NUMBER THREE / FALL 1999 - SPRING 2000

 

If the multiple trajectories in the arts today have threatened the viability of an avant-garde, then developments in mass culture may have dealt radical art an even more fatal blow. Several cultural historians have noted that the shock techniques employed by the avant-garde no longer have the impact in a society that has popularized these techniques in films such as Jaws and Aliens II. [41] Yoko Ono's Cut Piece, where audience members are asked to take a pair of scissors and cut portions of the performer's dress no longer has the potential to shock audiences who in the movie theaters routinely have the opportunity to observe dismembered bodies in all shapes and sizes.

There exists yet another line of reasoning in support of the claim that the avant-garde is dead. Critics generally agree that avant-gardism should be defined in a narrower sense that incorporates social, political, as well as artistic issues. Peter Bürger, for example, limits the twentieth-century avant-garde to the historical avant-garde and the neo-avant-garde movements from the 1960s and early 1970s.[42] He traces the evolution of the historical avant-garde in three stages. First, the rise of the middle class during the late eighteenth and nineteenth centuries and the disappearance of the patronage system placed the artist in an new environment--a market governed by economics in which artistic activities increasingly became a commercial enterprise. In Bürger's second stage, artists became alienated from society and mass culture as a protest against commercial art--a condition that culminated in turn-of-the-century modernism. Bürger's third and final stage is a reaction against the autonomy of art and is linked to the emergence of the historical avant-garde.

Thus, the historical avant-garde's insistence on the fusion of art and life and its rejection of institutionalized art is the result of a historical process that began in the eighteenth-century. I have briefly traced the fragmentation and dissolution of dadaism. Unfortunately, the collapse of that movement is only symptomatic of the historical avant-garde's failed aesthetic program. In a discussion of Marcel Duchamp's famous ready-made "Fountain by R. Mutt" (1917), Bürger shows how this piece, in its use of a mass produced object as a work of art symbolizes Duchamp's rejection of institutional art and his protest against art as an elitist enterprise that exalts the artist's creativity.[43] However, as Bürger observes, Duchamp's ready-mades have now been accepted as autonomous works of art that are displayed in museums despite the creator's original intentions. Since the historical avant-garde failed, as Bürger points out, neo-avant-garde movements such as Fluxus were doomed from their inception. He explains that "since now the protest of the historical avant-garde against art as institution is accepted as art, the gesture of protest of the neo-avant-garde becomes inauthentic."[44] Moreover, as Andreas Huyssen asserts, the neo-avant-garde has in fact derived its originality from an historical, social, and aesthetic amnesia.[45]

These arguments apply to the history of the Fluxus movement. Its parallels with the historical avant-garde, and particularly the dada movement, are unmistakable. Both movements arose during periods of political and social unrest--dadaism during the years around the time of World War I, Fluxus during an era of post-McCarthy anxiety that was exacerbated by a number of disasters including the assassination of John F. Kennedy and the Vietnam War. Dadaist art has been appropriated by the very institutions that it once attacked. The same is true for Fluxus. Fluxus art is now found in museums as well as in private collections. The Fluxus artifacts intended for the masses at low prices are now collectors items sold for large sums. The dissolution of the gulf between elitist art and mass culture advocated by the avant-garde has become a component of postmodernist art and aesthetics. However, the transformation of society that was to accompany this change is an ideal that is no longer present. Postmodernist art is institutionalized and fully integrated within the framework of our late twentieth-century capitalistic society.[46]

IV

Thus far I have positioned Cage only as a link between the historical avant-garde and the neo-avant-garde movements following World War Two. This is because that, at least on the surface, Cage's work immediately following the war does not indicate that he was directly engaged in political concerns. The 1950s were a period during which many artists withdrew from the political arena, advocating what one art historian, in an essay on the activities of Jasper Johns, John Cage, Robert Rauschenberg, and Merce Cunningham during the McCarthy era, has termed an "aesthetic of indifference."[47] Works such as Cage's Music of Changes, his "Lecture on Nothing," and the Concert for Piano and Orchestra seem to support this trend. Much of the ultra-modernist art of the 1950s was clearly apolitical and it has even been asserted that music written by composers of the New York School was exported to Darmstadt with the covert assistance of the Central Intelligence Agency in order to assure that composers in Germany would remain uninfluenced by cultural politics emanating from the Soviet Union.[48]

The 1960s was a period of political and social unrest in America, yet for the most part, the political protest that arose from this turmoil remained unparalleled by a politically focused avant-garde.[49] Pop Art and Minimalism, in most cases, lacked a political edge. Despite the spirited rantings and ravings by figures such as George Maciunas and Henry Flynt, Fluxus, at least on the surface, also seems more concerned with games and other sorts of amusements than with the civil rights movement, student protests or the Vietnam War. Fluxus, according to a recent and compelling analysis of the movement's political impotency, was yet another manifestation of the apolitical 1950s.[50]

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