What We Talk About When We Talk About Art

Sticking a fat thumb in the eye of a dollars-and-numbers world

Think about a piece of art you don’t like — a book, a movie, a painting, a comic, whatever.

What bothers you about it? The color? The story? The style? It reminds you of that time you fell off your bike in third grade?

Are there songs that make you hit skip? Nasal vocals? Sad chords when you already feel sad enough thank you?

Not liking things is a way of thinking thoughts. Our thoughts. Worthy thoughts. Because let’s face it, that ending of that one movie was the worst. Wasn’t it?

When we talk about art, it’s a mess. Everybody has an opinion, nothing gets decided. The art is still there. It survives our scorn and goes on to offend another day.

But we have feelings, and taste, and disagreement with our siblings on which is the best Led Zeppelin album. Or the worst.

When we talk about art, we’re talking about human people. Ourselves, whoever made the thing, each other. What makes us feel peculiar and confused and irrationally annoyed and like the way I feel when I read George Saunders, which is like I’m sitting in a grimy room with a linoleum floor and bug-filled fluorescent tube lights.

Or when I watch a Tim Burton movie, and I feel annoyed the way you feel annoyed in school when there’s that one kid who just will not stop talking and who is trying way too hard and why won’t they just leave you alone. I mean they seem smart and everything but it’s just too much. Stop it.

I don’t think we can overstate how important it is to talk about art. We live in a world where Numbers, and by extension Money (which is numbers), have become the de facto measure of Universal Worth. The ultimate thing that overrides all things. It’s reductive thinking, boiling ourselves and everything we do down to Numbers and Money, and it doesn’t work. It doesn’t just not-work, it’s destructive and corrupting.

Reductive thinking has been super popular throughout history with despots and autocrats. Right and wrong, good and bad, patriotic and degenerate. Blacklisted. Party member. Illegals. It’s big with business, too. Growth. Stock. Market share. Registered users. Clicks. Shares. Likes.

Now we hear that Data is the gold of this century. The crude oil. Data is everything. Columns and rows and demographics and categories of people and “behaviors” and preferences that can be used to control you and your actions like you’re a damn puppet.

All so that the masters of reduction can amass insane wealth and power, on your back.

I say, walk away and get you in front of some art you don’t like. Be indecisive, inarticulate, messy, and opinionated. Disagree with people and don’t even give a good reason why. Make noises and gestures. Heck, find stuff you like, too. Jump around and cheer. Head-bang in the car. Buy a print and stick it on your refrigerator.

And, talk about what you think. With people. For no reason. Give poorly considered opinions. Have feelings. Like stuff just because. Analyze lyrics. Analyze lyrics you have been hearing wrong your whole life but now they have meaning for you like that so you’re just leaving it that way.

This is very, very important. Put down the phone and argue with somebody about The Ramones and whether or not they are more influential than The Clash.

And then move on to the next song, or painting, or movie, or book, and say more nonsensical opinionated things. We need more than numbers, we need souls.

Betsy Streeter is an artist and cartoonist and writes the BAD ART Newsletter.