If a visitor doesn't "get" the concept, is a work of conceptual art successful as a work of art?

This question opens a proverbial Pandora's box in terms of art historical theory. Throughout the history of art, the question of whether a work of art is successful or not (and how one would measure success in the first place) has been pondered by artists, audiences, and critics alike. Does it remain the sole right of a work's creator to determine its success as measured against the intentions he had for the work? Is a work deemed to be successful if a viewer likes it or "gets it", or is it alternatively seen as a failure if someone either dislikes or doesn't grasp it? Or is it ultimately up to the critic, the writer who is familiar with the artist's approach and intention to write a favorable review if a particular piece fits in to or expands upon an artist's oeuvre? There are so many questions regarding how to measure an art work's success that a particular field of philosophy called reception theory has developed over the years to debate this very subject.

My goal for this exhibition was to provide insight into some of the intentions with which particular artists were approaching their art, thus supplying a little background information that might, just might, shed light on why a non-objective work looks the way it does. It goes without saying that one particular art work will never appeal to all that view it, since everyone comes to view art with a subjective background, education, and feelings that will shape his or her reaction to a piece. Even with all the didactic information accompanying each work in this exhibition, a viewer may very well still not connect to the work, or "get" the concepts behind it. In my personal opinion, this does not mean the work of art has failed, or that this exhibition has not done its job. Rather, I think this reveals one of the reasons why art is so interesting to so many people and has fueled fires of debate throughout the centuries. I feel that art will forever remain a subjective enterprise, both for the artist that creates it and the viewer that visits museums and galleries to look at it. And this is why it is so important on a cultural, societal level. It allows each and every one of us to bring our own ideas, feelings, and ultimately interpretation to paintings, sculptures, prints, and more. The fact that I Don't Get It, its gallery message board and this blog have opened a dynamic dialogue about the field of non-objective works and the various opinions of all who view it reveals the power of art to effect its audience.

Mondrian and Calder

We recently received this multi-faceted question from Liz on the blog:

"I loved the piece by Andrew Calder. Can you tell me more about it? I forget the title. How did the Museum acquire it? What's the connection to Piet Mondrian? Did Calder know him? Did they build off of each other? Or was Calder simply influenced by Mondrian?"

Calder's Red G from 1963 is truly one of the highlights of HMoA's permanent collection. Purchased in 1965 with funds provided by the Annette HarveyBequest, the 1964 Huntington Galleries Ball, an anonymous donor, and Huntington Galleries Board Members, it has hung prominently in the Museum's front entry hall for many years now before its inclusion in this exhibition. The piece is a beautifully typical example of Calder's kinetic mobiles, wire and steel sculptures of organic shapes that engage the elements of time and motion. Each of the steel forms, usually modeleled after shapes such as the sphere or the traingle, which the artist felt furthered the suggestion of motion, moves independently with any air current that is created around it, usually caused by the movement of visitors as they explore and walk beneath the piece. As each element moves, the arrangement of the composition as a whole changes, and it casts ever-changing shadows around the gallery space, thus engaging and transforming the work's environment. The bright red hue of the sculpture is extremely striking to our visitors, but ironically color was a secondary concern for Calder who prefered to work primarily in black and white.

Calder did indeed know fellow artist Piet Mondrian (Dutch, 1872-1944). After studying at the Art Students League in New York, Calder moved to Paris for seven years where he befriended such famous artistic figures as Marchel Duchamp, Jean Arp, and Mondrian. Their relationship may have been slightly symbiotic, but it appears that Mondrian was much more of an influence on Calder than the other way around. After a visit to Mondrian's studio in 1930, Calder wrote, "This one visit gave me a shock that started things. Though I had often heard the word 'modern' before, I did not consciously know or feel the term 'abstract.' So now at thirty-two, I wanted to paint and work in the abstract." Shortly thereafter, Calder was invited to join the international Abstraction-Creation group that ibncluded Mondrian, Theo van Doesburg, Robert and Sonia Delaunay, Jean Arp, and many other artists working with geometric forms, which would become the focus of his own work.

Why is there no title?

We recently received a comment from a five year old museum visitor who was curious to know why Harry Bertoia did not title his art work. What has been so great about our comment board is that it has allowed interaction, both direct and indirect, between our visitors, as some people comment on the reactions and thoughts of those who came before them, or inadvertently write a few sentences that pertain to other questions and ideas already posted. In this case, a second visitor also shared in the five year old's curiosity and shed light on the answer to the question. "I wonder why the artist sometimes doesn't name the work, " wrote the commenter. "I don't mind because it allows the person looking at it to personalize it with their own ideas, connecting artist and viewer." In the case of Harry Bertoia, this is exactly why he did not title his work. He did not want the title to fix the meaning of his work or suggest what it was "supposed" to look like. He knew that his pieces would be received differently by each individual who viewed them and that was what he wanted to happen. I hope this answers our junior visitor's excellent question.

Visitor Comments

I Don't Get It has been viewed by hundreds of museum visitors now as it enters its sixth week on display. In addition to starting this blog, we also hung a comment board in the show's gallery to invite questions, ideas, and reactions regarding the non-objective art on view. This not only allows us to answer your queries and pass on additional information, but it also lets us know what you think of the art work and the exhibition as a whole. Comments have been left by visitors aged five to sixty five, in English and other languages (I keep meaning to find a Chinese dictionary), that range from expressing a simple liking of a particular piece and an artistic rendition thereof, to some interestingly thoughtful reactions. Here are some highlights:

"I liked this exhibit!! It's nice to decide for yourself what the art is."

"This art is meant for the interpretation of the individual. One person may see one thing but another person sees something completely different. I find it amazing."

"Very creative, some of them I did not get though! I LOVE places liked this and it made me think. This place was very inspirational."

"This exhibition is truly magnificent. It was well worth the drive. Very well done!!"

"Abstract and non-objective art is essential because it invites the viewer to participate in making 'sense' of art in myriad ways. We loved this exhibit and felt fully involved in these works."

"It's hard to let go of the habit of relating what we see to someTHING we can recognize or identify. In a sense, this is art in its purest form - color as color, line as line; not used to help outline or define an object. It's challenging. I like that."

"The difficulty: how do I know that I understand something when understanding (at least in our culture) is a function of words, and when the object I wish to understand is non-verbal? We think we understand representational works (portraits, still-lifes, etc.), but it is an illusion created by our ability to name the parts. If you can't understand abstraction, you also don't understand representation. At one level, enjoying abstract art is akin to the joy and wonder we experience in the presence of a well-known quilt. But they can (and, for many, do) operate at deeper and more substantial and satisfying levels. This is a quite good collection."

Do you agree? Disagree? Have any comments? Let us know.

Still Don't Get It? Welcome to the blog!

Welcome to the interactive blog for The Huntington Museum of Art's I Don't Get It: Non-objective Works from the Permanent Collection, an exhibition designed to explore the intentions and ideas behind non-objective art which is concerned with formal qualities while rejecting imagery from everyday life. Even if you've read all the labels that accompany each of the exhibited works, the art may still remain puzzling or a little confusing, since it doesn't look like anything we are used to from the world around us. So please feel free to post any questions or comments you might have in the comments section of this blog or, if you visit the Museum in person, write your impressions on a card and post it to our exhibition bulletin board! I'll do my best to answer your questions and shed additional light on the meaning behind these non-objective art works.

I Don't Get It: Non-Objective Works from the Permanent Collection of the Huntington Museum of Art

Non-objective art refers to work that is non-representational, containing no recognizable objects or subject matter. Instead, it uses a visual language of form, color, and line to create compositions that are independent from visual references in the real world. While artists working in this style occasionally take inspiration from life experiences, their work reflects emotions and reactions to it using a purely aesthetic vocabulary, rejecting identifiable images.

From the Renaissance to the middle of the 19^th century, Western art had been defined by the logic of perspective and the endeavor to create the illusion of visible reality. With the development of the camera, however, photography was capable of capturing reality in a more convenient way than painting, drawing, or sculpture. Therefore, by the beginning of the 20^th century, many artists gave credence to the idea that art could constitute its own universe, and that reference points beyond materials and the mind of the maker were no longer of importance. This view of art lead to the dismantling of subject matter, for what was represented mattered less than the manner of representation and the theories held by the person responsible for it.

I Don’t Get It highlights non-objective holdings from the Huntington Museum of Art’s own permanent collection in a variety of media, including paintings, prints, glass, and sculpture so as to shed light on the interpretation and background of an art style that is often misleading in its apparent simplicity.

This exhibit is generously supported by the West Virginia Division of Culture and History, the West Virginia Commission of the Arts, and the West Virginia Humanities Council.