The Technique of Beauty [17]

— [2.1] Artistic Freedom

Freedom belongs to the ontology of the imperative, to existence itself. Freedom does not mean unbridled arbitrariness, but is bound to the principles of morality. This applies not only to freedom in general, but also to artistic freedom. Were artistic freedom unrestrained, then in principle anything could be understood as art. As regards freedom in relation to the judgement of artistic quality, we have discussed the principles at length earlier. Not every free expression can be designated an expression of (pure) art. Freedom is channelled by these principles without compromising the autonomy of freedom itself. We may jump as high as we like, but gravity compels us to stand once more with both feet on the ground. We may wish for a violin to have five strings, but the four are a given, with which we are free to work. Naturally, we can build a violin with five strings, but then those five strings become the given.

With regard to the judgement of artistic quality, the question of the space of freedom does not seem all that complicated; with regard to freedom in artistic praxis, however, it appears less unequivocal. Can limits be indicated in the artistic subject, in the concept, and in the material?

Let us examine more closely the most radical concept, that of violence, by way of the following question: Can a work of art express or contain an act of violence? To this we may of course immediately answer that this is in fact always the case; squeezing paint from a tube, the playing of a high, long-sustained note by a trumpet, the endlessly prolonged triplet figure in the accompaniment to Schubert’s Erlkönig — all this may be understood as a form of violence. But let us choose a riskier example: during a radio interview on Norddeutscher Rundfunk on 18 September 2001, Karlheinz Stockhausen gave the following qualification of the attack on the World Trade Center in New York, namely: The greatest work of art ever. [Das größte Kunstwerk, dass es je gegeben hat.] “The greatest work of art in the whole cosmos,” he later added.

What arguments can be advanced for interpreting this attack as a work of art? Stockhausen spoke of the transgression of the limits of the thinkable and the possible, a task which many would certainly count among those of art. The act of “raising five thousand people into another dimension in a single moment” — he himself could not have done it; he was jealous. Here it must of course be noted that Stockhausen believed in a form of reincarnation, in the possibility of living again in a better world. Death is then perhaps not so bad after all, certainly not when it is the consequence of an ‘artistic act’. But was it that?

Before answering this question, a few more arguments that might justify qualifying the attack as a form of art. The attack may be regarded as ‘composed’; the entire action must have been carefully analysed, prepared, structured, rehearsed — all activities proper to art. Its timing, too, may serve as an example. First one tower, everyone stunned and holding their breath, and then, BAM! — the second tower; suspense of the highest order. The possible artistic expression is further evident in the many repeatedly broadcast images of the attack by the media, in slow motion, with Barber’s Adagio as accompaniment. The attack was immediately aestheticised by the media.

Moreover, the context in all layers of the attack must have been thoroughly understood and consistently applied, otherwise the attack could never have succeeded. All of this, too, must have been carried out with great passion and dedication. In short, it would seem that all manner of criteria for calling the attack a work of art have been met. So we return to the question: was this attack a work of art?

In the course of the interview it gradually became clear that Stockhausen had been taken by surprise by the question; his statement was a first impulse. Later in the interview he indicated that one thing had been entirely wrong: the audience of the artwork, which had been destroyed by the work, had not been asked for permission, and for that reason it was nevertheless a crime. Here we arrive at an essential point: the devoted involvement of all participants in the act, not only the makers and performers, but also the audience. Where this is absent, we cannot regard the act as a work of art.

Let us consider another example, one that likewise made use of destructive violence: Erased De Kooning Drawing by Robert Rauschenberg. When Willem de Kooning was asked by Rauschenberg to surrender a drawing for destruction — in exchange for a bottle of bourbon, the image to be erased by Rauschenberg — he hesitated at first. But after some reflection he gave in, with the words: I’ll want it to be something I’ll miss. In that case there is not merely mutual consent, but mutual affection.

Violence, then, is certainly a possible ingredient of art, but there must be affection, and therefore consent, on the part of all those involved.

— Cornelis de Bondt, from: The Technique of Beauty — 17. Opera Pura [2018]