Continuing from The Artist’s Gaze: Appropriation and Borrowing, Part 1.
© Sarah Lorraine Goodman, 2010-2012.
(Fig. 5) The Great Chain of Being, 1579.
This synthesis of mainstream artist and marginal culture is a complicated narrative that only recently has been acknowledged, though it has been the crux of the cultural dialog since the early days of colonialism.[9] It is perhaps the most clear when considered as an outsider/insider issue, where individuals belonging to a hegemony begin to infiltrate the culture of a marginalized society, rifling through its history for whatever looks interesting while simultaneously disavowing that society’s validity. Where the issue becomes blurry is several generations down the road, when a settler culture has fully taken over a marginalized territory and descendants of both the marginal and the mainstream are inculcated with the muddied narratives of overlapping social history. An
individual descended from the settler culture, who can be identified as belonging to the hegemony by dint of genetic distinction in skin color or social class, may even still feel a kinship with the local, marginalized culture endemic to the locale in which they were born and raised. However, it is simpler for a member of the hegemonic class to adopt the customs of the marginalized class because (to borrow a Renaissance concept) within the great chain of social hierarchy, one can easily move through the various levels of society the higher in society one is. (Fig. 5)
The complexity inherent in the “borrowing” of marginalized symbols and ideas by a mainstream artist is exposed when the artist feels as though they are a member of both the mainstream and the marginal community. Fred Myers, in his excellent article “Ontologies Of The Image And Economies Of Exchange” (PDF) recounts the fascinating story of artist Elizabeth Durack and the resulting controversy over her appropriations of “cultural property” and identity. Durack, a white Australian artist adopted the persona of an Aboriginal man named Eddie Burrup; through her persona as Burrup, Durack created a series of paintings of “Aboriginal” art, though, Myers points out, “She did not appropriate specific indigenous designs.” She did, however, enter her work in competitions catering specifically to Aboriginal art, under the guise of an Aboriginal artist.[10] When exposed, some in the Aboriginal community accused her of “cultural appropriation at it’s worst.”[11]
Another, mainstream publication, The Australian Magazine, asked “What’s The Fuss?” (PDF) in its headline to the accompanying story of the Durack-Burrup case. In The Australian article, author Susan McCulloch states that “[Eddie] Burrup is no sudden creation. Artistically, he has been evolving for at least the past 20 years and his persona, drawn from living alongside a powerful culture for several generations, has been in gestation her whole life.”[12] Durack lived and worked as an artist on the periphery of an Aboriginal community in Kimberley, West Australia and, by all accounts, was a respected outsider who was granted access to the community.[13] Exhibiting her paintings under her own name, Durack attracted little notice in the 1940s through to the 1960s, except for a confused reaction towards her obviously blended psychological heritage that incorporated Aboriginal and Western motifs (For examples of Durack’s art, please see her website.).[14] This is further underscored by a statement made by Jeff Chunuma Rainyerri, a respected Aboriginal elder and Durack’s “classificatory son and one of the inspirational sources for Eddie.”[15] Chunuma’s response to the furor over his “mum’s” appropriation of Aboriginal identity hints at a recognition that the lines between the spiritual and the corporeal are not always distinct:
You tell ‘im ‘e’s got to come up here, sit down and talk to us. It’s no good what ‘e’s doing. That old man behind her shoulder. She got to stop doing that.[16]
It is speculation that the “old man behind her shoulder” is inferred to be the persona, perhaps the spiritual manifestation of Eddie Burrup that has mistakenly chosen Durack to communicate through, rather than a member of the Aboriginal tribe, but it is a compelling association to make. It underscores the permeability inherent in the psychological makeup of an individual, no matter what segment of the population they’re derived from. Ultimately, McCulloch writes, “Durack… had been speaking for Aboriginal people through her art for years, and while her Aboriginal creation may have been misguided, it was based on altruistic motives and a genuine attempt at cultural bridge-building.”[17] It would appear that had Durack simply asked for permission to paint as Eddie Burrup, the reception of her work by the Aboriginal community might have been viewed positively.[18] And in one final bid for Burrup’s validity as an entity, if not an identity, Durack asserted that she would like to see Eddie’s story and artwork on the Internet. This, McCulloch surmises, is an appropriate venue for Eddie Burrup, “for nothing has allowed us greater freedom of personal and artistic invention than the Net. We can reinvent ourselves – change genders, ages, appearances, give ourselves new histories and character traits – and create as many fictional characters as we want.”[19]
The Internet is, also, an excellent tool for appropriation. Not only does it put millions of ideas and images at everyone’s disposal, it veritably encourages a culture of free-for-the-taking information. And while the push to put the vast information miasma in the hands of everyone, access to the Internet is still largely an issue of wealth and privilege.[20] The dialog by marginalized cultures on the Internet when it comes to issues of cultural appropriation is growing, however, as visibility of socio-cultural questions regarding borrowing increases.
(Fig. 6) Jen Mussari, Native Appropriations, 2010. Digital Media.
Assuming that being a member of the mainstream culture there is an inherent entitlement to access the aspects of a marginalized culture without the strict permission of any member of said marginalized culture is a topic that cultural theorists, artists and activists must grapple with constantly. Jen Mussari, a young artist in San Francisco who is of Iroquois descent[21] outlines this phenomenon elegantly in an ink and digital media image entitled Native Appropriations (Fig. 6). Relying on hyperbole and ironic humor to target the young, privileged “hipster” community “who wear [Native American] fashions almost accidentally, on purpose but with no reason”[22], Mussari addresses the aggravation of having a Native American heritage adopted without the desire of understanding anything of the marginalized culture beyond its novelty factor. She depicts a pair of young, thin, white women in the act of laughing while wearing Native American headdresses. Beside them is the phrase, “No, it’s cool. It’s not like your ancestors killed them all, or anything.” It is easy to imagine that this is the internal narrative of someone of Native American descent who is confronted with the appropriation of their sacred objects by a community with absolutely no concept of how deeply offensive such acts can be. Now, granted, Mussari is not proclaiming that she, personally feels this animosity, just that she grasps the irony of the white urban upperclass youth wearing a traditional Native American feathered headdress, however there are many others who have been profoundly struck by the simplicity of her illustration, if the storm of dialog and critique it created when it made the rounds on blogs such as Native Appropriations (was the title of the artwork was perhaps inspired by the blog name?). Such a dialog has been all but terminated in works by Picasso and Matisse, so long have they been protected by the hegemony; their appropriations held up as avant-garde, lending authenticity to their work because they have shed the formal doctrine of fine art for a looser, “primitive” style.[23] However, in the wake of post-modernism, artists like Mussari are given a platform on the Internet through which they can voice their unease and engage in a dialog that can be used to teach the current generation about the reality of appropriation.
(Fig. 7) Lillian Schwartz, After Picasso, 1986-1990.
Another important facet to the technological era of appropriation is the use of the computer as a tool for creating new artworks based on existing pieces. In her essay “Computers and Appropriation Art: The Transformation of a Work of Idea for a New Creation,” digital artist Lillian F. Schwartz gives a detailed account of the various methods and theories behind her appropriative acts. Her work is more in the tradition of appropriation set forth by Picasso and Matisse (indeed, Picasso makes a frequent appearance in her work (Fig. 7), as do other great Western artists such as Leonardo and Van Gough) than it is with Durack or Mussari, relying on existing art forms from the Western Art canon as opposed to mining marginalized cultures for “authentic” imagery. There is also an investigative quality to Schwartz’s digital collages, which seeks to interrogate the structure and form of canonical works in order to understand the artist’s motivations and techniques. For Schwartz, the act of appropriation is essentially an attempt to understand (Fig. 8).
(Fig. 8) Lillian Schwartz, Mona Leo, 1992.
For eons, artists have engaged in appropriative acts, whether knowingly or unknowingly, however it is only within the scope of the last century that the motives behind the act of appropriation have been unpacked and examined. The results are not always comforting and constantly subject to further analysis and reinterpretation, which makes the topic of appropriation one of the juiciest in the field of art historical critical theory. This brief overview of appropriation art in the last one hundred years is by no means exhaustive, but is meant to be illustrative of a few of the numerous impulses that compel artists towards acts of borrowing, and is an attempt to bring these impulses closer to the surface and, therefore, closer to examination by the artist and the critic together.
Coming Up: A Gallery of Cultural Appropriation In Historical Clothing
Bibliography & Endnotes below the Cut
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