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Created: June 30, 2003
Latest Update: June 30, 2003
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Backup of In My House: A Short Essay About Art in Scotland.
In My House: A Short Essay About Art in Scotland.Judith Findlay
In 1994 I wrote a short essay to accompany a season of exhibitions called New Art in Scotland.1 New Art in Scotland was, as the curator Nicola White put it, '...intended to describe what [was] emerging at [that] time in contemporary art, to hazard a version, a selection of what [was] interesting and current'. Authors (of which I was one of seven) were asked to write about some aspect of art in Scotland that we were interested in--to '...convey some of the flavour of current debates around contemporary art and its place in Scotland.'6 However, in re-reading the exhibition catalogue now, I am struck, not only as to how dated, possibly naive and overly (immaturely) flattering my contribution seems but also as to how vague--or coy--we all were about defining either art in Scotland or Scottish art. It seems we were unable or unwilling to define what is or was artistically distinctive with regard to Scottish national identity. While it may be said that it was not the intentions of the curator, selectors or writers to define national traits and characteristics (what was notable then is still notable now: the exhibitions were called New Art in Scotland not 'new Scottish art'), by setting national borders for a project one does I think inevitably raise questions of what constitutes and is contained within those borders; one inevitably hints at a national agenda, even if faintly or obliquely. Thus the art in New Art in Scotland was not defined by content, concerns, form or philosophy, nor by the backgrounds or birthplaces of the artists. Quite simply, art was included because it was 'in Scotland'. To put this slightly differently, one can conclude that the national identity--the validity for selection and inclusion--of an art work or an artist was defined by where it, he or she happened to be at the time: national artistic identity, it was decided, was merely a matter of being or living in Scotland.
Before going further I should defend my own essay, so I will say it was very much of its time. That is to say, I'm pretty certain it caught a mood, a trend, a 'truth' of the time. As I was asked, it conveyed (and, I would argue, still conveys), a contemporary flavour. And I still think this is useful if only because it is a description--a taste--of what made some art in Scotland distinctive then, or at least, what some of us felt made some art in Scotland distinctive. The essay is also very much an 'insider's' view of art in Scotland and as such it set out to be complimentary of that culture at that time. I was working professionally in the art world and I deliberately and willingly took up the position of ('performed' the role of) 'art fan'. I was an art fan. I was in on the story and part of the culture (I knew because I was there). This, I would argue, also makes the essay valuable. For it renders a knowledge (a knowing, an understanding, a sense) of what some new art in Scotland was, and was about, then--or, again, what we felt some Scottish art was about. It was about how we colluded in the story of new art in Scotland. So although I didn't identify a national culture as such, I did shed light on a sub-culture--a 'scene'. Identification of this scene did seem to solve--even if temporarily--that problem of 'Scottishness': even as it had nothing to do with 'nationality' it still identified a culture and a community of people 'in Scotland' connected artistically to one another probably only because they felt connected to one another. It's interesting to me now reflecting on the writing, art and activity of the time that then in pre-parliament Scotland it was easy to identify this scene--this '"Scotia Nostra" (you know who you are)' as the artist (and co-selector of New Art in Scotland) Douglas Gordon referred to it on winning the Turner Prize in 1996. Now, strangely--and this may only be a coincidence (there may be no connection at all)--in a Scotland which has seen over a year go by of its own devolved parliament, I find it incredibly hard to grasp what's happening artistically here. There are still art and artists. Exhibitions still happen too. But there doesn't seem to be a 'scene' anymore. I perceive nothing 'in Scotland' that signals an experience of artistic collective identity and I find myself asking: what is the cultural identity of art in Scotland; what makes it distinctive?
My present apparent lack of awareness is probably my fault. For various reasons recently I've not been taking too much notice of art in Scotland. I've been 'out' of the art world and haven't been that interested in it (and so when asked to write this essay I did for a moment wonder about my qualification to write such a piece). Yet, on reflection I'm sure that, what might be called, my current 'outsider', 'non-professional', 'disinterested' status enhances my expertise in an interesting, different, valuable and unforeseen way. I will explain in due course. First, I want to consider the above 'cultural identity' question for there are at least two ways one could answer it. Firstly, one might simply say, as I have done, and interestingly as Douglas Gordon now says, that there is no scene, no common culture, no narrative that identifies and binds art in Scotland together. As Gordon said recently,
'I don't think anybody who works internationally perceives a scene. It's more likely you would meet up with...people in Berlin or New York or Paris.'7
Perhaps Gordon and I are both ignorant though I doubt it. I think it would be fairly widely accepted in the professional art world, in Scotland and further afield, that Gordon at least is pretty aware of what's going on artistically. Perhaps though in different ways we've both stepped 'outside' of art in Scotland: he to 'the international'; me to 'the local'. Perhaps this just indicates that the boundaries of art in Scotland are quite simply the boundaries that one decides are the boundaries of art in Scotland: what defines art in Scotland, what makes it distinctive, is whatever one decides defines it and makes it distinctive. Secondly, this then provides another type of answer to my question: one just says what one thinks art in Scotland or Scottish art is. For example as one commentator recently stated:
'What is it that...unites the disparate strains of Scottish art? Clearly, much more than a predilection for stags and glens. From Ramsay and Raeburn, through the Glasgow Boys and the Colourism of Cadell, Fergusson, Peploe and Hunter...to the present-day conceptualists what we have is a tendency towards reality, an obdurate earthiness and a belief in the essential vitality and hopefulness of mankind.'8
In other words, one decides to be specific while not really being specific at all--while the above statement about Scottish art may very well be true, the description could, I think, be said about art from Scotland or art from anywhere else.9 Thus, one can of course argue that art in Scotland--or Scottish art--is both different from and / or the same as art in other places: it's distinctive and it's not distinctive. This is hardly surprising for its rather an obvious thing to say--it's 'common sense' (and I hope it doesn't appear too cynical or obtuse). Yet rather than leaving it at that (and I guess one could leave it at that), I'd prefer that this statement be seen in terms of common sense: a position from which to begin to define the cultural identity(ies) of art (in Scotland)--a position I reflected on earlier--from the 'outside' and from the 'local'.
Let me explain, roughly, what I mean by these terms. What I mean by 'outside' is outside the 'official' contemporary art world (and for the purposes of this essay, I mean outside the 'official' contemporary art world in Scotland)10 . Thus, this specifies images, objects and artifacts that are not classed as 'art' by individuals ('art people') in this art world. It also specifies individuals ('non-art people') who are not classed as art people--art people being those individuals such as artists, curators, art critics, exhibition organisers, art administrators, art school lecturers and so on. Because, at least for the present, I am not working as any of these--I am, for the moment, what would be defined, I think, as not active in the art world (I have stepped 'outside' as it were)--I am a non-art person too. So, for now, I am an 'outsider': now I look at, and see (and think about) art (in Scotland) from the outside. Secondly, by 'local' I mean pretty much what the dictionary says the word means: '...characteristic of or associated with a particular locality or area...;...of, concerned with, or relating to a particular place or point in space...;...of, affecting or, confined to a limited area or part.'11 For when I say 'local' I mean 'here' and not in a gallery. I mean art I can see without, as it were, trying to see it. Why is it my fault that I haven't had time to travel to see art works? Why is it my fault that I've not seen many exhibitions recently? I still read books, listen to music, watch television. But these of course are available and accessible. I have them here (in my house, in my car), and I can read, listen to and watch them whenever I want. They're integrated with my life, and this of course is the point. This is why I find my present 'lay status' so interesting: my good fortune is that before I could only argue that art was not connecting with the majority of real lives (when in fact it was connecting with mine), whereas now I am living the fact (now that I am cut off from art, or rather now that art is cut off from me). My argument has taken on a reality. It's not only my fault that I've not 'engaged' with art recently. It is also art's fault --it's the art world's fault. For the products of the art world are just too unavailable and too inaccessible for someone (like me) who doesn't have time--or can't or won't prioritise time--to see art 'properly' and regularly. Art is just not combined with my life just now, for, to paraphrase Painter,
'...[art] work [is just not] being made available in ways that recognise [my]...priorities...'12
The art world is a million miles away and, like Painter, what ocurrs to me therefore, and what gives me concern: '...is the disconnection between...the "official" contemporary art world...and...the wider public which plays its part in support of the public institutions of contemporary art...through various forms of taxation.'13
So I would agree with Painter when he argues that there needs to be 'genuine continuity' between the world of contemporary art and all the other, many worlds in which people--people here in the North East of Scotland for example who I see and have contact with all the time and who, after all, are paying for art too (health-care professionals, day-care workers, full-time mums, children, farmers, shop keepers, supermarket assistants, the postman, the neighbours)--live and work and 'use and relate to images in their personal lives.' However, as Painter points out, art is lacking in good, strong connections with the daily lives, rituals and rites of passage of most people (these people). In fact, the 'official' art world often dismisses the many reasons 'ordinary' (non-art) people have for valuing and identifying with images and objects. Thus, art is just not socialised with what many people would consider their 'real' lives. And yet, as Painter points out, the solution to this problem--this challenge--of the lack of relevancy (and physical presence) of art lies,
'...in an emphasis on socialisation - familiarisation - [rather] than in formal education. Contact with domestic life is a central part of this because the home is a vital focus for most peoples' relationships with images and symbolic objects - arguably more important and formative than the school, museum or art gallery.'14
Thus, by 'local' I also mean 'home'. I mean images and objects not to visit but to live with--to own. For I'm not sure that Alan Woods is right when he says in his essay in New Art in Scotland that it is 'inevitable that paintings and art works are always written about as things to visit, not live with'15 . Painter for one has now written about art in and for houses. And I don't think it is inevitable if one writes from outwith the art world for instance--if one chooses not to conspire with, what it insists, is its hierarchy. If one moves out of the art world where the idea of what counts as art is distinct and precise--where it is controlled--I think it is possible and probable that one might write of art works--pictures and objects--not in an 'ideal space' but instead in hallways, living rooms, bedrooms, bathrooms, kitchens, studies, stairways and landings. One might write of spaces and places that do interfere with the fact that an artwork is 'art'. One might write of work that is integrated with and not (to use O'Doherty's words) 'isolated from everything that would detract from its own evaluation of itself'16 . One might write of work--lets call them images17 --alongside, mixed in with and related to books, video and CD collections, TV and childrens' toys, furniture and family photographs, ornaments and pot plants, kitchen utensils and appliances, toiletries, cosmetics and all the rest of the paraphernalia that comprises domestic life. One might write of images in my house.
What are the images in my house? What am I looking at just now? From where I'm sitting (writing this) I can see three: 'Decline and Fall' by Ross Sinclair, 'Donkey' by Jeff Koons and 'Blue Nude with Green Stockings' by Henri Matisse. Next door there are a few botanical drawings and a Craigie Atchison called 'Holy Island From Lamlash'. Downstairs there is more: 'Untitled No 5'' by Agnes Martin, 'The Great Pagoda' by Tobius Miller, 'Untitled Film Still' by Cindy Sherman, 'The Vale of Dedham' by John Constable, 'God Writing on the Tablets' of the Covenant' by William Blake, 'For Sale: A Smell of Sulpher in the Wind (Richard Long, $20 000)' by Bill Drummond, 'Saturn From Its Moon' by Chesley Bonestell, 'Niagara Falls from the American Side' by Frederic Edwin Church, 'The Angel Standing in the Sun' by Turner, 'The Monarch of the Glen' by Landseer, pictures of Miffy, Winnie the Pooh, the Tweenies, Teletubbies and Bob the Builder, a print by Richard Hamilton, 'Untitled' by Stephan Balkenhol, photographs of my children, pictures of lighthouses, the mountain, 'Bennachie', 'The Ladies' Bridge' at Cruden Bay, a painted statue of Rob Roy, and Haddo House in Aberdeenshire, 'Windows, Night' by Richard Walker, 'Pochoir pour Cahier d'Art' by Joan Miro, 'Traquair House' by James McIntosh Patrick, 'Native and Other' by Eva Rothschild, 'The Forked Road (Wellfleet)' by Edward Hopper, 'P & O' Boat by Alfred Wallis, some furniture decorated with Scandinavian 'rose' painting, and so on. My purpose here is not to analyse, decode, interpret or even describe these images (though that would surely make for an interesting, future essay--to write about the 'exhibition' in my house)18 . I only list them because I want to indicate some (a few) of the variety of images that reflect and contribute to my artistic identity (for the moment anyway). Like the images in New Art in Scotland my images are not defined by content, concerns, form or philosophy, nor by the backgrounds or birthplaces of the artists. Rather, the connection here is that they are 'in my house', and to make this point more specifically, they relate to me and my life. For some are reminders of somewhere I've been or someone I know, or have known. Some are made by friends. Some were given to me as presents, and some were souvenirs of a visit or journey. Some I have bought. Some I think are beautiful, special, interesting or strange. And some I think of and know as 'art'. My purpose therefore is to highlight the setting or context of these: 'in my house'. The point is, this is my 'art in Scotland' or, to put this slightly differently my artistic identity is not defined by national identity (even if, at times, it includes images of Scotland), rather it is defined by those images that collude with my own values, with my way of being in the world, of making sense of life, of finding and giving meaning, of 'performing' my identity.
So, in the end, art crosses borders.19 Arguably the above group of images are as much 'art in Scotland' as any other group of images in Scotland (and as I write this I think of all the other millions of homes in Scotland; all the other millions of 'arts in Scotland'). Does this mean then that the value of art--the distinctiveness of art--is really only a matter of personal preference? One might answer that such preferences are themselves socially and culturally determined. But as Frith has highlighted 'this is only part of the story...[T]astes [in art] do not just derive from our social and cultural identities; they also help to shape them.'20 Which means to say, that although art in Scotland may reflect where I'm from--my taste might be said to part of a collective taste and evidence of my background--it also suggests that where I'm from is not unchangeable.
I've just placed two flower pots on my window sill. They don't contain flowers or plants (not yet anyway). I've put them there because they look good. They're hand-painted in bright colours with various motifs on them of animals, flowers and fruit. I bought them today at a fund raising fair held at the local primary school in the village. They're made by someone who lives nearby, a friend of mine who paints pots in her evenings working in her utility room, the pots and paints placed on top of her fridge, a portable TV on in the corner, her young daughter asleep upstairs in bed. She sold lots of pots today, for as someone commented,
'They look so pretty and they're so well done--they're really skilful. Its so nice to have someone in the area doing something like this. Its like having a local craft--having something special to here. And we know the person who has made them too!'.
This makes me think of another friend I have who lives 'far away where art is'. He is a painter--an artist--and he shows in galleries in Scotland and abroad. He paints in his flat in the kitchen and on an ironing board in the living room while watching TV. I have one of his images hanging in my hallway. I wonder what is the difference between these two works and these two artists: probably only the difference of two art worlds. For the differences are slight and subtle--different places to show and sell, different audiences. This however is precisely the point, for these works and artists are worlds apart. (Then though, these works--these worlds--come together in my house.) I think of something else: once, with reference to the new Scottish parliament, I was asked what I would lobby for--or ask the Scottish Arts Council to lobby for--if given the chance. I said at the time that I would ask for much better, keener and positive support of 'art hucksters', those people such as the curators who 'organise' art and who therefore have the ability--the potential--to connect the "official" contemporary art world and the wider public. These are the people who might connect and provide genuine continuity between worlds (the worlds of paintings and of pots for example). They might make art worlds work together in creative, accessible, surprising, meaningful ways. They might develop spaces, build structures and challenge audiences21 . These are the people who could begin to show and define more of the realities (the diversities) of the distinctiveness of art in Scotland. And they might take practical account of something that I don't believe is naive. This is something I believed in 1994 and still do believe now: that art is special to us--that it is about us--here.
© Judith Findlay 2001