ARTISTS: Remembering Steve Gompf

Steve Gompf April 27, 1963 – March 4, 2018 

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Steve Gompf was the first person I met in Phoenix that became an enduring connection.

It was the winter of 2000 – 2001. I’m not sure of the exact month. I had moved to Arizona at the end of October; after being in town a couple of months, I finally made it out to the First Fridays art walk.

Steve Gompf was in the basement of the Luhrs Tower. He was working the Artlink table, passing out maps. Young, thin, Steve Gompf, with shaggy red hair and a beard. I had been involved with an arts non-profit back in Virginia, so I was curious about Artlink. I pestered him with some questions. I don’t think we even exchanged names. Little did we know what the future held. I certainly didn’t realize I had just met a visionary artist, who would become a significant co-conspirator and friend.

As time passed I kept running into to Steve, as the art scene is its own small town within the larger city. He was at parties, he was at openings, and when I joined the Artlink board, he was there too. Eventually I made the connection between Steve and the wondrous creations he produced: the televisors.

These were Steve’s signature body of work. He presented them as if they were historical relics: antique televisions, manufactured between 1889-1928. That time range happens to be before there was any practical television technology widely available, and definitely before there were any broadcasts being made. But the specificity of the dates effectively reinforced the idea the televisors were pioneering examples of luxury goods from a bygone age.

 

The Televisors

Steve knew enough about actual antiques to reference the styles of different countries and eras in his televisor designs. The amazing thing was he managed to pull off these creations using the most random bits and pieces he scavenged from thrift stores. The televisors were assembled from candlesticks and dog bowls and lamp fixtures, and just about any other scrap of wood and metal you can imagine. He arranged all the parts meticulously into an illusion of sophisticated industrial design. I used to joke they were only held together by gravity, but it’s pretty much true. All those fiddly pieces were just in place due to a series of Steve’s willful balancing acts.

Steve embedded monitors inside these elaborate cases, and showed his own video creations on them. This is where things took a darker turn, which added more complexity to the televisor experience. His video imagery was sometime soaring and celestial, but more often it was like Hieronymus Bosch fever dreams, It was as if the televisors  were receiving broadcasts from Hades. Steve took the sequential photographs of Eadweard Muybridge, and re-animated them into a grotesque cast of chimeras wandering in some lost nocturnal plane.

Reanimated video stills 

 

This video art culminated in his epic “Parade: The Absolute End of the World.” He worked on this video for 8 years. It literally has a cast of thousands of his wild beings marching past in formation.

 

I Love a Parade: Stills from Steve’s epic video art  

We got to spend a lot of time with Steve and his art in the 5 years we were members of Deus ex Machina Gallery. Steve’s televisiors were always the stars of the show there. They were instantly accessible and fascinating for our patrons.

The televisors worked on so many different levels. They were sculptures. They were assemblage. They incorporated video and sound, They were conceptual in the best sense of the word, hinting at an entire alternative reality. And they were unapologetically beautiful.

An hypnotic televisor at Deus Ex Machina 

We had so many special moments at that gallery. Steve like to set off smoke bombs in the street and play double dutch routines on the sidewalk with invisible jump ropes. Once Steve got his hands on a top hat, and serenaded my wife Michele Bledsoe with his rendition of “Pure Imagination” from Willy Wonka. The lyrics of that song applied very well to Steve: “We’ll begin with a spin/Traveling in the world of my creation/What we’ll see will defy explanation.”

Michele and Steve: Pure Imagination 

Like the ornate videos he created, Steve was a complex hybrid of traits. He could be bawdy and bossy and boisterous. No matter what shenanigans he was up to, you just had to say, “That’s Steve,” and roll with it. His infectious, anarchist laughter was a clue to his driven nature; part Elmer Fudd, part Woody Woodpecker, coupled with wide eyed enthusiasm.

In his teacher mode, Steve was a master of the blunt but accurate critique. He was one of the few people that Michele felt like she truly learned something from. And to this day his advice drives my artistic production: he told me once you should always have a long term, a medium term, and a short term project going, all at the same time. This wisdom has become my own method.

As a gallery partner, he was committed and supportive. As a friend, he was giving and affectionate in his own particular Steve way. Our home is full of the thoughtful little gifts he came across during his Goodwill shopping. I shared his fascination with strange history; he was always bringing me topical books to read. He recognized Michele’s love of beautiful trinkets, so he brought her exotic objects of glass and brass.

Ultimately Steve was a worker, always so excited to push his art to new levels, and to share his own strange vision with the world. He loved to be involved in events and happenings.

I will always be glad, in one of our last exchanges through Facebook, I invited Steve over for dinner. He responded by sharing a trailer of a cool movie he was excited about: Embrace of the Serpent. We didn’t confirm the date, and I kept meaning to follow up. I thought we’d have plenty of time to work out the details.

We wanted to see Steve before his birthday. I was already mentally planning the menu. Only later did I learn that not too long after that message, he was gone. We did not find out until weeks later.

The New Times provided a thoughtful eulogy to Steve, that stuck one discordant note. It mentioned how his works made you want to question more. Although the idea that art equals questioning is a dominant  piece of dogma in Postmodern art, it is a misreading of Steve’s accomplishments.

Steve did want not his viewers to question. He wanted them to experience wonder, which is not the same thing at all.

We loved Steve a lot and learned so much from him. We will treasure the time we got to spend with him.

 

Michele Bledsoe “Portrait of Steve Gompf” acrylic on canvas 

 

A Celebration of Life for Steve Gompf

Sunday May 20, 2018 7 pm

Alwun House

1204 East Roosevelt Street

Phoenix, Arizona 85006

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ARTICLE: Activist Art Exposed as an Elitist Bait and Switch

Graphically Dull: The Stilted Stylings of Turner Prize nominee Forensic Architecture

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“The beginning of wisdom is the definition of terms.”

― Socrates

It’s that time again. Time for ruling class apparatchiks to announce the latest slate of non-artists to be nominated for what is advertised as a prestigious award for art:

THE GUARDIAN: Turner prize shortlist pits research agency against film-makers. “A research agency that investigates international crimes and injustice, and comprises architects, film-makers, archaeologists, investigative journalists, lawyers and scientists, has been nominated for the 2018 Turner prize. Forensic Architecture, which has about 16 members and is based at Goldsmiths, University of London, will compete for the 33rd edition of the prize against three solo artists – Naeem Mohaiemen, Charlotte Prodger and Luke Willis Thompson.The list is more overtly political than in previous years, featuring artists tackling issues of post-colonialism and migration, queer identity, human rights abuses and racial violence. Once again, it raises questions about what precisely art is. The three solo artists primarily use film, whether shot on 35mm or iPhone.”

Over in the UK, the Tate Museum’s Turner Prize is one of those self-serving yearly events elitists create to congratulate themselves for extreme cleverness. Named after an actual artist, the great English painter J.M.W. Turner, this supposed recognition of achievement is anything but. First awarded in 1984, the Turner Prize has degenerated into the establishment’s way of trying to enforce pointless Postmodernism as the standard for contemporary art. It’s almost like they purposely look for the most numbskull non-art possible to distort the public’s perception of what art is, and what it does.

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.If wisdom begins with the definition of terms, what do you call efforts to deliberately lie about what those definitions actually are? The manipulation of our shared understanding is too calculated to be merely inept; too consistent to be ascribed to simple ignorance; too debased to be just misguided. There is strategy here, relentlessly advanced and ferociously enforced.

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Misdirection is at the core of the whole rotten Postmodern gambit. “Who is there among you, who, if his son. asks him for bread, will give him a stone?” The contemporary technocratic managerial class, that’s who. Our culture is saturated with globalist diktats that are fundamentally at odds with reality.  They not only give us stones for bread, they give us leftist activism in place of art, and tell us to swallow it.

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The art world makes a great example of the failure of elitist equivocations, because it exposes the lies with visual evidence. In their latest event to assure us that 2 + 2 = 5, the Tate scraped up some real scintillating content. Take for example the Guardian’s article headliner, Forensic Architecture. As their website describes:

“Forensic Architecture is an independent research agency based at Goldsmiths, University of London. Our interdisciplinary team of investigators includes architects, scholars, artists, filmmakers, software developers, investigative journalists, archaeologists, lawyers, and scientists. Our evidence is presented in political and legal forums, truth commissions, courts, and human rights reports.We also undertake historical and theoretical examinations of the history and present status of forensic practices in articulating notions of public truth.”

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Not impressed by the vast list of ax-grinding bureaucracies and committees Forensic Architecture engages with? Don’t see what any of that has to do with art? Maybe their supporting imagery will get you woke, or maybe not:

Forensic Architecture’s reconstruction of the abduction of 43 students in Iguala, Mexico in 2014. 

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Nothing like graphics that could be out of a 1980s pain reliever television commercial to prove This-is-Serious-Guys. Or perhaps your artistic spirit is more stirred by a flow chart/subway map aesthetic:

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Forensic Architecture: missed their stop

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Nominated for a top art prize. Seriously. This is not art, this an activist power point presentation that seeped out of its think tank, and now threatens to bore all of humanity. Something has gone seriously wrong with standards and practices.

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Either some people in the culture industries don’t know what they are doing, or they know exactly what they are doing, and it’s with evil intent. Benjamin R. Dierker’s recent Federalist essay “How The Left’s War On Words Manipulates Your Mind,” sums it up, describing:

“This isn’t innocent linguistic drift or slang; it is a conscious effort to reshape society. The schemes include redefining words for personal gain, using modifiers to alter the meaning of a word, replacing technical words with colloquial ones, and creating new words. Each of these is a bullying tactic, which distort effective discourse.”

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The Stuckist art movement called out the sheer stupidity of the Turner Prize with protests for years, until it just became too self-evident to bother about. In my book, Remodern America: How the Renewal of the Arts Will Change the Course of Western Civilization, (coming in the summer of 2018) I build on ideas first codified by the founders of Stuckism, English artists Charles Thomson and Billy Childish. They recognized we are at the beginning of Remodernism, a new phase of our culture that will wipe out the frauds perpetrated by our Postmodern would-be masters. As I say in the Remodern America Manifesto:

“Ruling class totalitarians use Postmodern art as a tool of oppression. Elitists have weaponized art into an assault on the foundations of Western civilization. This deceitful cabal seeks to destroy any principled perspective on the lies, manipulations, and abuses they commit. The scourge of Postmodern relativism as a cultural force is no accident; it’s a top-down driven campaign. Hyping soulless, unskilled art has a toxic, weakening effect on society as a whole.”

The story of the twenty-first century will be the dismantling of centralized power. We’ve been poorly served by the governing classes across all our institutions. The longer the current elitists attempt to cling to their privileges, the harsher the ultimate corrections will end up being. But an easy place to start undermining their pompous authority is by daring to state the obvious: nominating propaganda for an art prize doesn’t make it into art.

Edit: Welcome Instapundit readers! Please check out other entries for more commentary on the state of the arts. 

ARTISTS: Arthur Benjamins

 

Arthur Benjamins “Swede” 40″ x 48″ 

 

“…I have remained self-taught, allowing me unfettered and raw access to self-discovery and directions in which to travel.”

-Arthur Benjamins 

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I always say painting is my healthiest obsession. It’s not about shows or sales or proselytizing. I must make these images.

Perhaps because I’m working from a state some would dismiss as symptomatic of OCD, I feel an affinity to other artists who are similarly driven. That drive is is evident in the paintings of Dutch-born artist Arthur Benjamins, and not only because of his ongoing body of work featuring race cars. The same acceleration appears in his more abstract pieces, where he is exploring Neoplasticism, one of Modern art’s most refined efforts to achieve formal beauty.

 

Arthur Benjamins “Trinity” 36″ x 16″ 

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Starting in 1917 in the Netherlands, the design movement also referred to as De Stilj aimed at the universal by using strong lines and primary colors. Piet Mondrian (1872-1944) is perhaps the best known artist associated with  De Stilj’s philosophical approach to art.

Composition II in Red, Blue, and Yellow, 1930 by Piet Mondrian

Influence: Piet Mondrian “Composition II in Red, Blue, and Yellow,” 1930

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I was surprised when I learned of Arthur Benjamin’s variety of styles, as I had only been familiar with his racing images. But I understand the commonality. I can see the connection between the sleek, clean lines and boldness of high performance vehicles, and Neoplasticism’s channeling of expression into geometric purity. There is a point in the artistic process where artists, no matter what is being rendered-a Formula One speedster, a nude, a bowl of fruit, whatever-somewhere in our minds we are translating it a pictorial mass of colors and shapes. How much more challenging it is to invest the same intrigue found in recognizable imagery into an arrangement of formally arranged planes.

I was also surprised when Arthur told me about what happened when he tried to share his explorations with some representatives of the arts establishment who specialize in the very field Arthur is contributing to. It is another proof that art elitists are very poor at recognizing developments which are happening before their own eyes.

I asked Arthur Benjamins to share his stories about his artistic discoveries and ideas. In this new Remodern era, it is illuminating to see how an artist takes bold steps in pursuit of his vision, and works to share his discoveries beyond the typical art bubble.

 

Arthur Benjamins “Grand Prix Homage” 

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Question: How did you discover you were an artist?

 

Arthur Bejamins: There are many artists who can rightfully claim that they were child proteges – championed by strangers, friends or family members alike. The ones who could paint life like figures before they could even crawl – the precociousness that always runs parallel with the many whose names are still on our lips and in our history books today. Well, those early skills passed me by.

I went to the Hebrew School in Bulawayo, Rhodesia in 1959, where I lived soon after my family swapped continents. I cultivated a balance between life or death in the sandpit, or the dangerously high ‘Jungle Jim’ from which there were enough possibilities for any 6 years old to fall out of, or the figure-of-eight, concrete  cycle path around the play ground, on which you could get a tricycle to lift its inside wheel if you went fast enough.

In between generating life threatening situations, several teachers noticed that I had a propensity to build tall structures out of large wooden building blocks. Subsequentially, my parents were told that I could ‘build something out of nothing’. That was the inauspicious start to it all.

As the years progressed, our parents told us of my paternal family members who achieved various degrees of artistic note and successes during their life in 19th – and 20th century Rotterdam, Holland – where I was born in 1953.

I was never a child art prodigy. I started late, possibly around my mid teens and the people around me treated my aspirations with head-patting indulgent kindness. I never developed a self-identity until much later.

Knowing that a part of my father’s family were successful artists, was certainly an ever-present spark, but my schools’ art classes never lit that blue touchpaper. Looking back at it now, those teachers were incapable of nurturing any potential talent.

As a consequence, I have remained self-taught, allowing me unfettered and raw access to self-discovery and directions in which to travel.

In the late 1960s, my artistic skills were still very much under developed. I had become aware of the British cartoonist, Carl Giles and who I wished to emulate.  Around that time I also became passionately interested in motor racing

After a relative short while, it dawned on me that I’d never become a racing driver, but in 1968 a Dutch artist, Jack de Rijk was featured on Dutch TV. He had suddenly achieved fame and fortune by painting motor racing scenes. It appeared he was ‘discovered’ by a Ford executive, who bought all of his exhibited works at a Hilton Hotel and commissioned him a great many more.

Combining my motor racing passion with painting – I had suddenly found my true vocation in life.

I remain more than honored when I meet, or hear from other automotive artists who tell me that my presence at various British racing car shows, spurred THEM into traveling down the same route as I did. It completes the circle but I am sad that Jack de Rijk passed away in 2005 before I could tell him what an unbelievable influence he had always been to me. However, I truly believe that he knows.

Q: What do you hope to convey through your work?

AB: I must add to say that any artist who says that he/she has never been influenced by the works of others, is lying. So, too, are the ones claiming they’re not seeking an audience. We sell our souls to the ones who have polarized ideas and passions, conversely hoping they’ll listen.

Once artists come to realize that a large proportion of the world sees them as ready entertainment – as monkeys in cages, ready to be poked with sharp sticks – a very large burden will fall off their shoulders.

The world no longer sees artists as a barometer of social issues – that has been passed on to the  vapid, empty-headed, transient ‘personalities’, who are wheeled out to pass judgment on all subjects known to man.

I have painted several hard-hitting images pertaining to my view on one focused part of a socio political issue in the UK. 99% of the people I showed it to, missed the point completely, their explanations ranged from the absurd to the ridiculous. of . The strength of my message was high, yet it failed to hit its intended mark. Had it hit center mass, the guaranteed fall-out may have been of insufficient quality to warrant non figurative countering.

I don’t think that anyone could view my work as a carrier of any social message or comment. In fact I’m not interested in making any comments or statements on that plateau. I’m not interested in teaching, preaching, changing or bettering the world in any way through my art – but merely for the viewer to like, hate, buy, all three – or come away with even more curiosity than with which they arrived.

Arthur Benjamins “9-11” 

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Q: Your works underwent a significant change in style. Was this deliberate choice, or something that just evolved? Are you committed to one style, or do you vary?

AB: My very first works were truly inspired by Jack de Rijk and the only differences were that his depictions were barely representational of the reference material he was using. He certainly bypassed the true technical aspect of the cars, something I found imperative. My technical and mechanical prowess and ability to use perspective very well, all worked in my favor, and although there were some who alleged a similarity with our works, as time went on, those voices dwindled to nothing. Even now I get very irked when I see technical incorrectness for which there is no excuse. These days the procurement of correct reference material is almost 100% guaranteed.

In 1974, I took my graphic style to the UK, where I lived for the next 40 years. Imperceptibly I began to change from my graphic style, into a more photo realistic style – something that had not yet been used in automotive art – certainly not motor racing, of which there already were several established artists. Another Jack de Rijk aspect that I bought along as well – was the use of bright and colorful enamel paints – something that I continued using till about 2013 – when I began to use the quicker drying acrylic paints, which has different properties that I had to learn to use to my full advantage.

Arthur Benjamins “Jaguar 1-2″ 30″ x 40” 

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Around 2000, I moved away from my trademark photo realism. The jolt was sudden and it had been some years in the coming. I wished to return to my graphic style which I did with a temporary, in-between style, which I named, “Refractive Realism”. Since 2015, I have settled for a more graphic style and which leans heavily on my first. Life can go full circle, although I do realize that more changes may announce themselves at any time.

 

Q: How do you create your paintings now? How does this compare to your methods in the past?

AB: The only luxury I permit myself is the use of acrylic paint, because it dries very quickly, allowing quicker follow-ups of layers. Whereby my previous use of enamel paints required two coats – with seemingly eons long drying times. My move away from enamel paints is mainly due to the USA legislation pertaining to the chemical properties of those paints and that I cannot buy in enough quantity in the colors that I seek.

I do require reference material for much of my work and in order for these references to be laid down in scale, I cannot rely on ad hoc working techniques but must rely on countless calculations instead. Apart from my Science-Fantasy work, all my other technically based work was augmented by the exact correct references.

A very large aspect of my works is something that many viewers allow themselves to be perturbed about. Apart from automotive and aviation art, I have also embraced other genres and in other styles, like my “Desert Series”, “Abstract Iconography”, portraiture and my recent re-visitation of Neoplasticism, which had laid dormant since 1944. Many people are uncomfortable with artists whose oeuvre follows varying paths.

Apart from the existing Neoplasticism, the other styles have no bearing on any previous ones, nor can they be attributed to any. In itself, this can cause a meltdown among the many hidebound ‘experts’ who feel that all art must be able to be labeled to their satisfaction in order for it to really ‘belong’ in society.

Arthur Benjamins “Ekphrasis” 45″ x 45″ (diagonals) 

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Q: You recently had some interactions with the Dutch Gemeente Museum in The Hague. What was that experience like?  

AB: In 2017, the above museum was in the limelight with an obligatory Mondrian retrospective. A friend of mine emailed me a TV interview with the museum’s most enthusiastic Manager, Benno Tempel, showing much zest for Mondrian’s works and his lasting influence on world art, a sentiment with which I fully agreed.

Keeping in mind their well-documented stance on anything outside their immediate and normal remit, I emailed them an introduction to myself, my work and my intentions in proudly accepting the baton of Neoplasticism.

Not that there was anyone already in the running from whom to accept it, I voiced my decision to have taken the baton, 70 years after it was left behind and to run with it in my own unique style of which the Old Man would definitely have approved – especially in the same country 5500 miles away in which his name and movement rose to the top and where I, another Dutchman, had the fullest intention achieving the same.

I also cordially invited them to comment on my Neoplasticism, should they so wish. I also remained very clear that I was not seeking any form of approval from them, whether clear or begrudgingly.

I need not have feared – within 24 hours I received a reply from their curator, Hans Janssen. Not that I was expecting that my approach would have them dancing in the streets, the broad gist of his answer did leave me somewhat open mouthed.

They referred to a book which they published during their retrospective – and which seemed to be the most definitive publication ever printed on the subject of Neoplasticism and Mondrian. It was in there – so they hinted – would be the ‘Holy Grail’ of the perpetuation of Neoplasticism.

He audaciously closed his Ex Cathedra monologue that the museum only wished to deal with artists who showed distinct promise and talent – and that I certainly didn’t possess any of the aforementioned.

I answered them a few days later begging to differ on a few points. I urged them to reconsider their denial in Mondrian’s somewhat religious background not having openly driven him – but did have an influence nevertheless.

My following issue was that they (The museum) themselves didn’t have any clue – nor could they have – as to what constituted a ‘legitimate’ furtherance of Neoplasticism. I posed the further question that even Mondrian may not have known himself, and continued by saying that if that same question was laid at my own feet, I may not have been able to answer it – nor would I have been willing to try.

I finally referred to their book and that I was in possession of it. Alongside that – a whole slew of highly respected and well documented publications from over the many years and of which I was of the utmost certainty that even the museum would not have owned them.

It must have been this and my reply which must have made them (shamefacedly) realize that I wasn’t the nonentity they felt they were dealing with.

Again I invited them to reply in good time but so far only received an indignant silence.

The fact that they were so keen to supply an answer came as a surprise to me. The gist of it, didn’t. It merely underscored the typical belief that ownership of something automatically guarantees a deep knowledge of it, while in truth, the possessors bluster and hide behind their continuing ignorance.

It is exactly this prevailing, holier-than-thou attitude which feeds and propels the alienation of a growing part of the general public who have grown up sincerely believing that museums and auction houses are in a position to authoritatively comment on all aspects of art. Many go through life never seeing or accepting the facts, and the situation perpetuates itself with every never-querying generation.

The ‘World Of Art’s’ bullshit factor has reached stratospheric levels. Up until the freedom afforded to us of internet en social media, 20th century artists discussed whether or not ones work fitted inside the emerging framework of a genre or particular movement to which they had affiliated themselves. Aided and abetted by two world wars, this movement underwent a rapid overturn which rolled the dice outside their own elements of self interest. With the temporary self-exile of many European artists to the USA, the merging influences began to brew up.

This BS factor began to rest with galleries and failed artists who, with repeated pompous verbosity and limpet like tenaciousness would come to set the pace and meter for all artists’ career because they dare set sail in their fiefdom. With their effusive coterie willing spokes people happily doing their masters’ bidding – woe the artists who found themselves outside of the Greenberg-esque following, or who would fall by the wayside as the years progressed.

Those self-appointed ‘movers & shakers’ controlled the galleries and museums, who, over the years began to manage their own edict of fashionable dross. The remainder of those few ‘art critics’ are playing down their own role in the arts’ current deconstruction, leading you to believe that much of the ‘established’ art has been awarded a reverence by the educated middle class. This is all hot air. It is like an over inflated balloon which needs to be stabbed with a very sharp knife.

Q: What are you currently working on?

AB: My latest project was providing the artwork for the Daytona Museum Hall Of Speed Of America, which annually inducts between 6 and 8 people who over the years have been highly influential in the filed of motor racing, aviation and power boating. My artwork was extensively used for on the publicity posters, guides, champagne bottles for this prestigious, two-day event at the Daytona International Speedway.

My wife and I were invited to this event and met the many people who were the past and present inductees, like legends as Mario Andretti, Jeff Gordon and many more.

I have a very special Canadian client with a personal car collection of around 36 vehicles, including various Ford GT40s – including the 2018 model – and which I shall be commissioned to paint when it arrives. She has bought 10 of my originals in about two years and shows no sign of slowing down.

A British client of mine who I last spoke about 25 years ago, recently contacted me out of the blue and commissioned me to paint a range of helmeted drivers.

Directly after my annual Barrett-Jackson exhibition in January 2019, I will begin the remainder of the 10-week Arizona Fine Art Expo at which I will show an entire new range of my “Desert Series” – a growing body of works which illustrate desert life and colors in a completely different manner. This Expo deals predominantly with typical Southwestern art – something I eschew as it’s being done to death for many years now.

I remain involved in the “American Healing Art Foundation”, by teaching veterans my art at the Arizona Fine Art Expo. Also, teaching young children the basics of Neoplasticism at various Phoenix libraries. The list grows.

Yes, it has taken much effort to get to the point where I am today. It would be great if the levels of reward run parallel with the effort that one puts into it, but I keep in mind that the journey is probably as interesting and rewarding as the goal one sets.

In July 1894, one of my Granduncles arrived through Ellis island and made a name for himself in the USA in the form of two patents on the cutting and shaping of precious stones.

In the 20th century, and several decades apart, two Dutch artists, Willem de Kooning and Piet Mondrian also arrived in the USA and made tremendous and permanent waves in the world of art.

It is my fullest intentions to follow in their footsteps.

Arthur Benjamins (r) with racing legend Mario Andretti 

Visit the Arthur Benjamins website: 1 Pilgrim Studio

COMMENTARY: How Obama’s Portrait Reveals the Failures of the Elitist Art World

In the Weeds: Kehinde Wiley’s Obama Portrait 

.As the United States clips along at the speed of Trump, the news cycle races by in a dizzying blur. Events rapidly recede without any time for real analysis. Such was the case for the big reveal of the official portraits of former President Barack Obama and First Lady Michelle Obama. Although it just happened on February 12, it already feels like ancient history. Yet this regrettable image is going to be cluttering up the National Portrait Gallery forever, so it’s worth understanding just what the tax payers had to subsidize.

The Michelle Obama portrait is just sad. A tentative, pallid non-likeness. The apparatchiks at the museum assure us that it is so popular it had to be moved to a larger display space. Perhaps a pilgrimage to it gives the same solace that some progressives get from the plastic Obama dolls they keep stashed in their purses. The artist who made this painting just seems to have attempted a task above their pay grade, and fell short. It happens.

It is the portrait of Barack that displays the corruption of the establishment. It’s a Postmodern mockery. As such it may be a fitting representation for Obama, but that doesn’t make it good art.

What makes this piece so awful? Let us count the ways.

Con Artist 

Kehinde Wiley

American artist Andy Warhol set the tone back in the 1960s by reducing his contribution to his own “art” to being a celebrity spokesmodel for a brand of products he did not produce himself. That inane example has become the ideal for the untalented Postmodern artists, like Kehinde Wiley.

Even when he made his pieces himself, Wiley did a form of artistic cheating, using a prevalent practice which undermines the integrity of the act. He took photographs and used a projector to trace them onto the canvas. Artists who use this shortcut undercut themselves and their audience by doing a paint-by-numbers routine to create their works. These artists have reduced themselves to a mere cog in a mechanical reproduction process, not creating, but taking dictation from their gadgets. They let their tools make their discoveries for them. It is an inferior mode of creation. Perhaps it explains some of the compositional errors in the piece, like the 6 fingers on the left hand, or the really awkward perspective on the chair. The projector must have gotten bumped.

As exposed by the Gateway Pundit, the Obama portrait even fell back on copy/paste for the backdrop; the same image was tiled repeatedly.

The lack of engagement comes through in the pieces. as the New York Times noted back in 2008, “…the Conceptual rationale behind Mr. Wiley’s paintings has tended to overpower their visual presence, which helps reduce them to illustrations. Like Norman Rockwell’s paintings they look better in reproduction than in reality.”

But Wiley can’t even be bothered to put in that much effort anymore.

.Outsourced to Forced Labor 

Beijing Studio: Dabbed more paint onto his clothes than the actual canvases 

.Wiley doesn’t even make his own paintings. Does he set up workshops in distressed American inner cities, where he could cultivate apprentices drawn from the disadvantaged youths he claims to honor?  No. He has a studio in worker’s paradise Beijing, China, along with other locations described as “global.” There he can pay cut rate salaries for assembly line production.

Wiley employs various strategies to defuse criticism about the practice. Sometimes he tries to get folksy:

“There’s nothing new about artists using assistants—everyone from Michelangelo to Jeff Koons has employed teams of helpers, with varying degrees of irony and pride—but Wiley gets uncomfortable discussing the subject. ‘I’m sensitive to it,’ he says. When I first arrived at his Beijing studio, the assistants had left, and he made me delete the iPhone snapshots I’d taken of the empty space. It’s not that he wants people to believe every brushstroke is his, he says. That they aren’t is public ­knowledge. It’s just a question of boundaries. “I don’t want you to know every aspect of where my hand starts and ends, or how many layers go underneath the skin, or how I got that glow to happen,’ he says. ‘It’s the secret sauce! Get out of my kitchen!’”

Sometimes he wants to brush it off with the jaded airs of an insider:

“‘The sentiments about authenticity in the public eye,’ Wiley tells me, with conversational casualness and an air of mild fatigue over having, once again, to explain this, ‘the discomfort with a large-scale art practice, comes from a myth in an artistic process that never existed. Rubens, Michelangelo: Both had large studios with many assistants. There is a long line of artists who work with other artists to realize a larger vision than is possible with one hand. Education in art history taught me this, as did being steeped in the reality of painting. My interest is in completing an image that is spectacular beyond belief. My fidelity is to the image and the art and not to the bragging rights of making every stroke on every flower. I’m realistic. It’s not romantic, but that romance never existed.'”

Conveniently left out of his analogy are all the artists who did indeed actually make their own art. Postmodern operators like to refer to workshops of the Old Masters as a precedent. It takes a lot of arrogance to claim any similarities between the incredible discipline and vision of renowned artists who have endured the test of time, and the second-rate novelties churned out now on behalf of stilted hacks. These days, all a Postmodern spokesmodel really needs to do is push the appropriate politically correct buttons.

.Vicious Virtue signalling

Classical 

Before the Presidential portrait, one of the things Wiley was known for were variations on an image from apocryphal Book of Judith. In that story a woman saves Israel by seducing and assassinating an invading king; it was the subject of many Renaissance artworks. Wiley (or his helpers) depicted this scene as a black woman holding the decapitated head of a white woman. “It’s sort of a play on the ‘kill whitey’ thing,” Wiley explained. How playful! The privileged insider art world sure is getting played, falling all over themselves to show how woke they are for racial violence.

.Sperm

Wiley gets additional virtue status points as a gay man. You might think there was no connection between which set of genitals an artist enjoys and the quality of their work, but the establishment art world knows better than you. Wiley makes leering references to his preferences in his works. The persistent rumors about his casting couch demands on his models aren’t relevant here. But Wiley does provide other hints.

When the Obama portrait was unveiled many made an observation that was dismissed as a conspiracy theory: that Barack had a big old sperm on his forehead.

Photo Credit: Vigilant Citizen 

The media denials were intense. “Wackadoodle,” said the Washington City Paper. “False,” and somehow racist, claimed Snopes. A picture circulated which claimed to prove it’s just an accurate rendering, but which doesn’t seem to support that point at all. The head of the alleged sperm is nowhere to be seen in the photo, and that’s what makes all the difference. But who are you going to believe, the media or your lying eyes?

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It becomes even more evident when research shows sperm is a Wiley painting trademark. It’s sort of like a Hitchcock cameo, but with semen. Back when the Village Voice didn’t have to disavow the allusion, they positively gloated over it:

“Wiley has painted free-floating spermatozoa across the canvas. The same goes for the bear of a fellow in Napoleon Leading the Army Over the Alps, which could be subtitled “(Through a Light Ejaculate Mist).’ And if the painted tadpoles aren’t sufficiently suggestive, several of the gilded frames contain sperm reliefs of their own. (Talk about painting outside the lines.)”

 

Wiley: Napoleon is coming over the Alps 

Who is the wackadoodle now?

Establishmentile Dysfunction

There’s more that could be said about this debacle, but enough is enough for now. In my upcoming book, Remodern America: How the Renewal of the Arts Will Change the Course of Western  Civilization, remedies are presented for the failures of elitist culture. As stated in the Remodern America Manifesto:

“Art is a more enduring and vital human experience than the power games of a greedy and fraudulent ruling class. The managers crashed the culture in pursuit of their agenda. They defend their usurped authority and privileges with doublethink, misdirection, and intimidation. Their time has run out. Reality is crashing back through their carefully constructed facades, and a time of reckoning has come. Enduring changes start in the arts. Remodernism defeats Postmodern desecration.”

 

 

 

 

 

STUDIO: Collaborative Painting with Richard and Michele-Part 3

The Collaborative Painting Continues: Drawing it Out 

Once we started defining the composition, the painting moved rapidly. It is a small piece, 12″ x 6″, which happens to be one of Michele’s favorite sizes. Basically we were both arranging our own 6″ x 6″ squares, and making them harmonize. I tend to do my drawing filling in spaces with paint. Michele lays out the elements in line drawings. She learned to not start painting until her drawing is complete.

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  Here we’ve made a great leap forward, once Michele started laying in color, and I started to get detailed.

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Next up: completion.

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Read the series

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STUDIO: Collaborative Painting with Richard and Michele-Part 1

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STUDIO: Collaborative Painting with Richard and Michele-Part 2

MUSIC: Remodernism Resonates with Composer George Pepper

MC Escher: Inspiration for a Perpetual Canon by George Pepper 

 

One of my sayings is, “if your life is not a spiritual adventure, you’re doing it wrong.”  It applies to music as well.  I feel connected to the Holy Spirit when I’m in the zone composing.

 -George Pepper 

A mighty wave is crashing through the culture. The elitist strategy of Postmodernism has gone stale, and people are tuning out the institutions it has corrupted. The crisis of relevance that the visual arts have been undergoing for decades has spread. Now the media, entertainment, sports even, are paying the price for converting themselves into virus-like Postmodern replication vehicles. In larger society, viewership and trust are way down.

A healthy art movement spreads its influence into positive developments across varied forms of expression. As I’ve written about Remodernism in this blog and elsewhere, many have reached out to me to share their stories. Many truly creative people have been exiled by an establishment art scene that promotes the falsities and facades of Postmodernism.

Music is the most visceral of the arts. It puts the outpouring of the human spirit into a form that can be physically felt. This is probably why the efforts to redefine serious music was one of the least successful areas of the Modernist gambit. Nobody wants to listen to the meandering, atonal noise offered up as a substitute for the thrilling beauty of great music. Listen to this selection by Anton Webern, if you want to be bored: Symphonie op.21. Like the old joke goes, if you get near a song, play it.

Postmodernism made things even worse, like it does. It brought us John Cage. His masterpiece was 4’33. Spoiler alert: it’s 4 minutes and 33 seconds of silence. Watch it “performed” here, if you’ve got some time to waste. Such a gimmicky mockery of the artistic abilities of humanity.

Charles Thomson and Billy Childish, the co-founders of the art movements Stuckism and Remodernism, were both musically engaged. Childish, with his band Thee Headcoats and its many mutant offshoots, in particular spawned a whole subgenre of punky garage rock, such as Thee Oh Sees. But there’s more to music than thrashing guitars.

Based on what I’ve been exposed to, I assumed there was no one who was interested in creating music with the same ambition, scale, and profundity of traditional music. Thank God for the internet! It proved me wrong again. A link from Instapundit  led composer George Pepper to contact me.

He had an intriguing story to share about his own life. He responded to the spiritual emphasis of Remodernism, in contrast to the soulless stylings of most contemporary culture. George understands we need to build on the traditions of the past to create a vibrant contemporary culture. Best of all, he shared his work with us: graceful, soaring, inspirational music.

This is his five-voice Ricercare for symphony orchestra, the last movement of his first symphony.  It is filled with perpetual canons and was inspired by the art of M.C. Escher, who he had loved since he was a boy.

http://www.hucbald.com/Fugal_Science_01/FS_V2_N4.aif  (download)

This sonata he describes as a thought experiment: what if J.S. Bach knew the swing style?

Remodernism is rising to take the place of crumbling Postmodernism. Although it started in the visual arts, there will be Remodernist authors, film makers, and composers as well. Remodernism will reprogram and improve the efforts and expectations for the arts across society. Remodernism as a creative force is accessible to anyone who works with integrity to create the timeless, uplifting communal experience of art.

I asked George Pepper to share his experiences as he pursued his craft, moving against the ideological tides that have diminished our culture. It is a Remodern story.

Question: When did you begin your musical training? What was the first instrument you learned? Who influenced you? 

George Pepper: The first albums I asked my parents to get me were Meet the Beatles and Beatles ’65, so I was about six or seven when Beatlemania hit. Saw the movie Help at a Saturday matinee, and so I was a huge fan. Later I got into all the wonderful popular music of the 60’s. Everything from Peter, Paul and Mary and Burl Ives through The Mamas and the Papas to Led Zeppelin and Jimi Hendrix. Motown too. My taste has always been eclectic and fairly inclusive.

I didn’t start my musical training until sixth grade, when I took violin lessons for a year. That got me started with the basics of reading music and the mechanics of string instruments. Seventh grade I made an abrupt shift to trombone, so I learned how brass and wind instruments worked, and bass clef that year. Then in eighth grade I was at a school that had guitar classes, so that was that. We learned easy guitar pieces like “Michael Row the Boat Ashore” and others in that vein, so I learned the open chords that year.
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Q: How did you realize you wanted to pursue music as a vocation?
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GP: It wasn’t until I was a senior in high school that I realized I didn’t love anything in life as passionately as music. I had gotten pretty good on the guitar by then with the usual garage bands one went through in those days – I was just before the Wayne’s World generation, and of course I had the Frampton Comes Alive album, which came out my senior year – so my plan was to go to Berklee [music college in Boston -Ed.].  However, I decided to attend Texas A&M for two years to get the required courses out of the way. I didn’t want any distractions from music at Berklee. Then, a miracle occurred. Two guitar teachers from The Guitar Institute in California opened up The Guitar Institute of the Southwest in San Antonio, along with jazz guitar legend Herb Ellis.  It was a one year course, and I used it as a prep school for Berklee.  My earliest compositions that I’ve kept are from that time. A bossa nova that is an Aria in a sonata for two guitars now, a samba I’m planning to use for a guitar concerto, and a swing tune that is now the scherzo of my first sonata for solo classic guitar. Those were in the bag before I got to Berklee.
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At Berklee I took the Professional Music degree program, which was their, “build your own degree” offering. I was going to major in Jazz Composition and Arranging, but it required a portfolio of pieces, and I knew they would be half-baked if I was forced to check off boxes. Many people used PM to make an easy degree, but I took every theory and composition course Berklee offered. A swinging jazz fusion piece from that time ended up as the scherzo in my sonata for two guitars, so I throw jazz pieces into my classical compositions. It’s a natural part of me, and that’s that.
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Q: What were your experiences as you studied music in higher education?
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GP: Berklee was a 24/7/365 blast. Just a wonderful experience all around. I developed so much those years – I went every semester including two summers, fall of ’80 to graduation in May of ’83 – that I was an entirely different musician when I got out. It was a super productive whirlwind.
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After my rock band and electronic music days in NYC, I decided at 30 I’d had enough of that, and went to Texas State University (Then Southwest Texas State) for an MM (Master of Music) in traditional theory and composition. I figured a small program would allow me more freedom and would also allow me to rectify any shortcomings in my understanding of traditional theory and composition. As an aside, I began my voracious study of classical theory/comp when I was in NYC. Every week I’d go to Joseph Patelson Music across from Carnegie Hall and buy a theory or composition book. I was writing simple counterpoint pieces for classic guitar by then, and had eight keepers by the time I started at SWTSU. It was there that I first encountered some resistance to my quest, which I was quite firm about. But the school’s only composition prof was a fan of atonal music, which I always detested. It was a weird situation, because I was a professional musician and 31 years old, and I didn’t even consider him a peer of mine. But we got along well enough that I was able to earn the degree, but then another weird thing happened. When I got the degree, it was in Music Education and not Theory. A much more marketable degree than Theory! I never did get an explanation for that.
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During that stint, I composed my first keeper fugue, and another half-dozen guitar studies, plus six or so preludes.  So I was on a roll by this time.
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I spent a lot of time trying to decide if I wanted to get a PhD in Theory, a PhD in Composition, or a DMA (Doctor in Musical Arts) in Composition. The Composition PhD and DMA programs were the same except for the thesis; the DMA didn’t have one, but they both required a composition of about twenty minutes duration. I decided I’d had enough theory, and I just wanted to compose. So, I went to The University of North Texas to pursue a DMA in comp. It was there that I began to encounter more direct conflict. I’m kind of a larger than life character in some ways, and these comp profs were very strange people to me. A couple of them flat out didn’t want me to compose traditional music! I had to toe the line with their postmodern views, or they wouldn’t award me the degree. Well, again, I considered myself to be a better musician and composer than any of them, so I wan’t going to do that. I took all the coursework, and composed a lot more great music, and then I moved on to greener pastures. But before I left, I had to play a colossal joke on them. I composed a subjective bit of BS I called “Division.” It was based on random pitch wedges opening and closing, and it was just valueless as music. The comp profs loved it! I didn’t say anything, but it was hard to keep a straight face.
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I composed another set of guitar studies, more preludes, my first sonata process pieces, a fugue in J.S. Bach’s late Art of Fugue style – a huge breakthrough – and a fugue on a subject that is a twelve-tone row just like the atonal guys used, only it’s beautiful and not ugly.  Beating those guys at their own game was deeply satisfying.  So, I went on to other things and kept composing.
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Q: What are some of your favorite compositions you’ve created?  
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GP: I have a literal lifetime of pieces now, and they have to have, “the magic” for me to keep them, so it’s not an easy task to single out a few. I would say the traditional Scherzo I wrote while still in NYC was a breakthrough piece – it’s in a pre-sonata I call Sonata Zero now – and the fugue I wrote at SWTSU was another. The J.S. Bach style fugue for sting quartet I wrote at UNT is a biggie, as are the two super-fugues I call Ricercares; One that is the Finale of Sonata One for solo guitar (Composed in 2005 after years of prep work), and the other is in five voices for symphony orchestra (From 2013, again, after many years of research: Ricercare means a researched piece).
 .
But there’s also the electronic pop music I wrote in my twenties that is just otherworldly, and the jazzy pieces are also all gems. Those electronic pop pieces are arrangements of band pieces I did on the Synclavier, which was bleeding edge tech at the time.
 .
Q: How does music express spirituality?
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 GP: It always has for me. Even music by other composers moves my spirit. And lots of genres too. The first thing I learned to jam on was the blues, so Stormy Monday Blues is one I’d say moves my spirit. Then lots of Charlie Parker, Larry Carlton, Jimi Hendrix – “Rainy Day Dream Away/Still Raining Still Dreaming” always moves me – The Who – I wore Quadrophenia out in high school – many others.  In classical music, my single favorite piece in all of the symphonic literature is the Scherzo from Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. It is, in fact, my first musical memory. When I was really little, like three to five years old, that Scherzo was the intro music to the Huntley Brinkley Report news program. My dad watched it every night, and I would just stand there spellbound until it faded out. I remember it like it happened five minutes ago. But that piece takes me on a spiritual journey, as does the opening movement and the slow movement. The Finale, for some reason, doesn’t really work for me.  It’s a sublime masterpiece by any objective measure, but it’s stubborn or something. The vocals and chorus don’t help for me. In fact, I actually prefer Liszt’s transcription of the finale for solo piano!
As a composer, every genera I touch has to move me spiritually. Latin jazz was the first jazz I fell in love with and started composing. Then swing, bebop, and fusion. Pop in my band days in NYC, with electronic on the side. Finally, classical. The feeling of spiritual connectedness is the same in whatever genera I’m working in, and the sense of satisfaction is profoundly deep when I complete a piece. Larger forms are deeper, but the euphoria after creating a simple and novel tune is indescribable. Just last year I wrote a Waltz. It was inspired by a theory and composition book I was studying. One of the examples was of a melodic formula Mozart used in several compositions, that was already ancient when Mozart discovered it. I took it someplace entirely different, and it ended up as the Scherzo for Sonata Three, which is for solo guitar again (Sonata Two is for two guitars). I listened to it over and over. It’s just a pluperfect little gem.
 .
One of my sayings is, “if your life is not a spiritual adventure, you’re doing it wrong.” It applies to music as well. I feel connected to the Holy Spirit when I’m in the zone composing.
 .
Q: How would you describe the state of music today?
 .
GP: Awful. Symphony orchestras are unionized and sclerotic, playing the same music my grandfathers listened to. String quartets are the same. Pianists are the same, and forget classical guitarists; some of the most arrogant and opinionated musicians there are (Many are cool too, but not nearly enough). There are two other composers of guitar music I like, and both are friends of mine.
 .
How many recordings of the Ninth do we need? If I never heard a Beethoven piano sonata again, it wouldn’t matter, because I have them all already! In a vibrant musical culture, conservatories would be producing composers with real, actual technique, and orchestras would have composition talent scouts.
 .
Q: What changes are needed in the music world?
 .
 GP: Real requirements for composition faculty at universities and conservatories. If I took over, I’d demand first a simple 32 bar tune in AABA form with eight bar phrases. Just harmony and melody. If they couldn’t pass that test, bye. Then, if they want to head the department, they better be able to compose a four voice fugue, otherwise, hit the road, Jack.
 .
As I mentioned above, orchestras should be open to playing new music, but that’s the catch-22; if there isn’t any good music, and/or they’re not looking for it, nothing will happen. I just do my thing and shake my head a lot.
 .
Also, get politics out of music. If your music is a political statement, it certainly isn’t art and it’s probably not even music at all (Talking about instrumental music here). And if your politics makes you tell other composers what they should and should not write, you’re just a talentless scold who should probably have nothing whatsoever to do with music. Much less should these people have teaching positions.
 .
In three years at UNT I heard exactly zero faculty compositions that were musical in the slightest. None of them could really, actually compose real, actual music. And this was in the 90’s, it’s way worse today.
 .
This is why I only compose instrumental music. Absolute music’s it’s also called. No words, just music.
 .
Q: What are you working on currently?
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 GP: A lot of things have started to gel over the past several years. Sonata Zero and Sonata One for solo guitar are settled in their final configuration now. Sonata Two for two guitars is 90% complete, and Sonata Three for guitar has just come together over the past few months. So Sonata Two is occupying my thoughts right now.
 .
I have managed to rescue the electronic music I composed in the 80’s last year – from thirty year old 5.25” floppies! – by getting a Synclavier again, and I’m going to release that this year.
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I’ve been working on a symphony since I was at Berklee, and one movement of that is now finished, the Ricercare for Orchestra. Plus, there are always a few ideas I’m tossing around in my head at any given time. I’d say only about one in ten ever see the light of day.
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Here’s the title track to the electronic album.  I’ve decided to realize all of my music with the Synclavier now. It’s the only instrument I was ever a virtuoso with. Almost all of the sounds I programmed from scratch.
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Yes, it’s an AIFF file.  I think you can get QuickTime free for any OS or browser now.
Edit: Welcome Instapundit readers! Please visit other posts for more commentary on the state of the arts.

ARTICLE: The Death of University Art Programs, Part 4: The Subsidized Sedition of Establishment Art Schools

 

No “Social Practice” Art is complete without selfies 

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Mark Twain once observed ““The difference between the almost right word and the right word is really a large matter—it’s the difference between the lightning bug and the lightning.” The same analogy can be applied to the almost right and right principles of “social justice” versus “justice.”

“Social Justice” claims to be about fairness, which is a highly desirable outcome. But the term is a manipulative Newspeak euphemism for envy, revenge and oppression.  What social justice actually does is crush people into group identities which have been assigned favored and non-favored status by  power hungry establishment elitists. Preemptively claiming group guilt or privilege is an abstraction which does not recognize the actuality that people are individuals, responsible and accountable for their own actions. It’s the opposite of real justice.

We have come to call this collusion against the values of Western civilization Postmodernism. Social justice ideas are the propaganda our corrupt governing class uses to distract and inflame their mob rule shock troops. These cunning perpetrators use art as one of the weapons in their arsenal to undermine the rule of law. The totalitarians utilize their money and connections to enforce the results they want. Our universities are willing accomplices to this abuse of the arts.

Artnet reports on their latest maneuver:  “Yale School of Art Launches New Art and Social Justice Initiative” . They positively preen about it:

“The program, developed by the Stavros Niarchos Foundation Dean of the Yale School of Art, Marta Kuzma, is funded by a recent $750,000 donation from an anonymous Yale alum. The money will be put toward research, scholarships, projects, and other academic resources across the graduate school of art, as well as a series of lectures and panels open to the whole university, aimed at exploring the intersection of art and social engagement.

“The initiative is largely a product of an ongoing conversation between faculty (Kuzma, in particular) and graduate students about addressing issues around artistic production amid the current social and political climate. This is, however, part of a larger trend, with numerous MFA programs reframing themselves around ‘social practice’ art.”

The fraud committed is exposed in the first line of the New York Times article Artnet linked: “Carmen Papalia’s M.F.A. project doesn’t look much like art.” A blind student led a bunch of virtue signalling lemmings on a closed eye tour. In true millennial style, the participants made sure to broadcast their  panic attacks and subsequent engorged wokeness.
Such gestures don’t look like art because they are not art. An exercise in generic consciousness raising  has nothing to do with a skilled and insightful personal expression of spiritual values. It’s a gimmick, a publicity stunt to advertise the politically correct values of the participants.
Postmodernists thinks they can use language and prestige to reprogram the fundamental needs of humanity. The establishment wants to redefine the timeless experience of art into knee jerk genuflections before the idol of Social Justice. In my upcoming book, “Remodern America: How the Renewal of the Arts Will Change the Course of Western Civilization,” I note the following:

“In the blind alleys we were directed into, the criteria being used to evaluate the works seemed on the surface completely arbitrary. But in fact, the feebler the efforts were, the more opportunities it gave to launch into peripheral diatribes regarding half-baked sociology, aggravated psychology, convoluted technobabble and the like. This was the kind of talk that got these teachers really excited, subtly reinforcing that this was where our attention ought to be focused. They were indoctrinating us into the Postmodern way.

“Rewarding certain behaviors encourages more of those types of behaviors. And so most students were dutifully herded into producing slapdash experimental works, and talking about activism, therapy and pedantic minutia, rather than trying to understand if an artwork functioned effectively on its own terms, as art. It was easier to adopt the lofty lecturing tone of the instructors, to curry favor by asserting the approved beliefs and attitudes.

“Encouraging attitudes of grievance and victimization, or highlighting incidental matters of process or technique, does not lead to powerful art. But it does lead to the generation of thought police, dependent personality disorder types, and detached technocrats—all useful cogs for the Leftist machine. The indoctrination continues.”

The New Aristocracy of the Well Connected are desperately funneling resources to maintain their current dominance. This anonymous Yale grant is just the latest example of Postmodernism’s key priority: controlling the narrative. It won’t work. Contemporary art is undergoing a crisis of relevance.  Pouring money into training a new generation to create non-art for the SJW scene will only make our current culture industries more irrelevant than ever.

See the previous articles in The Death of University Art Programs series linked below:

Part 1: Eric Fischl

Part 2: The Corcoran Collapse 

Part 3: Ignorance as a Method of Critique 

UPDATE: Welcome Instapundit readers! Please visit other posts for more commentary on the state of the arts.