ҹ1000

The concept’s the thing

Snap to Grid by Peter Lunenfeld, MIT Press, £21.95, ISBN 026212226X

WHAT is art? Visit the handsome new gallery in London’s Somerset House and
scrutinise the Gilbert Collection, a glittering showcase of unwanted Christmas
presents, for clues. Admittedly, they’re masterpieces of silver, gold and enamel
work, but really—three large rooms housing nothing but Frederick the
Great’s snuff boxes? In a neighbouring room, micromosaic portraits of smiling
beggar children and their dogs are testament to the 19th century’s appetite for
expensive kitsch.

But for many, these rooms reveal exactly what art is: the extreme mastery of
craft. Skill suborns context and concept. They may not like the syrupy smiles of
those children, but they respect the craft skills of their creators.

Perhaps focusing on concept and context can solve the problem. Consider the
conceptual artist Richard Long drawing a picture in a bucket of water. Long’s
paradoxical exercise packs in a lot of meaning, but should his picture,
shivering to nothing, bestow value on the bucket? Conceptual art either eschews
its value as an object of trade and speculation—leaving the artist
destitute—or it turns its leavings into expensive totems. This is perhaps
why the most coherent and memorable conceptual artworks are performed. You can
make an honest buck, without fetishising your props.

This, in a nutshell, is what gets Peter Lunenfeld all flustered about digital
art in Snap to Grid, that it is, perforce, a performance art.

Lunenfeld argues that digital art, far from being enshrined in
cyberposterity, is ephemeral. Just look at the exponential rate of change in the
ways we interface with the digital—any takers for my hardly used minidisc
recorder?—not to mention the ever-worsening compatibility problems.

“Right now, somewhere in the wired world,” Lunenfeld reflects, “there is an
artist having difficulty navigating through his complex interface for the
benefit of a curator he hopes will give him a show. Right now, somewhere in the
wired world, there is a team of digital post-production media specialists
cursing silently as their presentation to the director crashes for the third
پ.”

This being the case, might the MIT Media Lab’s “Demo or Die” philosophy be
the model for digital artistic practice? And if this is happening, can one still
make a valid distinction between concept and craft—between a
computer-industry demo and an art-school presentation or crit? Lunenfeld is not
so easily seduced: “Too much art that engages with technology mutates into
`techno-art’, a ghettoised form that begs to be admitted to the big table simply
because of the fact that it is so hard to make or to make work.”

Lunenfeld charms with his sharp technical observation, his healthy impatience
with science-fictionalised media theory and his refreshing nods to historical
process.

Artists now have their bible, their Stones of Venice, their Ways
of Seeing. Eschewing the siren comforts of futurology, Lunenfeld gives us a
sharp snapshot of our artistic present. We have waited a long time for this.

More from New Scientist

Explore the latest news, articles and features