Aloi, Preface to Art & Animals
George Stubbs, “Whistlejacket” (1762)
Classical Illustrated Zoologies and Related Works, 1550-1900
Aloi quotes Laurie Schneider Adams, in a book on contemporary art, as claiming that “spiders, unlike humans, are not inspired by aesthetics or narrative ideas.” The artistic instinct, according to Adams, is innate in human beings and foreign to animals, and this, by implication, is one of the things that separates “us” from “them”. Aloi suggests that, by regarding the spider’s web or weaver bird’s nest as something that’s created by pre- programed instinct, Adams makes a clear distinction between the animal’s innate activity and the conscious, deliberate creation of the artist. Aloi also suggests that the web or nest “has a practical, material purpose” (and so can’t be a “work of art”). Any thoughts about this? Doesn’t a lot of art have “a practical, material purpose”? Perhaps human art also originated as an instinctual, oblivious way of attracting a mate. Perhaps it still serves this function? Is my writing this sentence really very different from a spider throwing out its silk?
Is there room for a direct , humane and ethical treatment of animals in a world that is more and more guided by our technological as well as scientific advancements and where first -hand experience and real contact with animals is slowly being pushed to the virtual (two , three, four…steps removed) background. And to what extent are we humans dissociating ourselves from the natural world, ignoring co- dependencies and possible collaborations where a more appreciative and respectful approach are possible within a less ethnocentric perspective.
For examples the threat to insect populations (like bees) that are being impacted by mindless urbanization and its effect on farming and fertilization, the collaborative efforts and experiments (exploitative but ground breaking ) of US navy seals with trained dolphins and the drug enforcement agency use of dogs for drug detection at airports.
Wasn’t this co-dependency and the awe inspiring nature of these animals that drove humans to create the first cave paintings of the prehistoric era.
So, you mean we could be collaborating (as with the drug dogs) instead of exploiting (as with the bees)? You mean we could be more thoughtful and find ways of living together? That’s a huge question… some would say collaboration is always helpful, others might consider it exploitative. I think Randy Malamud’s work addresses just these questions. But I think we need to think clearly about what collaboration really is. Is something collaborative when only one side knows they’re collaborating?
To a certain extent i am referring to the acceptance that we are part of this natural system and that there are other beings that have capabilities that surpass our own as a result of evolution. Abilities each species developed for their survival and coexistence. Awareness of these abilities and protection of this fragile balance would be the way forward as well as exploring these possible collaborations from a less anthropocentric perspective.
Realizing that we have a great responsibility “as the ones who know” towards the natural world and its ethical treatment.
(the example of the bees was more in relation to coexistence in the natural world where bees fertalize flowers on their daily quest for nectar.)
I find the use of Ridley Scott’s “Blade Runner” very interesting. Aloi uses the film as a warning of environmental and conservation concerns. This film also relates to the way we divide ourselves from animals. The replicants, or artificial humans, in the film are differentiated from humans by a test of empathy. In addition to their shortened lifespan, they are supposedly incapable of empathy. The replicants are treated as sub-humans. They are artificial creatures, like the animals manufactured for the populace. The ability for people to understand each other is a hallmark of humanity. As such, it is also a delineation for the human/animal dichotomy. Even among animals, we establish a hierarchy of how well they can relate to the emotional states of their human counterparts. The dog is viewed as warn and noble, while the snake is cold hearted and unfeeling. Is it possible that we separate animals from ourselves on the basis of this particular metacognition?
I don’t know… I mean, “cold hearted and unfeeling” are human attributes. We think of the snake in this way because we’ve known humans with these qualities. Animals clearly show empathy, sharing food and mourning the loss of their family members. And too much empathy may mitigate against survival, as when food is scarce. Can we really think of animals without anthropomorphizing or projecting human feelings?
MB
I agree with the view that animals display incredible sensitivity and altruism. I failed to express that those sayings were due to human projection, mythos, and bias. I think we can view animals without anthropomorphizing. That may lie in the field of scientific research. Which, as you point out, may exemplify the “cold and unfeeling” nature of humans. This, of course, being a stereotypical view of the clinical minded lab ridden researcher, to whom animals are object and less than creatures. This “problem,” of projection (perhaps even cultural transference?) may be related to our frame of reference. Specifically, the expression of our own species-centric viewpoint.
Art references art. It refers to the field of art. Part of its function, often, is to create cultural dialogue and further its own discipline. It is self aware. It purposefully adds to its own critique. It operates under the assumption of self awareness. I don’t think that we know whether animals have self awareness in regards to their art making.
Aloi’s example of the Vogelkop Bowerbird doesn’t clarify the issue. The bowerbird’s building serves a decorative function, but I don’t know if it is art in the same way that Bueys, “I Like America and America Likes Me” is art. A well decorated room might convince a woman that a man is intelligent or unique, but this doesn’t make it a work of art. Likewise, the bowerbird could be considered more of an interior decorator than an artist.
I think the most relevant thought in this argument is an idea I came across in Boria Sax’s review of Derrida’s “The Animal That Therefore I Am”, in which he says that the characteristic all animals have in common, the characteristic that is enough to obscure all differences, is that they are not one of us. When we use the word animal, Sax claims we are already visualizing the opposite of humanity, already forming a creature of the imagination. If we follow this line of thinking, they must, by definition, be lesser than. They have to be incapable of creating certain forms of Art, or our conceptualization of them would change, and the word animal would become meaningless.
Yes, but don’t we think of other people as “not like us”? Don’t we consider ourselves closer, in some ways, to a chimp, say, than to Hitler, or a new born baby, or someone in a coma, or an ancient Aztec warrior? As for art… I think a lot of people would see interior design as a form of art, especially when it’s non-functional (wallpaper, for example). And what about Visionary artists who are unfamiliar with art or art history, who make art in a void, purely for themselves? I wonder how different this is from the bowerbird or the spider. Animals, when given paint, will make specific choices of color and form, it appears.
This reminds me of a trend I have seen on the internet now and then. I believe it started in Japan and has spread. Take a look, if you dare! I am not sure what to make of it.
http://cache.gawkerassets.com/assets/images/9/2010/02/500x_catheads.jpg
After reading the Aloi chapter, I began to consider the notion that human art production began with instinct. The practice of graffiti fulfills an instinct, the instinct to mark territories. Rather than mark our territory in a “beastly” way (through urination) humans use visual signs, as we are more sight-oriented than scent-oriented. The individual flourishes that graffiti artists employ are functional in that they serve to differentiate and individualize their signatures. The result is a marker that is both functional and aesthetically appealing. This is just one of a number of examples in which the binary presented in the chapter (innate vs conscious, deliberate creation of art) appears to fall apart. I’m sure in class we will come up with more.
You say “human art production began with instinct” – so it no longer is instinctive? How and when does an instinct cease to become an instinct?
I thought about art being instinctive as I drove back to Baltimore today through the rain. I keep coming back to graffiti and I have convinced myself that all art in a way is graffiti. That is, the motivation behind art making is to make a mark. The purpose of said mark fluctuates. Sometimes it is a mark of defacement. Sometimes it is just to say “I am here.” Much of the time, it is more complicated than that; we have an urge to order things in our world, to make sense of it. Andy Goldsworthy’s art comes to mind. I think of his work as graffiti (he is defacing a landscape and at the same time making order of it.) I think the instinct for order-making is one that humans and other animals both share. Really, it’s part of our method of survival.
To understand our relationship to nature, we separate ourselves from it, and then reinvent it through creative processes. Meaning is derived through the manipulation of the environment. We do not believe animals to make art, or in the case of the spider, we do not believe its web to be a work of art, because the web is not a representation of a web. The spider does not observe nature, and then understand its place in nature by representing what is observed. The spider’s web, an instrument integral to its way of sustaining life, is aesthetically significant through our interpretation of it as having creative importance, a meaning discovered in representing the spider and its web in art or academic research. The purpose of the spider’s web is to catch its prey. A spider would not observe a web or web-like thing and then undergo a process of recreating an image of a web to understand the aesthetic and functional qualities of the web; it would just make a web. Aloi cites Bataille to describe the spider’s oneness with its environment: “The philosopher’s understanding of spider, web and fly echoes bataille’s conceit of the animal as ‘water in water’, in which the animal is something indissolubly connected with everything else around it and, according to von Uexküll, is tangled in a web of captivations of which the animal has no awareness – in opposition, it is through consciousness that humans conceive the world as separate.” We create to understand what we observe. A separation is inherent in the creative process, because the object created is a representation of the thing observed. In being a representation it is removed from its original purpose, hence the seemingly purposelessness of art. This is assuming that the purpose of creating artworks is to better understand our place in the environment. The difference between animals and humans in relation to art making has to do with purpose. I would argue the art of the animal is inseparable from practicality just as the animals presence in nature is inseparable from the functioning of its ecosystem, where as the art of the human is defined by its separateness from nature.
If an animal’s behavior is based solely on instinct for the purpose of survival, then the human motive for art making and writing is no different. We create so that we can convey an idea and we hope the idea is appreciated by an audience…preferably a buying audience. We also create so that we can be accepted or revered by our peers, in order to fill social needs. We rely on discipline and self knowledge to create an honest work, and if we are successful we will have made an impact.
We cannot compete with nature’s economy and skill. Olafur’s sun as Aloi points out, affects the behavior of the audience in the way that usually the “authority of nature would be expected to command”. In the gallery setting of course this piece would be awesome, however humans would never be satisfied with artificial nature entirely. We are a curious ever questioning bunch and the billions of species of plants and animals left to be discovered could never be replicated artificially.
dp
Here is a link to a Ted Talk by Michael Pawlin. Pawlin founded the architecture firm Exploration, in 2007. Exploration focuses on environmentally sustainable projects that take their inspirations from nature.
http://www.ted.com/talks/michael_pawlyn_using_nature_s_genius_in_architecture.html
dp
I’d like to keep steering us back to the topic of animals rather than – say – sustainability (although of course the two are closely linked) because there’s already so much to think about in relation to Aloi’s arguments. I agree with DP’s response to NP’s point – not all art is representational, or an attempt to copy something perceived in the world. Many visionary and outsider artists create representations of forms or shapes seen in their dreams, or imagined, or that don’t exist in the outside world, in which case they’re not copies but originals. The concept of “art” is a human concept, but remember, humans are animals, and concepts like play and the ability to use symbols – common to humans & animals alike – is not so far from what we call “art”.
MB
“Art can play two roles, to separate or unite.” (Aloi, xix) This statement by Giovanni Aoli, in the Preface of Art & Animals can be applied in a similar way if we are to replace the word ‘art’ with ‘nature’ and think about it’s relation to human society. Nature plays two binary roles in our consciousness. It is undeniable that we are a part of nature, but separation from nature seems to define the human more so than the latter because of biased views about nature and the idiosyncrasies around aesthetics, food, etc. In the spider web example, Aoli mentions that there is an over representation of art as one of the many defining characteristic of a certain consciousness that humans posses and that this argument is over emphasized within human/animal discourse which is centered around speciesm. Aoli seems to be dedicated to unlearning habits that degrade animal and glorify humans. “Unlearning the animal means effectively to suspend one’s knowledge of nature in order to re-configure it, or perhaps to let it re-configure itself; it means to deconstruct the certainties offered by nature, in order to acquire a critical awareness of the relational modes we establish with animals and ecosystems, and simultaneously to find the courage to envision new ones. (Aloi, xvi)”
AC