Which dishonesties/honesties are good?
Illustration by Paul Ramirez Jonas
Right away this question reminds me of the way modernism adapted, was passed on, and evolved in different cultures. (Needless to say there is nothing universal about modernism. Rather, like catholicism, its success comes from its ability to absorb cultural specific ideals, creating a sort-of secular syncretism). It seems to me, that in the United States modernism hybridized with the Anglo-Saxon Protestant/Puritan tradition. The resulting version was, perhaps not surprisingly, overly concerned with purity and truth. As a way of an example, let’s just take a minute to consider the different attitudes to “truth to materials” between American Minimalism and Italian Arte Povera.
Okay, minute is up.
We have inherited then, an art tradition that is infused with a strong sense of protestant morals and ethics. For better or worse this legacy steers us towards thinking in ethical binaries: being true to materials vs. creating illusion; art as contributing to the common good vs. art for art’s sake; the body in performance art vs. the body in the theater; saving souls vs. luring them to perdition. I am not arguing that this is necessarily bad. Great works of art have come from the Northern Renaissance Iconoclasm, as well as from twentieth century American Minimalism. I am just questioning the baggage that comes with this question as it pertains to Socially Engaged Art works (for this is the context in which this question is being asked).
Where is the space for the imagination in “dishonesties/honesties”?
The imagination is neither; nor would I say it is both. The imagination shatters this dichotomy. It exposes its limitations and prejudices. The dishonesties/honesties binary leaves no room for fiction, dreams, and fantasy (not to mention tall tales, exaggeration, magic tricks and all sorts of other good stuff). I am once again reminded of a question Claire Doherty asked during her key note address during Open Engagement 2013. In challenging the ways in which we define a public, she asked: “How many people dreamed of a fox last night?” (as if to say, try to stuff those people in the ways in which you define a public). Since then, her question has become an internal litmus test I can apply to questions and statements such as “Which dishonesties/honesties are good?” Can “Which dishonesties/honesties are good?” account for the fox dreamers? No? Then the question is suspect. It would be a shame if Socially Engaged Art, a form of art that Deborah Fisher from A Blade of Grass has called the first art movement since the ’70s, fell in with this kind of morality.
About the contributor: Paul Ramirez Jonas was born in California and raised in Honduras, and currently lives, works, and teaches in New York City. In his practice, he challenges the boundaries between artwork and spectator by asking participants to contribute something—such as a penny, wish, or key—in order to fully engage with his projects. He holds an MFA from the Rhode Island School of Design and a BA from Brown University. He has received numerous honors, exhibited internationally, and lectured at universities across the country. paulramirezjonas.com