.

To group number one, he says, tell me who an ‘artist’ is.

Group number two, he says, you have to figure out whether it is essential for an artist to be an activist.

While group number three, he says with an amused smile (I am in group 3, yes), your task is to figure out exactly what a ‘non-artist’ is.

And so we’re faced with a puzzling dilemma.

What is a non-artist?

But before that, what is an artist in the first place? Can’t define one without the other, really, we think with a shrug of our shoulders.

And we descend into chaos.

Lateral thinking, someone shouts. Courage of expression, adds another.

Ages of debate later and we come up with a reasonably valid answer.

Problem was, once it became open to debate, we realized that our discussion was almost identical to the one that occurred between the members of group one.

Well, wasn’t that fun.

Group one passes nice and easy, and so does group two, but then it comes to us and we are immediately accused of relying on group one’s debate to fashion our reply.

Well, I never.

S’not our fault we came up with the same answer. Really.

But no sir-ree, it’s the principle of the matter, we must eat this group people alive for their blatant disregard for debate ethics.

Blah.

I about died sitting there in front of everybody’s incredulous/mildly reproachful gazes. My ears were burning and my knees, they were literally shaky. My god, embarrassment galore. I never want to face that again.

Probably will though.

Eh.

But yes. Back to philosophical debates on art and all that it entails.

We end up with three solid definitions, as class winds to an end.

An artist, according to group one, is an individual who consciously expresses themselves with motive, medium and methodology.

No, group two says. An artist is not essentially an activist, but an activist is an artist when it comes to the work he does.

And finally, a non-artist is a person who does not express with an intention of aesthetically expressing.

That last one’s a bit rough (I do not recall the exact wording, and for that, I apologize), but I suppose it’s pretty close. Only a word or two off-center, I think.

But whatever.

So class comes to an end, and we’re just about to wrap up when he gives us one last question that bamboozles us to no end. ‘Will an artist still be an artist if the viewer fails to recognize the art?’

Think about it, he says, and then allows us to leave.

God, I think.

This is going to bring me to my wit’s end.

Here’s to expecting more of this, in the near future.