The saying “Jack of all trades, master of none” might apply to most areas of life, but I don’t believe art is one of them. Out of all the types of skills to have, artistic competency has to be one of the most malleable because of its inclusion of more than simply technical ability. Making broad generalizations about anything creatively done is something worth straying away from, but I think there is something to be said about what makes truly great art.
Artistic interpretation might be able to be critiqued objectively by a trained eye and conditioned mind, well-versed in the various schools and techniques, but in the end subjectivity dominates. Cubism probably has some artistic merit and technical value, but to me I feel nothing when I look at it. This doesn’t mean it is bad art, it just means I don’t particularly enjoy it. A work of art can be technically good, but lacking on a deeper level.
I love the Hudson River School, a mid-19th century art movement, and all of the magnificent landscape paintings of early America that came out of it, but it’s not solely the beautiful nature scenes and warm colors that attract me to it; it’s the history that lies beneath each canvas. They are not just realistic paintings of the Catskill Mountain range in New York, but an untamed continent waiting to be explored. I don’t see a romantic painting of upstate New York; I see a massive and intimidating wilderness glaring back at me, daring someone to traverse it. The paintings are physical embodiments of the Manifest Destiny, and it is this historical substance underneath each Hudson River School painting that lures me in.
To enjoy art is to not simply acknowledge a certain aptitude or competence present in it. True appreciation and enjoyment comes from something far more abstract and shapeless. Good art brings meaning to the table and is more than just colors, shapes or sounds. It evokes new feelings and thoughts you wouldn’t have otherwise conjured up. A much harder element to understand is the artist.
Artists successful in one medium are likely successful because they create art people enjoy, but I have never understood why so few artists dabble in other forms of expression. It doesn’t matter if a musician isn’t trained in painting or if a sculptor isn’t trained in songwriting. It’s about more than technical skill; it’s about expression. A successful artist in one medium has already demonstrated a mastery of expressing themselves and creating something from nothing. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have achieved such success. Since the true distinguishing factor in good art is the ability to express or evoke deep ideas and emotions through it, I feel like these individuals would create far better art in a new format than many would think.
What brought these thoughts to mind was the recent release of “Neo Yokio,” an anime TV series on Netflix. What makes “Neo Yokio” unique is its creator, Ezra Koenig, the front man of the rock band Vampire Weekend. “Neo Yokio” has not received positive reviews at all. Many online reviews have already deemed it a failed attempt at anime and express opinions that Koenig needs to stick to his day job of writing music, but I do not think so. “Neo Yokio” is evidence of a genuine creator, a borderless artist with a strong sense of direction. Great artists transcend a single medium and simply create. An artist’s stylistic touch can manifest itself across all mediums of expression. “Neo Yokio” somehow feels related to a Vampire Weekend album, an abstract connection that traverses mediums. Such an effect is due to common themes woven between both projects, in a way making them part of the same family. The show confronts the topics of wealth and urban love and is a satirical take on our entire class system — the same themes present in Vampire Weekend’s catalog.
The concept of a multiplatform artist is tragically underused and should be encouraged. The ability to create impactful art is found in very few, and the transition across mediums is admirable. So what if “Neo Yokio” turns out to be a failure? If it crashes and burns, then its shortcomings will only amount to a business failure, not an artistic one.
Andrew Hall is a UF management senior. His column appears on Fridays.
