The problem with conceptual art is the weakness of the concepts

In commenting on modern works of art it is common to say, meaning thereby praise, that “it makes you think”. Back in the old days – before Romanticism created the notion that an artists might have something to say (rather than to please through exercise of skill) – works of art used to be praised for their beauty; or their technical expertise; or both.

By and large, modern works do not satisfy either one of these requirements. In part this is because modern artists do not have much in terms of technical skill with which they could dazzle; but in part also because the idea of aesthetic pleasure has been condemned (as presumably beautist, that is immoral); and sob-ordinated to the requirement of strong intellectual content in art.

So all there is – is the idea of intellectual content.

But precisely therein lies the problem: just what intellectual content?

A recent modern opera, said a critic, was about/ meditation on the ideas of repetition, recording and playback. And maybe it was, but I did not see anything particularly compelling in these ideas. I suppose there will always be people fascinated by certain facts, such as that music can be recorded and played back; or that small objects can but put in boxes and then shut; or that one could then put the small boxes inside bigger boxes, and so forth; or that a one can spin a spin-top and then let go; and what it – oh – all means, but I personally do not find any of these ideas terribly interesting. Really, I mean, what? After all, for pleasure I read 1) chess problems, 2) philosophical analysis, 3) mathematical proofs, 4) financial statements of insurance companies, and 5) models of the human cognitive system. In other words, problems of some complexity (not to mention relevance). As a result, to my mind, puzzlements over implications of recording and repetition (whatever that means) are simply too damn primitive to have any chance of catching my attention.

Now I hear on the radio that a famous (of course Western) performance artist performed some action this afternoon here in Warsaw, whose point, said a critic, was the physicality of the body. I don’t know about you, but I found this problem not much of a problem, either. The body is physical and I am quite alright with that.

And music can be recorded and played back. I can’t imagine that anything new and interesting can be said on the topic.

And this is the real problem with the romantic program (of the artist as an intellectual guide of humanity): few (if any) artists are actually possessed of the necessary intellectual wherewithal to say anything at all remotely interesting.

The aforementioned opera, by the way, as an object of pleasure, was a complete and utter disaster. Not just intellectually disappointing, but also ugly into the bargain. Really. Please. Enough of this nonsense already. If you don’t have anything interesting to say, don’t try so hard. Talk about the weather or something.

And why not? It’ll be as irrelevant, but at least it will not be pretentious.