We live in interesting times. Here we are at the precipice of multiple global conflicts in pretty much every major region of the world, as all the worst parts of the cyberpunk dystopia come true. We live in a time amidst a resurgence in the ideologies that led to the greatest atrocities known to man, increasing isolation and authoritarianism as the dreams of democracy and universal rights fall again to fear, misinformation and tribalism. The looming spectre of climate change hangs over the global population like the Sword of Damocles, though we were never given a choice to not sit under it, and we experience it as a set of social media videos that get increasingly closer until we are the ones recording. And yet we continue as best we can, and we still make art. But why?
Recession pop is a well-documented phenomena that stretches much further into the past than just the 2008 financial crash. The Great Depression saw jazz and swing sweep across the United States, artists like Lady Gaga and Pitbull dominated the post-Recession airwaves and in the 2020’s we have Chappell Roan, Charlie XCX and Sabrina Carpenter to bump to as the world burns around us. One reading of art’s importance in times like these is as an escape and disregard of reality. This isn’t to diminish the art as vapid or surface-level, I personally quite enjoy the different expressions of queer love, queerness and lesbian romance in Chappell’s music, but anecdotally the messages of enjoying life and dancing to forget our problems to addictive beats and soothing vocals are to many the outlet they need in an otherwise bleak environment.
One of my all-time favorite pieces of art is Wafaa Bilal’s “Shoot an Iraqi” performance in 2007 wherein the Iraqi artist put himself in a room with a paintball gun that was controlled by an internet chatroom, and at their prompting shot at him. Coming at the height of the Iraq War and the mission of “spreading democracy” across the world, and in a post-2001 America hungry for revenge and reassertion of global dominance, this art spoke to both the bloodthirst of the public, the internet as a vector of hatred and the dehumanization of Muslim identities in the US. Picasso’s “Guernica” was a direct response to the Nazi and Italian fascist devastation of Guernica in Spain, later elevated to be a broader symbol of anti-war idealism. There’s a piece of art that goes viral every so often: “Can’t Help Myself” by Sun Yuan and Peng Yu. A robot arm tries and fails to sweep a pool of blood-colored liquid back into itself in languid and tired movements. For me, it serves as a reflection of how futile existence can feel as society collapses, trying to contain an ever-growing pool of yourself that continuously leaks as you lose energy and the will to continue. Art being a reflection of contemporary reality is not a hot take by any means, but is still important for a few reasons especially now.
Authoritarianism creates an alternate reality for us all to live in, controlled by those in power. Protests become terrorism and foreign agitation, cutting programs people rely on to survive becomes uncovering fraud and taking care of our own. The economy being in shambles is actually a good thing or isn’t happening or it was worse before and on and on. This form of propaganda does not only engender deeper commitment to those already in the cult of the state and corporations, but also disarms opposition in a disquieting way. An excellent case study in this is Russian propaganda surrounding their invasion of Ukraine, as noted by prominent philosopher Slavoj Zizek. The claims of “self-defense” as an accusation shifts focus away from the aggressor’s actions and makes acceptable the possibility that their claims are justified despite evidence to the contrary. Adding onto this is a complicit media apparatus willing to boost a “firehose of falsehood” where there are so many lies, so much to debunk that the evidence and reality of the situation becomes hopelessly lost even to the people who oppose the regime.
My favorite part of George Orwell’s “1984” is when the protagonist screams in elation that reality is real. Orwell writes that “the obvious, the silly, and the true had got to be defended. The solid world exists, its laws do not change”. We are closer now to an IngSoc totalitarian state in an age of rampant misinformation without guardrails or regulations, and so art that cuts to reality, that affirms the lived experience of people and not the strange and twisted thing we see in our news and media feeds, is more precious now than ever. Amidst attacks on DEI and particularly inclusion in many different fields, it is easy to forget that inclusion acts as recognition for peoples, identities and ideas that are otherwise ignored and help reinforce factual reality. These perspectives are often able to cut through propaganda and accepted narratives, and get at what people are actually going through without all the noise and distortion. Kendrick Lamar’s “To Pimp a Butterfly” (in specific, the same can be said of nearly all his albums) speaks powerfully to the lived reality of the African-American experience, of growing up in poverty to the excesses of rap fame to police brutality and institutional racism along with so much more. It is honest and authentic, rooted in something real and is thus a universally acclaimed work of art.
Can art be more than that, though? It’s one thing to reflect reality but as discussed previously, reality kind of sucks right now. I draw your attention then to David Hockney. As an openly gay man painting in a time where homosexuality was criminal, he painted scenes of queer domestic bliss. Nude men just laying in bed together or getting out of the other’s pool with a bit of cheek poking out was a vision into a liberated future. A future where homosexuality was accepted as a normal part of society was nigh unthinkable at the time he was working, a seemingly insurmountable challenge with no hope and yet his art showed us a path forward towards that distant future. Current reality can be all-consuming, exhausting and full of despair but art in times of crisis can remind us of the real struggle: a struggle towards a better future, fair and supportive to us all. It is hard to see in times like these, but I leave you with the idea that art is more valuable now than ever as a little beacon in the darkness, reminding us that there is a path forward.
