In a city as vibrant as Copenhagen,
where beautiful street art is commissioned by the government and the museums
are free to the public, a certain caliber of art comes to be expected. That
expectation is part of what gives the city its global reputation, but it also
accentuates any instances of art that don’t fit this standard. This interplay
in turn brings up a series of important questions about art in public spaces.
Who gets to curate shared space? What defines any creative endeavor as high or
low quality? And what role does intention play in defining something as art?
These are the
questions that arose a few days ago on a walk back from Christiania. There was
a man performing in the street, wearing only a kilt and yelling in English,
singling people out and ultimately dragging two male “volunteers” from the audience.
He made continuous ignorant jokes, not quite sexist or homophobic in a direct
way but certainly belittling the concept of homosexuality and femininity. For
example (one of many), when he pulled one man from the crowd he jokingly said
“and now we kiss” and then immediately “I’m kidding, don’t worry, I’m not gay.”
He made that joke again and again and his delivery made it clear that he
considered two men kissing to be a ridiculous concept. He then had another man,
whose wife was in the audience, smash glass bottles. He told him to “show his
wife what he would do to all her things if she cheated on him.” This encourages
the twin ideas that a man should display emotion through aggression and that he
has the right to be violent towards his wife.
The
act ended up being a simple test of endurance as he lay down on the glass the
man had shattered. Arguably, however, his performance had very little to do
with this act. If he had just done this in the middle of the street he may have
drawn some attention, but the way that he belligerently yelled and involved the
people around him made it much more of a dramatic performance in a traditional sense. It also brought into question
his motive as an artist.
Certainly, many
artists have purposefully placed their audience in uncomfortable situations to
raise salient points. If he had a strong artistic message, however, it was not
made clear. In fact there were some elements that intimated an entirely
monetary set of motives. The fact that he was speaking English, for example,
meant that he wasn’t directing his performance at the Danes, but rather at
international tourists, who are more likely to be carrying cash. With this in
mind, his goal would be to maintain the focus of as many people for as long as
possible. And to his credit, his jokes, though offensive to some, were
effective at grabbing the attention of passersby.
Here’s the
important thing. An identical act could have been performed with different
intent and come across as art, either as a critique of ignorance or as a
thought-provoking display of endurance. But if intent were the only factor in
determining the artistic value of a piece, how can the audience ever judge it?
If after the fact he declared his intention to be something completely
different, does that retroactively negate the audience members’ experience? And
how does one assess the genuineness of a proclaimed intent outside of how
successfully it was carried out?
As
someone who finds even tagging and amateur graffiti to be powerful symbols of
communal ownership of public space and beautiful additions to any city, I was
perplexed to admit that I found myself offended by the performance. I have
always been an advocate for allowing members of the community to decorate and
artistically populate their space how they saw fit. But this was the first time
I had been confronted with a potential piece of public art that I truly wished
wasn’t there and it forced me to reconsider my stance.
Ultimately,
he did have a right to be there and my discomfort doesn’t affect that in any
way. I maintain that only allowing vetted artists to shape the public space
takes away from the authenticity of a city. It’s a beautiful thing to live in a
city that feels like it belongs to the people who populate it. It is a decidedly
less beautiful thing, however, to be subjected to the self-indulgent and
offensive performances of others. So we’re left wondering about some sort of
cut off, whether anyone should have the right to perform in the streets as long
as what they’re doing is art. But if that’s the criteria, then what separates
art from everything else? And could it possibly be something as intangible as intention?
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