In my blog post from June 28, "Understanding Weird - Part I" (I'm crazy creative with these titles, man), I yammered on to you about an introduction to being able to look at a painting like this:
and be able to think anything more than, "Well sheesh, a four year old with a cold could do that."
I promised to continue this discussion, so here goes.
In this particular post, I plan on blabbing about a movement from the early 20th Century called "Dada" or "Dadaism." A strongly political form of art, it also is quite interesting to regard and consider.
The Dada movement saw it's beginning in Zürich, Switzerland as a reaction to World War I. It could be seen in many forms, including, paintings, collage, poetry, performance art, and photography. The main purpose of Dada was not to present an idea, but rather to challenge the bourgeois aesthetics which were prevalent at the time, and to pose questions. Their art often involved chance, disregarding any hope of making an "attractive" piece of art. They questioned the mediums artists were accustomed to using, the methods in which they were used to presenting their art, and the purpose of the art itself. (theartstory.org) For example, "readymades" were popular - such as this readymade from artist Marcel Duchamp:
I promised to continue this discussion, so here goes.
In this particular post, I plan on blabbing about a movement from the early 20th Century called "Dada" or "Dadaism." A strongly political form of art, it also is quite interesting to regard and consider.
The Dada movement saw it's beginning in Zürich, Switzerland as a reaction to World War I. It could be seen in many forms, including, paintings, collage, poetry, performance art, and photography. The main purpose of Dada was not to present an idea, but rather to challenge the bourgeois aesthetics which were prevalent at the time, and to pose questions. Their art often involved chance, disregarding any hope of making an "attractive" piece of art. They questioned the mediums artists were accustomed to using, the methods in which they were used to presenting their art, and the purpose of the art itself. (theartstory.org) For example, "readymades" were popular - such as this readymade from artist Marcel Duchamp:
(...this guy was a piece of work. More on him later.)
These artists would present these readymades and affirm that they are art, because the artist says they are. Now is normally the point where most people would roll their eyes, or whisper to their friend in the museum, "Wonder how many drugs that guy was on?" Though I'm not stating that mind-altering substances were out of the picture, what you SHOULD be asking yourself is not, "What is it?" but rather, "What did the artist intend?" and then, "What do I get out of it?"
People did lots of kooky things as a part of this movement. I could go on forever about it. It's weird, but it's also interesting. But I'll try to draw it to a close.
As I was doing some research into this subject, I came across something on the Museum of Modern Art in New York City's (MoMA) website that I thought would be a good tool for helping me to understand Dada a bit better (and also just looks like fun). It is the instructions for making a Dadaist poem, from one of the founders of Dada. As much as I feel that art and visual communication is a huge part of my life, I still feel that sometimes it's easier to understand words than pictures (for example: emojis elude me).
I'll just copy and paste the little blurb from the website, as it explains it much better than I would:
"In 1920, one of the founding members of Dada, Tristan Tzara, wrote instructions for making a Dada poem, leaving the responsibility of selecting words and communicating ideas up to chance rather than the artist. Here are Tzara’s instructions:
TO MAKE A DADAIST POEM
Take a newspaper.
Take some scissors.
Choose from this paper an article of the length you want to make your poem.
Cut out the article.
Next carefully cut out each of the words that makes up this article and put them all in a bag.
Shake gently.
Next take out each cutting one after the other.
Copy conscientiously in the order in which they left the bag.
The poem will resemble you.
And there you are—an infinitely original author of charming sensibility, even though unappreciated by the vulgar herd.
Follow Tzara’s instructions to make your own Dadaist poems from one or two paragraphs of a newspaper article. Write down three poems composed with this method. Read them aloud and reflect on the following: What are your favorite or least favorite word combinations? What is the effect of reading words that have been put together without logic?"
- moma.org
Now do the thing. Try at least one. And then consider the directions and the questions given. "The poem will resemble you."
If you're anything like me, your first thought was, "Heheh... What...?" But if you think about it, I feel that the intent was to draw attention to the fact that we all are able to make sense of utter nonsense. Our brains are built to be drawn to certain things, to try to find patterns, and to look for meaning, and the way in which we do so says volumes about ourselves. The questions given will help you to consider this. Look at your poem. Find the word combinations that "are your favorite" (which I find to be significant, as he doesn't ask for those which speak most to you or make you feel a certain way). Then consider WHY they are your favorite. What do they make you think of, or what does it seem as though they are saying?
Then, take a step back again, and catch yourself finding meaning in nonsense. If you can do that, I think you can do the same with an image.
As I don't want to be a hypocrite, I made myself a little poem according to these instructions, which I will share with you. Well, I'll share part of it with you. I think the most important part of those instructions are to "Choose from this paper an article of the length you want to make your poem." I ignored that completely and ended up with a "poem" that is like six pages long. So I ended up with what should have been a fifteen minute experiment taking up three hours of a Sunday afternoon. Which was fine, really, I was in little kid mode the whole time, in the floor with my scissors and a million pieces of paper around me.
These artists would present these readymades and affirm that they are art, because the artist says they are. Now is normally the point where most people would roll their eyes, or whisper to their friend in the museum, "Wonder how many drugs that guy was on?" Though I'm not stating that mind-altering substances were out of the picture, what you SHOULD be asking yourself is not, "What is it?" but rather, "What did the artist intend?" and then, "What do I get out of it?"
People did lots of kooky things as a part of this movement. I could go on forever about it. It's weird, but it's also interesting. But I'll try to draw it to a close.
As I was doing some research into this subject, I came across something on the Museum of Modern Art in New York City's (MoMA) website that I thought would be a good tool for helping me to understand Dada a bit better (and also just looks like fun). It is the instructions for making a Dadaist poem, from one of the founders of Dada. As much as I feel that art and visual communication is a huge part of my life, I still feel that sometimes it's easier to understand words than pictures (for example: emojis elude me).
I'll just copy and paste the little blurb from the website, as it explains it much better than I would:
"In 1920, one of the founding members of Dada, Tristan Tzara, wrote instructions for making a Dada poem, leaving the responsibility of selecting words and communicating ideas up to chance rather than the artist. Here are Tzara’s instructions:
TO MAKE A DADAIST POEM
Take a newspaper.
Take some scissors.
Choose from this paper an article of the length you want to make your poem.
Cut out the article.
Next carefully cut out each of the words that makes up this article and put them all in a bag.
Shake gently.
Next take out each cutting one after the other.
Copy conscientiously in the order in which they left the bag.
The poem will resemble you.
And there you are—an infinitely original author of charming sensibility, even though unappreciated by the vulgar herd.
Follow Tzara’s instructions to make your own Dadaist poems from one or two paragraphs of a newspaper article. Write down three poems composed with this method. Read them aloud and reflect on the following: What are your favorite or least favorite word combinations? What is the effect of reading words that have been put together without logic?"
- moma.org
Now do the thing. Try at least one. And then consider the directions and the questions given. "The poem will resemble you."
If you're anything like me, your first thought was, "Heheh... What...?" But if you think about it, I feel that the intent was to draw attention to the fact that we all are able to make sense of utter nonsense. Our brains are built to be drawn to certain things, to try to find patterns, and to look for meaning, and the way in which we do so says volumes about ourselves. The questions given will help you to consider this. Look at your poem. Find the word combinations that "are your favorite" (which I find to be significant, as he doesn't ask for those which speak most to you or make you feel a certain way). Then consider WHY they are your favorite. What do they make you think of, or what does it seem as though they are saying?
Then, take a step back again, and catch yourself finding meaning in nonsense. If you can do that, I think you can do the same with an image.
As I don't want to be a hypocrite, I made myself a little poem according to these instructions, which I will share with you. Well, I'll share part of it with you. I think the most important part of those instructions are to "Choose from this paper an article of the length you want to make your poem." I ignored that completely and ended up with a "poem" that is like six pages long. So I ended up with what should have been a fifteen minute experiment taking up three hours of a Sunday afternoon. Which was fine, really, I was in little kid mode the whole time, in the floor with my scissors and a million pieces of paper around me.
Anyway, here's part of my poem (aka, the last page, for the sake of not wasting your whole day):
and a luxury of every fistfuls The
unable here trying, use where days blood.
of dawn whole out and and - a others
that roasted), do. like true bizarre;
many me had the other unlike the boneless
the without taking away. wrap commercial
come raise larger dedication former are
dish the bleach flavor people, fairs decide
fatty, the the eating most
Though this makes no sense at all, there are still a couple of word combinations that mean something, even if it's vague and still relatively meaningless. So it's not necessarily the words themselves that have meaning, but the trains of though that they start you down. It is by following these paths that you learn about yourself, and Mr. Tzara's assertion that the poem will "resemble you" becomes less nonsensical.
Also, though Dada was sort of the bridge between modernism and postmoderism, there is a really interesting video that Paul and I came across last night that sort of relates to this from roadandtrack.com. Though it's technically about a PT Cruiser, it still has a great lesson on postmodernism, and will help you to sway your way of thinking toward understanding this oddball movement. I came in at about 9:00 minutes, so I'd recommend that you start there.
and a luxury of every fistfuls The
unable here trying, use where days blood.
of dawn whole out and and - a others
that roasted), do. like true bizarre;
many me had the other unlike the boneless
the without taking away. wrap commercial
come raise larger dedication former are
dish the bleach flavor people, fairs decide
fatty, the the eating most
Though this makes no sense at all, there are still a couple of word combinations that mean something, even if it's vague and still relatively meaningless. So it's not necessarily the words themselves that have meaning, but the trains of though that they start you down. It is by following these paths that you learn about yourself, and Mr. Tzara's assertion that the poem will "resemble you" becomes less nonsensical.
Also, though Dada was sort of the bridge between modernism and postmoderism, there is a really interesting video that Paul and I came across last night that sort of relates to this from roadandtrack.com. Though it's technically about a PT Cruiser, it still has a great lesson on postmodernism, and will help you to sway your way of thinking toward understanding this oddball movement. I came in at about 9:00 minutes, so I'd recommend that you start there.
If you're still reading, I hope you've enjoyed this post on Dadaism and that you'd be a little less bored in an art museum.
And if you try that poem, I'd love to hear from you! What interesting word combinations did you come across? Were there any interesting lines that caught your attention? Or was it all utter nonsense?
As always, thanks!
Sarah
And if you try that poem, I'd love to hear from you! What interesting word combinations did you come across? Were there any interesting lines that caught your attention? Or was it all utter nonsense?
As always, thanks!
Sarah