Art, identity, and criticism: A miscellany
I. There's been a subtle confluence of things in my mind recently, so I might as well tighten up the loose connections and write about them. And if it's disjointed, well, so it goes. First, I'm reading through Steven Pinker's The Blank Slate: The Modern Denial of Human Nature , a deeply interesting book with a few intriguing flaws. One of them is his section on modern art, whose crisis he attributes to the modernist-postmodernist (hereafter, MoPoMo) denial of human nature. Specifically, he cites research to suggest that humans have an innate, if rudimentary, aesthetic sense, that MoPoMo art explicitly rejects and that's why most people hate it: Postmodernists were even more dismissive. Beauty, they said, consists of arbitrary standards dictated by an elite. Having watched more than a few episodes of Art21 , I can tentatively confirm that a lot of postmodern artists are self-important hacks, but then again I think all artistic movements feel like a he...