To Be Jackson Pollock or Warren Beatty?: Art vs. Pleasure
Friday night, I became engaged in a conversation about what made for the best life. As you might expect, I claimed that the best life was the life of the artist, the creative life in which one gives birth to countless children of the mind and soul. This, I argued, would provide a kind of fulfillment and joy that could only truly be understood by one capable of these things. Being no artist myself, I added that second to this life was the one devoted to the study and experience of art in which one is at least brought ever closer to the truth exhibited in the great works.
My conversation partner disagreed with all of this. He put the problem in this way: would it be more desirable to be Warren Beatty or Jackson Pollock? His position was that a person like Pollock actually yearned for a life in which his every physical desire could be fulfilled but, unable to achieve this, gave external form to these desires as a mere substitute. Warren Beatty, the seducer, stood as the true model for his work. I countered that Beatty had never actually done anything, even if his life was filled with pleasure, and that we would be much worse off as a society if we were all just Beattys. He agreed with this latter point but argued that it is only we who benefit and not the artist, who creates these things we appreciate precisely out of unhappiness.
As I see it, provided his arguments are correct, then we would be quite unwise to look to works of art for any kind of truth or profundity. After all, they would be mere images the model for which exists in our very presence. Why study Pollock’s work when you can go directly to the source, read about Warren Beatty, and imitate him as far as possible? The only possible answer could be that you too are unable to achieve that kind of happiness and must engage with the products of unhappiness in order to make this situation more bearable.
First of all, I have my doubts about whether Warren Beatty is happy to begin with. His pleasures are entirely dependent upon other people (I’m speaking of the hypothetical Beatty of our argument here, as I know very little about him) and his accomplishments fade as quickly as they are made. Second, this dependence, in my mind, indicates that Beatty may indeed be more of an imitator than the artist. Is it a coincidence that his livelihood is the very art of imitation? Finally, it seems like the true artist would experience a much more unified life as a whole. Every action in the life of an artist potentially builds toward a common goal, the body of creative work. Accomplishments along the way are not only pleasurable in themselves but also add to the ever-building joy of the freely and independently productive life.
Given these considerations, who would not choose to be Jackson Pollock, at least if it were that or Beatty?
My conversation partner disagreed with all of this. He put the problem in this way: would it be more desirable to be Warren Beatty or Jackson Pollock? His position was that a person like Pollock actually yearned for a life in which his every physical desire could be fulfilled but, unable to achieve this, gave external form to these desires as a mere substitute. Warren Beatty, the seducer, stood as the true model for his work. I countered that Beatty had never actually done anything, even if his life was filled with pleasure, and that we would be much worse off as a society if we were all just Beattys. He agreed with this latter point but argued that it is only we who benefit and not the artist, who creates these things we appreciate precisely out of unhappiness.
As I see it, provided his arguments are correct, then we would be quite unwise to look to works of art for any kind of truth or profundity. After all, they would be mere images the model for which exists in our very presence. Why study Pollock’s work when you can go directly to the source, read about Warren Beatty, and imitate him as far as possible? The only possible answer could be that you too are unable to achieve that kind of happiness and must engage with the products of unhappiness in order to make this situation more bearable.
First of all, I have my doubts about whether Warren Beatty is happy to begin with. His pleasures are entirely dependent upon other people (I’m speaking of the hypothetical Beatty of our argument here, as I know very little about him) and his accomplishments fade as quickly as they are made. Second, this dependence, in my mind, indicates that Beatty may indeed be more of an imitator than the artist. Is it a coincidence that his livelihood is the very art of imitation? Finally, it seems like the true artist would experience a much more unified life as a whole. Every action in the life of an artist potentially builds toward a common goal, the body of creative work. Accomplishments along the way are not only pleasurable in themselves but also add to the ever-building joy of the freely and independently productive life.
Given these considerations, who would not choose to be Jackson Pollock, at least if it were that or Beatty?
posted by Marcus Silverthorne at 5:15 PM
1 Comments:
what? and miss out on the fun of bedding Madonna?! not on your life. but me thinks that there is something to be said to leading the life of BOTH Beatty and Pollock. why must it be an either or proposition? i think that one can go through periods of feeling oh-so-sexy-n-Beatty followed by dark, deep, dank stretches of, I-want-to-kill-myself-the-world-sucks-so-bad-Pollock spells.
perhaps someplace in the center is where the real fun lies...but what about Mozart? he had a bit of Beatty and Pollock competing in his veins...?
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