« conservatism in the Obama administration | Main | War and Peace: an ethical interpretation »
October 5, 2009
worthless art?
Background: According to Richard Dorment in The New York Review, Andy Warhol had a picture of himself taken in a photo booth in 1965. He had the image transferred to acetate plates so that he could turn it into a silkscreen print. However, at the suggestion of a friend, he decided "to send the acetates to a commercial printer for silkscreening." As a result, he never touched the prints, although in 1969 he signed one and dedicated it to his dealer Bruno Bischopfberger. Later, it became Warhol's standard practice to have his works manufactured commercially and then sign them. In 1970, the same self-portrait was reproduced on the cover of Warhol's catalogue raisonné (a book purporting to show all of an artist's authentic work). Presented with this volume, a delighted Warhol signed his name across the cover.
Nowadays, there is an "Andy Warhol Art Authentication Board, Inc." that determines whether individual objects are genuine "Warhols." The Board has denied that the self-portrait of 1965 is genuine. "It is the opinion of the authentication board that said work is NOT the work of Andy Warhol, but that said work was signed, dedicated, and dated by him." When the Board has physical control of a disputed work that it rejects, Dorment writes, the work "is mutilated by stamping it in ink on the reverse with the word "DENIED"—thereby rendering the picture unsaleable even if the board later changes its mind."
Dorment launches a fierce attack on the Board. But how can its actions make objects "worthless"? If you think a Warhol is a striking image that would enliven your wall, you can buy one and prize it even if the back has been stamped "DENIED." In fact, you can make your own version of this perfectly reproducible object and it will be as striking as the one Warhol had manufactured in 1965.
If you think a Warhol has value because the physical object is directly connected to the late artist of that name, the connection that you prize is real (or not) regardless of what the Authentication Board says.
If you bought a Warhol at auction, you may fear that the "DENIED" stamp will cause its resale value to plummet. But the resale value is just a function of what other people think about the object. Why should you substitute their opinion for yours?
For myself, I would much rather have a Warhol with a DENIED stamp applied by a Pynchonesque "Andy Warhol Art Authentication Board, Inc." To me, the stamp would not be a "mutiliation" of the original object, but a consummation of the original concept. In fact, if a DENIED Warhol were available for cheap, I might buy it on the bet that those stamps will become priceless.
The conceptual art of Duchamp and Warhol made theoretical points that really couldn't have been argued in prose. These two forced us to acknowledge that a work of art is a physical object, basically like a toaster; and the magical aura that we associate with it because it was hand-made by a genius is a bit of a joke. They played with use-value, market-value, authenticity, creativity, originality, fame, and mechanical reproduction. I think their points, having been made, can now be pretty much left behind. Beautifully crafted individual objects remain worth making and appreciating. But if you're going to collect Warhols, I don't think you can be too upset if some officials dispute their authenticity. This whole business requires a sense of humor.
October 5, 2009 8:50 AM | category: fine arts | Comments
Comments
From Mark Sagoff, via email:
In the later 1960s, when I was a graduate student at the University of Rochester, the undergraduate Student Government Association, which could apply a share of student fees to these purposes, invited Andy Warhol to present a lecture. A man of the right age in the right leather jacket with the right shaggy blonde hair gave a non-descript talk and then deflected questions. His haughtiness was considered by many to be beneficial. One student, however, who was disappointed did some research (even before the reach of the Internet, which would make such duplicity impossible today) and found that another Andy Warhol, presumably the original, appeared at an engagement at exactly the same time in another city. The SGA complained to Warhol's agent who returned the lecture fee.
I have often pondered this incident as you have pondered "Warhol's standard practice to have his works manufactured commercially and then sign them." Like the print you describe, the Warhol lecture at the University of Rochester was not uthentic but "was signed, dedicated, and dated by him." That he sent an impersonator and left us to tell the difference - when in an infuriating way there was no difference - turned what was a regrettable choice and a forgettable occasion into an aesthetic conundrum. Were we engaged in the art world by this duplicity? Did it give us more to think about and to remember than, say, was available to the audience in Philadelphia where Warhol ipsissima that same evening gave his stock talk?
The Authentication Board has a role to play in the history of the Warhol self-portrait only because other artists follow prescriptions and expectations that are central to the aesthetic judgment. When Warhol free-rides on this self-regulating community he confronts it and us with questions about its underlying rationality. Why doesn't every artist cheat - for, as you correctly observe, "you can make your own version of this perfectly reproducible object and it will be as striking as the one Warhol had manufactured in 1965." Indeed, this is true of all art works, since technology has for some time enabled the perfect reproduction of any piece - indeed it is not hard to make a reproduction of an Old Master that resembles what the original was like more than the actual but worn original looks like its former self. Why not a Rembrandt over every mantle - even better than the one that hangs at the Louvre?
What makes the "denied" label valuable to you is its confrontation with the expectations that regulate the art world and make Warhol exceptional. If every artist had a studio manufacture scores of instances of every work, however, or if every famous person engaged a team of look-alikes to collect lecture fees there really could be no art world and no lecture circuit. If some mega-studio turned out a million ready-made reproductions (however perfect) of paintings the authority of which is bound up with their authenticity - their place in art history and in the art world - you would not consider copies particularly valuable even if the studio at your request stamped "DENIED" on the backs of those paintings.
I think the problem is exceptionalism. It's a dangerous creed as you know. What makes the print and the impersonator valuable is their exceptionalism - that they make us question and confront our assumptions. Is the manufactured print better than an authentic one because it makes us confront the conundrum of the authenticities we have cherished and expect? Is the imposter better than the person because we wonder about the basis of our choice?
Elinor Ostrom (whom you rightly congratulate in a later blog) has studied the kind of collective action problem the Warhol "appearance" and the Warhol "print" represent. As Ostrom has so well argued, communities cannot cherish values when each member pursues self-interest however aggrandized. Exceptionalism has to be exceptional.Elinor Ostrom (whom you rightly congratulate in a later blog) has studied the kind of collective action problem the Warhol "appearance" and the Warhol "print" represent. As Ostrom has so well argued, communities cannot cherish values when each member pursues self-interest however aggrandized. Exceptionalism has to be exceptional.
October 18, 2009 10:15 AM | Comments (1) | posted by Peter Levine