In a spirit of experiencing as many varieties of art as possible. I visited the Hayward Gallery's Alternative Guide to the Universe exhibition, a selection of the kind of art known successively as "primitive", "naive", "outsider", and now, apparently, by the more neutral description of "self-taught". The exhibition itself is no more neutral than any other exhibition as the works on show represent the usual process of selection: works deemed significant by collectors, well wishers, dealers and others, which come to the attention of the art establishment, some of which are then selected by a curator, probably to fit a wider agenda. The two most famous practitioners in this category are probably Henri Rousseau and his jungle fantasies and the ex-graffiti artist Basquiat, but in spite of their success this art is still not fully accepted: just think of Lowry's lack of mainstream acceptance by the British art establishment until recently, partly because he was thought of as "self-taught" (although of course he wasn't).
The Hayward refers to its artists as "Inspiringly original and bracingly eccentric, their work re-imagines our social and cultural conventions in ways that fearlessly depart from accepted ways of thinking." In fact, it is obvious that in many cases they are not consciously being fearlessly original but obsessionally creating their own world as an escape from the "real" one. Often they have a history of mental health problems, autism or a very troubled upbringing. Does this make their work less valid as art (trained artists can have similar backgrounds, after all), or does the apparent lack of conscious intent invalidate it in some way? This is not raised by the Hayward exhibition, which seems to expect visitors to accept the work as art in the usual way - and if it is displayed in a well known art gallery does that in itself validate it? - but then it would not really be "outsider" art, which might explain why the terminology used is "self-taught".
It was fascinating to see how some of the work (presumably unintentionally) echoed established artists, such as a mobile which could have been a Cornelia Parker (but was intended to protect against harmful radiation), and photo booth pictures taken by a homeless woman posed in a variety of personas, reminiscent of Cindy Sherman's work. A Canadian artist's wonky but stable forest huts could be the work of any modern student with the right resources. Mostly though, the works were very detailed drawings, paintings and models which created utopian buildings and cities which were intended to replace the current world, or mathematically-based charts, or engineering projects. Some of these were very beautiful, but this was, I suspect, incidental. The most incredible life story was that of Marcel Storr, an illiterate deaf man born in 1911 who had a very difficult life but eventually found a job as a street cleaner and married. In the last ten years of his life he created fantastic detailed drawings of an imaginary megalopolis, which his wife showed to others and Marcel became something of a celebrity.
The works which referred to real human beings were the only ones which I found in any way disturbing: one orphaned male artist created detailed models of children, made clothes for them and photographed them in a way which made them eerily realistic, another photographed his wife (a willing co-creator) in a variety of poses based on Hollywood depictions of women. In both cases, some of the images only just avoided an exploitative feel. Some of the artists did have some training, in graphic design, photography or draughtsmanship, and one was a well known graffitti artist taken up (without success) by fellow graffitist Basquiat. This artist, known as Rammellzee, created what I thought was the most arresting work on show, a work intended to "set the alphabet free" by assigning each letter to a skateboard, on which a variety of found objects were piled, the individual pieces were then assembled into a battle formation phalanx suspended from the ceiling. He is one of the artists featured whose works are now collectors' items.
All in all, difficult to know how to react to this show, but it certainly made me think about the real nature of art. And I hope the art really did provide a refuge from the anxieties and perplexities besetting so many of their creators.
The Hayward refers to its artists as "Inspiringly original and bracingly eccentric, their work re-imagines our social and cultural conventions in ways that fearlessly depart from accepted ways of thinking." In fact, it is obvious that in many cases they are not consciously being fearlessly original but obsessionally creating their own world as an escape from the "real" one. Often they have a history of mental health problems, autism or a very troubled upbringing. Does this make their work less valid as art (trained artists can have similar backgrounds, after all), or does the apparent lack of conscious intent invalidate it in some way? This is not raised by the Hayward exhibition, which seems to expect visitors to accept the work as art in the usual way - and if it is displayed in a well known art gallery does that in itself validate it? - but then it would not really be "outsider" art, which might explain why the terminology used is "self-taught".
It was fascinating to see how some of the work (presumably unintentionally) echoed established artists, such as a mobile which could have been a Cornelia Parker (but was intended to protect against harmful radiation), and photo booth pictures taken by a homeless woman posed in a variety of personas, reminiscent of Cindy Sherman's work. A Canadian artist's wonky but stable forest huts could be the work of any modern student with the right resources. Mostly though, the works were very detailed drawings, paintings and models which created utopian buildings and cities which were intended to replace the current world, or mathematically-based charts, or engineering projects. Some of these were very beautiful, but this was, I suspect, incidental. The most incredible life story was that of Marcel Storr, an illiterate deaf man born in 1911 who had a very difficult life but eventually found a job as a street cleaner and married. In the last ten years of his life he created fantastic detailed drawings of an imaginary megalopolis, which his wife showed to others and Marcel became something of a celebrity.
The works which referred to real human beings were the only ones which I found in any way disturbing: one orphaned male artist created detailed models of children, made clothes for them and photographed them in a way which made them eerily realistic, another photographed his wife (a willing co-creator) in a variety of poses based on Hollywood depictions of women. In both cases, some of the images only just avoided an exploitative feel. Some of the artists did have some training, in graphic design, photography or draughtsmanship, and one was a well known graffitti artist taken up (without success) by fellow graffitist Basquiat. This artist, known as Rammellzee, created what I thought was the most arresting work on show, a work intended to "set the alphabet free" by assigning each letter to a skateboard, on which a variety of found objects were piled, the individual pieces were then assembled into a battle formation phalanx suspended from the ceiling. He is one of the artists featured whose works are now collectors' items.
All in all, difficult to know how to react to this show, but it certainly made me think about the real nature of art. And I hope the art really did provide a refuge from the anxieties and perplexities besetting so many of their creators.
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