Week 10-Relational Aesthetics

In relational aesthetics, the aim is not to create an object, but to facilitate a shared experience between a group of people.  The "artwork" is the conduit to a social event; it is designed to create interactions.

Really, it's hard to separate "relational aesthetics" from "life" as the experiences initiated by the artist are typically mundane things: eating, talking, reading, walking around.  There may be a deeper intention behind these interactions, as often the behavior being conducted is meant to act as a metaphor for social interplay on a grander (perhaps global) scale.  That said, whatever statement the artist is making by prompting people to sit around and drink coffee, at the end of the day the result is just a bunch of people sitting on their asses doing the same inane shit they'd be doing anyway.  To experience the "art" one must be open to seriously contemplating the prompted action, otherwise it is indistinguishable from everyday life.

While a lot of this stuff struck me as kind of nebulous and ethereal (Everything is art!  By reading this blog, you're experiencing art right now!) there was one piece I came across that I did find clever and of surprising depth.  Felix Gonzalez-Torres' "Untitled (Portrait of Ross in L.A.)" consists of 175lbs of candy acting as a stand-in for the 175lb frame of the artist's HIV infected partner.  Viewers are invited to help themselves to the candy, but by doing so they are both literally destroying the work, and symbolically representing the disease that is chipping away at its host body.  I appreciate the way this work places a moral dilemma upon the act of taking a free piece of candy, an emotional weight you don't encounter performing the same action on your way out the door of an Applebee's. 

For my book entry, I bought some of those "party poppers" devices where you pull the string, there's a loud "bang" and confetti is shot everywhere to the delight of all but the housekeeping staff:

I had planned on rigging my book so that when opened to a particular page a sign read "Happy New Year!" and the popper would...pop.  Just like that, surprise!  Instant New Year party!  We could all share in the delight of this unexpected, impromptu holiday gathering!  Thinking about it a little bit, I decided that maybe shooting a projectile into an unsuspecting person's face would be uncool/unsafe. 

Instead, I opted to insert a Whoopee Cushion between the pages, so that when any pressure was placed upon the book it would emit (and there's no classy way to say this) an eruptive flatulence sound.  Instead of communal holiday revelry, we can instead share the tittering laughter that accompanies some unsuspecting victim's surprise humiliation.