Patrimonial Emphasis

The fourth model I propose requires a slight stretch of the imagination and, admittedly, may not be applicable to all instances of outsider production. Nonetheless, it’s worth contemplating as part of a larger conversation (too large for the confines of this paper, I’m affraid) regarding the inevitable necessity of preserving marginalized art forms from the increasing homogenization of cultures, as well as from the art market’s insatiable commodification of the construct of authenticity. While the implications of the following argument may be global in scope, I intend to use what is most familiar, American examples, to frame my point.

To begin one must consider a seemingly far-fetched comparison between a privately owned pre-Columbian mural fragment from Central Mexico and a twenty-foot scroll of newsprint bearing the collaged images of an army of children waging war on their adult oppressors. Such a clumsy juxtaposition begs the question of what similarities, if any, might be gleaned from these disparate objects? While the former may be acknowledged as the crowning artistic achievement of a highly sophisticated ancient civilization, the latter, created by Henry Darger in his cluttered apartment, appears as strange and incongruous company. Pushing the envelope even further, what correlation can be drawn between a 16th-century Benin relief offered at auction, and a piece of ‘yard art’ cleaved from corrugated tin by Mary T. Smith, a seventy-four-year-old African American woman from Hazelhurst, Mississippi? As it turn out, the two have more in common than one might think.

Though the above examples appear extreme, all of these objects have been subjected to like treatment by the art market. As with the mural fragment and the relief, the work of Darger and Smith, two outsider artists deemed in the last decade to be “blue chip” commodities by dealers and collectors, have been subjected to removal from their original context and assigned value based overwhelmingly on their relative scarcity (Hamilton 2003:A1). Divorced from their intended purpose and alienated from their origins, the fate of these artists’ creations is indicative of the issues currently facing the preservation of a range of self-taught forms, including outsider art.

In this final section I intend to draw such parallels between the greater implications of subjecting ‘cultural properties’ to movement on the international market and those challenges particular to growing interests in the commercialization of what I will refer to, for the sake of convenience, as American vernacular art. In no way, however, do I wish to trivialize the repercussions felt by cultures and communities affected by the loss of their heritage to the trade in art and antiquities. Rather, I hope to channel the gravity of such experiences into a cautionary examination of the impact of American attitudes towards an expressive modality that uniquely reflects important elements of our collective identity. In doing so, it is my intent to call attention to the need for a pragmatic and responsible approach to the conservation of our rich vernacular traditions.

With roots stretching back to colonial America’s impulsive reinterpretation of dominant European aesthetics and the unprecedented intermingling of disparate cultural influences due to slavery, mass immigration and migration, vernacular art marks a truly democratic expression of deep-seated notions of the American experience. Encompassing a wealth of subcategories including folk, visionary and outsider art, the work of vernacular artists is highly individual, often irreverent, and characteristically rough around the edges in a way that radiates an essential dissonance within the presupposed ordering of high art. Evident in this discord is the elemental nature and architecture of American culture, “disorderly in its natural sense of evolving improvisation” (Morris 2001:118). In this sense, it is plausible to argue that American vernacular art is a valuable cultural resource, worthy of our attention and admiration as an honest and exuberant reflection of the pluralism inherent in, and fundamental to the American experience.

Quite possibly, it’s this ability to simultaneously embody individual and collective interpretations of American culture that is responsible for the rise of vernacular art’s popularity in America. While a scattering of museums have made efforts to incorporate representations of the genre in their collections, fascination with vernacular art is particularly evident in market activity. Sought after by collectors for the better part of the century, interest in vernacular artists has reached an all-time high in the last two decades, exemplified by the first stand-alone auction of 20th-century self-taught art at Christie’s, New York, in January 2003.

Comprised of art from the collection of Robert M. Greenberg, including work by Darger and the stone carver William Edmondson, the Christie’s sale, while undoubtedly affording the genre well-deserved public exposure, has been criticized as a single collector’s shortsighted attempt to liquidate his assets at an inflated cost. Writing in the New York Times on the eve of the auction, William Hamilton expressed concern over Greenberg’s agenda, implying that the collector’s insistence on “aggressive” estimates was motivated by the desire to “rais[e] money for architectural projects” (Hamilton 2003:A6). Commenting on the potentially damaging long-term effects of the sale, Hamilton cites the possibility of a subsequent “critical shakeout” that would launch the more rarefied and sought-after objects in Greenberg’s collection “into the vault of collectible contemporary art,” while leaving the work of other important vernacular artists “as devalued as slag by the publicity of [the] auction” (Hamilton 2003:A6). In the same article, Lyle Rexler, a scholar specializing in outsider art, acknowledges that vernacular art exists within a greater “nexus of contemporary art,” making it equally subject to valuation based on demand and marketability (Hamilton 2003:A6). For collectors to stimulate interest in the genre through auction is not unheard of, Rexler continues, but the assumption that interest equates understanding is misleading. “Making art visible and making it meaningful,” he concludes, should not be assumed to be the same thing (Hamilton 2003:A1).

True to this argument, the popularity of vernacular art in America is inclined to rest, for the most part, with the speculative investments of dealers and collectors while scholarly engagement struggles to stay abreast of those trends initiated by the market. Although this tends to be the natural ordering of the art world, it’s apparent in the case of vernacular art that something is inherently lost in the symbolic function of the object when rendered as a commodity. An excellent example of this can be seen in the work of Mary T. Smith.

Painted on scavenged panels of wood and tin, each piece by Smith bears a highly expressionistic and “allegorized” record of the artist’s religious convictions (Maresca and Ricco 1993:220). Displaying them for years in her front yard, Smith regarded her assemblage of paintings, often depicting friends and neighbors, as a kind of evangelical experience intended for the moral edification of her immediate community. Inevitably, her creations caught the eye of a dealer trawling back roads for fresh discoveries, who, as the story is told, “backed his truck up to [Smith’s] yard,” and for “a price that would now buy a single piece, carted everything off to a warehouse” to appreciate until the climate was right to enter it into the market (Maresca and Ricco 1993:xii). Unfortunately, little first-hand documentation of the work’s original environment exists, lending the tragic impression of a creative spirit cut loose to haunt the white-walled purgatory of a SoHo gallery space.

The manner in which Smith’s art was acquired calls attention to a troublesome issue. Much like the pre-Columbian mural fragment or the Benin relief, the intended use and cultural relevance of works by vernacular artists are shadowed by the imposition of subjective aesthetic and financial considerations. It’s unrealistic, however, to advocate for a remedy that excludes private acquisition and ownership. In fact, there are many examples of dealers and collectors who have been instrumental in the promotion and preservation of vernacular production, fostering relationships with artists grounded in a profound respect for their creative processes and the social/cultural environments that inform their work. This said, it is crucial to articulate an approach to the continued activity of collection that perpetuates the notion of responsible acquisition and provides a model for the enlightened stewardship of vernacular traditions. Perhaps then, a useful place to turn for inspiration regarding this challenge is the ongoing issue of creating and implementing effective protection for cultural properties.

Article One of the 1970 UNESCO Convention defines cultural property as that which, on either religious or secular grounds, is determined by a nation to be of unique importance for reasons relating to history, science, or art. Included under the category of “property of artistic interest,” the Convention identifies “pictures, paintings and drawings produced entirely by hand, works of statuary art and sculpture, and artistic assemblages and montages in any material” (Malaro 1998:458). While it is doubtful that vernacular art was on anyone’s mind when this definition was penned, certain correspondences are obvious. Though no specific regulations stand in the United States regarding the genre, for the purpose of this argument it is sufficient to focus on the spirit, rather than the letter of the law, while keeping in mind that today’s vernacular art could well be tomorrow’s cultural property.

Turning to the theoretical foundations of the legislative efforts currently protecting cultural properties, Karen J. Warren’s essay, “A Philosophical Perspective on the Ethics and Resolution of Cultural Property Issues” serves to articulate the key incentives for increasing our awareness in the collection and care of vernacular art works. Recognizing the inherent conflict between the rights of artists, dealers, collectors, and the greater public, Warren asserts that, although property rights belong to the first three invested interests, general access and inheritance of cultural heritage must be considered whenever discussions of cultural property take place. In order to do so, the author continues, we must begin by examining the “conceptual frameworks” from which we operate, meaning “the values, attitudes, and assumptions through which we conceive ourselves and our world” (Warren 1999:11). Too often, Warren cautions, these conceptual frameworks become “oppressive” in their construction of “dominant-subordinate relations,” and are typified by values based on “hierarchical organization and exclusive dualisms” justified and perpetuated by a supportive “logic of domination” (Warren 1999: 12). In the case of the prevailing attitude towards the treatment of vernacular art and the larger realm of art not of the mainstream, it’s this repressive framework, perpetrated by art history’s narrow margins, that’s responsible for perpetuating the long-standing schism between high and popular art. This divide, in turn, adds to the ease with which vernacular material may be commodified with little regard to its potential cultural significance.

Fortunately, Warren offers a remedy for the problem, obtainable in two crucial steps. The first step requires the recognition of the frameworks informing our view of particular objects of cultural heritage. With vernacular art, scholars in the field actively examining the validity of art history’s paradigmatic assumptions have recently initiated this process. The second step involves factoring context into our understanding and appreciation of those objects linked to cultural heritage. Because “all cultural properties come with context,” Warren writes, to dismiss their contextual relevance renders them “dispossessed of the very sorts of information that are essential to their constituting a cultural heritage” (Warren 1999:22). The notion that the “true value” of our heritage “can be appreciated only in relation to the fullest possible information regarding its origin, history, and traditional setting” is further reiterated by UNESCO, illustrating the concept’s overwhelming importance to all issues concerning cultural property (Malaro 1998:457). Therefore, whether inadvertently or with careful calculation, those individuals engaging in collection practices that irreparably alienate the object from its context, as in the case of Mary Smith, make it impossible for the life and work of a given artist to contribute to a collective heritage.

Recently, several American museums have begun to integrate examples of vernacular art into their permanent collections with careful consideration as to the representation of the cultural contexts informing the artists’ creative endeavors. One such collection comprised of Henry Darger’s puzzling masterpieces, part of the American Folk Art Museum’s Contemporary Center, functions as an ideal model for the thoughtful treatment of a difficult body of outsider art. After Darger’s death, Nathan Lerner took immediate steps to document the artist’s output by photographing the contents of Darger’s room and meticulously preserving its contents, including the massive amount of source material used in Darger’s illustrations. While some pieces were relinquished over the years to eager collectors, the great bulk of Darger’s production was maintained as a whole by Lerner and later donated by his wife, Kiyoko Lerner, to the AFAM in 1997. Faced with the challenge of making the material accessible to both scholars and the public, Lerner envisioned a detailed archive where the work could be experienced collectively. This idea was eventually realized with the opening of the Henry Darger Study Center in 2000. Now the definitive repository for Darger’s manuscripts and illustrations, as well as for Lerner’s records of Darger’s cluttered apartment, the center plays a crucial role in the excavation of Darger’s eccentric vision. Brimming with references to American history and popular culture, the artist’s oeuvre contains an inestimable wealth of information pertaining to the American experience. In recognition of the collection’s cultural value the AFAM has assumed guardianship over this precious time capsule, ensuring its careful analysis by generations to come.

Greater than any monetary value that may be assigned, this is the true worth of the collection, as may be said for the great majority of vernacular expression produced in this country. Examined as a whole the vernacular tradition, whether manifested in folk or outsider material, perfectly exemplifies the plurality of identity, experience and vision that combine to form a shared heritage. That the work of American vernaculars will continue to enter the art market is an undeniable reality. In light of this, cooperative measures between those involved in the collection and representation of the art work must be enacted to guarantee that its cultural context remains closely associated. By looking to recent efforts in the preservation of cultural patrimony, a reasonable model for the protection of the public’s investment in a wide range of artistic production may be implemented, with museums at the forefront of this rich resource’s preservation.

Posted by admin on April 6th, 2007 | Filed in outsider art | Comment now »

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