It was at the Mountain Plains Museum Association’s annual conference (at the ArtsCom Affinity Meeting on September 13th) that I first heard of an ‘art burn’.
Dawn Morgan (Executive Director of the Spirit Room) and Jon Offutt (glass artist and Mayor of New Bohemia ND) were discussing how the arts are kept alive and well in our community, including through the FMVA’s annual art burn. The event was inspired by the practical matter of what artists were to do with their unwanted art. It’s certainly not appropriate to give art the same ol’ toss into the trash bin as a used can of potted meat. That shows no respect for the work, the process, even if the artwork is deemed a failure by the creator. How should an artist properly get rid of their art? The question was bandied about fairly often, resulting in no answer. But when one of the artists found herself dying, the question required an answer.
As part of her final arrangements, the artist placed &/or willed her art to family and friends; yet she found herself with works she didn’t want left behind in the hands of others. The group of artists settled upon the old idea of an art burn, in which art is literally burned in a ceremonial fire. The first event, held over four years ago, was so successful that the group decided it should not only be an annual event but open to the public as well.
The burning of art was considered successful? I could certainly understand an artist, a dying woman, wanting to get her affairs in order… But burning art? The collector in me wasn’t sold on this idea at all. I was confused. And amazed. Enthralled, really. So were most of the other conference session participants and attendees.
Offutt explained his experience with the burning of art. Artists understood that art may not be desirable; they have plenty of works they don’t want ‘out there’. But they are appalled to spot artworks sitting curb-side waiting for the garbage man, or in thrift stores — right next to the paint by numbers and ‘Hang in there’ kitty posters. Art isn’t the same commodity as a ‘Hang in there’ kitty poster, and as such warrants a different, a better method of disposal; but without such a method, undesirable works fill their studios, their closets, their homes. Offutt briefly described how burning has long been a form of destruction preferred to discarding things to the trash — it’s why we burn flags, for example. Placing art works in ceremonial fire isn’t just getting rid of them, but honoring them too. With an organized art burning, artists could both control what works are ‘out there’ as well as cleanse ceremoniously.
This all reminded me of the debate I had with my Art 101 professor over an ancient marble statue. Literally found in a garbage pit, the work had been discarded by the sculpture who, for some reason or other, had found it lacking. Perhaps it was some minor blot or blemish that, having the advantage of seeing the perfect work in his mind’s eye, only he could see. Whatever it was, the piece hadn’t lived up to the artist’s vision and it was tossed into a pit with the other scraps and throw-away pieces of marble, the equivalent of a page ripped from a sketchbook and tossed into a wastepaper basket. My question then, as it is today, was, “If the work fails to ’say’ what the artist intends, if the artist has marked it a failure, then what right do we have to call it ‘art’ let alone one of the great examples of art?” The answer given in art class was, “Because the collective ‘we’ of society has said, ‘We like this. This is great art!’” But I couldn’t look at that slide without feeling the unhappiness of a long-dead artist.
This moved me one step closer to grasping the idea of burning art. If the artist deemed their work unworthy, then who was I to judge or stop them? But the collector in me still wasn’t in agreement. Theory was one thing, how would I feel if I saw art perishing in a pyre? Would I be able to burn my art in a fire?
***
I decided to ask a few artists if they’d ever heard of an ‘art burn’, if they’d participated in one — if they would participate in one. Nearly every artist I asked had not heard of art burns, other than historical ones, and when asked what they thought about the idea most said they’d have to think about it more.
Artist Charlene Lanzel, however, was willing to give me an answer. “If the artist is burning their own work, I think that’s very liberating. I’ve done a lot of street painting in the past; reproductions of Italian masterpieces in chalk on the sidewalk that fade to nothing over time. One of the things I like about it is that it’s a metaphor of the impermanence of everything in life. If someone else is burning it for the sake of destruction, I find that very sad.”
I pressed, “Would you do it, Charlene?”
“No, I don’t think I could burn my art. I have given some away to The Salvation Army… and my thought was that maybe it would be appreciated by someone, somewhere, some time. Someone like Van Gogh, for example, never sold a painting in his lifetime. He was ahead of his time. If he had burned his art, we wouldn’t be able to appreciate his beautiful paintings today. I think it’s a terrible waste to burn art. Some of the work I’ve done, that I don’t particularly like, are the pieces that others have responded to. You never know what the future has in store.”
Oh, now I was more confused than ever! I decided I had to go and see for myself… I’d have to attend the next FMVA Art Burn Event.
But one rule had me worried: What comes to Art Burn, must burn at Art Burn. Artists are not allowed to sell, trade or otherwise give works away to anything other than the flames. Even partial rescues are not allowed — future collages be damned! This temptation of others to change the artist’s mind is acknowledged, or I should say restricted; the rules state, “while art historians will be tolerated, they are required to stay well away from the fire.” I figured that while I’m no art historian, that rule applied to me. What collector wouldn’t weep, whine or try to negotiate at seeing objects burned?
Soon I would find out.
***
On Saturday, November 17th, we went to the FMVA’s Fourth Annual Art Burn.
At first the casual, small group standing around a fire on a cold, blustery afternoon seemed anything but ceremonial. No words were spoken; in fact, that’s another rule: “no reading of poems, no artist’s statements”. But there were small rituals. Perhaps this human side of the ritual was not planned as such, but still the rituals existed.
Each person spoke as they walked towards the fire or as they placed works upon it, sparking little conversations. Some seemed pragmatic, some looked somber, some sounded relieved; others appeared apologetic, even self-deprecating. Some announced, others denounced. “This got a bump,” said one artist. “This was from my ‘blue period’,” said another. One man placed what I thought was a perfectly lovely little sketch onto the fire saying, “This one has a spot,”; prompting me to immediately think of Lady Macbeth.
Another man had difficulty getting the paper piece to settle in the fire — the wind, twice, carried it safely away from the flames. More than one voice shouted, “That does not want to go in!” A very steely, determined voice replied, “Well, it’s going to.” Toss number three finally set the work atop the fire where it began to smolder.
In a way, it was rather like being at a funeral or a wake of someone you didn’t know that well. All the responses were in varying shades of grief and all you could do was stand by respectfully and watch.
Artist Timothy Ray did his best to unroll a stuck canvas, ripping paint from the canvas as he did so, to spread it on top of the fire. When Offutt asked, Ray simply said, “I put it away rolled-up and it stuck to itself.” Offutt nodded and said something about how he ought to have put the painting face-up so we could all see it; Ray just shrugged as he left the fire to attend to his dogs.
It seemed too pragmatic and matter-of-fact for what I could see of the work he had set fire to; maybe I just expected him & the others to be the overly-dramatic-artist-types.
“Is this your first time?” I asked Ray.
“No, I’ve been every year,” he said. There was something in his voice that time which conveyed that this event did indeed carry some weight, hold some significance. I paused.
“It’s early this year — the sissies demanded it be earlier to avoid the cold,” he said.
Everybody handles grief, and cold, differently.
***
An Art Burn is a ceremonial deconstruction of art. If that didn’t make sense earlier, it did when I saw it.
Fire in and of itself is both ceremonial and deconstructive. Like the creation of the art itself, the burning of it is a process. It isn’t here one instant and gone the next. It takes time. The piece is set on the pyre and for a few seconds nothing happens. You just can’t help but think that if you took it off right now perhaps you could spare it. But there’s that rule… And just a second later, the flames begin to feed. Striking here and there with fevered strokes of it’s own, the fire colors the paper, the canvas. There was a beauty to it; colors brightened, sharpened, muted, muddied, then charred — and finally became the ashes I’d imagined.
While occurring over much less time than creating any work could be, it’s some sort of time-elapsed evidence of the process of creation. It is Decreation.
It was then that I really understood what was happening here.
Inviting the public to an art burn is an excellent community art education program. Forget the lectures, the flyers and the impassioned speeches for supporting the arts; nothing makes a person care more about something than to feel a part of it. Allowing the public not only to attend, but to participate (i.e. if you’ve created anything that you wish to burn, you are welcome to add it the fire) says clearly that you are not only welcome, you are a part of it. Anyone can make, and therefore properly dispose of, art. It’s proof that even the ‘real’ artists, the professionals who have works in museums, do make mistakes. If art is ‘buy what you like’, then art burns are ‘what the artist doesn’t like’. And chances are, not everyone is going to agree to either definition, no matter which side of the decision you’re on.
Watching things burn, you realize quickly that whatever art is, it’s pretty damn subjective.
Certainly this is a very personal event — not just for the artists themselves, but for all who attend. It’s sobering to watch another dedicate their creation to cremation. If gallery openings are like attending the weddings, baptisms and other happy events in the artist’s world, then attending an art burn is being there for the bad times.
Even if it means you stand there awkwardly, just wishing you could make something that ‘bad’.
