"I Could (Not) Do That"

In support of contemporary art

People love to get angry. People love to scream, shout, and swear. There is nothing that galvanises us into sharing our opinions as effectively as hate and vitriol. And, if anything inspires hatred, it is perceived corruption of something pure. Art is no exception. Talk to people, especially those conservative in tastes, and you’ll likely find their favourite artists and artworks are several decades old — the timeless classics of Da Vinci, Van Gogh, or Rembrandt. While there is, of course, nothing wrong with preferring Renaissance artworks over more contemporary artists, there does exist a fringe group that is growing more and more discontent with recent artistic trends. This group vehemently hates the supposed loss of the aesthetic values of the past, and they therefore disregard contemporary and conceptual art as utterly lacking meaning or intent. The world of art, as they see it, is rapidly descending into a barbarous abyss in which no sophistication can dwell.

Take, for instance, Maurizio Cattelan’s Comedian. It’s a banana taped to a wall —  or, more accurately, a certificate with instructions on how to tape a banana to a wall. In November, 2024, it was sold to a cryptocurrency entrepreneur for £4.88 billion. Never before have I seen such an intense reaction to a piece of artwork; scarce few were defending the banana against crowds of people woefully bemoaning the state of contemporary art. Complaints around the work’s quality were fired like projectiles in battle. “I could make that” was frequently posted amongst the vast seas of hate. People refused to forget about the piece. Ever since the piece’s conception in 2019, its status as art has continually been debated, often with spite. But art evokes emotion, and Comedian is no different. As a satirical piece, it masterfully encapsulates the world of commercialised art, ever debated and hated. The Comedian gets the last laugh.

Attacks on contemporary art are not just verbal, but may also be physical. Barnett Newman’s aptly titled Who’s Afraid of Red, Yellow and Blue series has been attacked twice. The first attack, Who’s Afraid of Red, Yellow and Blue IV, was motivated by claims that it was a “perversion of the German flag”, while Who’s Afraid of Red, Yellow and Blue III was attacked in 1986. Ironically enough, though the second attack was motivated by the (often ascribed to contemporary art) perception that it was made without technical skill, observers have lamented the painting’s restoration. They stated the restoration had lost the original’s subtle nuances, as if it had been repainted with house paints. Assertions of viewers that they could “easily make that” are apparently false: abstract art is not made without skill.

Still, vitriolic attitudes to contemporary art are legitimately concerning. Claims of insignificance and unworthiness in cultural discourse are as violently destructive as the act of tearing a painting asunder. Perceptions of declining value in art movements as time marches on are reminiscent of ‘degenerate’ art. Moral and aesthetic decline into chaotic oblivion is not a perception unknown to history; the Nazi regime’s labels of degeneracy, for instance, are a testament of what hate can do to art. It leads to destruction. Alternatives to traditional art are obliterated, and in this wake of destruction, alternative viewpoints, and perspectives are swept away in one violent motion.

To hate contemporary art, not from a position of legitimate critique, but from a deep-rooted disgust of novelty and aesthetic difference, is a position of ignorance and anti-intellectualism. Rejecting contemporary art is a rejection of the new and subversive, condemning us to an eternity of artistic stagnation. Without it, the ouroboros that is the world of art shall forever consume itself, and never forge a new path.

Illustration by Alice O'Sullivan