Art History

Art vs. Design: A Dilemma

When Bridget Hapner says she is creating identities, she means it literally. Her latest project is to create an identity, or persona, for the Buffalo Bill Historical Society in Cody, Wyoming by designing the logo, choosing the font, and picking the color scheme.

Bridget is a senior in graphic design, but she will also complete a minor in art history. Her interest in art history paired with her future career in graphic design brought us to a question that is heavily debated in graphic design circles: is graphic design art? “There’s art and there’s design,” Bridget says. “I wouldn’t call myself an artist; that makes me uncomfortable. I enjoy design because it’s communication. It has a purpose.” Bridget’s interest lies in information design and her primary goal is conveying a message to an audience. She showed me a poster she created for the Bikecentennial, a bike ride across the United States to mark the bicentennial. The poster has a red, white, and blue color scheme. A map of the United States spans the left side of the poster and a broken red line marks the 4,250-mile long bike trail. Red flags indicate landmarks with particularly difficult terrain; the starting and ending points are indicated with bold, shiny white stars. Pictures from the Bikecentennial are interspersed throughout. The demographics of the cyclists are displayed in a bar graph on the right side of the poster. The poster is sleek and to the point.

For Bridget, graphic design is about conveying a message to the audience in the clearest possible manner, and she believes this should not be confused with art. “The end goal (in graphic design) is communication, not self-expression,” she says. The work she is most interested in, creating infographics, often relays her client’s message, whether it be that of a corporation or a museum. Her own opinion becomes irrelevant. The identities that she creates are those of others; her work does not exclusively represent or embody her.

Even her creative approach is methodical and precise. “The basis of what makes you a designer is your process…to understand what it means to use these fonts and properly design something… sets people apart,” she explains. Throughout the interview, Bridget referred to herself as a designer rather than an artist, a distinction that emphasizes working within specific forms, structures, and patterns, particularly regarding technology. In a field where work is produced on a computer, Bridget has to be very technologically savvy. The programs she uses – InDesign and Photoshop – give her a framework she has to work within.

The reliance on technology might seem foreign to many traditional artists. The entire work of art is produced, from start to finish, without the artist’s physical touch. It is understandable that there is skepticism about the status of work created on a computer. After all, the medium on which graphic designers work today was not available when Bridget’s father, also a graphic designer, began his career. But the history of art is littered with changes in technology that revolutionized the way that art is created. In the 1500s, the discovery of oil paints almost led to the extinction of egg tempera. There was also a shift at this time from wood panels to canvas. In changing both the medium used to paint and the surface the work was painted on, the 1500s was a time of technological advances in painting. So when the painter's brush is replaced with a designer's mouse, what's the difference? What makes bits and bytes immune to the forces that affect paints and clays?

Though Bridget relies on technology to create her work, the technology itself does not create art, the artist does. The artist might choose to use computer programs as her tools but they are always just that, tools. In these programs, she has so many options from which to choose: to draw by hand and color, to take photographs, or even to scan in found objects and textures. Believing it is important to combine the computer with traditional design values, she attributes her stance to her education at the university: “U of I taught me how to do that,” she says.

Though Bridget is uncomfortable with the implications of being labeled an artist, as an art history minor, she understands the importance of looking at graphic design as an art form. Bridget states that she is inspired by art history. She is particularly interested in Flemish art because of its “intense significance.” Iconography and hidden meanings are characteristic modes of communication in Flemish art, which might explain Bridget’s fascination. As someone who communicates information through an understanding of social symbols, she can truly appreciate how this was done in another culture and time period. Yet in using these other art styles as inspiration, she is also placing herself within the tradition of artists who have preceded her.

Bridget’s reluctance toward being called an artist stems from the nature of her work and her focus on creating others’ identities, which are separate from her own. While Bridget sees her work as mechanical in the process through which she creates it, others may focus on the mechanical aspect of its production. But what is the difference between a painter flourishing her paint brush and a designer clicking her mouse? Though Bridget does not see herself as an artist – and she has valid reasons for her opinion – as an art historian I cannot help but feel that her work, and the field of graphic design, deserves to be explored by art historians and discussed within the community, whether it is framed as art or design.

Sedition in the Art World? A Contemporary Debate

In November 2011, a new beast was born in the global art market. That beast was s[edition], a social media platform for buying and selling limited edition digital works by “big name” artists such as Shepard Fairey, Tracey Emin, and Damien Hirst. The works are available for a low cost, with prices ranging from €6 to €600, and while some of the pieces available for purchase are simulacra of non-digital works—cue video of Hirst’s diamond-encrusted skull For Heaven’s Sake—others were created in digital media to begin with.

The site was co-founded by Harry Blain (owner of the contemporary art gallery Haunch of Venison) and Robert Norton (former CEO of Saatchi Online), and already has more than 40,000 registered users. It allows users to join for free, view the virtual goods, and buy one of the numbered, signed digital editions, if they so choose. Each work a user buys comes with a certificate of authenticity, and is stored in their personal, password-protected digital vault. However, members can show off their purchases on their profile pages, if they wish. They can also join “collector’s circles”—groups of buyers with similar interests meant to mimic the networking that occurs in the analog art world.

Predictably, the launch of the site generated a bit of a stir, especially in the United Kingdom, where the founders and several of their artists are based. Immediately following the launch of s[edition], Wired UK associate editor Olivia Solon wrote a piece about it on her blog. Attempting to validate s[edition]’s concept and business strategy, Solon argued, “The real value of the pieces that people can buy on Sedition lies in the certificate of authenticity. This is what allows you to resell the artworks, hopefully at a higher value once the limited edition has sold out.” In other words: The real value of the art one buys on s[edition] does not lie in the art itself, but rather in the possibility of its resale. This attitude reveals some of the problems embedded in what might otherwise seem to be a brilliant, egalitarian art world revolution. Namely, that the rhetoric surrounding s[edition]—with its “affordable” prices and accessibility—disguises the fact that it does nothing to fundamentally change the system of consumption surrounding the art-commodity.

S[edition]’s launch was accompanied by congratulatory rhetoric about “democratization.” In the promotional video available on s[edition]’s website, for example, Norton benevolently remarks that “we try and lower the barrier for people to become a collector for the first time.” Similarly, at the end of the video, a narrator states, “That’s how s[edition] wants to be understood: As a platform that brings contemporary art into many more people’s lives.” Even the name of the site suggests hip, rebellious, and revolutionary social attitudes. But in reality, all s[edition] does is “democratize” the ethos of private property. It allows more people to feel sophisticated and privileged and cool because they can buy a Tracey Emin, but it does not fundamentally change the existing system for consuming art—they released the works on the site as limited editions for a reason, after all. The whole enterprise is still predicated on a system of have and have-not: a system of limited availability, and of the aura of the artwork. In short, s[edition] is a liberal—not radical—move in the art world; it reforms the capitalist art market, rather than questioning its essence.

The bottom line is that we should be critical of innovations such as s[edition] before lauding them as “democratizing” forces in the art world. We need to consider alternatives. And there are plenty of alternatives that would emphasize public art in lieu of widespread private ownership of art.

In fact, one such alternative has developed simultaneously with s[edition], and right in its own backyard; it’s called ENPAP, or the European Network of Public Art Producers. This network, comprised of six different art organizations in Spain, Sweden, Romania, the Netherlands, and the UK, has been working collaboratively since 2010 to expand definitions of public art. In this vein, the group has been completing its “ENPAP Initiative”—a two-year investigation of the conditions of art production and reception in the various contexts in which the organizations operate—which will culminate this spring.

What would it look like to create public art that goes beyond our stereotypical notions of tacky or monumental sculptures in parks and town squares? How can we create public art “in its most immaterial and communicative sense” and spark a real revolution in the art world? We still don’t know all the answers, but the coming years promise exciting developments, provided that we seek them with a critical eye.

The Art of Art History at UIUC

As artists, we have a very unique perspective on both the aesthetic and the conceptual value of art and its histories. At the University of Illinois, students of the visual arts are asked to strengthen their critical interpretation of art by completing a number of art history courses that span thousands of years of art production; conversely, art historians must challenge their aesthetic understandings by completing studio courses. How do these requirements affect how we, as students, observe and create art? Furthermore, how do the students of Art and Design define themselves in the contexts of art history: as artists studying art history or as historians creating art? Through dialogues with graduating Art and Design students, we can better understand how these students indentified themselves through art history and what role the history of art plays in the contemporary production of art.

The students of Art and Design are required to take between eleven and seventeen hours of art history courses depending on their major. Since the major only requires a total of twenty hours, many students pursue a minor in art history. Students may chose from a variety of course topics, which range in time from prehistory to contemporary and which encompass many different styles, genres, and regions. Art history majors and minors also have the opportunity to enroll in unique seminar courses that explore the theories of art history and criticism through the exploration of specific topics. And like the wide range of course options, the opinions of Art and Design students regarding the value of such coursework vary dramatically.

Most Art and Design students will agree that the past few years have been a journey of self-identification and artistic development. Few of us remain on the paths we originally imagined for ourselves, and those who have remained on the same path have probably faced just as many challenges in defining themselves in the contexts of their art historical world. But how has art history shaped these journeys? For some artists, such as Rachel Jennings, these courses proved to be important supplements to the development of work and establishment of artistic identity. Jennings, a Painting Major and Art History Minor whose medium-driven work explores facets that comprise her memoryscape, states, “Art history is so important AND INTERESTING! I love to understand who and what came before me, so that I may better understand why the present is the way it is, and what this does to my own practice.” Jennings, like many visual arts students, realizes the importance of understanding the history of art while creating art and has generally enjoyed her experiences in art history courses.

Yet despite the enthusiasm of some Art and Design students, Art History classes are not for everyone. Even the most creative individuals may suffer through the seemingly endless slide memorization and lengthy lectures. Jennings points out, “I’m sure I hated some classes at certain times, but in the end I came out with a whole lot more than what I went in with.” Her revelations on the importance of art history education touch on the inherent problem with art history requirements: despite its obvious benefits to the development and understanding of art, there seem few solutions to the ever-present disinterest of many students. Students also find art history education difficult due to a lack in topics pertinent to their work. Graphic Design Major Patsy Diaz laments that the school does not offer courses covering her artistic interests including political posters and Latin American Art, “ [making] me want to do more research of my own.” Diaz describes her work as reflective of her own culture and identity, which makes the lack of art historical topics explored at UIUC very disheartening; yet the link between art production and specific styles and genres in work such as Diaz’s illustrates an interesting concept of artist identity in art history. Many students share this lack of enthusiasm for art history; yet as an art historian, I feel that these courses prove imperative to the development of an artist’s work and identity.

How does art history education affect a student’s artistic identity? Photography Major and Art History Minor, Jackie Allen believes that her art history classes affected her artwork and inspired her to learn about the processes to create work like that she had seen in class. She says, “Having learned more about certain artist has made me understand why they made the work they made and thus give it more meaning to me.” Many artists suggest that art history has a profound impact on their work, yet very few students at UIUC consider themselves to be art historians. Jennings exemplifies this concept in stating, “I am just a curious fan. My intention is not to become an expert, but just to be exposed to it all.” This kind of thought process suggests that the concept of art historian is somehow detached from the artist. In many ways, the idea of art historian is very idealized and distant. But that does not have to be the case.

As an art history student in Art and Design, my journey as an undergraduate has taken some unexpected turns. Entering the Foundations program as a studio artist intending to major in painting, my interests evolved drastically throughout that first year. Nearly every major seemed appealing and although I had a passion for creating art, the only constant I found in Foundations was my increasing interest in my art history courses. Even though I am still very proud of my decision to declare Art History as my major, I now realize that separated my identity as an artist from my academic career. I shared my colleagues’ assumptions about the “art historian” and simply viewed myself as an artist who studied art history. It was not until early this semester that I realized that I am simultaneously artist and art historian. Recently in a museum studies class, the instructor asked for my opinion “as an art historian” regarding a topic of class discussion. At that point I realized that I have been an art historian since my very early interest in the history of art as a Foundations student. As art students, it is important that we realize that all artists who appreciate and employ art history in their work understand the importance of art history and can call themselves art historians.