accessibility versus disposability.

I was re-reading a few issues David Mack’s Kabuki the other day, and if you have ever seen anything he’s painted or drawn, you can understand why I had a moment that could be described as an immediate questioning of the definitions and limitations of the standard public definition of 'fine art'. It’s almost impossible for me to describe what reading an issue of Kabuki is like, except to say that it’s beautiful, engaging, and always feels to me like staring directly into innovation as a concept. The man tells stories in a way that seems completely new regardless if an issue or arc is read once or a dozen times. He mixes media, he shifts styles, and, from the one time I spoke to him at a Toronto comics convention, he does it without becoming arrogant, pretentious, or self-important in the least.

While those qualities alone would separate him from the ranks of ‘fine art’ in the eyes on many, many sarcastic people I know, I would assume he also has to deal with at least some level of ghetto-isation based on the vast amount of his work that is in the medium of comics. This raises questions. It can’t be said that any devaluation is an inherent part of created a reproducible work, because otherwise Starlight Over Rhone wouldn’t be considered fine art, as reproductions of it have been sold hundreds of thousands of times, on postcards, posters, prints, etc. This argument could be taken further (and, horrifyingly, I could reference Benjamin’s ‘The Work of Art as Mechanical Reproduction) but I’d rather skip ahead to the current state of the artistic image, which is that anything that exists does so in a state of endless reproduction. Welcome to the digital world.

So, reproduction is out. Access into major galleries is circular reasoning at best (it’s not in the Tate because it’s not Art, which I can tell because it isn’t in the Tate), so the next thing to discuss is whether accessibility is a negative trait, and whether it is confused with disposability.

Kabuki (the last issue I bought) retails for $4.25 Canadian. Collections of past issues are readily available at any truly decent comic shop, and back issues are often still available for order. Kabuki is something that can be owned and enjoyed by anyone who reads it. There are original pages, and from what I can tell they can be purchased. The separation is that the reproduced option, the comic itself, is the intended form for consumption. This might be because Mack is a talented artist who just happens to love comics, it may be for specific benefits of the medium (such as being able to create complex and decipherable meanings while making beautiful static images), or it might both and many other things besides. However, this seems to be the point that people feel lets them argue that such a thing isn’t fine art.

I think this ties into the conflation of accessibility and disposability. I make the same mistake, and often drunkenly explain to people that any band who is loved universally has run out of meaningful things to say. This argument falls apart with the example of the Beatles, who were both insanely commercially successful, and unquestionably of artistic merit. Graphic art has different rules, however. Gallery art, where there is a single ‘true’ piece, fulfills needs of exclusivity and scarcity. There is only one Starlight Over Rhone, and everything else is a copy. The intended form of the painting is only the painting, reproductions are merely that. But a comic book is different. The original art is part of the process of creating the mass material. A comic is, more often than not, a universally accessible work of art, one that many can own, experience, and interpret. What confuses me is the assumption that because something is available and accessible, it must therefore be disposable. The assumption that because nearly anyone in North American society who cares to look can own an issue of Kabuki, it is somehow diminished in value, suggests that ‘fine art’ is not a concern of meaning, ability, or quality, but instead that meaning, like taste, is directly attached to having something others cannot. That ‘great’ artworks are those which only one person can own, attach to themselves as a statement of worth, and then loan to galleries in a gesture of generosity crossed with self-adoration.

I guess, at the end of it, I was re-reading issues of Kabuki, and I suddenly found it very depressing that David Mack’s work could be dismissed by anyone because of his choice of an accessible, available medium, with characteristics that no other has. I do, however, think that the commodification of visual art has lead to a situation where, beyond the confusion of comics as a genre, rather than a medium, there is brilliant work that melds both visual art and story seamlessly, which isn’t getting the recognition it deserves.

Then again, people are still complaining about Damien Hirst, so I suppose definitions of art are even tighter than the idea of exclusivity and scarcity.

[EDIT: David Mack's own thoughts are in the comment thread. Read them, and understand the intention of the artist rather than my own somewhat clumsy ramblings.]