Mechanical Images, The Burden of Mechanization

In the language of the critic, the term “contemporary art” refers today to a certain mode of creation by modern artists that obeys no classical dictionary of any art school. Rather, it may be said, it deliberately breaks the ancient vision of art in order to pursue an unconventional practice. Just as the modern poet seldom employs the strict discipline of classical metre, but instead fashions his own rhythms by breaking the rules, so too the modern artist creates. The artists of our day are, culturally speaking, far more diverse, for the old lineage of art has collapsed entirely by the twenty-first century. While certain family traditions of artistry remain, the majority are of the first or newest generation. These artists are technologically advanced, versatile, and have prepared such a domain where any kind of response—whether praise or criticism—may find acceptance. One could call this a democratic atmosphere for art. Personally, I find this deeply significant. The freedom of art and of artistic medium is a matter of utmost importance. The conservatives may speak endlessly, but it is undeniable that, just as life itself changes, so too must art change.
 
Working with new media, contemporary artists are often perceived in modern society as obscure or abstract figures. To understand their practice is, for the spectator, a challenge indeed! If the artwork does not appear intelligible, how shall one claim it to be aesthetic or pleasurable? The viewers do not feel united with such art. This, some say, is an obstacle of modern art. But is it truly so? Are the viewers alone to be blamed? Or is it that society itself has failed to educate its people in art? For the artist, surely, is not responsible. Indeed, it is widely accepted that art is not for everyone. Throughout the ages it has largely been fashioned for the upper layers of society. Whether understood or not, Plato and Marx both understood this truth.
 
From the early twentieth century, certain artists began to turn away from realism and drift toward abstraction. Two reasons lay behind this: the collapse of Marxism and the devastation of two world wars. Those who had leaned upon communism, finding it to fail, chose the path of abstraction, leaving behind the symbol of abstraction for future generations without hesitation. The two great wars, moreover, made them doubtful of capitalism itself. Thus they brought into their works the expression of social abstraction. After the Second World War, in New York City, the term “Abstract Expressionism” was first coined as the defining feature of an artistic movement. Unlike their predecessors, these artists emphasized not the meaning of the finished canvas but the very process of making it. Jackson Pollock, for instance, carried the spontaneous gesture of design to choreographic heights. In time, this movement deeply influenced young artists and continues to inspire them today. Yet a class of spectators who came seeking a story within the painting were bitterly disappointed. Much like those Hollywood audiences who walk bewildered from a Jean-Luc Godard film, failing to discover the familiar tale, these spectators turned away, dismissing the works as the abstract playthings of aesthetes. The fault lay in the fact that these paintings loved more to provoke imagination than to narrate stories.
 
Working within the postmodern movement, contemporary artists reject the very notion of mainstream art and speak instead of multiplicity—of diverse purposes and plural receptions of art. For this reason, the media and materials employed by such artists grow increasingly complex. The viewer, or connoisseur, often drowns amidst the flood of techniques. It is as though one has entered a forest of countless paths and lost one’s way. Yet this too is a bright sign of modern pluralism. In Rabindranath’s words: “Amidst the diverse, behold the great union.” Still, to reflect this plurality adequately, both to progressive and reactionary spectators alike, is no easy task. The impact of modern information technology upon the art world is now profoundly revolutionary. Cyber art and digital art have interpreted nature from an altogether different perspective, not severing it from medieval painting, but transforming it into a deeper meaning.
 
History has often borne witness to the birth of new art forms with the aid of new technology. Since the invention of the printing press, countless improvements have taken place. From the era of offset we have come into the age of digitization. Books are no longer always printed; they are published upon the web. Authors, too, find greater comfort writing upon the keypad than with pen and paper. Why should the realm of images remain untouched?
 
Computer art, or digital graphics, has now become an established medium. In Kolkata, I have myself seen but two exhibitions of digital art till this day. Yet the elder traditionalists of our land have raised numerous questions. Their claim: since most of the work is done by the machine, can it truly be called art? Secondly, how can one be an artist without brush, paint, and canvas? The medium itself seems peculiar. Even now, in our haughty artistic circles, photography has not been wholly accepted as art alongside painting, music, literature, dance, poetry, or cinema. It is not, they say, a fine art. Though with difficulty we have come to accept Raghu Rai as an artist of photography, still we call those who take photos “cameramen,” not artists. Following this logic, a renowned watercolour painter once dismissed digital artists as mere computer operators—since the machine, he said, was their prime instrument of creation. I asked him in reply: are not your brushes, your paints, your foreign canvas woven of special cloth—are these not products of machinery too? The painter smiled, patted my back, and said, “Not entirely, only somewhat.”
 
A young digital artist raised a bolder question. If a man, to express himself, employs a camera or computer, shall he not be called an artist—while one who employs sitar, tabla, harmonium, brush, or pen shall be? Needless to say, our lofty critics’ argument holds no water internationally today. Writers are publishing not books but digital works. Digital artists’ creations are being exhibited in the great galleries abroad.
 
If science indeed governs our society and the life of the artist, then its influence upon art must be acknowledged. To dismiss a medium merely because viewers are untrained or elder artists are unskilled in its use—this cannot be. One of art’s noblest functions is to educate its audience slowly. Pioneers will continue to work with new media, and this shall never corrupt the infinite fertility of painting. Rather, to authorize this new medium, we must re-examine the very nature of art itself.
 
I saw a very small exhibition once, by an unknown artist. The use of colour in the paintings, their tenderness, truly touched the connoisseur’s mind. Across the canvas, vast spaces of white or black wore garments of cool tones. Their suppleness was natural, their grace unforced. The handling of light was brilliant. Above all, what struck me was the movement within the pictures. They bore no trace of the burden or fatigue of mechanization. My heart was gladdened by the sight. A new medium had been born today. This new art form must receive art’s approval—for the essence of art resides within it, clear and undeniable.