I’ve blogged about how industrialization has simplified the process of making art and craft: hobby stores gave us relatively cheap and pre-prepared art materials, artists like Bob Ross showed us how to cleverly fake our way toward a sense of achievement, and Ebay and Etsy give us outlets to peddle the results.
Sometimes it’s a good thing. Art is fun, art is empowering, art is addictive.
Sometimes it’s a bad thing: the archives of the now-closed Regretsy.com were filled with the often sad, often hilarious efforts of artists whose reach appeared to be lightyears beyond their grasp.
Oops, I just heard voices crying out in the wilderness: ‘Oh, but all art is subjective!’ Yes. We are all critics. We all have the freedom (based on our history, quirks, skill level, and what kind of day we’re having) to decide if what we’re looking at is art or crap. That can be a neighbor’s kid’s first grade ceramic project, or the self-referential flailings of hipsters more in love with the idea of being artists (or art activists) than actually making art.
One of the equally fun and problematic outlets of Art For Everyone is the arrival of the paint-and-pour business. I’m not including links here; just search for the phrase and you’ll get an introduction. There are dozens of different franchises around the States, and probably hundreds of unique businesses. All follow some variation of this model:
Get a storefront with a liquor license in a trendy neighborhood. Find tutors willing to teach simple, quick art techniques for a set price per class, per student. Line up a supplier of cheap acrylic paint, cheap brushes, and cheap small pre-stretched artists’ canvas. Line up a supply of wine, barware, and the makings for simple mixed drinks. Distribute class calendar with pictures of the paintings that will be taught in 2 – 3 hour classes. Advertise with some form of the following phrases: ‘Pretend to be an artist! You don’t have to be an artist to make art. Come have a drink and play!’ Convince art ‘tutors’ to sell more classes to potential clients, theoretically broadening the tutors’ take home pay. On Class Day, pour out libations for 6 – 15 people or more, give ’em paints and some instruction, let the alcohol do its work, and let the students putter with something more or less approaching art.
It can be done with paints, beads, cooking classes, ceramics – virtually any simple handicraft that can be created without too many dangerous tools and materials. Remove the booze and add sugar (or more responsible snacks), and you have kid-friendly zones that attempt to take up the slack of defunded school art programs.
It’s not a bad business model. For decades, our educational system did a brilliant job of screwing up most people’s creativity. Anything that might possibly loosen up folks into just relaxing and playing is A Very Good Thing. Play is a sign of higher brain function, after all. Smart creatures play. It’s how we map our abilities and the world around us.
Nor do I deny that such classes can be a fun bonding experience for dating couples, or groups of friends or co-workers.
But I worry about what they are actually teaching the participants. Not all art is created equal. Monkey Jesus might be hilarious, but he’s not in the same assigned-value category as anything from, say, Da Vinci. And people with only a cursory dilettante awareness of the arts are never going to know (or care) about that difference.
Our politicians and advertisers have successfully conveyed the idea ‘perception is more important than reality’…at least, until reality bites someone on the ass. Groups that have grown up earning participatory awards and confusing skill at Guitar Hero with being able to actually play a damn guitar might be forgiven if they treat visual arts the same way. Beginner-level craft magazines are are full of quick and easy crafts aimed at readers with limited time, attention spans, and expertise. ‘Life For Dummies’ is a viable category at brick-and-mortar bookstores and grocery store magazine racks.
For me, the best part of those introductory measures is when the participant realizes he or she can do more. Learn more. Branch away from the kit or the class, and push personal boundaries. Not everyone is going to do that. For most participants, these activities are just diversions. And that’s fine, too.
Art is wonderful. At the same time, art can be a trail of tears and frustration. Big projects, projects beyond our immediate skill or time commitments…I suspect those are the real measures of an artist, instead of a pretender. When we accept the challenges along the path to a final result, art goes beyond a hobby and becomes an aspect of self.
Me? I’ve seen what happens when I paint tipsy.
Added 5-28-2017: Since writing this post, I’ve seen ‘paint & sip’ studios grow beyond their 2013 level. I’ve also seen the withering criticisms from artists, assistants, and better-informed clients. Here’s a blog post or two about the benefits and drawbacks of working for a paint & sip company, written by someone who has been in on the phenomenon since its early days.
The main takeaway I get from her articles? Paint & sip isn’t really an ‘art’ job, it’s more standup comedy. The teacher is only there to entertain the audience. If that’s your thing, go for it!
I agree with you, and I may draw some ire for this, but I think of NaNoWriMo as largely being in this same category. People who pour out a torrent of undisciplined words for 30 days then go around labeling themselves novelists. It should be an introductory measure, not something that allows a person to think he/she has mastered a craft.
I largely agree. I’ve never formally participated in NaNo but I have friends who do. It’s a great exercise to loosen up and train oneself into better writing habits – but it should not be an end goal of itself. I’ve seen NaNo novels. Most of them are, at best, first drafts. Agents fear them. Probably 2/3 of the vanity and self-publishing industries benefit directly from NaNo novels.
I think they have almost the same relative merit that the first half-semester’s worth of charcoal drawings on newsprint have for an art student: training. When I helped with portfolio advice years ago, I always cautioned BA students against showing too many of their early figure drawings or gestural studies. Keep ’em for reference, sure. But the students needed newer, more polished, more professional work to stand out to galleries and employers.
Same with writing.
Very few writers are capable of producing a literate and readable first draft, one good enough to commercially publish without additional pre-submission polishing. And even then I’d challenge that such writers have already put in their million-words-of-crap. They already know their voice and style.
For the rest of us, our words are honed in further exercises, revisions, workshopping, and/or beta reading. That’s where NaNo often fails as a production method – but NaNoWriMo’s core purpose is just to get writers writing. In the giddy joy of tallying wordcounts, many NaNo authors forget that.