Art, Amusement, Sport and Play

The Olympic Games in Paris were a resounding success for the Netherlands this past summer. During these Games, a call echoed through the media for increased funding for the performing arts, particularly music. After all, young practitioners of these arts also harbor ‘Olympic’ ambitions, even as most amateur orchestras and choirs had been cut just prior to the Games. Substantial subsidies flow into sports, but even that sector now faces budget cuts. However, the likelihood of protests yielding results is significantly higher in sports, especially after the triumphs at the Games, than it is for the performing arts.

While the comparison between art and sport in this plea is understandable for opportunistic reasons, it ultimately falls short. Both art and sport involve a play element, and play is an essential human activity. However, the distinction lies in the nature of the rules. In sports and games, rules remain fixed during play. Chess pieces cannot suddenly gain new moves mid-game; the offside rule in soccer cannot be abolished during a match, nor can the game continue with two balls. The 110-meter hurdles won’t suddenly be extended by a few meters mid-race. Similarly, stand-up comedy without jokes is unthinkable. Amusement relies on the predictability of rules. In art, however, the creation of the ‘rules’ is part of the artistic act. These rules are continuously questioned, exaggerated, inverted, or outright ignored.

Of course, rules always exist. A classical violin has four strings, with the G string being the lowest in pitch. That’s a given, much like the moves in chess. However, the G string can be tuned differently, say to an F-sharp — even during performance. One could argue that chess can also be modified. For instance, blitz chess reduces the average time per move. Yet the aforementioned distinction remains: rule modifications in sports or games aim solely to heighten entertainment value. It’s all about making things faster and flashier.

Amusement, sport, and play are tied to financial interests. Their rules serve these interests. Art that does not aim to entertain is unburdened by such interests; its rules exist solely to serve the artwork. Art may have entertainment value, but it is not a prerequisite. In such cases, entertainment becomes part of the artistic concept. Art that seeks beauty, emotion, or audience engagement is indeed a form of entertainment — and there’s nothing wrong with that, as long as it’s called what it is.

Since the 1990s, increasing pressure has been placed on art subsidies from various governments, notably during the tenures of Rick van der Ploeg, Medy van der Laan, Ronald Plasterk, and Halbe Zijlstra. Local governments followed the national example. The ‘general public’ had become alienated from art, making it increasingly difficult for policymakers to justify subsidies. The rapid advancement of technology played a significant role in this development.

Reading has declined, and young people primarily engage with digital media aimed solely at entertainment. Everything must be flashy, avoiding depth at all costs. Speed and short-term gratification are the order of the day. And yes, such entertainment is undeniably appealing, and the technological quality can be stunningly high. It’s as seductive as the Sirens — and just as deadly.

What is the essence of amusement? When is something ‘amusing’? Let’s examine cabaret more closely. First, there is humor-laugh-or-I’ll-shoot jokes, preferably involving silly wordplay that we can easily understand. Speed is an absolute necessity. But there’s also the ’emotional chord’, a moment of reflection, often paired with a sentimental chanson. ‘A laugh and a tear’ works wonders. Boundaries of propriety are played with, but carefully so; it will never truly cross the line. After all, the evening must remain enjoyable — the cash register must keep ringing. Cabaret, and amusement in general, must be comfortable. It may reference pain, but it must never truly hurt. The risks are counterfeit. We pretend to take risks, but deep down, we all know better. This ‘humor’ should not be confused with romantic-idealistic irony, which carries genuine seriousness. In amusement, seriousness is feigned, never dangerous or unsettling. These principles of the entertainment industry have become guiding factors in art policy. Audience engagement, risk-free entertainment, and profit models — concepts originating from the realm of amusement — now dictate the direction of art policy.

Judgement of art has come not only from right-wing populist circles but also from the comedic sphere, where artists are accused of failing to ‘stand on their own two feet’. Cabaret performers proudly flaunt their ‘critical’ and ‘progressive’ ideals because it suits the trade. Audiences eat it up: ‘Wow, that comedian really pushed the boundaries — but it was fun, right?’ It’s a form of gentrification.

Even leftist circles have targeted art, especially classical Western music, labeling it a product of the ‘colonialist, white cis-gendered male’ culture. Bach and Beethoven, white men living in colonial societies, are not celebrated for their artistic merit but as products of bourgeois power structures. The genius attributed to them is deemed a construct of these structures. Exclusive artistic talent does not exist. Declaring Beethoven or Bach as exceptional composers is unacceptable; universal artistic judgments are merely political, not artistic, in nature.

This political perspective reduces art to individual evaluation, a form of egalitarianism. Taste judgments, though permissible within this system, must remain personal, without overarching criteria. Thus, compositions or novels are dismissed as ‘boring’ or ‘exciting’, as ‘urgent’, or even ‘too long’. Imagine calling a painting ‘too large’!

This trend eliminates technical evaluation of literature or music, as such judgments require overarching criteria, which are deliberately avoided. Here lies a similarity between right- and left-wing perspectives — whatever those terms may mean. Both reject universal artistic evaluation: the right emphasizes audience numbers, while the left politicizes taste. In both cases, taste becomes purely personal.

The overlap between these views is evident in subsidy policies emphasizing ‘inclusion and diversity’, ‘fair practice’, and ‘fair pay’. While ostensibly leftist ideals, these have subordinated artistic content, aligning the outcomes with right-wing priorities: the public determines the chosen work. Leftist doctrines inadvertently produce right-wing art policies. Only pseudo-art remains eligible for subsidies. Left or right — it’s all the same.

There is the ‘right-wing heaven’, ruled by market forces, and the ‘left-wing heaven’, driven by egalitarian politics. In heaven, there is no pain — only sterile happiness. But without pain, there is no feeling, only the coldness of indifference. And so, I prefer the warmth of hell.

— Cornelis de Bondt, August 24, 2024