Dennis Clayson | Posted: Monday, June 9, 2008 12:00 am
On occasion in this space, I like to keep abreast of our more famous University of Northern Iowa graduates. Since I am an art aficionado, I have tried in the past to keep current on the times and career of Justin Case, UNI's most celebrated art graduate.
As the regular readers of this column will recall, Case was concerned about modern art. Most of it is ugly and unskilled, but justified by the art community by three rather loose rules or constructs. First, true art must make us think. Second, true art must create emotion and challenge convention. This is done rather simply in most cases by attempting to shock the viewer (pardon me, "experiencer"). Third, since modern art can be produced by almost anyone, art is not art unless the art is produced by an artist.
The corollary to rule three is that anything produced by an artist can be claimed by that artist to be a piece of art.
Case realized that spray painting swastikas on Jewish synagogues would satisfy all of the rules, but such an act would be criminal, and would gain nothing. That is, by violating the law, political correctness would not be advanced.
Unlike so many artists, this actually bothered Case.
On a hot day in August, Case had painted himself blue and chained himself to a 1960 Volkswagen doing a piece of performance art when he had something of an epiphany.
All the contradictions about the nature of art could be resolved by simply recognizing that modern art was all about thought, ideology, and emotion, and, except for execution, had nothing to do with anything actually produced.
With this insight, Case began a new art movement -- could we say, even a new art revolution called Refusalism.
The basic tenet of Refusalism is that true art can not be achieved if art is actually produced. An artist conceives of the art, but must never produce it, i.e., he or she refuses to actually construct the piece.
Case began showing his art, which consisted of blank walls with little titles under the blank space in New York galleries. He was an instant sensation. The East Coast art crowd was simply gaga over Case's work.
He was, of course, widely prolific producing work in a constant stream of blank walls and creative titles. His most famous piece, which sold for over $3 million, was a blank wall with a blank title.
Case had a huge following until he actually produced a large pyramid of honeydew melons with a blinking neon cherry on top. His followers were outraged that he had violated the first tenet of Refusalism and a huge controversy developed. Case's only defense was, "Well, I had all these honeydews."
The fuss got so bad that Case moved to Montana and hid out in Hamilton in a mansion made of logs.
So imagine my surprise when last week, as I wandered through Stanley Park in Vancouver, I saw Case sitting in the shade of a giant cedar tree drawing portraits of tourists in charcoal.
Case was wearing a tattered UNI sweatshirt and was rendering some of the most startling photographic-like images I had ever seen. Each, however, was totally unique and carried a nuance that was an extraordinary complex amalgamation of both Case and the subject.
He was selling them for $100 Canadian, which seems to be worth about $200 American. There was a long line of potential customers waiting patiently for their turn.
An article in the local newspaper written by a Vancouver art critic indicated outrage at what Case was doing. It seems that another local artist, who specializes in throwing vomit-colored hot plastic at a wall, had broken down in tears and threatened to commit suicide or move to the United States when he learned that Case was wasting his artistic talents.
"It is so sad," he explained between sobs, "that an artist with such potential is wasting it in such a commercial manner." He stated that Refusalism may never recover from the apostasy of its founder.
"Case," he surmised, "has sold out to commercialism. He no longer seeks out government funding, or sells his work to rich patrons in New York and LA. Instead he draws pictures of tourists. It is all very sad, and very disturbing."
But it was a nice day in the park, and Case was smiling.