JOHN O'BRIEN
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| It makes sense to distinguish between the sensibility needed to investigate ethical issues in art-making from a definition of the good imposed by morality. Though ethics and morality are interconnected at their root, morality is more preeminently concerned with establishing the good in practice than is ethics. I am not prepared to attest to the moral strength or weakness of any given art or artist. I am profoundly uninterested in exporting a moral order. Further, I think we would all agree that the practical issues associated with the "either/or" of moral choice are not as dramatic as the case of even a small moral dilemma played out in life. Whether or not I should eat all the food in the house or leave some for the others who come after me is infinitely more morally clear than whether the choice of a red colored mark stands up better to ones perception, taste and world view than an orange colored mark. It could be argued that if one wants to discuss the immoral/unethical work of art, it would be simply a work of art in which the constituent elements do a very poor job of being expressive, but that word usage seems to mistakenly overstate the scope of moral obligation and choice (this argument for the extension of the good to include beauty is explored in Ron Bontekoe's and Jamie Crooks' article "The Inter-relationship of Moral and Aesthetic Excellence" from the British Journal of Aesthetics 32, (3), July 1992, pp. 209 - 220). |
| But if we leave the broader and more easily dogmatic lines of moral systems aside, ethics may prove important to creation in the arts. Ethics is an area of thought that is removed from the norms of our ever more technologically driven civilization. It is a speculative endeavor without an immediately acknowledged horizon of deployment. I think anyone who sets out to employ ethical terms will end up necessarily linking their usage to the teleological projection of an immanent spirit that sets some ultimate ethical standard. This just appears inescapable. For example, in the Utilitarianism of Jeremy Bentham and John Stuart Mill, or the consequentialism of Pragmatists like Charles Pierce and William James, everything reflects back to the spirit as either being either better or worse. A set of consequences derives from the hierarchic ordering of everything from architecture to posture. To assert this hierarchy of belief, however, goes against present day ethical relativism and the grain of secular humanism. Relativist systems popular today that disavow any such teleological claims tend to leave the social subject detached from any way of collectively establishing the general sense of the good. According to this view, even Aristotle's theory of virtue and the Stoic philosophical reasoning that doing things that promote personal excellence of mind and well-being function to promote the general well being of a community are without root, except in faith and empirical testing. So the dilemma remains: How can ethics serve to reflect on why an artist should work one way, or make one thing as opposed to another? It is my sense is that this type of search for values often, perhaps always, precedes creation in the arts, even though there are few currently acceptable precedents that offer overt reference. Contemplating the creative process, I note where and how an art work breaks down into several distinct moments of social contact. It may be in these moments of changing status that the possibility for an ethical bearing opens up. Artwork is generally done by a single artist working within themselves to achieve a unity of purpose. When successful, the work of art fulfills its makers internal and technical parameters for completion. In this process, there is a type of introjected other who observes, along with the consciously aware artist, the progress of the work and helps judge the appropriateness of each step. This mediation of the creative process is often referred to as a creative reverie. If the first chance to have an ethical bearing towards artwork comes at this personal and solitary juncture, then the delimited impact of established moral orders at the subtlest levels of creativity is obvious. That said, it makes sense that there is an ever and implicit other being addressed in the creation of art, even if it is no more than the artist's projection of themselves as the viewer. Here liking or disliking can be described as being ethically inappropriate, because as was noted, such determinations hinge on taste and style. Those more linguistic components of art objects may well be subject to critical appraisal; but in their initial nucleation, they remain a fundamentally free choice with only the possibility of being a poor aesthetic choice and not an ethically inappropriate one. I would suggest that all successful artwork tends to be ethical to the extent that it authentically realizes an artist's vision. After an artwork is completed, it is presented to a community for appraisal. This moment is much more social than the one in the studio and as such is more clearly linked to ethical considerations. Artworks are even judged, in our historical moment, for their morality. Accepted norms, means by which to preserve a community's sense of itself and limit attacks on the status quo by virtue of some form of censorship, is a fact of life in most communities (and a hot button issue worthy of examination far beyond the confinces of this article). This is a time in which communities decide which externalizations of self they ascribe to, which they will permit. Public art, monuments, public architecture all have gradients of community-accepted appropriateness and are judged accordingly. It is true that there has often been controversy surrounding the role of the general public in these aesthetic choices. My point remains: once art is public and become socialized and symbolic in its exchange, questions of ethics and even morality are more germaine. Artwork has many afterlives. Once the artist and the community contemporaneous to them are gone, the social transaction between them is moot, yet the tangible art object remains. Others can project meaning onto this object in ways that are unforeseen. As a result, the ethical nature of their conservation or destruction are appropriate issues; second guessing or ascribing ethical intentions to the artist are not. Ethical guidelines evolve and moral standards change. Some works of art are completely misunderstood by subsequent generations and therefore enter into an ambivalent relationship with the original ethical impulse that guided the artist in making and presenting the work. I would tend to exclude the potential for drawing meaningful ethical conclusions about art dating from other periods, if only because it seems to enhance the ways in which misunderstanding can occur. I have no illusion that this discussion represents a final word, but can only hope that it does help set the stage for further discourse about ethics and art. It is where I feel I can start from. While I expend no effort whatsoever condemning works that I find to be ethically un-engaged, for, as Ive argued, these are loaded and nebulous ideas, I am always pleased to find works which somehow manage to satisfy the ethical impulse. |
| And later in correspondence to me she writes, "I used the word "peculiar" in referring to our relationship to nature. . .I find this piece straddles many attitudes. . .it's both playful and educational (one could really learn about leaves through this piece), but it is also macabre on another level. . .to have these toy-style leaves, as stuffed animals. My work often straddles those various planes of humor, the grotesque, and the instructional." I found this work to be beautiful, to be physically and conceptually satisfying, and it clearly possesses a strong ethical imprint. From its choice of audience, to its multilevel interpretative nexus, to its soft connection, to a sense of ecological awareness, I can cite Leaf Leap as paradigmatic, to to Jiri I say that the ethical in art is better seen and experienced than articulated! |
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