(W. W. Norton, 2016) [a]
I.
As I've been looking at and thinking about art quite a bit recently, it seemed a good idea to read David Salle's essay collection How to See (2016); a book that comes with more accolades than you can shake a wet paint brush at (which is not something I approve of) [b].
Salle sets out his aim (as is only proper) in the Introduction:
"The idea for this book is to write about contemporary art in the language that artists use when they talk among themselves - a way of speaking that differs from journalism, which tends to focus on the context surrounding art, the market, the audience, etc., and also from academic criticism, which claims its legitimacy from the realm of theory." [1]
Leaving aside the question as to whether one can separate different ways of speaking about art in such a clean and clear cut fashion - I don't think you can - I suppose I would be regarded as someone whose thinking has been shaped by the realm of theory, although I'm not an academic and nor do I seek legitimacy for the views expressed here.
What's more, I'm not the kind of writer who is "concerned with the big picture" [1].
That is to say, I'm not one who likes to erect some form of grand narrative (or what Salle refers to as macronarratives). The theorists and philosophers that I enjoy reading display, at the very least, a certain incredulity toward such things and subscribe to what I think of (after Lawrence) as a gargoyle aesthetic [c].
Artists, according to Salle, are more concerned with determining what does and doesn't work; are more practical and focused on the details than theorists. But again, that's highly contestable; there's no one offering a more philosophical reading of art than Gilles Deleuze, but his philosophy incorporates an important pragmatic component.
Deleuze constantly emphasises the practical and creatively productive aspects of a work - be it an artwork or a work of philosophy - and speaks of the interconnectedness of experience at a rhizomatic level (or what Salle calls a micro level and which, interestingly, he relates to Manny Farber's notion of termite art [d]).
II.
I might be mistaken, but I get the distinct impression that Salle doesn't much care for theorists of any description. Nor for critical writing which, according to him, regards the artist as a kind of failed philosopher (philosophe manqué) and which "for the last forty years or so has been concerned primarily with the artist's intention, and how that illuminates the cultural concerns of the moment" [2].
Really, David? That's not been my experience of such writing ...
In fact, I would've thought artistic intentionality was the last thing that interested any critic worth their salt in the last sixty years; it's the viewer's role in constructing meaning that, if anything, is emphasised and the work is discussed as a discrete object with its own formal qualities existing within a historical and cultural context that is quite separate from the individual who is said to have authored it.
I agree with Salle that "intentionality is overrated" [2] and that what matters more is how an artist actually holds their paintbrush and the delicate movements of the hand. But, to repeat, none of the (mostly French) philosophers and theorists that I know of would disagree with that.
III.
Ultimately, I suspect that what really irritates Salle (ironically) is that philosopher-theorists are not interested in the intentions of the artist and are, in fact, sceptical even about the existence of a doer behind every deed; an actor behind every action; an artist behind every canvas. Salle sees an artwork as something made by someone (often one of his friends); philosopher-theorists regard this someone as a metaphysical fiction constructed after the fact.
For Salle, it seems to be vital that we get to know the artist at some sort of essential level.
Thus, he refers us to Gertrude Stein's idea that individuals (as individuals) possess some kind of bottom nature; "a quality that exists underneath other attributes and is of importance [...] because it will, to a large extent, determine how a person acts in the world" [6] and presumably, if artists, the kind of art they make.
Well, I'm not sure I want to buy back into this idea which, let's be honest, is an attempt to smuggle the Romantic notion of genius into the conversation once more.
Nor do I think it the duty of the critic to provide access to "a work's core of feeling and meaning" [8] and relate such to wider human experience in a language that is free from what Salle calls jargon, so that each viewer can develop a personal (and intuitive) relationship to an artwork.
At the risk of being said to lack visual fluency [e], let's just say that I see things a little differently from Salle on the points raised here ...
Notes
[a] All page numbers that follow in this post are references to the 2018 paperback edition.
[b] I understand why publishers like to quote from positive reviews on both the back cover and at the front of their books, but it's a brazen sales ploy which I find more than a little troubling; such unanimity of opinion, devoid of all critical negativity, reminds one of life in a totalitarian regime where all dissent has been crushed and all information is strictly controlled.
If words of praise must be assembled about an author and their book, then at least allow a few insults to be mixed in; as the publishers of Sebastian Horsley's Dandy in the Underworld (Sceptre, 2008) wisely (and amusingly) allowed.
[c] See the post published on 16 April 2019 in which I discuss this gargoyle aesthetic, adapted from D. H. Lawrence's novel The Rainbow (1915): click here.
[d] Manny Farber (1917-2008) was an American painter, film critic, and writer. One of his most influential essays is 'White Elephant Art vs. Termite Art' (1962), in which he contrasts the bloated excesses of the former with the virtues of the latter (termite art is said to be spontaneous, subversive, and experimental; always eating its own boundaries; elephant art, on the other hand, is weighed down by convention and its own desire for grandeur).
The essay originally appeared in Film Culture, number 27 (Winter 1962–63). It can be downloaded as a pdf from the Museum of Contemporary Art (LA): click here.
[e] According to Salle: "Many people who who write and talk about art have no particular visual fluency ..." [7]
Readers who are interested in my take on a current exhibition of Salle's work here in London might like to see the post of 25 April 2025: click here.
The first part of a three-part post on looking, talking, and thinking about art with David Salle, can be accessed by clicking here.
