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| “First you retire, and then you get going”* Alise Tīfentāle Just like the once-popular series of TV shows by the name of "A song for my generation", the popularity of naive art is currently on the upswing. | |
| Thus, we have the respectable, substantial album "Tīrradņi. Naive Art in Latvia" compiled by art historian Aivars Leitis (Neputns Publishers, 2005), the Museum of Naive Art (at Andrejosta, summer 2006), and now an ambitious exhibition under the title "Naive Latvia" (13 December 2006 - 21 January 2007, organised by the Raktuve society, in collaboration with the Noass culture and art project). Curators Aivars Leitis and Inese Baranovska, and the designer of the exhibition Andris Vītoliņš, have filled the Arsenāls Exhibition Hall of the Latvian National Museum of Art, creating a believable illusion of a parallel world we had not seen until now. It is no accident that the exhibition is being held at this precise time. There was a need to develop the sensibilities of the viewers and await the demand for it. What do the viewers seek and what do they find here?
Two Latvias seek to understand each other For the most part, the creators of the naive art shown at the exhibition are people from the older generation. After retiring, they have invested their creative energy in unusual hobbies: painting, drawing or sculpture. There are hidden and disguised erotic fantasies, mystical tendencies, self-therapy after physical and mental trauma or an overflowing, healthy sense of humour. "Naive Latvia" displays the greatest variety of motives. It seems we are seeing here a life that runs parallel to that "Know-It-All Latvia" which all the art professionals and the majority of exhibition-goers see themselves as inhabiting. In what way do these two Latvias differ? In my view, at the present day, nobody can be truly naive, even if they deliberately shut themselves off from the surrounding world. This can also be felt in the naive works: some of the creators of this work have gained some knowledge of art in studios tutored by professionals or on an individual basis, they have studied reproductions in art books, visited museums, watched TV, leafed through newspapers and magazines. Enthusiasm for naive art initially developed in refined society during the early 20th century, when academic tradition was shaken by the art and crafts of various exotic peoples (arrogantly dubbed as "primitive" by Western Europeans), by the work of the mentally ill and childrenís drawings. (There have already been several publications in the pages of Studija on outsider and naive art, Jean Dubuffet, etc., and the introduction by Aivars Leitis to the book "Naive art in Latvia" can be regarded as a guide to this theme.) As Aivars Leitis explains to the viewers, "the term naive artist" appeared in the mid-19th century. Picasso is responsible for promoting it. Apparently, he looked at the paintings of Henri Rousseau and said: you're so naive, if youíre not selling those pictures!" It should be borne in mind that in those days isolation and the position of an outsider was perhaps possible in the fullest sense of these words, but today such concepts are quite relative. But it is undeniable that "Naive Latvia" uses different points of reference, different lifestyle accessories and concepts. (We have other possible pairs of cultural contrasts; the popular tune versus the opera, mythologisation of the past versus the cult of the promising future, the traditional versus the contemporary, the sentimental versus good taste, self-teaching versus professionalism, expert opinion, the quoting of authorities, etc.) The economic and social differences should also be taken into account: the authors of the exhibition for the most part do not represent the economically successful, affluent, academically educated section of society, which makes use of modern financial instruments, a section of society to which, theoretically at least, present-day artists and consumers of art also belong, including the target audience of Arsenāls. Thus, the naivety of "Naive Latvia" should be taken as applying in much greater measure to the personalities of the creators of the works and their desire for self-expression, rather than to the works themselves, a large section of which are quite difficult to distinguish from what is on offer at certain galleries. So I am somewhat baffled by the adulation heard in professional circles "Oh, how wonderful", "Thatís the real thing", etc., when regarding with benevolent superiority the works of "Naive Latvia" or collecting the wooden figurines of Kārlis Lūsis. I imagine that the authors might not actually have any need for such favour, since, for them, the aim and main task of the existence of art is clear: to create "something beautiful", to document and preserve for posterity their own life story through artistic images, or to comment wittily or ironically on social processes, using the media of art. In contrast to those people from "Know-It-All Latvia", who expect art to provide ever-new surprises, provocations, intellectual challenges and contemporary entertainment. We might conclude that adequate communication between the two Latvias is quite impossible, since the naive side is self-sufficient, intimate, not directed towards the consumer and has no expectations of the viewer, while the know-it-alls have completely different expectations of art. However, the interest among viewers reveals that the opposite is true: the theoretical differences are instantly overcome, and the shell of contemporary sophistication certainly does not prevent one from regarding the efforts of non-professional artists to visualise their experience and ideas, be they carefree or desperate endeavours. The quiet revolution Naive art encompasses creative activities undertaken by people without training or information about the particular field of activities concerned, people in the status of outsiders. (This group seen as consisting mainly of children, the mentally ill, antisocial individuals, self-taught artists and other people not viewed as normal within the context of professional art.) The issue of outsiders may be open to argument: who among us is not an outsider in some sense. But it would be quite difficult to prove that there actually is an information vacuum. The creators of the work have tried very hard to imitate something they have seen, and several of them are members of various art studios, which means that, theoretically at least, they should have had the chance to become acquainted with painting techniques. Since it is no longer the aim of art - especially painting - to create a photographic copy of reality or even depict anything real at all, formal criteria are the only ones that can mark the difference. Such a criterion is professional training, the lack of which can nowadays be regarded as the cornerstone of the definition of the naive artists. In professional art, as in the professional army, not all are called up. Only the chosen ones are invited. If, for some reason or other, you do not match the standards required of soldiers, you might theoretically try to become a policeman or a home guard, or choose a much more prosaic profession and remember your former calling only as a hobby (for example, becoming a passionate hunter in your free time). This is also the case with many of the naive artists discovered by Aivars Leitis, in whose biographies we repeatedly encounter the factor of the prose of life, which forced them to turn away from realising their calling at a professional level, but did not prevent them from taking up the weapons of art, in spite of their lack of proficiency and knowledge. ("Thereís nothing naive about it," says Aivars Leitis, "When you look closely, it turns out that the emotion and all the rest of what we see here is even more truthful and closer to reality, and the fact that the creator has not learned the skills of correct painting means nothing.") Let us assume that it is a kind of quiet, unorganised, individual revolution against the existing system, where painting is regarded as a respectable activity only for those who can present a certificate proving that they have received the necessary training. A minor, harmless, but enduring revolt against a system that authoritatively specifies which of us are true artists and which of us are not. Even though everyone is endowed with a creative impulse. Right here in Latvia, even a couple of hundred years ago, practically every peasant was an artist in a way: they were each the designer of their mittens, spoons and gate latches, the architect of their own home and the stylist of the beehive in their yard. "Naive Latvia" is a reminder of these roots - in the know-it-all society functioning in reality, there is a division of labour. Mittens are made to order by a professional ďmaster of folk art, a painting must be purchased from an art gallery, a car must be repaired by a licensed service station, and so on, otherwise the system will collapse. The fascinating and the unknown Elsewhere in the world, naive art occupies a segment of the art market, and there are galleries and museums in many countries devoted solely to this phenomenon. Interest among the exhibition-goers and buyers is maintained by a variety of different formulations and the unusual life stories of the creators of the work: they offer art by people who are "primitive", "visionary", "intuitivist", "naive", etc. In New York, the American Folk Art Museum holds an "Outsider Art Week" every year. (In 2007 it was held on 23-28 January.) In conjunction with this, an Outsider Art Fair was held (26-28 January 2007), attended by more than 30 galleries from around the world (Yukiko Koide Presents of Tokyo; Galerie Atelier Herenplaats of Rotterdam; Galerie Lange of Siegburg, etc.). The definitions and formulations differ (c.f. the chapter "Terminological disputes and history" on p. 10 of the book "Naive art in Latvia" by Aivars Leitis), and it is not always clear what the viewer is looking at: whether it is naive, primitive, folk art, simply an inept, unskilled smearing, or something else? This could also apply to what we are seeing at Arsenāls: in a different context, one section of the works really might be included with ordinary craft or folk art. Other works would not be out of place within the "real" art scene. Also included in the heritage of naive art is a dowry chest decorated by a travelling painter and a shop sign from the late 19th century. (But if we are going to start on signs, then it would be unjust to ignore those countless amazing examples displayed in the windows of corner shops in suburban Riga and the small towns!). Also described as a naive artist is Kārlis Ludvigs Zēbode, and this brings up the question: why do we not count among the naive artists the doctor of philosophy Johann Christoph Brotze (1742-1823), who documented unprofessionally, but diligently, the dress of country - and townsfolk, architecture and everyday life in the area of present-day Latvia and Estonia? And can we imagine a greater outsider in Latvian art than Ādolfs Zārdiņš (whose works are, however, not included in the exhibition)? Included among the naive artists, on the other hand, is Alberts Silzemnieks, who "might be considered as belonging to New Objectivity, one of the founders of the Mūkusala Society of Artists" (Aivars Leitis), as is Modris Sapuns, a regular participant in exhibitions by the Talsi Group of Artists. Neither was there any lack of paintings in the exhibition with motifs paraphrasing classic works in painting. In accordance with the curatorís words, one might conclude that this kind of imitation is not the truest kind of naive art. "Thereís a very narrow line between naive art and dilettantism," says the exhibitionís curator Inese Baranovska. The other curator, Aivars Leitis, continues: "The dilettante strives to imitate examples, while naive artists try to take from that which they see something they need, something appropriate to their emotional state, and put it to use as they see fit." Evidently, the separation of imitation from utilisation is a somewhat subjective process, and the viewer has no choice but to trust the authoritative choice made by the creators of the exhibition. Although it is sometimes difficult to follow the criteria that determine the inclusion of a particular work in the fascinating category of naive art, it is even harder to formulate the way that "Naive Latvia" captivates the know-it-all viewer. Aivars Leitis mentions sincerity and truthfulness (whatever that means) among the main unique characteristics of naive art. Considering the subject matter of many of the works (copies or paraphrases of popular classic examples of painting, floral designs, traditional landscapes, animals, etc.), we might interpret this sincerity as enthusiasm, at last legitimated, for all things banal. Of course, there is nothing condemnable about it - after all, how long can a person pretend that they think only in terms of foreign words and truly love only things that are horrible, ugly and violent. Contemporary art does not satisfy the know-it-all viewerís longing for something beautiful, lovable and humane, and here we have a wonderful product that fills this empty niche. The viewer can feast their eyes and feel slightly superior - smiling and commenting on it, without the fear of being incompetent, and moreover this feast for the eyes can be included on the list of cultural events, since, after all, the exhibition is being held in Latviaís most prestigious temple of art. Thus, naive art is added to the other generally recognised forms of art and obtains added value. The creators of the work, too, have something to gain: as many of their biographies show, these oddballs have often been misunderstood and ridiculed by their fellow people. But, look and behold, here you have recognition and appreciation! A similar phenomenon, held at the same time as the exhibition, is the series of performances under the title "Latvian Stories" at the New Riga Theatre, where material from real life is retold on stage, thus adding value to facts, anecdotes and dramas that we would ordinarily consider too commonplace, usual and worthless. In the case of the theatre company, listening to oneís fellow human being is officially being declared a fact of culture. It is something that would otherwise take place in a pub or in somebody elseís home while drinking a bottle of vodka, and would inevitably be condemned by your family as a pointless act degrading to your personality, something that does nothing to promote your career or contribute to the family budget. European society wishes to be refined, purposeful, cultured and correct, which rules out the possibility of being free in oneís choices. For example, who in refined society would dare to suggest that they really are interested in drawings by a stranger, a pensioner from the country, had they not seen these drawings in a respectable gallery? The bright future of naive art What would be the appropriate form of contemporary naive art? Quite probably, this genre should include those billions of digital photos that non-professionals publish on the internet - as illustrations for diaries and blogs, or simply for photo-share portals (the most typical examples being www.flickr.com and www.photosight.ru), where imitation of work by Saudek, Dali, LaChapelle, "Playboy" illustrations and other styles and artists is in full swing, at all different technical levels. It is only that value orientation is a problem here, since among the work of the naive artists there is no shortage of normal works that might be included in the mainstream, such as the latest pieces by various professionals eager to show off - the work commissioned for the fashion pages in womenís magazines and so forth. Regarding the global activities and fanatical diligence of photo naive artists, one can believe that "Naive Latvia", mainly featuring paintings, could have an equally potent and impressive sequel. In thirty or forty years time, when the modern naive artists of the present day have built up their private pension funds. | |
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