Image and Influence
2016.Jan.18
• Johanna
Drucker, “Signs of Life / Spaces of Art: From Standard Brands to Integrated
Circuits,” in Gunnar Swanson, ed., Graphic
Design and Reading: Explorations of an Uneasy Relationship (New York:
Allworth Press, 2000):
30 – 49.
30 – 49.
• Joan Gibbons, “Art Invades and Appropriates,” in Art and Advertising (London: I. B.
Taurus, 2005): 29 – 51.
• Victor Burgin, Between (Oxford, UK: Basil Blackwell,
1986): cover – 60.
We have heard from critics (such as Max Kozloff, in our first week)
who dismiss design as “expendable” and “babble,’ and designers as “the most unashamed predators imaginable… in
search of ideas, rather than a vision.” But if popular visual culture seems
easy to dismiss in theory, how do design and art relate
to each other in actual practice?
Drucker suggests art’s rhetoric,
its visual logic and the approaches it uses works through a myth, of private, personal space and deep self-expression. Design, on the
other hand, suggests the myth of public, open, and shallow spaces. So both of
these ideas are myths, or fictions. And anyway, with current technology and the
prevalence of marketing, signs exchange with increasing freedom across this art/design,
private/public divide. As art’s imagery is appropriated by the rhetoric of
signs from mass culture, art also becomes images of signs, in effect signs that are representations of other signs. Images lose all context and
history and connection to the material world. She sees a world of endlessly
circulating, branded and artificial meanings as a single integrated circuit,
located nowhere and everywhere. (Perhaps she is referring to what Jean
Baudrillard called the hyperreal).
Gibbons outlines the same process, really, seen from the other side
of the (eroding) art/design border, as artists move out of their literal (museums)
and symbolic spaces (rhetorics and languages), to “invade and appropriate” the
world of design, advertising and propaganda; on billboards, magazines, streets,
protests, and beyond. Burgin is an interesting, and particularly reflective and
intellectual, example of this, bringing an analysis of class (who produces
wealth, who accumulates it) and gender (something we choose and perform, as
opposed to our sex at birth) into his visual practice.
In your presentations, we looked at:
• Joseph Kosuth, bringing philosophy texts and
definitions to gallery walls
• Les Levine running a restaurant as art, and his
mass-production of abstract, vacuum-formed, plastic shapes (‘disposable art’)
• reclaiming ad spaces by whitewashing billboards
• taking up and displaying photography on site in
war-torn Nicaragua
• pop art and hip hop culture, which span
spaces from high fashion, global celebrity to gritty street gangs, drug undergrounds
and queer culture
• the anarchist Situationist International,
loose in the streets of Paris
• images from sexist advertising to the feminism and
activism of the Guerilla Girls and their angry exposure of art’s dirty truths,
and other cross-boundary and slightly illicit visual cultures
• and more.
What this variety of unusual approaches suggests is that high and mass culture, artists and designers, both have some flexibility
and some say in whether we choose to accept the terms on which our identities
are created, for us and against us. These examples, I think, all
critique the way that dominant culture “naturalizes ideology,” how the media we
absorb makes it seems normal that women
have certain roles; that men should act a certain
(tough, dominating) way; that there just are different races and it’s better not to mix them; and that everything
should be a commodity, that is, have
a price, to be bought and sold in private exchanges.
Designers are in a position to critique these ideas as they work
most closely with the systems and tools that produce and reproduce signs, and that
in fact create the system of signs
and symbols we live within. That critical questioning might begin by asking why
designers own or control almost nothing of what they produce, beyond the skills
and visual intelligence they acquire in producing it: not the computers or
software they use, nor the fonts and images that they choose, the offices they
work in, nor, above all, the symbols, styles and actual works of visual art they
produce. We work for a wage.
Artists, however, produce everything
‘on spec,’ at their own expense, hoping it will sell on the market later—something
the professional designer vows never to
do. Seen this way, art is anything but a genuine, private, pure space that does
not sell itself in the circuits of
value, money and commodities in our world. All art today is made to be sold,
and is sold, or it is just nothing, a hobby at best. How is it that Banksy,
even as he appears to resist being
bought and sold in galleries, finds his work dragged into the art world and
given absurd prices? Maybe he’s so interesting to us because we know that all
the ‘public’ space around us is already
taken, already hijacked by whoever happens to own it. When activists ‘hijack’
or ‘hack’ or ‘culture jam’ ads and websites and billboards, aren’t they in some
sense really just taking them back?
The question of
gender, feminism, and the Guerilla Girls fits into this in an interesting way,
too. (The pun, of course, is between the gorilla masks they wear, and
guerillas, meaning small groups of irregular fighters, from the Spanish word guerra, war.) Just as we find there is no essential quality,
medium, or visual truth that divides the rhetorics of art and design, there is
not absolute rule or border that divides male and female genders. How we perform our identities is not simply or
entirely determined by any biological command or genetic accident. Burgin produces
posters with somewhat puzzling caption/image combinations, but which suggest
that the mass media fails to represent us or reflect who we are. Rather, mass
media create and shape our
self-image, always into easily digested but restrictive stereotypes.
Burgin digs into
contemporary theory to understand that we in fact lack an essential, authentic,
interior self or role. It’s constructed from the sign systems and visual mass
around us, just as the Marlboro ad looks out on and shapes the viewers passing
it, or the woman, described in the caption, gets her hair cut to look exactly like
the (much younger, blonder) photo.
In our so-called public spaces, who has the right to boldly look at
other people? Who gets to capture and reproduce images and identities on a mass
scale? Does mass media really represent us? Do you feel your personal reality
is reflected in the websites, shows, and ads you consume, even the social media
self-images we carefully cultivate? Or do we just work to measure up?
Just like any human-made sign, our identity is determined by where we
fit in relation to all the other signs in a given system; as new signs change
the shape of the overall collection of signs, the meaning of existing signs
change. David Bowie and Lady Gaga enter into our map of existing gender images,
and our idea of male/female, and our own self-image, is inevitably affected, even
possibly changed outright.
The rhetoric of
design, that overwhelming, spectacular, global circuit of visual clichés and
stereotypes, from Santa Claus to Star Wars, Bollywood to Hello Kitty, Murikami
and Jeff Koons, Helvetica and minimalism, is shared by all image makers in our integrated, globalized world. But it does
seem that the barrier between art and design is still enforced, a difference is
maintained between them, not because designers or even artists want it that
way, but because of how private property works with images: it needs advertising
and design as a productive investment, to reach masses of consumers; but it
also needs the art market for the exchange of absurdly valuable and useless
objects, as a way to invest enormous sums of money and to speculate, as collectors
and museums bet huge sums against each other to control the status and value of
these objects.