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A Young Lion Appears in the Brush
by David Arthur Walters

Shortly after I took up writing about the use of arté to sell real estate as artéstaté in South Miami Beach, and sent along a copy of my artful and urbane article (‘Artécity Life’) to Miami Herald real estate reporter Matthew Haggman merely for his information and amusement, Artécity’s publicist extraordinaire Dindy Yokel advised me as follows:

"Matthew Haggman and nearly everyone else in town that covers real estate (and art for that matter) have written about the Artécity condominium project already and will continue to do so. Why not find a topic that is not so well covered and then you can perhaps start clean and get where you want to go. "

Ms. Yokel inadvertently sent me a copy of her email to Matthew Haggman, advising him that my opinion on art was worthless, as I was some sort of madman who expected her distinguished client to just give me a condominium at Artécity. In fact I had said some such thing in a Jack Benny sort of way, not expecting her to take it seriously – I must say, and at the risk of being perceived as a hypocritical artékritik, that in fact I would not mind having a real estate developer as my esteemed patron. Our teacher Confucius enjoyed residing in palaces and performing the sacrifices accordingly, but he would rather sleep by the side of the road with the crook of his elbow for a pillow than sacrifice his integrity.

I applied for a position at the Miami Herald, where truthful expression and the quality of thinking and writing apparently play second and third fiddle to those "market needs" defined by the publisher and editors, and to the luck of the draw as well. At least according to Tom Fiedler, the paper's executive editor, who responded honestly to my application:

"A complex calculus comes into play in choosing columnists -- market need, experience, reputation, credibility in a subject, demographic profile (i.e. race, gender and ethnicity) -- that goes beyond the ability to write well. Some excellent writers simply never get a column because they're in the unfortunate position of not being the right something-or-other to suit the paper's needs at the time when an opening occurs."

I seriously considered Ms. Yokel's advice, for her website self-publicity proclaimed to the entire world her fine reputation, her integrity, and her loyalty to illustrious national and international clients such as Artécity developer Alessandro Ferretti and Gunther IV of the Bahamas, the tax-dodging German shepherd who bought Madonna's house awhile back. She had also served the Burger King Corporation, which I think was once owned by a dog food company. She was then a current member of the board of directors of artécitycard provider Miami City Ballet, as well as the former publicist for artécitycard provider Bass Museum and for the City of Miami Beach. After considerable reflection upon her decision to dictate my topics, and after meditating upon the nature of artéstatë in general, I decided to serve arté as its antithesis for a spell, as artëkritik for Artéwôrldé. By the way, work on the deconstructionist artéziné is in progress, and I shall soon proceed to outline a manifesto entitled, ‘The Death of Arté’. I expect it to extinguish the bonfire about which the current clique of distinguished progressives and conservatives viciously rotate with noses to rears – I hope I shall cause them to finally turn from the ashes of their vanities to Orizen above for guidance.

No doubt Ms. Yokel bemoaned the fact that I was not educated to the cultural stupefaction enjoyed by the power elite who preside over Miami’s boxed-in life. The absence of orthodox credentials can be a blessing or a curse, depending upon one's perspective. I had no choice but to consider my disqualification as my qualification, and pursue gainful employment. A box-agent asked me to write down my chief virtue and chief vice in the boxes provided on a square form. I was disqualified because I wrote down the same ethical term, ‘integrity’, in both boxes. So much for integrity!

Yes, I have mixed feelings about boxes. One the one hand, I feel cramped in them and crave life in higher dimensions, such as the fourth dimension for starters. On the other hand, I have felt quite snug and comfortable in boxes from time to time; that is, on a part-time, flexible basis..

Boxes are not all alike: they differ in formal dimensions and content. I certainly did not want to live in a cardboard box, so I knocked on the doors of boxes stacked into gleaming towers in downtown Miami. Over five hundred box occupants did not respond. Several box holders slammed their doors in my face because they wanted newly minted college grads eager to think in the box. Since box life is the fast-paced, multi-tasking, gadget-filled, hyphenated business-life, hackneyed phrases must be substituted for genuinely creative thinking, which takes much too much time. Nearly all the box holders use one of my favorite terms, ‘integrity’, in their statement of values, and the majority of the boxed-in publicly displays the words ‘innovation’ and ‘creativity’ as well.

Fortunately, box holders are ambivalent about box life, so they pass around articles advising box-holders to "think outside of the box"; but alas, they dare not think outside of the box for long if they want to remain in it. In any case, I thought they might want to pass around my brilliant essays in order to see themselves outside of the box, for I was really outside of the box looking in at the time. One box director asked me what I would be willing to sacrifice to get into his set of boxes. When I said I would sacrifice two chickens a month and a wife or two when I got them, he ushered me out of his box.

Since my access to boxed-up life was being denied in Miami, I thought that I might as well think outside of the box in a more or less revolutionary manner. As I beheld the downtown Miami skyline from the bus going over the causeway one morning, it appeared to me as an imaginative work of modern art, ala Cuban Cubism. The box towers were leaning and twisting, as if they were towers of Babel competing for a place in the blazing cubist Sun – a fiery cube no less. Each brick or office box in the tall box towers was slightly different than the other boxes: each irregular variance constituted the name and competing argument of its occupant. I envisioned said boxes on the whole and individually from various perspectives at once as the scene fragmented before my very eyes. Somehow the bus I rode and the causeway wound and wended through the towers, one of which had the form of an ocean liner standing on its stern.

There was a good deal more to these images from multiple perspectives outside of the box, much more, but the whole thing was definitely beyond words. Since I did not want to sleep on the vision and lose it in my dreams before I arose the next day, I sought out a new acquaintance of mine, a young, born-again Cuban Cubist by the name Darwin León, and told him about my vision of the "Towers of Babel in Miami," suggesting that he paint the scene for me, since I am a painterly painter without a painting as well as an artécritik who aspires to be a postmodern art personality. He said the term 'Babel’ was not quite right. I said 'Towers of Miami' would suffice to the same end, for the sophisticated patron of the arts would grasp the allusion. I most regrettably did not have the means to commission the work, but I hoped he would take the hint and produce it on speculation. After all, I thought, the subject should suit him well.

Darwin León had been virtually rejected and ignored by the powers who preside over Miami's artéworldé. The artéjury said that he, like Picasso, was not "consistent" enough, did not repeat himself long enough to be commercial, nor was he “contemporary" enough; that is, he did not suit the definition of the "market needs" of the artémarket. His work is brilliant, said one prominent art personality, looking down his long nose over the neon-green frames of his eyeglasses, but if he wants to sell it, he will have to make certain “adjustments” to suit the current taste, for which his work, surrealistic as it is, is presently “too graphic” due to the reality of the Sur of his surrealism. Wherefore Darwin does not have access to a box in the artégallerie, where his art, if only it could get on the wall long enough, might sell out despite its shortcomings, which are at once its virtues – his older work has already sold out privately, to collectors who should be ashamed of themselves for the price they paid, knowing fully well that Darwin is a starving artist with a family.

“Well,” I said to Darwin, “think of it this way – you are Miami’s foremost Refusé, therefore rejection is a compliment, for you are making history!” “No, it is WE who are making history!” he exclaimed, placing profound emphasis on the ‘we.’

Galleries would be no problem once Darwin León is discovered, I knew, and he would be discovered, of that I was certain. Perhaps then he would paint my Towers of Miami. I could only hope he would not be ruined and his art debased as a consequence of his stunning success. He might be Lincoln Road Artécentre’s Señor Ceniciento now, I told him, but after his fairy godmother shows up, the light from the bonfire of arté shall illuminate his work, and he shall be able to buy the place and turn it into the art academy of his dreams. I then spoke of revolution, of having faith in Nothing and returning to Nothing when nothing else works, because Nothing really works – Malevich was too square to begin with hence missed the infinitesimal point in my absolutely spacey opinion. But Cuban-Americans are not so fond of revolution, at least not until severely disappointed by neoconservative norteamericanos. Darwin speaks figuratively of an art revolution now that he has been wrongly called a cultural fascist for expressing his love for skilled artistry in every shape and form; but he spoke less radically at that time, of a renaissance, of youth blazing trails from the origin of modern art, an origin occluded by the dense commercial underbrush that I would fain slash and burn.

 

Manifesto of Darwin Leon
Interpreted by David Arthur Walters
Subject to Revision



Art may imitate everyday life and we may be pleased with its familiar representations, but the living principle of art is certainly not the mere imitation of material objects and formal motions. Firmly rooted in our desires, passions, fantasies, erotic dreams, social concepts and beliefs, art is the creative alternative to the mundane, monotonous and mechanical life of habit and blind reaction that tends to quiet desperation, stagnation, disease, and violent outbursts unless life is artfully expressed.

The art of painting is an imaginative search for tentative answers to the mysterious challenges of life. The fine artist is of course cognizant of the historical principles of technique over time. Still, the painter who is most intimate with the origin of the motivating spirit of art does not allow his or her explorations of structure and experiments with line, color and form to be stifled by the forced application of colored paint in a certain way.

The innovative artist who sincerely appreciates the precious gift of art appreciates the historical evolution of art as well. He is glad to represent civilized art. He does not wear the habit of revolutionary nihilism. He refuses to be stupefied by contemporary habits. He is eager to challenge himself in every way in order to receive that spirit of art without which the foundation and progress of civilizations would be impossible.

Although I work with several styles of art, my favorite manner of artistic expression is surrealistic. I am inspired by Surreality, the unconscious and subconscious reality beyond or underlying everyday common sense as well as intentional or willful 'rational' thought. Thus I share the Surrealist Movement's interest in the free, uncensored, "automatic" expression of the irrational, paradoxical, and absurd aspects of life that provide us, if we are open to them, amazing insights into the unknown hence mysterious context that governs our behavior far more than we would like to admit. At the same time, I share the prehistoric and classical interest in the interpretation of the irrational by poetic and artistic means. Without this evolving interpretation of the unknown, interpretations, which take coherent forms in human art, we would not exist as human beings.

The imaginative surrealistic flight from apparent reality to Surreality fell out of fashion some time ago, in part because many surrealists were distracted by the attraction of the modern spirit to contemporaneity of fleeting fashion. In the blind adoration of the contemporary fetish, artists lost touch with the marvelous traditional hypostasis of their art. The post-modern world (a world incidentally foreseen by surrealists) offered such a bewildering plurality of incongruities to contemplate that people fled from the art of the amazing into contemporary conceptual cubicles adorned by the ornaments of modernolatry.

Thus did modernity degenerate into the staticism of pseudo-dynamic post-modernism. Frightened by its own self-caricature and afraid of profound interpretation, post-modernism settled for the illusory dynamism of fleeting frivolity justified by a subjective anti-art ideology even more stultifying than the arrogant gods it sought to depose. Reason, dismayed by its confines, rebelled against history and memory and rationalized its own destruction with the foolish ideology of the ludicrous, reducing the conception of the human race to prehistoric nonsense. Thus are enemies determined by their enemies. Disorder was jokingly condemned in a disorderly fashion, in senseless, grotesque parody. But once the joke was taken seriously, once disorder became conventional, the anti-art movement lost its life in contemporary relativistic mediocrity, a static ideology rationalized by self-destructive dogmatic skepticism most often expressed in the dictum, "There is no right and wrong in art."

Yet Surreality remains. The truth prevails. The superior 'underground' movement endures. Instead of denying the way, I embrace it. Painting is a self-controlled meditation for me. I am not a robot: my paints to not automatically flow from the tubes. I relax and submit myself to the flowing stream of waking dreams when I am painting. I do my best to keep the errors of prejudice and preconception to a minimum while meditating. But when Surreality surfaces, I must admit that I am aware of it and that my art is intentional. My dreams, then, are guided: I am at the wheel, and the fundamental wheel is traditional - I did not invent the wheel nor does it need to be reinvented. That is not to say that the wheel may not be modified or that tradition is forever set in stone. Some of the innovative modes of negation devised by the anti-art and postmodern artists to challenge traditional conventions are "new traditions", valuable modifications of the rebellious approach creative minds have always taken.   

I refuse to repudiate or to willingly participate in a futile attempt to annihilate my own memory and the related memory of the human race (history) hence condemn myself and humanity to a false freedom expressed by knee-jerk reactions prompted by the lizard brain. Primitive man, after all, despite the myth of the noble savage, was in large part enslaved by the natural environment and the customary or habitual responses of his social group; it was by virtue of his gradual command over his imaginative process that he managed to free himself.  Wherefore my work naturally reflects that progress. My work is not produced in a vacuum: it has a strong social, political, religious and cultural context.

The context of the Renaissance has had a profound effect on my way of thinking. The Renaissance, the rebirth of the spirit of art, is the most important period in the history of art since ancient times. It is with an understanding of the nature of the Renaissance that the spirit of art may arise once again from a dark age. If students of art wish to be masters of art, they need to study the elements of the great art of the Renaissance.

When we behold the great art that the masters of the Renaissance produced, we do not say it is "cool" or "hot." Denizens of the "modern art world" tend to misidentify "art" with "attraction" - two very different ideas. We might say that an attraction is "cool", or "interesting", but a work of fine art is amazing. We speak truthfully when we say it is “amazing" and "marvelous", because we are indeed amazed as we marvel at the creation.

Receiving transmissions from the Beyond is one thing; conveying them is another. Artists must constantly develop their skills. That means they will have to understand form, structure, perception, vision, identity, perspective, prospective, statics, dynamics, and many other aspects of the original and indispensable spirit of art. And skilled artists should courageously face the truths of their circumstances no matter how awful and tragic those truths might be. Great Masters such as Caravaggio, Rubens, Michelangelo, and others were not afraid of the tragic aspects and the mysteries of life. Life is not always "pretty", or "cool" or "hot", or "interesting." Art should be attuned to origins and period crises along the time-space continuum. The greatest mystery in life is found in its origin and its crises, at the nexus of the ends of old periods and beginnings of new periods. The origin and nature of life and death, of good and evil, is the stuff dreams are made from.

Again, artists should be highly skilled in an objective sense, first of all, no matter how abstract or unrepresentative of anything plainly visible their art might be. To be truly attuned to the nature of the spirit of art, it behooves the dedicated artist, at least the artist who would strike out on her own, not to be too hasty to be unique, but rather to do her best to recapitulate the history of art from time to time, absorbing the essential elements of the most remarkable styles and approaches of the great masters.

Art must be saved by artists. Art is presently a species endangered by the anti-art defeatism that was stillborn as a joke on the jokesters a century ago. Confronted with the horrendous destruction of the Great War, writers blamed the destruction on culture and wanted to destroy culture. But culture is the mental development and evolution of the human race. Yes, anguished writers believed they could find some relief from their fear and anxiety by destroying culture, the deliberative product of the human mind and memory, with barbarous mechanisms such as cutting arbitrarily chosen cultural arrangements up and randomly pasting the pieces back together into, say, an absurd  "poem."

Whereas the impressionable poets were wont to bow down to the Impressionist artists when the those artists entered the bohemian café, the post-modern artists, impressed by the intellectual attack on intellect, bowed down to the despairing writers and became anti-artists. In their understandable despair, afraid to believe anything at all, they found what they were looking for: nothing at all: their salvation was nowhere to be found. Therefore contemporary art represented the destructive life they hated, becoming virtually the very thing it protested.

And now the historical spirit of fine art must be recovered yet again and brought forward. The culture of high civilization is not the enemy of man but is his best friend. That is, if he would not be a brute. His brutal enemy is primitive, ignorant, and barbaric, and is all too "contemporary” or determined by the collective unconscious and blind habits of his time. In critical terms, the brutal art is all subjective concept and no social ideal. The artistic brute has a concept that he does not really understand, and his success depends on a popularity contest whose winners might as well be randomly selected by a computer.  The surrealist artist brings those inchoate forces of cultural darkness to light, not to celebrate them as a contemporary attraction but to tame them. Note well that Renaissance Masters were not "contemporary": they painted and practiced the "classic" subject matter of thirteen centuries prior for nearly three hundred years.   

Although I tune in to Surreality, I do not rely on the arbitrary and accidental determination of my main subjects - as if one could intentionally be unintentional. I choose the subjects that I meditate upon. Of course I do not deny that providence might have a role in the determination of my choices, that there may be no such thing as an accident. My works may reflect current events, or project future events corresponding to destiny. My projections of the future are not contrived but are the consequences of my penchant for constant experimentation and exploration of the myriad forms that the spirit of art can take when the medium is willing.  

Despite my intense interest in the discovery and exploration of new frontiers, I am quite mad about cubism and surrealism, as can be seen in many of my works to date. I am now experimenting with a more intense way of abstracting and enhancing the figure, a movement I call cubosurrealism. The marriage of surrealism and cubism conveys the unconscious and subconscious suggestions of the momentous and marvelous Surreality better than either style standing alone.

It is a very fine thing, I think, to embrace the best aspects of natural traditions wherever they might be found. For example, the heroic tradition recognizes heroes. It is natural for social creatures to find and emulate the best among them. Creative artists have a tradition of recognizing their own heroes, the great artists who have most influenced their artistic progress. I happen to look up to Salvador Dali. I do not idolize Dali, but he is my artistic hero, the inspiration for my artistic mission.

Of one thing I am certain: Dali was ahead of his time and of our time. Salvador Dali came up with his own style and imagery while abiding by masterful technique. That is, his innovative expression was carefully controlled by traditional means. Dali had a paradoxical way of entertaining the general public with intellectual subjects they might not otherwise comprehend or be interested in. Of course his greatest sin was in getting rich by bringing fine art before the public in a commercial way - as if a master has no right to make fine art out of a lipstick advertisement, so everyone could be amazed and exclaim, "Voila!"

People are rediscovering Dali and are consequently finding meaning in postmodernism. Sophisticated people are now claiming that appropriate projections and interpretations of Surreality are therapeutic. The anti-artists said that salvation is nowhere, but practitioners of surrealistic art finds the possibility for the resurrection of art and humankind everywhere, in every possible subject whether it be concrete or abstract.

The resurrection of art remains to be seen. That is why I pursue my project with my manifesto in mind. It is, of course, subject to revision.

Miami Beach 2004

 

"Sensual night visit"

"Sensual night visit"


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