Autographic vs Allographic
See also:    [???? name ???]  __ THE source article that started it all...
                     (dammed edetic t3 memory (on sale at the brain bank....)

            -[Authenticity and Originality]-
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Of Authentic and Realistic Works of Art

In the post-9/11 era that we now find ourselves in, everything must be
thrown open to question, to debate. This goes especially for the arts, and
specifically for my own field: The Visual Arts.

There are two major concerns/problems that I see as center-stage
in the on-going debate as to what art is, and what purposes art serves.
(If not center-stage, then at least a major actor in the drama called "art".)

Two essays that caught my attention were those by Nelson Goodman and
Linda Nochlin. A brief review of
the "problem" is in order. The two parts of the problem are: Should we be
concerned about forgeries in an age when reproductions are common? And
what is the role of realism in a world that is surrounded by the ultra-real
images that are manufactured using computers and other technology.

Autographic vs Allographic

The first part was prompted by the recent theft of Edvard Munch's "The Scream".
The fact that there are four versions of this painting, makes one pause as to
think, "Well, at least we have the other two". This was triggered in my re-reading
Nelson Goodman's essay on "autographic" vs "allographic" art forms.  

According to my "reading" of Goodman, an "autographic" art form would be 
something like a painting or a sculpture. That is, there is (assumed) inherent 
"value" in the original work of art. This is to be true, even if a fake (forgery) 
is so good that it would take microscopic or chemical analysis to determine 
one from the other. 

In terms of "allographic" art, Goodman gives the example of print. The prints
are "pulled" from a plate and are as such "copies" of the plate. The idea here
is (as I interpret it), that the plate is the *autographic* art form, and the
prints pulled are the *allographic* forms -- copies. Of course, this begs the
question of "editioning". In theory (and according to "proper" practise), each
print should be signed by the original artist, the edition should be numbered,
and the plate should be "struck"; ie, marked in some matter to denote a 
difference, by which any successive prints could be identified from the first
edition. (Full striking of the plate, means that the plate is cut into at lest
two parts, or otherwise rendered un-usuable for further prints; there is
a long, and sordid history of this with *collectors*).

Another allographic form, is that of a score of a work of music. For example,
if we have a copy of a Mozart piece of music (eg, "The Marriage of Figaro"),
then a copy does not matter, the original manuscript (MS) is the autographic
work. And copies are intended to be perfect copies of the original, so that
the *performance* can be an allographic "copy" of the original (autographic)
"work". The problem with music in this sense, continues far a-field from the
visual arts; eg, the various problems in traditional notation as applied to jazz,
led Charles Mingus to hold a workshop
to adapt musical notation. This problem becomse totally manifest in the
case of either classical forms (eg, ballet), or in the case of more modern
works; ie, performance, happenings, installations, etc..

Ceramics & Printmaking

Even if we contain ourselves to the visual arts, we see the problem of
autographic vs allographic as we wander through the various art forms.
In the case of ceramics (hand-thrown or rope-built) of "sets". For example,
a tea set is (in some cases), intended to be made in identical pieces. [Please
suspend comments about the so-called "intentionalist" fallacy until later.]

Each cup is intended to be identical to the others. Of course, the uncertainty 
of fire-ing, glazes, etc., means that this is rarely the case.  One approach is
to make an large number of cups, then after all is done, choose the set
that most looks like each other.  It might (for example) be the case to make
20 cups, and find one *set* of 8 that are "identical", and another set of 
6 that are "identical", and the remaining ones are right off.

This is similar to the problem of editioning a print. Even if all goes well, the chances
of each successive print being part of the edition are questionable. This is esp. true
in the case of multiple plat prints, multiple colour prints, etc. Common practice is
to take the prints that most closely resemble each other and call *that* the edition.
For example, 40 3-color prints are pulled, and of those 18 are judged to be effectively
"identical" and then numbered 1/18 thru 18/18. Of course, such practices are never
carried out (this is merely a theoretical discussion of "something" called "common
practice"; whenever *cololectors* are involved, litigattion is sure to follow.

Again, we have been begging the question of "identical" as well. And thus,
return to Goodman's original idea of "how good a fake" and "Why is the authentic
work of value, if forgeries can be so perfect?" (His article outlines even more ides
that would take us far a-field, and far be it for me to *ever* digress ;)

The Role of the New Realism

Just as for the ceramist intent of making a perfect tea set, the modern realists are
intent on mimicing the photograph; ie, making the perfect photo via paint. As Nochlin
points out, the context of the modern painter is dependent upon our modern world;.
As she points out,

      "... Instead of using photographs, Pearlstein has,  
        as far as possible, transformed himself into a camera, and has 
        assimilated many of the many of the characteristics normally 
        associated with photography, such as arbitrary cropping, the
        close-up, and radical disjunction of scale, to his painting style."
                              [Realism Now, Nochlin, P5.]
 
Another relevant that she states:

      "The act of perception is itself total, condition both in its mode and    
        in its content by time, place, and concrete situation. While it may        
        be willfully objective -- and realists have traditionally tried to
        divest themselves of personal and cultural impedimenta -- it 
        can not occur in a vacuum; it is this that makes the new realism
        so new and so completely of our time. Courbet's nudes
        could never have looked like Pearlstein's or Beal's or Leslie's  
        How could they, since they were painted before the invention of 
        the close-up, the flood lamp, or phenomenology  Laderman's 
        West Side Highway landscpae could never have been painted
        by Pisarro, even though both 
        were scrupulously recording visual facts, not merely because
        the West Side Highway did not exist when and where Pisarro
        was painting, but because Picturamic Postcard Vues and 
        concepts like alienation and distancing were unavailable
        as well.   [Loc Cit, P6]

Thus, far from "merely" being photgraphic, some realists envisage a painting
as if taken through a Camera Obscura that in fact
gives us more than a mere camera could. My favrorite example of this is 
Alice Neel. Of what need have she
for ultra-realistic photgraphic form, when she captures the essence far
more effectively? And what are we to make of Cindy Sherman's manufactured
realities? Somewhere in there, must lie some "truth".

A Point of Clarification

In trying to keep with the spirit of Nochlin's idea of realism (ie, photo realism,
or at least renaissance-style realism), I will now extend this to mean *any*
image that is clearly recognizable in terms of the "cultural database". I do this
in light of the intenet where-by almost any information in human history can
be called up by the touch of a button. Thus, even though we might see the 
blotchiness of Warhol's Dollar Signs, I tend to think
of it as realism (if only slightly so). There is not much chance of one mistaking 
the work for an imaginative snake image, or a type-o-graphic "s" of some
sort; it is clearly a dollar sign. 

In fact this, brings up an interesting side-bar. What is the nature of "realism"
when applied to "type" or even geometric figures?  If we take a letter

     S

Then what are we mkae of: S   ?

If we follow this track, much further we might be tempted to say that the "role"
of realism in the modern era is to achieve more easily something that might not
be easily realised by actual photographic techniques. This is especially true
of *computer generated* images; we will speak more about this in a later essay.

Actually, whether an image IS realistic "enough" is again made moot, by the fact
that a "copy of sufficient quuality" can be considered a forgery of the original
art work. Thus, we might have a Pearlstein work, and then a very good forgery.
(Taking into account, as does Goodman, that it would take a person skilled in
forgery as well as one who is well grounded in the artist's work; eg, brush 
stroke, thickness of paint, use of masking, the *order* in which the colors
are laid down, etc)

It is also important to note that it is the purpose of book publishers to come as
close as possible to faithfully "forging" copies of the original work; we, refer to
this as "publishing", since it is the *intent* of the book publisher to inform, not
to deceive. Naturally, unless textured reproductions are made the flat surface
clearly demarks the image from the original -- or so we assume! (Again an 
interesting side-bar on a ink-jet printer that uses oil or acrylic paint and creates
a topographically as well as chromatically faithful "copy" of a work of art).

But, alas; I digress.

Forward into the Past

When Pablo Picasso painted "Guernica", he stated
that art could never again just be decoration. The work also made plain that
all of this "cubism stuff" could be brought to deliver a message just as elloquent
and direct as Francisco Goya's "The Third of May, 1808". It was at this
point that "mere" cubism crossed over from being a style into the realm of
the "drawerly" way of art; ie, into the realm of one of the simplest of visual 
arts and certainly one of the most ancient.

Thus, with repetition,  emphasizes the all-encompasing
image that we in the "modern" world are in-undated with. Thus, where-as 
Goya reveals to us the horrors of war by showing us different people and
their actions and re-actions, Warhol (eg, in "The Tuna Fish Disasters") makes
the same *concept* of personal loss and death even more personal and direct.
Thus, allographic images are combined into a unique autographic work. This is
to be expected, since the "tea set" is of the same nature; the "set" as a whole
being the autographic object.

Both in purely visual art, as well as performance and film, is this concept of 
repetition important. It establishes a "feel", by which the entire work is
then held together more completely by the fact that we "know" that repetition
is being used. For example, in Aronofski's movie, Pi, the
use of exactly the same sound/film clip where "Max" (Sean Gillete) taking pills to stave off
an on-coming migrane headache, create a continuity similar to Samuel Beckett's use
of the circularity of dialog and circumstance in Waiting for Godot are
used to build the struggle between hope and hope-lessnes. 

In both cases, the allographic components can be seen, and they are combined
to create the autographic work. 

It is important to re-note that each "allographic" component is in fact an *instance*
of an autographic "thing".  Thus, as Didi keeps checking his hat for lice or something
and then saying, "Nothing to be done" -- that autographic element is cast over and
over into various allographic bits -- separated only what has come before. And as
Beckette makes clear: The repeition oF TIME is un-ending, that no one in the play
has any idea of what time it is. Time being only marked by "before sunset" or 
"after sunset".

Further into the Past: Infinity

In Jackson Pollock's 
created for Peggy 
Gugenheim's long, narrow hallway. The concept of infinity is again introduced by repetition.

This can again be seen in Konstantin Brancusi's 
infinite column. The unique autographic forms
are combined allographically to create the over-all autographic form.

We have to note here that the very text that you are reading is an example of this. The
autographic characters are being used as allographs (orthographic symbols) to create
a unique line of text; see for example, Jorge Luis Borges' Library of Babel.

Finally, one is led (I would hope) to the in-escapable conclusion that each
work of art  in human history are each autographic elements
(composted of allographic applications of the autographic "things" called
"brush strokes", "splotches paint", and "pinches of clay", etc. And thus,
all of art devolves to (as Marcel Duchamp put it 
almost 100 years ago) to ready-made assisted. But, now having gone 
through this exercise of autographic and allographic forms, we can now
say:

    The sum toto of all art (at any given moment) is an 
    absolutely realistic autograhic work.

We then extend this to include all forgeries, copies, photo reproductions,
and indeed, all art students's drawings of famous works, as well as all
sketches in all sketch books to be the *now extant* "thing" called ART.

(it was at this point that the some-what learned, and quite-some-what
near-sighted lecturer, stepped off of his soap box, and fell face-first
into a quite recently deposited load of horse hockey, and that it struck
him (as he struck the horse hockey) that if only David Hockney or Philip
Pearlstein had been present to "capture" the moment, that his entire
thesis would have been proved, "qed" (quod erat demonstratum).

-- or not,

Night all,

Pizo.


The Original Article

I wrote these as reviews of the Fall, 2004, BCSA Student Art Exhibit. It was
not published, no explanation given; instead, they chose to run a review of
the Chucky II movie (or one of those numbers), as well as a game review.
Enjoy!

The role of art in the post-post-modern world has been in contention since 
Jackson Pollock first dripped painted down onto a canvas rather than took 
the “traditional brush in hand” approach. The first of three successive 
exhibits of student works on display in the Forum and Studio galleries 
strongly enter into the dialog of “What is Art for?”

The art historian and philosopher Nelson Goodman questioned the role of 
an original work of art in the modern world. If the techniques used by 
forgers are so good that microscopic and chemical analysis have difficulty 
in discerning the original from the fake. He articulated the concepts of 
“autographic” and “allographic” forms of art. A painting or a sculpture is 
autographic, while any copy of a musical score of a piece by Beethoven 
is not a forgery since the music itself is allographic. Since the score itself 
it “merely” a means of specifying the art work itself; ie, the performance 
of the piece of music.

In the modern, photographic, digital-enabled, web-ready world, what then 
is the role of life drawing, or drawing in general for that matter? For example, 
Priscilla Lima’s drawing of an old woman, titled “Beauty” shows us the image 
of a person who would hardly be considered anything but “plain” in today’s 
glitzy Hollywood crazed world where people spend fortunes to remake 
themselves into “beautiful people”. The very image screams for the portrayed 
woman to be sent on TV for a complete make-over. And yet, Lima’s drawing 
reveals a sensitivity to the person drawn that would be lost in almost any 
photograph. Needless to say, a make-over would erase the very character 
of the person portrayed. Thus art seems to break the rule: Beauty is what 
the majority thinks it is; or at least what TV would have us believe it is.

Similarly, the “rules” are broken by the two collage pieces by Virginia 
Robertson (Collage Series: Fall 2004) and Rani L. Rautela (Dot Study). The 
pieces purport to be drawings and yet seem either disjointed as if uncertain 
of concept (in the case of Robertson’s piece) or almost deranged (in the 
case of Rautela’s piece). But, both are purely autographic pieces. Each is 
a unique solution to the great question of “What is Art?”; each explores the 
use of two dimensional space in unique ways that would perplex most people 
who think that “Great Art” begins and ends with the Renaissance. Each piece 
succeeds, simply because it IS modern; in short, it takes chances – breaks the 
rules.

In addition the drawings and design pieces, small metals and 2-design works 
are included. Indeed, these works as well “break the rules”. The three-
dimensionalzed versions of various Picasso drawings of women are “beautiful”,
only because we are all familiar with the authentic cubist drawings by Picasso. 
Hence, the two-dimensional is given 3-dimensional form. Thus, far from 
pretending to be forgeries of Picasso’s work, they celebrate the originality of 
the work. Thus, passing through the stages of becoming allographic 
representations of Picasso’s autographic “script” and upon contemplation, are 
clearly autographic in their own right.

And the reverse process can be seen in the work of Zoetina Veal’s (Trichosis #0) 
and Resi Douglas (Tranquility) where by the electric nature of line and shadow, 
they essentially force the two dimensional work off the picture plane and into 
the third dimension. Other works go even further.

Ceramics (unlike sculpture) relies entirely upon the creation of unique works 
of art. Each piece is therefore completely autographic. However, the concept 
of repetition presents an almost allographic question. For example, if a ceramist 
creates a series of pieces in a tea set. The pieces even though “hand thrown” 
on a wheel, are all unique. That the ceramist has tried their best to make the 
pieces identical (as intent, we assume), does not deny the actual uniqueness 
of the pieces.

In the display the Studio Gallery, the ceramic works on display are all entirely 
unique from each other. Whether it was the intent of each artist to create 
autographically unique pieces (ie, clearly different from the works of other 
artists, or from their own work), or to create allographic copies of some other 
work is a question that can not be answered easily. Each piece on display carries 
with a heavy burden in the context of art history and the philosophy of the 
aesthetics. Regardless, the works captivate us with both their diversity of 
physical appearance, as well as their unity in the world of ceramics. 

For ceramics, the great “dividing distinction” is: Functional or non-Functional? 
But the question in terms of the “fine arts” is hardly as clear-cut as it might 
appear. For example, Aaron B.W. Ostrom’s “Toucan at Inguacu” ostensibly 
purports to be serving tray; clearly functional. However, its aesthetic decries 
this in the detail to which the work is approached. Surely, the simpler 
approach would have been to paint a picture (take a picture), laminate it 
to a wooden tray, and then use it as a commonplace serving tray. That this 
work of art might be considered “purely” functional is at best specious. 

On the other hand, Marilu Delgado’s “Primitive Women” purports to be a 
statue, about as non-functional as one might expect. Yet, clearly it could be 
used as a paperweight, pencil holder, or even as a doorstop. That such 
effronteries might offend the so-called “art loving public”, should be held 
off by Marcel Duchamp’s concept of the reverse ready-made; eg, he 
proposed using a Rembrandt as an ironing board. His most famous 
(or infamously held by the art loving public) ready-made was of course 
the urinal, turned on it’s back and titled “Fountain”.

In addition the works in the Studio Gallery, the Forum Gallery exhibits 
photographs, digital works, prints, and watercolors. In addition there 
are two installed pieces by Jorge Misum; “Cornerstone” and “Peace”. 
The corner-installed piece (Cornerstone) echoes back to an installation 
piece by Joseph Beuys wherein he tossed bits of animal fat into a corner, 
filling the space much in the same way as Misum’s piece does. Interworking 
with Misum’s first piece, his ceramics instructor, Du Chau challenged Misum 
to introduce a piece that embodies the concept of “peace”. The fragility of 
the installed piece is readily apparent, whether it achieved its goal the 
viewer will have to decide for themselves. 

PART THREE

The final exhibit in the fall student art show will encompass those two vast 
and mighty areas of art: Painting and Sculpture. For much of the art loving 
public, this is what “real art” is. Each student will choose their one best 
piece that expresses what they fill is their best work. For some, this will be 
a representational work that attempts to mimic the photograph. For some, 
the works will be completely abstract, and thus attempting to enter into the 
dialog of the modern.

With Duchamp’s attempt to introduce a urinal as a work of sculpture, most 
art historians agree that this change in the dialog of art began the modern 
era. If we take a photograph of an assembly line making urinals, then our 
photograph is “mere” documentation of manufacture of functional plumbing. 
If, however, we take the photo so that it captures a certain “look” about the 
assembly line (perhaps the use of repetition, perhaps the composition of the 
break of space, etc). In that case, one could maintain that the photograph 
itself was a work of art; and therefore, not “mere” documentation. 

And while the works of painting are clearly autographic, what are we to make 
of cast sculpture? Clearly hand-wrought, one-of-a-kind sculpture (like ceramic 
pieces) are autographic and therefore unique works of art. But, of the casting 
of several pieces, what are we to say? If we “assume” that the castings are 
made with the direction or permission of the artist (even if the artist was not 
involved in the actual casting of the piece from a mold that was made at the 
behest of the artist), then we are faced with the apparent dilemma of 
deciding whether the works are autographic, or merely allographic copies 
and that only the original form (from which the mold was made) is the only 
autographic work; and hence the autographic work becomes the mold, rather 
than the casting. 

The most famous example of this problem is that of August Rodin’s statue, 
“The Thinker”. The original cast statue was considered obscene and destroyed. 
The version that exists today is the second casting. Indeed, there are several 
castings of Rodin’s statue “Balzac”. Without falling prey to the so-called 
“intentionalist fallacy”, it is clear that the reproductions reference the original 
work (whether it be the first casting or the mold itself). As you walk among this 
exhibit, let these questions of the original work, a photograph of the work, and 
this (written) description of the work enter into your mind. These are the kinds 
of thoughts that artists often entertain while creating art.

This, and the questions: What IS art? Why am I doing this? And of course: Where 
am I going to get money to by some more cadmium yellow, deep hue paint?