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Przewodnik po sztuce współczesnej. Dlaczego pięciolatek nie mógł tego zrobić?
W przeszłości pozycja artysty w wielkim stopniu zależała od jego technicznych zdolności, umiejętności wiernego odtwarzania realnego świata. Portret miał być prawdziwą i wierną podobizną, a krajobrazy rozpoznawalne w każdym szczególe. Jednak, zwłaszcza po pojawieniu się fotografii, wielu artystów zrezygnowało z tworzenia tego „prawdziwego” podobieństwa na rzecz bardziej bezpośrednich, pogłębionych obrazów, które wyrażały uczucia dotyczące malowanego tematu. Od początku tych ogromnych zmian artystycznych ambicji krytycy mylili pozorny brak umiejętności warsztatowych z brakiem artyzmu i finezji, wyśmiewając ekspresyjne prace i porównując je do niepodlegających ocenie merytorycznej wysiłków dzieci.
W tej prowokującej do myślenia książce Susie Hodge przygląda się 100 dziełom sztuki, które wywołały ogromną wrogość krytyków – od nabazgranej przez Cy Twombly’ego Olimpii (1957),prymitywnego, ale spontanicznego Drzewa życia (1994) Johna Hoylanda do pozornie naturalnego bałaganu Mojego łóżka (1998) Tracey Emin – i tłumaczy, dlaczego nie są one nieistotnymi nowinkami, ale pełnym inspiracji logicznym rozwinięciem artystycznych idei minionych czasów.
Autorka wyjaśnia, w jaki sposób głośne dzieła, takie jak Nierzeźbione klocki (1975) Carla Andre – prostokątna aranżacja brył czerwonego drewna cedrowego, którą faktycznie mogłoby łatwo skopiować dziecko – wypełniają pustą niszę w historii idei, pokazując zarówno wpływy wcześniejszych twórców, jak i zainspirowanych przez nie artystów. Pięciolatkowi mogłoby powieść się wykonanie obrazu wirowego podobnego do tych, jakie tworzy Damien Hirst, ale nie zrozumiałby stojących za nim idei oraz miejsca, jakie zajmuje w historii dążeń artystycznych. Susie Hodge gruntownie i wyczerpująco tłumaczy, dlaczego sztuka współczesna nie jest i nigdy nie była dziecięcą zabawą. Hodge umieszcza każdą pracę w kontekście kulturowym, wspierając się ilustracjami dzieł od Hansa Arpa do Andy’ego Warhola, aby zaprezentować dokonania współczesnych artystów. Książka pomaga zrozumieć, w jaki sposób sztuka ewoluuje od realistycznych dzieł wcześniejszych stuleci, zmieniając nasze nastawienie do prezentowanych prac podczas wizyt w galeriach.
Susan Hodge jest autorką ponad 70 książek dla dorosłych i dzieci. Uczyła plastyki i historii sztuki w szkołach i na uczelniach, prowadziła konwersatoria i wykładała dla dorosłych i dzieci. Pisze edukacyjne pomoce dla różnych instytucji, zarówno dla nauczycieli i studentów. Od 15 lat maluje i ilustruje oraz prowadzi warsztaty z pisania i malarskie oraz pokazy dla wszystkich grup wiekowych i ludzi o różnych zdolnościach.
W tej prowokującej do myślenia książce Susie Hodge przygląda się 100 dziełom sztuki, które wywołały ogromną wrogość krytyków – od nabazgranej przez Cy Twombly’ego Olimpii (1957),prymitywnego, ale spontanicznego Drzewa życia (1994) Johna Hoylanda do pozornie naturalnego bałaganu Mojego łóżka (1998) Tracey Emin – i tłumaczy, dlaczego nie są one nieistotnymi nowinkami, ale pełnym inspiracji logicznym rozwinięciem artystycznych idei minionych czasów.
Autorka wyjaśnia, w jaki sposób głośne dzieła, takie jak Nierzeźbione klocki (1975) Carla Andre – prostokątna aranżacja brył czerwonego drewna cedrowego, którą faktycznie mogłoby łatwo skopiować dziecko – wypełniają pustą niszę w historii idei, pokazując zarówno wpływy wcześniejszych twórców, jak i zainspirowanych przez nie artystów. Pięciolatkowi mogłoby powieść się wykonanie obrazu wirowego podobnego do tych, jakie tworzy Damien Hirst, ale nie zrozumiałby stojących za nim idei oraz miejsca, jakie zajmuje w historii dążeń artystycznych. Susie Hodge gruntownie i wyczerpująco tłumaczy, dlaczego sztuka współczesna nie jest i nigdy nie była dziecięcą zabawą. Hodge umieszcza każdą pracę w kontekście kulturowym, wspierając się ilustracjami dzieł od Hansa Arpa do Andy’ego Warhola, aby zaprezentować dokonania współczesnych artystów. Książka pomaga zrozumieć, w jaki sposób sztuka ewoluuje od realistycznych dzieł wcześniejszych stuleci, zmieniając nasze nastawienie do prezentowanych prac podczas wizyt w galeriach.
Susan Hodge jest autorką ponad 70 książek dla dorosłych i dzieci. Uczyła plastyki i historii sztuki w szkołach i na uczelniach, prowadziła konwersatoria i wykładała dla dorosłych i dzieci. Pisze edukacyjne pomoce dla różnych instytucji, zarówno dla nauczycieli i studentów. Od 15 lat maluje i ilustruje oraz prowadzi warsztaty z pisania i malarskie oraz pokazy dla wszystkich grup wiekowych i ludzi o różnych zdolnościach.
224 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2012
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August 26, 2021
Why I Could Not Have Written This - PG / R rated review
I enjoy visiting art exhibitions, but I do so in an experiential, rather than an intellectual, way. I wander the galleries, looking, feeling, and listening, but without much knowing. (I long to touch as well, especially sculpture.)
Classical, representational art often seems relatively easy to understand: a Venetian merchant, with age etched on his face, wealth displayed in the richly textured and decorated fabrics, and a view of St Mark’s glimpsed from his window, with near-perfect perspective. But we don’t always know what we don’t know. The symbolism of a specific flower in a particular part of the picture, or a subtle nod to ancient mythology is lost on many of us nowadays: we just see a pretty bloom or vaguely wonder why there’s a swan in the background.
In contrast, modern art often screams its obscurity or pretentiousness. Sometimes, it just screams. Sometimes we scream. We know that we don’t understand. Is it art, and if so, why? What does it mean? Does it need to mean anything? Can it be art if it’s ugly or apparently lacking in skill?
This is why modern art invariably provokes a reaction, for good or ill - something that endless landscapes, fruit bowls, or portraits of the great and allegedly good don’t always do, however beautifully and skillfully rendered.
And that’s the crux of this book: art is about intent, and more specifically, the intention of causing an effect in the audience.
Each double-page spread considers one piece and tries to demonstrate why it is more than the sum of its parts by describing its style, materials, and history, along with the artist’s background, philosophy and motivation. You may have your eyes opened, laugh, be inspired, moved, or think it a load of clap-trap, but you will feel something. You will react.
A young child may not have the same artistic intent, but they can certainly respond to it in a visceral way, which is perhaps the most profound way.
My adult kid gave me this book for Mothering Sunday 2016. It’s apt, because nearly 20 years earlier, when they were barely two years old, we were pushing them round Tate St Ives in Cornwall, when they suddenly started writhing and crying, as if in physical pain. They were in front of a Bridget Riley, similar to the one below: clashing colours, large and loud, angular and angry - screaming, perhaps. We moved on to a more recognisable pastoral scene, and they were immediately restored to tranquil interest.
Art moves.
Bridget Riley, Fête, 1989 - power to make a toddler cry.
So perhaps I could have written this - if had I intended to provoke.
In which case, bugger off and create your own art and reviews! Does that do it?
Tl;dnr
It’s all about reacting to materialism and political systems (which few five-year-olds worry about). Or sex. And sex. Individuality - that’s important, too. And death.
Just like life, really.
Notes
For a short, humorous take on these ideas, see We Go To The Gallery (a spoof of Ladybird books), reviewed, with illustrations, HERE.
In Yasmina Reza's play, Art, one character's investment in modern art has dramatic ramifications for his relationship with his two closest friends. I've reviewed it HERE.
Miro's tripych, “Painting of a white background for the cell of a recluse”, should probably be in here. It is three white panels, each with a single wiggly line - none of which touch the edge. It took two or three years of drafts for him to get it just right. Nice work if you can persuade people to pay. You can see it in the Miro museum in Barcelona:
or click HERE for a larger version.
Comment #2 refers to my original “review” which merely said:
“Adding mainly because my more-than-five-year-old gave me this for Mothering Sunday, but also because the book I added yesterday took me to 666. This 667. Phew.”
December 1, 2024
“The painting seems to be the type of random arrangement that a five-year-old might come up with. However, it emerged from the mind of an intellectual” (p64); this is only the most annoying of innumerable nearly identical statements in this book that confuse what an artist produces and what an artist claims to be producing.
“So although this work might initially appear to be a childish scrawl, it actually conveys the preoccupations of the time” (p71), Hodge writes, actually citing the artist’s statement as her source. But of course this is not what the work “conveys.” If the work “conveyed” meaning, we would not need an artist to explain what it was about, or Hodge to blindly accept and repeat it.
This entire book is a hymn to the intentional fallacy. “No child would have created this work with the same intentions as Tinguely” (p22). While, for her part, Rist’s “reasons went much deeper” than children’s reasons would (p53). Time and again we are assured that an artist acted intentionally (pp 138, 216, etc.), consciously (pp 59,181, etc.), or, especially, deliberately (pp 65, 154, 171, 172, 181, 207, etc.); we are asked to consider the artist's objective (149), objectives (165), or aim (47, 140, 169), what an artist was seeking to communicate (202), intended (84, 124), aimed at (61, 128, 140), or planned deliberately (81) as a preconceived statement (119) for meaningful reasons (125).
How “meaningful” can these “reasons” get? Check out these examples of the kind of symbolism modern art offers:
•“The artist's inclusion of two skulls indicates the prospect of death” (p162).
•“The cut-up sleeves of a denim shirt represent the fisherman's clothes” (p143).
Could a five-year old have come up with those bits of metonymy?
As with the skulls and the denim, there is a bizarre literalness at work in this book. Could a five-year old have painted this Magritte? No, because “no child could possibly reproduce Magritte’s meticulous and realistic painting style” (p14). Could a child have created Emin’s “My Bed”? No, because although “Children may often leave their beds unmade and their rooms a mess…a close look at this installation reveals that the bed and strewn items belong to an adult” (p130). These explanations seem to miss the point — no one’s ever stated that a five-year old could paint like Magritte, and no one who’s ever dissed “My Bed” would feel refuted by the fact that children don’t wear pantyhose. You might as well say that children couldn’t paint the upper half of Gorky's "Year after Year" because they’re too short.
"A child could not slash a canvas because children are not allowed to play with knives," is a parody of a statement from this book and not an actual statement from this book.
Mainly, though, Hodge just falls back on her beloved intentionalism: “any five-year-old could have deposited his own excrement in a can…Manzoni, however, was making several points that few children could make” (p116).
What this book does not offer is an explanation for why the artworks reproduced are not trash—I’m not saying they are trash, just that the book does not explain, or even attempt to explain why they are not. As an apology for modern art, it addresses only straw-man arguments and makes modern art seem safe, boring, and redundant. It also doesn’t really get into why a five-year old could not have made most of the works reproduced herein. In fact, it often stumbles backwards into admitting that a five-year old could have.
• “A five-year-old could make a structure like this, but they [sic] would not be scrutinizing so many elements at the same time” (p29).
•“A child could make a pretend plate of food but would not be able to incorporate the subtle implications or the strands of humor, creativity, and reality that are inherent in this piece” (p24).
•“Any child could do that but none would do so in order to make statements about [blah blah blah]” (p67).
But, once again, don’t be confused! “The ambiguities in the image are deliberate, unlike a child’s arbitrary scribble” (p62). I think we can all agree that the problem with children is that their scribbles do not contain “countless intellectual, mystical and spiritual implications that allude to various complex issues, including intrinsic emotions and tensions” (p56).
I know I’m repeating myself, but this book is very repetitive; I’m also being mean, and I can’t really justify my bad behavior except by assuring you the book is filled with quotes like these:
•“Yet surreptitiously and incisively [Gonzalez-Torres] invoked viewers to reconsider, to contemplate the past, present, and future, just as the work reaches the senses of sight, touch, and taste” (p36).
•“By arranging mass-produced objects on shelves, [Steinbach] creates tensions between anonymity and desire” (p44).
If you hate modern art, this book will reassure and flatter you; if you like modern art, you won’t after reading this book—unless, I guess, you have long hoped that someone would create tensions along the anonymity–desire axis.
“So although this work might initially appear to be a childish scrawl, it actually conveys the preoccupations of the time” (p71), Hodge writes, actually citing the artist’s statement as her source. But of course this is not what the work “conveys.” If the work “conveyed” meaning, we would not need an artist to explain what it was about, or Hodge to blindly accept and repeat it.
This entire book is a hymn to the intentional fallacy. “No child would have created this work with the same intentions as Tinguely” (p22). While, for her part, Rist’s “reasons went much deeper” than children’s reasons would (p53). Time and again we are assured that an artist acted intentionally (pp 138, 216, etc.), consciously (pp 59,181, etc.), or, especially, deliberately (pp 65, 154, 171, 172, 181, 207, etc.); we are asked to consider the artist's objective (149), objectives (165), or aim (47, 140, 169), what an artist was seeking to communicate (202), intended (84, 124), aimed at (61, 128, 140), or planned deliberately (81) as a preconceived statement (119) for meaningful reasons (125).
How “meaningful” can these “reasons” get? Check out these examples of the kind of symbolism modern art offers:
•“The artist's inclusion of two skulls indicates the prospect of death” (p162).
•“The cut-up sleeves of a denim shirt represent the fisherman's clothes” (p143).
Could a five-year old have come up with those bits of metonymy?
As with the skulls and the denim, there is a bizarre literalness at work in this book. Could a five-year old have painted this Magritte? No, because “no child could possibly reproduce Magritte’s meticulous and realistic painting style” (p14). Could a child have created Emin’s “My Bed”? No, because although “Children may often leave their beds unmade and their rooms a mess…a close look at this installation reveals that the bed and strewn items belong to an adult” (p130). These explanations seem to miss the point — no one’s ever stated that a five-year old could paint like Magritte, and no one who’s ever dissed “My Bed” would feel refuted by the fact that children don’t wear pantyhose. You might as well say that children couldn’t paint the upper half of Gorky's "Year after Year" because they’re too short.
"A child could not slash a canvas because children are not allowed to play with knives," is a parody of a statement from this book and not an actual statement from this book.
Mainly, though, Hodge just falls back on her beloved intentionalism: “any five-year-old could have deposited his own excrement in a can…Manzoni, however, was making several points that few children could make” (p116).
What this book does not offer is an explanation for why the artworks reproduced are not trash—I’m not saying they are trash, just that the book does not explain, or even attempt to explain why they are not. As an apology for modern art, it addresses only straw-man arguments and makes modern art seem safe, boring, and redundant. It also doesn’t really get into why a five-year old could not have made most of the works reproduced herein. In fact, it often stumbles backwards into admitting that a five-year old could have.
• “A five-year-old could make a structure like this, but they [sic] would not be scrutinizing so many elements at the same time” (p29).
•“A child could make a pretend plate of food but would not be able to incorporate the subtle implications or the strands of humor, creativity, and reality that are inherent in this piece” (p24).
•“Any child could do that but none would do so in order to make statements about [blah blah blah]” (p67).
But, once again, don’t be confused! “The ambiguities in the image are deliberate, unlike a child’s arbitrary scribble” (p62). I think we can all agree that the problem with children is that their scribbles do not contain “countless intellectual, mystical and spiritual implications that allude to various complex issues, including intrinsic emotions and tensions” (p56).
I know I’m repeating myself, but this book is very repetitive; I’m also being mean, and I can’t really justify my bad behavior except by assuring you the book is filled with quotes like these:
•“Yet surreptitiously and incisively [Gonzalez-Torres] invoked viewers to reconsider, to contemplate the past, present, and future, just as the work reaches the senses of sight, touch, and taste” (p36).
•“By arranging mass-produced objects on shelves, [Steinbach] creates tensions between anonymity and desire” (p44).
If you hate modern art, this book will reassure and flatter you; if you like modern art, you won’t after reading this book—unless, I guess, you have long hoped that someone would create tensions along the anonymity–desire axis.
May 3, 2014
I was visiting the Guggenheim in Venice over the Christmas break; on holidays I tend to make over-emotional decisions about all kinds of things, so it makes sense that at that wonderful building I wanted to buy a book. I chose this one, because it was cheap, and promised easy reading.
So Hodge had to do literally nothing to keep me on team Modernist. I like modern and postmodern art; I have some grasp of what 20th century artists were/are trying to do. The book is nicely laid out: nice reproduction of an art work; brief artist's bio; discussion of the work; discussion of influences/d; random fact; and explanation of why your five year could not, in fact, have done that. This makes for repetitive reading, but it's a small format coffee-table book, so that's fine.
And yet Hodge's book is so bad that she managed to convince me that that much modern art is an even bigger sham than your old auntie Joanna Banal believes it is.
Her tactic for each work is the same: admit that a five year old has the skills needed to produce a work, but deny that the five year old has the conceptual capacity needed to properly contextualize it; or suggest that the five year old cannot think the deep thoughts needed to motivate the creation of the work in the first place. Genuinely random example: Giovanni Anselmo's "Untitled (structure that eats salad)." Yes, she says, a five year old could squish a lettuce between two bricks, but
"they would not be scrutinizing so many elements at the same time, including the impermanence of substances and life, and natural and manufactured materials. Anselmo was working on many levels as he explored our place in the world, looking at infinity, vulnerability, power, culture and nature, all the time considering how philosophies, science and everyday experience can be investigated and expressed through art."
I ask you, dear review reader, to ignore the horrific prose, and the conceptual confusion one must be in to use the word 'substances' as if it excluded natural and manufactured materials. Instead, just know that every explanation in this book is essentially the same: there is a conceptual component to this artwork that a five year old could not understand. This is a problem.
i) It doesn't matter what Anselmo was 'scrutinizing' (apparently in Hodge's world artists do not 'think about' anything). The *viewer's reaction* links the art object to thoughts about infinity etc... So a five year old's combination of bricks and lettuce can bring up those ideas as well, *provided they are really there*.
ii) According to Hodge, every work in this book is either 'scrutinizing' a highly abstract noun (e.g., the impermanence of substances) or (from the following page, on Warhol) compelling "viewers to consider what makes something 'art' and why artworks are so revered." But if every piece of modern art is doing one or both of those things, there is nothing about any given piece of modern art that is particularly interesting. Any piece of garbage can make us scrutinize infinity or art institutions, provided we're genuinely interested in doing so. Given that, all modern art is the same, and you don't actually have to look at it.
iii) So Hodge's argument, despite herself, is that there is no connection between any given art object and the ideas it is supposed to embody. Modern art is a sham.
Now luckily I have a few thoughts on this matter, and do not believe that modern art is a sham. Much good modern art exists: those objects are technical feats (insert your favorite figurative painter here), or respond to some specific, concrete noun (e.g., Kienholz's satires on aspects of modern America), or allow for a less cognitive experience (e.g., the beeswax room at Washington D.C.'s Phillips Collection), which can then be thought about productively.
But if you actually gave this book to someone in the hope that they would start thinking that modern art is worthwhile... well, it wouldn't work. Because this book suggests that modern artists are all slightly silly men and women who want to have big thoughts about Big Stuff, but can't actually find a way to put that into a material form (as e.g., Martin Creed), or pigs creating investment opportunities (as e.g., Damien Hirst). And Hodge treats those charlatans no differently from genuinely interesting artists.
Finally, she has no sense of humor, and so fails to get anything out of the Anselmo work suggested above anyway.
Avoid this book at all costs, unless you want a good scratching post.
See http://www.wikipaintings.org/en/giova...
So Hodge had to do literally nothing to keep me on team Modernist. I like modern and postmodern art; I have some grasp of what 20th century artists were/are trying to do. The book is nicely laid out: nice reproduction of an art work; brief artist's bio; discussion of the work; discussion of influences/d; random fact; and explanation of why your five year could not, in fact, have done that. This makes for repetitive reading, but it's a small format coffee-table book, so that's fine.
And yet Hodge's book is so bad that she managed to convince me that that much modern art is an even bigger sham than your old auntie Joanna Banal believes it is.
Her tactic for each work is the same: admit that a five year old has the skills needed to produce a work, but deny that the five year old has the conceptual capacity needed to properly contextualize it; or suggest that the five year old cannot think the deep thoughts needed to motivate the creation of the work in the first place. Genuinely random example: Giovanni Anselmo's "Untitled (structure that eats salad)." Yes, she says, a five year old could squish a lettuce between two bricks, but
"they would not be scrutinizing so many elements at the same time, including the impermanence of substances and life, and natural and manufactured materials. Anselmo was working on many levels as he explored our place in the world, looking at infinity, vulnerability, power, culture and nature, all the time considering how philosophies, science and everyday experience can be investigated and expressed through art."
I ask you, dear review reader, to ignore the horrific prose, and the conceptual confusion one must be in to use the word 'substances' as if it excluded natural and manufactured materials. Instead, just know that every explanation in this book is essentially the same: there is a conceptual component to this artwork that a five year old could not understand. This is a problem.
i) It doesn't matter what Anselmo was 'scrutinizing' (apparently in Hodge's world artists do not 'think about' anything). The *viewer's reaction* links the art object to thoughts about infinity etc... So a five year old's combination of bricks and lettuce can bring up those ideas as well, *provided they are really there*.
ii) According to Hodge, every work in this book is either 'scrutinizing' a highly abstract noun (e.g., the impermanence of substances) or (from the following page, on Warhol) compelling "viewers to consider what makes something 'art' and why artworks are so revered." But if every piece of modern art is doing one or both of those things, there is nothing about any given piece of modern art that is particularly interesting. Any piece of garbage can make us scrutinize infinity or art institutions, provided we're genuinely interested in doing so. Given that, all modern art is the same, and you don't actually have to look at it.
iii) So Hodge's argument, despite herself, is that there is no connection between any given art object and the ideas it is supposed to embody. Modern art is a sham.
Now luckily I have a few thoughts on this matter, and do not believe that modern art is a sham. Much good modern art exists: those objects are technical feats (insert your favorite figurative painter here), or respond to some specific, concrete noun (e.g., Kienholz's satires on aspects of modern America), or allow for a less cognitive experience (e.g., the beeswax room at Washington D.C.'s Phillips Collection), which can then be thought about productively.
But if you actually gave this book to someone in the hope that they would start thinking that modern art is worthwhile... well, it wouldn't work. Because this book suggests that modern artists are all slightly silly men and women who want to have big thoughts about Big Stuff, but can't actually find a way to put that into a material form (as e.g., Martin Creed), or pigs creating investment opportunities (as e.g., Damien Hirst). And Hodge treats those charlatans no differently from genuinely interesting artists.
Finally, she has no sense of humor, and so fails to get anything out of the Anselmo work suggested above anyway.
Avoid this book at all costs, unless you want a good scratching post.
See http://www.wikipaintings.org/en/giova...
March 29, 2016
Or to be more accurate with the title:
"Alright, your five-year-old could indeed have done this, but they couldn't have done it while thinking about capitalism."
Facile, un-nuanced, redundant, overtly reliant on the intentional fallacy, and likely to confirm a skeptic's belief that children could do it all.
"Alright, your five-year-old could indeed have done this, but they couldn't have done it while thinking about capitalism."
Facile, un-nuanced, redundant, overtly reliant on the intentional fallacy, and likely to confirm a skeptic's belief that children could do it all.
December 26, 2016
I bought this book in the Gallery of Modern Art in Glasgow, as an art-lover who has always been sceptical about modern art. And I'm glad that I did.
'Why your five year old could not have done that' includes 100 pieces of modern art, with brief information about the artist and the artwork, including the artist's influences and motivation. While the book did not persuade me that a five year old could not have created most of the pieces of art, I loved the title nonetheless, and it did persuade me to give modern art a second look in future. I even fell for several of the pieces featured in the book. I also liked the fact that the book included some artworks and artists that I had heard of and knew about, some that I had heard of but didn't know about, and some that I hadn't heard of.
I would definitely recommend this highly readable, introductory book to other modern art sceptics.
'Why your five year old could not have done that' includes 100 pieces of modern art, with brief information about the artist and the artwork, including the artist's influences and motivation. While the book did not persuade me that a five year old could not have created most of the pieces of art, I loved the title nonetheless, and it did persuade me to give modern art a second look in future. I even fell for several of the pieces featured in the book. I also liked the fact that the book included some artworks and artists that I had heard of and knew about, some that I had heard of but didn't know about, and some that I hadn't heard of.
I would definitely recommend this highly readable, introductory book to other modern art sceptics.
July 5, 2023
Modern art really exposes how people perceive the world. This book grapples with the single most levied challenge against it: “it’s dumb/childish/simple” by pointing out the intentionality in the design of seemingly simplistic paintings and the deeper interpretive meanings behind many pieces.
I wish this book had a chapter dealing with the philosophy of modern art, but I really appreciated the flyby of pieces it presents along with some historical context and prompts to explore similar artwork. I also don’t think the fundamental assumption that if a piece cannot be apologetically defended against “looks like a kid’s drawing” then its devalued - as if a child’s handiwork is somehow not valuable.
I have a theory that many people treat art as a consumable object, and that means it needs to align with their aesthetic tastes and must be easily and quickly digestible. This is bad and I think that everyone needs to take a guided tour through an abstract art exhibit.
Also really cool that a lot of these pieces are from 70-120 years ago & the book features greats like Picasso, Dalí, and Warhol.
“For us, art is not an end in itself… but… an opportunity for the true perception and criticism of the times we live in.”
“The line between art and life should be kept as fluid and perhaps as indistinct as possible.”
“Picasso famously said: 'It took me four years to paint like Raphael, but a lifetime to paint like a child’.”
I wish this book had a chapter dealing with the philosophy of modern art, but I really appreciated the flyby of pieces it presents along with some historical context and prompts to explore similar artwork. I also don’t think the fundamental assumption that if a piece cannot be apologetically defended against “looks like a kid’s drawing” then its devalued - as if a child’s handiwork is somehow not valuable.
I have a theory that many people treat art as a consumable object, and that means it needs to align with their aesthetic tastes and must be easily and quickly digestible. This is bad and I think that everyone needs to take a guided tour through an abstract art exhibit.
Also really cool that a lot of these pieces are from 70-120 years ago & the book features greats like Picasso, Dalí, and Warhol.
“For us, art is not an end in itself… but… an opportunity for the true perception and criticism of the times we live in.”
“The line between art and life should be kept as fluid and perhaps as indistinct as possible.”
“Picasso famously said: 'It took me four years to paint like Raphael, but a lifetime to paint like a child’.”
May 3, 2018
Modern ya da kavramsal sanat eserlerinin açıklama içermesini sevmiyorum. Bu kitap da bunun karesi ya da küpü gibi. Her bir eseri, sanki herkesin baktığı şeyle algıladığı şey aynı olmak zorundaymış gibi, sanat üretiminin hissettirip düşündükleri matematik formülleriyle belirleniyormuş gibi açıklamaya koyuluyor. Bir de bence tamamen varsayımsal bu açıklamalar sonucunda neden beş yaşında bir çocuğun bunu yapamayacağını açıklıyor. Temel düşünce şu: beş yaşında bir çocuğun duygu ve düşünce dünyası henüz o kadar engin olmadığı için bu bu eserin çok benzerini yapsa da asla aynısını yapamaz. Ben bi sanat antolojisi gibi inceledim. Bunun dışında da hiçbir anlam ifade etmiyor benim için söyledikleri. Ben sanat ürünü ile sanata ürününe bakan kişi arasına başkalarının kelimelerin girmesini sevmiyorum.
August 29, 2013
People say you can't stumble over new discoveries online the way you can find them in an actual bookstore or library, but I stumbled across this book while trying to find a different book in my library's online system, and I'm glad I did. I learned about some of my favorite artists (Claes Oldenburg, Felix Gonzalez-Torres, Louise Bourgeois) and some ones I had never heard of (Pipilotti Rist's Massachusetts Chandelier is great).
Also, I love that there's an entire chapter on tantrums.
Also, I love that there's an entire chapter on tantrums.
June 4, 2025
Uwielbiam sztukę, uwielbiam ją analizować i patrzeć nad nią godzinami. Zagwozdką jednak dla mnie często była obecna "sztuka nowoczesna", myślałam więc, że książka wytłumaczy mi jej podstawy. O ile znalazłam kilka dzieł, które niezwykle do mnie przemówiły ("Pies" Giacometti'ego, "Konie biegnące w nieskończoność" Orozco, czy "Kroki" Marclay'a), tak sama książka w żadnym stopniu nie przybliżyła mi "dlaczego tego nie mógł namalować pięciolatek". Jedynym postulatem tej książki była intencja za dziełem, jednak nie oszukujmy się, często w galeriach czy muzeach nie ma dogłębnego tekstu analizującego technikę, intencję, powody czy biografię autora, gdzie leżał często klucz.
Z tego co zauważyłam, to koniec końców wszystko i tak sprowadzało się do konsumpcjonizmu i pędu życia.
Z tego co zauważyłam, to koniec końców wszystko i tak sprowadzało się do konsumpcjonizmu i pędu życia.
July 7, 2022
i love art making fun of art, just shits and giggles, just dada
January 16, 2024
Insightful and admirably concise, this book was a beautiful thing to dip in and out of.
January 24, 2019
Якщо попередні автори зосереджувались на біографії чи інших широких контекстах, то Ходж працює з деталями. Вона скурпульозно характеризує кожен елемент, розкриває його прихований зміст, постійно дивує своїми несподіваними поглядами. Водночас Ходж не боїться аналізувати непопулярні твори мистецтва, тому працює на дві аудиторії: підготовлену й не зовсім. Основна ідея книжки в тім, що сучасне мистецтво є серйозною, часто драматичною практикою, тому сприймати його “по-дитячому” не варто, адже це позбавляє розуміння.
З іншого боку, Ходж інколи бракує аргментів для чергового підтвердження своєї тези. Адже аргумент щодо неможливості закласти ідею у дитини наче й правильний, але у деятий раз звучить якось непереконливо. Наприклад, інсталяція із дитячими лопатками, грабельками й іншими принаддями з подвір'я аргументується так: дитина може взяти усі ці речі із пісочниці, але не скаже, що це імпліцитна критика екологічної ситуації на планеті. Гаразд, але й дорослий цього не скаже! Напевно, більшість цього не скаже, тому логіка аргументації дещо розмивається. Попри усе, це цікава книжка, сповнена цікавих аспектів, нюансів, деталей і спосетережень.
З іншого боку, Ходж інколи бракує аргментів для чергового підтвердження своєї тези. Адже аргумент щодо неможливості закласти ідею у дитини наче й правильний, але у деятий раз звучить якось непереконливо. Наприклад, інсталяція із дитячими лопатками, грабельками й іншими принаддями з подвір'я аргументується так: дитина може взяти усі ці речі із пісочниці, але не скаже, що це імпліцитна критика екологічної ситуації на планеті. Гаразд, але й дорослий цього не скаже! Напевно, більшість цього не скаже, тому логіка аргументації дещо розмивається. Попри усе, це цікава книжка, сповнена цікавих аспектів, нюансів, деталей і спосетережень.
May 24, 2021
Lazy, jargon-ridden, and so far up its own ass it reeks of bullshit (sometimes literally! -- though I liked the canned shit piece). At the end of the day art, including modern art, is a language and what I had hoped with this book was to get an introduction to the grammar and vocabulary or even just a translation of modern art. But nope. Hodges basically marries a superficial twentieth-century art survey (complete with all the untranslated jargon like "Fauvism" and "postminimalism") with a whiny, hyper-defensive blurb with each piece explaining how five-year olds couldn't "intend" to do what the artist was "intending." Of course, it doesn't matter what the hell the artist *intended* but whether the piece was *successful* (see intentional fallacy).
That said, the book wasn't completely useless. Just as spending enough time around people speaking a different language means you eventually pick up a few words, I did learn a few things and was exposed to artists with whom I wasn't previously familiar.
That said, the book wasn't completely useless. Just as spending enough time around people speaking a different language means you eventually pick up a few words, I did learn a few things and was exposed to artists with whom I wasn't previously familiar.
August 30, 2015
This book is worth 3,5 stars.
It might not be a well written book. The comments are rather trivial and don't necessarely help us understand mordern art. For some artwork, I came to the conclusion that it was trash. So why did I gave it so many stars? Because of the illustrations. It gives me a good retrospective of modern art and I discovered artists that I didn't know.
For someone who is already very knowledgeable about modern art, it's probably worthless but, for someone like me who is a dilettante and want's to learn more it was hugely enjoyable. It's not a book to read in a linear fashion but, every night, before going to bed, I read a page or two. When I write "read", what I really mean is that I looked at the pictures. For the price, I got to learn and appreciate many artists and it made me want to see more modern art. That, for me, was the point of this book.
It might not be a well written book. The comments are rather trivial and don't necessarely help us understand mordern art. For some artwork, I came to the conclusion that it was trash. So why did I gave it so many stars? Because of the illustrations. It gives me a good retrospective of modern art and I discovered artists that I didn't know.
For someone who is already very knowledgeable about modern art, it's probably worthless but, for someone like me who is a dilettante and want's to learn more it was hugely enjoyable. It's not a book to read in a linear fashion but, every night, before going to bed, I read a page or two. When I write "read", what I really mean is that I looked at the pictures. For the price, I got to learn and appreciate many artists and it made me want to see more modern art. That, for me, was the point of this book.
July 16, 2017
The catchy platitude on the cover promises to explain "Why your five year old could not have done that". Now we just need someone to explain why a five year old could not have written the pages within.
Hodge's attempted explanations are shallow and dry. If you are a skeptic of modern art, her commentary will only further dissuade you. If you are a proponent, you will roll your eyes. The concept seemed intriguing but the excitement was short-lived.
Hodge's attempted explanations are shallow and dry. If you are a skeptic of modern art, her commentary will only further dissuade you. If you are a proponent, you will roll your eyes. The concept seemed intriguing but the excitement was short-lived.
April 16, 2023
Looking at previous reviews, it's very possible that my positive rating is influenced by very limited knowledge of modern art and artists. I found this book to be an useful collection of contemporary artworks, their context and explanations that inspired me to research further. Agree that for people with more extensive art knowledge, this book may seem superficial, it's more like a quick journal / cheat sheet to remember names and titles.
June 25, 2019
I like modern art but this book doesn’t do it any favours, the tone is kind of pompous mentioning lots of isms with out ever explaining them. The answer to why a 5 year old couldn’t have done this is mostly because a 5 year old didn’t do it.
July 16, 2022
2.5
Nie mogę przeboleć tego pretensjonalnego tonu, który wybrzmiewa z prawie każdej strony.
A odpowiedź autorki na tytułowe pytanie „Dlaczego pięciolatek nie mógł tego zrobić?” sprowadza się (przy każdym! omawianym dziele) do stwierdzenia, że pięciolatek owszem, mógł technicznie wykonać podobne dzieło, ale to nie będzie to samo, bo dziecku brak intencji, która przyświecała artyście. I taka narracja przez ponad 200 stron…
Nie mogę przeboleć tego pretensjonalnego tonu, który wybrzmiewa z prawie każdej strony.
A odpowiedź autorki na tytułowe pytanie „Dlaczego pięciolatek nie mógł tego zrobić?” sprowadza się (przy każdym! omawianym dziele) do stwierdzenia, że pięciolatek owszem, mógł technicznie wykonać podobne dzieło, ale to nie będzie to samo, bo dziecku brak intencji, która przyświecała artyście. I taka narracja przez ponad 200 stron…
April 26, 2023
Ładne obrazki, śliski papier, ale walor zmądrzeniowy 4/10. Opisy do dzieł na tyle lakoniczne, że niemal bezużyteczne. Wstęp - mowa trawa. Wyjaśnienia, "czemu pięciolatek nie mógł tego zrobić" naiwne i wtórne do opisu dzieła.
Nie wiem dla kogo jest ta książka, ani dla laika, bo bez wyjasnien odwołuje się do terminów ze świata sztuki, nie dla kogoś, kto się tym głębiej interesuje, bo informacje są bardzo skrótowe. Edukacji w zakresie sztuki współczesnej muszę poszukać gdzieś dalej.
Nie wiem dla kogo jest ta książka, ani dla laika, bo bez wyjasnien odwołuje się do terminów ze świata sztuki, nie dla kogoś, kto się tym głębiej interesuje, bo informacje są bardzo skrótowe. Edukacji w zakresie sztuki współczesnej muszę poszukać gdzieś dalej.
December 12, 2023
Forgot that I had started this book years ago, and got distracted somewhere along the way.
I think it’s a fun one, and by fun I mean much of Hodge’s commentary is ridiculous. It made me laugh out loud quite a few times - and I’m someone who loves modern art. I’m keeping this book.
1.5* cos the book is pretty
I think it’s a fun one, and by fun I mean much of Hodge’s commentary is ridiculous. It made me laugh out loud quite a few times - and I’m someone who loves modern art. I’m keeping this book.
1.5* cos the book is pretty
January 28, 2019
this book has been on my shelf for the past 5 years. i have finally finished it - yay me! interesting read. half of me is like, 'oooh cool insight i would not have been able to get by myself,' and the other half of me is like, 'man art is so much bs. seriously how does one art????'
February 6, 2019
I don't always understand modern art. This book helps
April 24, 2020
Have always struggled to fully understand contemporary art, can confidently say I still don’t 😂 Was great to read about the history and the meanings of all the pieces along with the artists behind them. However, I still believe aesthetically some pieces are just madness💥
November 24, 2022
This book answers the statement proclaimed in the title, however, the artists and works featured are predominantly those of white American or European men with few exceptions which is a painfully exclusive definition of ‘modern art.’
July 15, 2018
An attempted defence of the current reigning artistic paradigm: low-skill, high-concept, contemptuous of past, audience, and self; identitarian. Call it anaesthetic conceptualism. It is also a nice illustrated catalogue of some recent objects that have managed to piss various people off. 150 years ago, we direly needed people to make art larger, to stand against the Academic approach of Nice Hard Mimesis Only. The problem is that since the 50s many artists replaced that shallow spectacle of mere mimetic skill with the even shallower spectacle of empty originality and flashy cynicism. This book has such a patronising presentation; it could have been named "How to explain conceptualism to your five year-old". (I guess that could have been an intentional irony, but to me it just told me what she thinks of anyone sceptical of the trend. But some kudos for being clear, since this makes the hollowness of her points blatant.)
I have to applaud her; unlike the rest of her curator peers, she has at least attempted to justify a gigantically expensive, creativity-draining, status-hogging practice with close readings. I should also thank her for tacitly admitting that the only hermeneutics that can justify anaesthetic conceptualism is a small-minded and super-conservative intentionalism (i.e. 'what matters about the work is what the artist meant').* "It doesn't really matter how the object looks; what really matters is how deep the creator was and how much history you can project on it." But this philosophy of art is convincing to no-one not already invested in the great tedious playground. I dislike most of this art, and this way of talking about it, because I want to love art.***
Anyway, this is a useful catalogue of the kind of low-skill pieces that have only recently been possible and that you need to know about to move in certain presumably unbearable circles.
I have to applaud her; unlike the rest of her curator peers, she has at least attempted to justify a gigantically expensive, creativity-draining, status-hogging practice with close readings. I should also thank her for tacitly admitting that the only hermeneutics that can justify anaesthetic conceptualism is a small-minded and super-conservative intentionalism (i.e. 'what matters about the work is what the artist meant').* "It doesn't really matter how the object looks; what really matters is how deep the creator was and how much history you can project on it." But this philosophy of art is convincing to no-one not already invested in the great tedious playground. I dislike most of this art, and this way of talking about it, because I want to love art.***
Anyway, this is a useful catalogue of the kind of low-skill pieces that have only recently been possible and that you need to know about to move in certain presumably unbearable circles.
* Though the so-called intentional fallacy is not actually a fallacy** - it does not make sense to say that someone is literally mistaken to think that the creator's view of an artwork is the only relevant one, since aesthetic interpretation doesn't admit of literal error - instead it's just an incredibly limited and superstitious philosophy - along the same lines as deontology in ethics. It makes art a small and mostly ancient thing, while aesthetic experience could instead rise to each of the potential billions of minds that come to it, and it always takes place in the present, with entirely novel meanings generated, far beyond the ken of any creator.
** I'm aware that 'fallacy' has found usage outside of its original meaning, 'a failure in logical reasoning'. But the new usage, committed for instance by Beardsley, is something shitey like 'a horrible belief I don't like boo'. I'm generally torn between a descriptive and a prescriptive philosophy of vocabulary, but in this case the bullying and sloppy-mindedness of the new usage makes me deny it outright. Some words are too important to give up. (Mostly epistemology tbf.)
*** This is an unforgivably poncey thing to say, not least because I don't think I really mean it. If crap artists had not usurped a good portion of all the species' attention and reverence, I don't think I'd care what modern art was like. But as it is they are cheaters - even the great ones. They cheat themselves into immortality and perceived profundity via the handy expedient of prettiness and vagueness or ugliness and vagueness. In a way, they and we cheat malaria victims of huge sums, while the very people who claim to care about global injustices cheer us dumping more money into it, while saying things like 'life isn't worth living without art'. Well, maybe it wouldn't be, but life is not worth living if you're dead either, and there is enough art already.
April 7, 2016
Oops forgot to rate this...
This is an excellent light introduction to about a century's worth of art.
The title and concept I suspect were something invented by the publisher and not the author herself. There is a bubble beneath each piece of artwork explaining how a five year-old might have dreamt up the art pictured-- something the reader could do for themselves-- then going on to explain why it means more, something that the body of the text already did. I stopped reading these patronising little bubbles that, as I've just laid out, undermined the book's content, which was implicitly fulfilling the title's aim anyway.
I loved that on the Damien Hirst page, he says that if people spent more time in art galleries, they would understand conceptual art as much as they understand cinema, videogames, plays etc. Don't we all wish the public would pay more attention to our chosen artistic form-- but I agree. But conceptual art, like opera, will always remain decidedly niche for the simple reason that laymen don't have all the tools at hand to appreciate the artwork by absorbing it in its given form-- they do when they read fiction or watch a film, for example. What I mean is, I don't need to know that such and such a scene in a (good) film was a Kurosawa allusion if I'm still emotionally engaged, and as I've pointed out in other reviews, I don't care if your story's narrative is structured like a cat's anus so long as the flow is engaging (but narrative flow is frequently sacrificed when overly disciplined writers attempt to adhere to unusual structures.)
The choice of materials and format of most conceptual art doesn't start to resonate for people by itself. For example, I've been trying to watch the Cremaster films of Matthew Barney recently. In the second film, there is a character based on some real-life murderer from Utah, but his name is never mentioned, and there aren't enough clues in the film to work out his name to look up later. And it's not like Barney is making a statement about murderers in general, in which case it wouldn't matter who the murderer portrayed in the film was-- it does matter, but without external reading, I can't come to the film itself and gain all of its messages, and without external reading, we don't get the full commentary of conceptual art on its history or philosophical statements, which are the appeal of conceptual art to a much larger extent than these factors are the appeal of fiction or films meant for public consumption. I think what I'm trying to say is that there's something inherently more academic about conceptual art than other artistic media that lends itself more to critics than the public, in which case the occasional gaggle of snickerers who attend public showings of pieces are justified in their snickering.
But the conceptual art I love, I really love, and I loved this book as a method of finding more to love.
Felix Gonzalez-Torres' Untitled (Blue Placebo)
Damien Hirst's God Alone Knows
Jeff Koons' sculpture of Popeye
Louise Bourgeois' Maman
Yayoi Kusama's Pumpkin
Ai Weiwei's Sunflower Seeds
This is an excellent light introduction to about a century's worth of art.
The title and concept I suspect were something invented by the publisher and not the author herself. There is a bubble beneath each piece of artwork explaining how a five year-old might have dreamt up the art pictured-- something the reader could do for themselves-- then going on to explain why it means more, something that the body of the text already did. I stopped reading these patronising little bubbles that, as I've just laid out, undermined the book's content, which was implicitly fulfilling the title's aim anyway.
I loved that on the Damien Hirst page, he says that if people spent more time in art galleries, they would understand conceptual art as much as they understand cinema, videogames, plays etc. Don't we all wish the public would pay more attention to our chosen artistic form-- but I agree. But conceptual art, like opera, will always remain decidedly niche for the simple reason that laymen don't have all the tools at hand to appreciate the artwork by absorbing it in its given form-- they do when they read fiction or watch a film, for example. What I mean is, I don't need to know that such and such a scene in a (good) film was a Kurosawa allusion if I'm still emotionally engaged, and as I've pointed out in other reviews, I don't care if your story's narrative is structured like a cat's anus so long as the flow is engaging (but narrative flow is frequently sacrificed when overly disciplined writers attempt to adhere to unusual structures.)
The choice of materials and format of most conceptual art doesn't start to resonate for people by itself. For example, I've been trying to watch the Cremaster films of Matthew Barney recently. In the second film, there is a character based on some real-life murderer from Utah, but his name is never mentioned, and there aren't enough clues in the film to work out his name to look up later. And it's not like Barney is making a statement about murderers in general, in which case it wouldn't matter who the murderer portrayed in the film was-- it does matter, but without external reading, I can't come to the film itself and gain all of its messages, and without external reading, we don't get the full commentary of conceptual art on its history or philosophical statements, which are the appeal of conceptual art to a much larger extent than these factors are the appeal of fiction or films meant for public consumption. I think what I'm trying to say is that there's something inherently more academic about conceptual art than other artistic media that lends itself more to critics than the public, in which case the occasional gaggle of snickerers who attend public showings of pieces are justified in their snickering.
But the conceptual art I love, I really love, and I loved this book as a method of finding more to love.
Felix Gonzalez-Torres' Untitled (Blue Placebo)
Damien Hirst's God Alone Knows
Jeff Koons' sculpture of Popeye
Louise Bourgeois' Maman
Yayoi Kusama's Pumpkin
Ai Weiwei's Sunflower Seeds
July 8, 2019
Hodge’s writing and analysis: 4.5 stars
The ‘Why Your Five Year Old Could Not Have Done That’ question and answer she replies on every. single. page: 1 star
This book is great for people with an interest and respect for modern artists; Hodge is clearly a brilliant art writer, shown where she analyses the pieces. It’s something that would be really helpful to art students or fans of art that want to know more about these well-known pieces. However, her passion and talent is wasted on each paragraph where she answers the book’s main question - it’s pointless. Personally, I don’t think people that say ‘My five year old could’ve done that(?)’ are looking for an answer explaining, why the piece is more complex than it looks - but that’s what Hodge has given them. The book’s layout and redundant question let it down to no end. If you do decide to read it, have fun with the layout/order - it took me too long to realise that I prefer to read the paragraph about ‘why your five year old couldn’t have done that’ first, followed by the small paragraphs and then finally reading the big paragraph was the best way for me.
Overall: good for people that appreciate art and/or are interested in analysis about famous pieces.
The ‘Why Your Five Year Old Could Not Have Done That’ question and answer she replies on every. single. page: 1 star
This book is great for people with an interest and respect for modern artists; Hodge is clearly a brilliant art writer, shown where she analyses the pieces. It’s something that would be really helpful to art students or fans of art that want to know more about these well-known pieces. However, her passion and talent is wasted on each paragraph where she answers the book’s main question - it’s pointless. Personally, I don’t think people that say ‘My five year old could’ve done that(?)’ are looking for an answer explaining, why the piece is more complex than it looks - but that’s what Hodge has given them. The book’s layout and redundant question let it down to no end. If you do decide to read it, have fun with the layout/order - it took me too long to realise that I prefer to read the paragraph about ‘why your five year old couldn’t have done that’ first, followed by the small paragraphs and then finally reading the big paragraph was the best way for me.
Overall: good for people that appreciate art and/or are interested in analysis about famous pieces.
May 17, 2020
A very good replacement for a museum visit during pandemic. The reading experience is a bit like going through a gallery, watching the exhibits, and reading little clumps of text with commentary available in some museums. I really missed it under the lock down! I really enjoyed seeing the exhibits!
I can imagine this is also a decent coffee table book. Really a handy album in an (almost) pocket format. The prints are of good quality, and you can always read a single page without context and still enjoy.
The book is well published, looks nice, and easily attracts attention in museum shops. This is how I also got it. Once you get home you discover that this is a part of a larger series of "anything for dummies"., implying low quality and hasty writing. This is also exactly what you get. This is not a fascinating story about modern art for uninformed. It is a dry collection of disconnected pieces. Every page is an entry from a cheap encyclopiedia. Hodge reports disconnected facts and names, not making any attempt to actually explain or introduce readers to them. Fixed format, with several identical frames on each page does not help. The differences between the purpose of each frame blurs quickly. It is often clear that the author suffers the rigid format - she has nothin intelligent to say for many frames. It would be better to discuss every artist and every work in the best way for it, instead of fitting it into a rigid harness. Especially the frames addressing the titile question, whether a five year old could have done that, are irritating. We read lots of speculation about intentions of the authors being what places the work above children doodles. Personally, I would prefer not to read an answer to this question on every page. Convince me through an interesting story, instead of postulating that "they couldn't".
There is a thread in the book (*hugely* underexploited) about what is art. This is a fascinating topic, and a huge opportunity for a book like this. Unfortunately, Hodge, does not take a philisophical stance here. She basically absorbs the answers from presented artists, taking them for granted. We learn that art is not a skill, not a technique, it is not in the subject, not in esthetics, not in the artist's individuality, not even in the intentions or meaning. In the end the reader is left in a vacuum. Art seems to be nothing and everything, which makes the whole discussion uninteresting. Then you can actually conclude that indeed a 5 year old could have done it! Fortunately, the individual art pieces in the book often speak for themselves. And they defend well.
I can imagine this is also a decent coffee table book. Really a handy album in an (almost) pocket format. The prints are of good quality, and you can always read a single page without context and still enjoy.
The book is well published, looks nice, and easily attracts attention in museum shops. This is how I also got it. Once you get home you discover that this is a part of a larger series of "anything for dummies"., implying low quality and hasty writing. This is also exactly what you get. This is not a fascinating story about modern art for uninformed. It is a dry collection of disconnected pieces. Every page is an entry from a cheap encyclopiedia. Hodge reports disconnected facts and names, not making any attempt to actually explain or introduce readers to them. Fixed format, with several identical frames on each page does not help. The differences between the purpose of each frame blurs quickly. It is often clear that the author suffers the rigid format - she has nothin intelligent to say for many frames. It would be better to discuss every artist and every work in the best way for it, instead of fitting it into a rigid harness. Especially the frames addressing the titile question, whether a five year old could have done that, are irritating. We read lots of speculation about intentions of the authors being what places the work above children doodles. Personally, I would prefer not to read an answer to this question on every page. Convince me through an interesting story, instead of postulating that "they couldn't".
There is a thread in the book (*hugely* underexploited) about what is art. This is a fascinating topic, and a huge opportunity for a book like this. Unfortunately, Hodge, does not take a philisophical stance here. She basically absorbs the answers from presented artists, taking them for granted. We learn that art is not a skill, not a technique, it is not in the subject, not in esthetics, not in the artist's individuality, not even in the intentions or meaning. In the end the reader is left in a vacuum. Art seems to be nothing and everything, which makes the whole discussion uninteresting. Then you can actually conclude that indeed a 5 year old could have done it! Fortunately, the individual art pieces in the book often speak for themselves. And they defend well.
March 16, 2015
Now before I begin this review properly and I appreciate there has already been a lot of waffle, I should state that I do study art history at university, although mainly the pre-19th stuff and therefore my critic of this book could be coming from a slightly different place they the majority of people buying this book (or not as I really don't know who brought this book).
Lets start with the bad:
Firstly the layout of the book makes it very simple and easy to understand, all the pages have a strict layout with boxes for certain information such as the techniques box for example. Now while this was useful and certainly made the information more accessible, after a time I found the different boxes interrupted my reading flow. Secondly and this could have just been my personal pet peeve, but I got really annoyed with the formulaic way Susie Hodge would constantly refer to 'why a child', now I understand the whole book is aimed on saying why children couldn't have done that but did I need this repeated on every page! Amazingly I have a memory good enough to remember the premise of the book that I am reading.
Secondly I found the book offered very little artistic debate, instead it briefly skimmed over the key points about each art work and the artists and never went into any full depth as to why the artist choose to depict the concept of the inner self through the 'drip' technique using Pollock's One: Number 31 as an example.
Now onto the positives!
I did find that Hodge covered all the major art movements and key pieces in the last 200 years with works as recent as Damien Hirst's Spinning Wheels. Also on another positive note this book was easy to understand and the pictures of the artworks were of a good size so that you could actually see what was being discussed which I liked cause, well, it is an art book so the art is sort of a big deal :).
Personally I liked this book and it would certainly be perfect to read if you just wanted to find out something about modern art or even just to flick through while trying to kill 30 minutes as each page can be taken as a stand-alone article. Whether it truly answered my questions about modern art is a different matter, I felt like a lot was explained by saying the artists thought about what they did before they did, your child wouldn't have done that!
Overall a good introduction to modern art and as a book it has certainly left me intrigued enough that I am going to buy some more books on modern art, which will hopefully, more fully explain my doubts about the concepts of modern art.
Lets start with the bad:
Firstly the layout of the book makes it very simple and easy to understand, all the pages have a strict layout with boxes for certain information such as the techniques box for example. Now while this was useful and certainly made the information more accessible, after a time I found the different boxes interrupted my reading flow. Secondly and this could have just been my personal pet peeve, but I got really annoyed with the formulaic way Susie Hodge would constantly refer to 'why a child', now I understand the whole book is aimed on saying why children couldn't have done that but did I need this repeated on every page! Amazingly I have a memory good enough to remember the premise of the book that I am reading.
Secondly I found the book offered very little artistic debate, instead it briefly skimmed over the key points about each art work and the artists and never went into any full depth as to why the artist choose to depict the concept of the inner self through the 'drip' technique using Pollock's One: Number 31 as an example.
Now onto the positives!
I did find that Hodge covered all the major art movements and key pieces in the last 200 years with works as recent as Damien Hirst's Spinning Wheels. Also on another positive note this book was easy to understand and the pictures of the artworks were of a good size so that you could actually see what was being discussed which I liked cause, well, it is an art book so the art is sort of a big deal :).
Personally I liked this book and it would certainly be perfect to read if you just wanted to find out something about modern art or even just to flick through while trying to kill 30 minutes as each page can be taken as a stand-alone article. Whether it truly answered my questions about modern art is a different matter, I felt like a lot was explained by saying the artists thought about what they did before they did, your child wouldn't have done that!
Overall a good introduction to modern art and as a book it has certainly left me intrigued enough that I am going to buy some more books on modern art, which will hopefully, more fully explain my doubts about the concepts of modern art.
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February 17, 2014Clearly inspired by the refrain heard in modern art galleries the world over, Why Your Five-Year-Old Could Not Have Done That: Modern Art Explained is a great idea that doesn't quite meet its potential. As a primer on modern art, the book is ideal: it discusses major modern artworks with references to the artist's life, cultural influences and motivations, as well as the period in which each artwork was created. As a study of why a five-year-old couldn't create or replicate certain works, the book gives two reasons: a five-year-old could probably create a similar artwork, but wouldn't be able to explain or understand what the artwork is saying or why they created it (eg, Dali's Lobster Telephone, the work of Eva Hesse); and no, a five-year-old couldn't create a similar artwork, because they haven't had years of training (Magritte, Picasso, Hambling, etc).
To which I say, 'Duh.' And, 'Susie Hodge, you are selling children short.' If we teach kids about art, who says they couldn't explain their motivations and inspirations in the same way we expect adult artists to?
To which I say, 'Duh.' And, 'Susie Hodge, you are selling children short.' If we teach kids about art, who says they couldn't explain their motivations and inspirations in the same way we expect adult artists to?
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