Intellectual Insecurity and the Art of Writing
Tue, 01 Jul 2008
NB: The following is a book review I wrote for a forthcoming (2008) issue of Embroidery Magazine (UK). The failure of the book lies in the writing, particularly the lead essay by a professor at Goldsmiths College, London, a teaching institution where obfuscation and gerund creation seem to be considered art forms. (For the record: I hold an MA from The Courtauld Institute of Art, London. Clear, informed language was the permissable style.)
No doubt the professor will argue that all professions have their own jargon. True. But the great practitioners and promoters of niche industries are keen to explain their craft. They will provide glossaries. They will write clearly. They will hypertext unusual words. Award winning art critic Roberta Smith, who writes for The New York Times, loathes “fashionably obtuse language” and believes “two bit words” simply “betray an intellectual insecurity”. Willfully obtuse language also creates a barrier between “us” and “them”. So if you, like me, are a “them” - read on.
Contemporary Textiles: the fabric of fine art. Main texts: Jann Haworth, Nadine Monem, Bradley Quinn, Janis Jefferies. Black Dog Publishing, London, 2008. £25.95/US$45.00
Contemporary Textiles is an anthology of fifty-seven established international artists. The selection reflects the expectation held by influential spaces like The Fabric Workshop and Museum, Philadelphia that artists should work beyond a narrow definition of “fabric” or “textile” and experiment with new materials, technology and outcomes. Standouts in the book include Guerra de la Paz, Ghada Amer and Paddy Hartley.
While the overall choices are excellent, there are inevitable omissions and questionable inclusions. It’s a stretch beyond generosity to consider Matthew Barney’s costume choices as textile art. Franko B, who uses his blood spattered performance canvases to upholster furniture and create “soft furnishings”, would have been a better choice. A prominent omission is Ghanaian El Anatsui, who adapts techniques of West African strip-weaving for his monumental “tapestries”, but uses common detritus - metal bottle caps, wire, foil wrappers - as the materials for these precious metal-like hangings.
Where the book fails is the essays, editing and structure. The authors declare a “rebellion against limitations” and applaud artists who reject “historical hierarchies”, yet the book shoehorns artists into four arbitrary zones - paintings, drawings, sculptures, spaces. Clichés, clangers and ellipses are frequent. Much of the main feminist academic tract is incomprehensible to readers new to the subject, and a chore for the experienced. The editors indulge narcissistic self-references ad nauseum, and had they not seemingly abdicated editorial responsibility, the book might have excelled. As it stands, the old-school feminism reads quaint, and attempts at currency are dated - references to the influence of the internet read like it’s 1995.
The essays fail to ask why an increasing number of young women and men take up textile-based “craft art” and how the trend relates to artist practice. An exploration of the global economic and social influences behind this movement would have made a vital contribution to the subject, as would a look at the politics of outsourcing aspects of craft art practice - something many of the artists in this book do, but prefer we didn’t know. Lastly, a mention even in brief, of the enormous influence of internet sites like etsy.com and craftzine.com would have brought the text into the 21st century.
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