This text is addressed not to artists or professionals, but to the public. Not to those who defiantly, almost proudly, boast of their ignorance, wrapping it in the clothes of common sense, but to those who want to understand, who are intrigued, who are open. Clearly, there is no text that can make you understand everything instantly upon reading it; I will try to provide something like a very pragmatic instruction on how to act in order to understand.
Let us start with taste. Too many people write in the comments that taste is the single criterion they trust. It cannot be ignored.
Of course, your taste is not a criterion of evaluation, but a personal affection for a certain kind of art. When developed, it is a powerful tool—a concentration of the viewer's experience.The most interesting part here is to understand how it was formed and how it changes over time. But first things first.
It is impossible to love all art. It is very diverse, and contemporary artists often profess directly opposite concepts, answering the questions "What is art?" and "What is the place of the contemporary artist?" differently. It would be logical to study the art presented to us as widely as possible and then choose "this is mine"—not all artists, but the whole diversity of art. In practice, however, taste is formed randomly in childhood, during the first encounter. That is, any person's taste is initially undeveloped. Developing taste is work.Sometimes it is work not just for a single viewer, but for collective vision. A textbook example: today "rusted iron" is very popular in architecture, and very aesthetic buildings are created using it. But it was the Italian artists of Arte Povera, and especially Jannis Kounellis, who taught the world to see beauty in iron, charcoal, and unprocessed, rough surfaces. Without this viewer experience, we would consider these buildings ugly.
Let us return to an uninitiated person with a pronounced taste.Say it has formed, it is already there. An album of Cézanne caught the eye in youth, and the person evaluates all painting by how "Cézanne-esque" it is. How to deal with this? How to overcome the predetermination of youthful experience? It seems to you that your taste is the key to understanding art, but on the contrary, it is a lock. It tries to limit the space of what constitutes art for you. Below are a few of my tips—peculiar keys:
The main key is curiosity. Therefore, the first tip: go to survey exhibitions. For example, "Contemporary Art of China," "Video Art in the 20th Century," or "Young Artists of Berlin." At such exhibitions, curiosity is the main stimulus. You are interested in "What is it like, this Chinese art?", rather than choosing "Oh, will I hang this on my wall or not." Just as a traveler says to himself, "Oh, I haven't been there yet, I'll go," you too must fill in the blanks, looking at a lot of different things. Then, to the joy of encountering the familiar, the joy of discovering the new will be added.
Move away from the question: "Is it art or not?"You need to stop agonizing over the question of whether it is art or not. Simply perceive the artists' works directly. Is it interesting or not? Is it impressive or not? Does it make you think, trigger your imagination, etc.? Generally, "art or not" is a false question. When we did the Russian Povera exhibition in Perm, where works of major artists created from waste materials were gathered, the initial reaction of the public was: "How classy, but it's not art, because..."—followed by arguments. However, as soon as this question was removed (how it was removed is a separate story), this exhibition and the participating artists became beloved. The question of what is art and what is not is posed by artists every second, and these boundaries are constantly shifting. Some believe that only the conversation about boundaries, only boundary works, constitute real contemporary art. For the viewer, however, this is an idle question. We must be open and glad to see art in every gesture of the artist.
Become a co-authorContinuing the story with the Russian Povera exhibition: among the arguments for the thesis "why this is not art," the first place was held by "I can do that too." But after a while, the residents of Perm began sending photos of their own "crafts," asking: "Is this art then?". This is very important—the transition from "I can do that too—it's not art" to "I can do that too, I am an artist as well." The thing is that, unlike artists of past eras who tried to maintain a distance from the public, leaving viewers only with the opportunity to admire (I am a genius, and you are a philistine), the contemporary artist has stepped down from the pedestal and speaks with the public as equals. Most importantly, he also leaves part of the creative work to the public. Therefore, the third tip sounds fully like this: become partly a co-author of the artist's work, find a creative impulse within yourself. For example, many minimalist projects assume a literally equal partnership with the viewer. Actually, this is an old game where the viewer "guesses" the continuation of a line and completes the image in their imagination.
Attend "mega-events"Contemporary art is "contextual." Criteria can be studied in a library, but contexts must be immersed into. Therefore, my fourth tip: start attending mega-events where a lot of art is shown at once, in order to feel the context and feel like a connoisseur. Having visited two consecutive Venice Biennales, one Documenta, and a couple of art fairs, you will recognize the authors and remember their last names. You compare and evaluate. The two main joys of the viewer are recognizing the familiar ("I remember this artist, I saw his work there and then") and discovering the new ("In my opinion, this is something completely new, I haven't seen anything like this").
Take an interest in the backgroundI will retell a sketch from the artist Dmitry Gutov, which I think might help someone realize the contextuality of contemporary art. A few years ago in Moscow, there were huge lines to the Shroud of Jesus in the Cathedral of Christ the Savior. By and large, it is an old, dirty piece of cloth. There is nothing beautiful or smart in it. But behind it stands a most powerful, authentic history. That is, the artifact itself—its aesthetic properties—is not important in this case. The background is what matters. People will stand in lines through the night, kiss the cloth, and immerse themselves in euphoria from the mere thought that Christ touched it. Of course, for us (those who are passionate about contemporary art), the history of art is an incredibly important part of the history of humanity. It is no less dramatic than the history of wars or the history of religions. Therefore, admiration is sometimes caused by how much a work of art changed art itself. And when we talk about Marcel Duchamp, Kazimir Malevich, and Van Gogh, we constantly keep in mind what a great contribution they made and how strongly they influenced other artists.
Communicate with artistsThis point was the most important for me; it is my case. Therefore, it will be more detailed. First, I'll tell a recent story. In Montenegro, on Sundays, we arranged "open studios": we provided studios to artists free of charge, but on the condition that on Sundays they open their doors, welcome visitors, and hold mini-exhibitions. You could visit about 20 studios in a couple of hours. And so, one visitor, a German man of about 60, comes up to me and says: "I finally understand this contemporary art. It's so cool!" I ask him: "Didn't you go to museums?" He replies: "Of course I did, my daughter is an art historian, I went a lot, but I have never spoken to artists."And indeed, the best curators I knew always went to studios. It turns out that museums have become peculiar "partitions" between the artist and the viewer. But having visited 30 studios, believe me, you will understand how the art world is structured as a whole. In connection with this, I have an idea of a "living museum." In other museums, they show you art, but we will teach you to understand it. Maybe we will manage to realize it in Chișinău.
In my own case, it happened that while working in the theater as a student, I first fell in love with artists as personalities, and as a result, already with their art. Later, as a gallerist, I always said: we work with artists, not with objects. My main advisors were artists. For the first six years of the gallery's work, with a new exhibition every month, I had 50 teachers. To understand them. How they think. This is an amazing adventure. Of those on Facebook, I recommend Yuri Albert—he constantly poses questions "on behalf of the viewer" and answers them.
Spend money on artOne way to love is to "invest." And my seventh tip is to start buying art. When I was a museum director, we had a sponsor who, for mercantile reasons, wanted to make a gift to the museum (to get acquainted with the governor). I outlined a list of artists' names whose works interested us, and then he could choose for himself. For the first time, the person had to choose art and pay real money for it. This turned out to be a very difficult matter, but as a result, the works of the artist he chose became the beginning of his personal collection as well.
Of course, there is a direct path—educationGoing to museums since childhood, listening to lectures, and the like. But this is an uninteresting tip, because it is already obvious. However, it is especially effective where your ideas about art conflict with what you see. For instance, in 1988, I first encountered the works of Ilya Kabakov. Later we collaborated a lot, but back then, what I saw was directly opposite to what I understood as art. Like all Soviet intellectuals, I loved the Impressionists. Among contemporaries, I loved open painting, so that one could look at large brushstrokes for a long time, enjoying accidental influxes of paint straight from the tube—and here was Kabakov's dry drawing, done with a ruler. It was not art at all in my understanding. But everyone around was saying that this was "Russian number one," and I doubted myself so much that I went to study. My point is that studying is great not at school, but already as an adult, when "life forces you to."By the way, I bought sheets from that album later. 30 years later.
Get initiated into the contemporary along with a person you likeA very good idea: look at art together with a person who loves this art and whom you find attractive. A kind of Virgil! I gather such groups of friends and acquaintances, and we have visited the Venice Biennale and Art Basel together. Here, the mindset is important: not to argue with what you hear, but to understand. Even if you don't always agree, understand. It works very well.
Stop comparing the past and the present in artAs they say, "Last but not Least"—you should stop contrasting the art of the past and contemporary art. Like, "back then... but now...". Art belongs to its time, reflects its time. To love contemporary art means to love yourself, your life. The time in which you live. I simply guarantee you that the life of a collector of old art is much more boring and monotonous than the life of those who collect contemporaries. A better hobby simply does not exist.
P.S. In the photo is a Kabakov from my collection.
