The Obligation of the Artist to the General Public

Most of the artists today that are living and producing art are idiots. They are idiots because they continue to produce works for an audience whose vast majority will probably not even give two seconds of thought to what they see before them. Yet both idiots continue to interact indirectly with each other as one continues to produce while the other continues to mindlessly view the other’s product, both not explaining to the other why they continue to do so.

The argument can be made that art is not meant for the vast majority of the public. Contemporary art is meant for the socially elite and an artistically inclined intellectuals. In other words, art created for those that can understand then or at least appreciate them. An elite and social group that is outside the general public. And yet the major goal for most artists is to achieve some kind of gallery status.

The gallery is not some exclusive club where only a select few can view works of art. It is open to the general public in one fashion or another. As such, there is some level of obligation to the general public that every form of establishment has that is open to such a vast audience. Doctors have the obligation to explain as simply as possible their vast and often superior knowledge about the human body to someone that doesn’t understand why they suffered a heart attack at the age of forty-nine. Priests have the obligation to explain why Mary being a virgin is so important to the Christian faith. Even someone so low on the occupation latter like a cashier at MacDonald’s has an obligation to the customer on some level. Why? Because they are open to the general public.

Artists used to have an obligation to the public, but that was centuries ago when artists had some form of patronage. The artists of today have no such obligation to the public anymore. As such, their works get misinterpreted. With an audience where the majority thinks art is to look the way it did over a century ago, this should come as no surprise. It’s no different than how a writer choices to lay out the words on the page and what words to use. There is a target audience, but there also has to be an easy way into the piece. Most writers know this, otherwise they will alienate their audience before the first paragraph is even completed. Artists don’t supply that "easy in" as often.

This is the artist’s obligation to the public, to offer an "easy in" to the world of their higher thinking and use of symbolism. Without offering this to the general public, the viewer may be offended or just completely ignore the piece of work for one reason or another. Supplying that easy way in for a viewer that doesn’t know anything about modern art or the arts short of what they learned in public school. This is why landscapes in craft shows are appreciated more than an abstracted landscape in a gallery. The general public doesn’t have to think. They don’t want to think; they rather be told.

If art is a form of visual communication, then there is a way to trick people into thinking about the works. This is no different than posing a question in a classroom. The task is for the artist to figure out how to ask the question and aim it to a public that doesn’t like to think when they are not required to. This isn’t a lowering of high art; it’s merely supplying a door for the common denominator into that exclusive club that is high art.

Stepping On and Stepped On

This morning, spawned from an idea for a performance piece that I won't do until I have the courage to display myself as such, my mind is settled upon the idea of this morbid and somewhat stupid thought.

It seems that more and more often, I'm witnessing how many time people get offended by certain things. Little things like laughing at violence in a movie where that subject is a serious matter. Big things like how a politician said this about this subject that causes this group of people to get pissed off. Stupid things like supplying negative feedback only to be seen as bitching rather than helping due to the displaying of your own ignorance through the negative feedback, however well constructive it may be. Even things that shouldn't even piss people off but do like theme park attractions and cartoons.

There is always something that offends someone that causes some kind of action. Verbal, physical, psychological, and even visual offences cause verbal, physical, psychological, and other forms of action that end up offending other people continuing the circle.

It's strange, because in the course of these, someone somewhere always says "I wish they would just die." Some even go so far as to try and kill the offender. But what does that cause but nothing more but even more offence? Immediate satisfaction leads to more problems, as what may be good for you is not good for everyone else around you. Conversely, what's good for the people around you may not be good for you, and so what then? What do you do in that situation?

There's a message board game I started on Gaia several months back called "What if." In it, we ask mostly stupid questions along the lines of what if this happened. The next person must answer it before asking another 'what if' to keep the game going. Two posts (a question and an answer) didn't make me chuckle or at least think of how stupid the two where. The question was What if the world was one nation? The answer? We'd be in a constant state of civil war.

It makes sense to me. Nobody can agree on anything; we all must compromise. Even then, our compromises cause so many other offenses directly or indirectly. The "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy offends the gay community because it is implying that the armed forces and even the country they serve don't want to protect homosexuals. Civil Right groups are probably just as upset as you and me that the KKK is still allowed to hold meetings and scout new members. What I write here pisses off a few people because they may read this as angsty writing from someone with the mental age of a teenager.

And to think, somewhere someone is foolishly wanting world peace. There's no way we can get that, and some of us know it. The world will always been at odds with itself. The environmentalists will always be against those that construct and pollute, who in turn will be against those that are pressing against them to stop giving jobs to foreign countries, who in turn are pissed because of the foreign influence coming in and destroying their tradition, which in turn is seen as pagan because it doesn't worship the same god as this religion over here. And so on and so on and so on.

Why can't we just leave people alone? Why do we, as social creatures, insist on making everything my way or the highway? Even when we don't, why do we try to come up with something that fails in the design to please everyone involved in the ordeal?

We offend each other because we can't find that balance. We probably don't even know what it is we need to balance, which may be beyond the obvious.

The only thing positive right now is that peace and compromise of any kind on any level, global or personal, cannot be achieved if with every new developing generation there is a fresh bed made for growing offences. That's why I'm offended when I see protesters taking their children to demonstrations when the child has no idea why their parents are protesting.

Beaten Up and Creatively Spent

The creativity is gone. Here I am trying to come up with three ideas for my next assignment in Time Base Media, and I have nothing but something that will be immediately shot down because it isn't art. Why? Because I would just be copying something I saw in Full Metal Alchemist. I would be drawing a circle with symbols and my own version of the alphabet on the outer rim of the design. And apparently, that isn't art. Ideas like this sometimes make me wonder if Andy Warhol ever went through his kind of critique with himself.

Ironically, this critique never came from myself. It came from other people I posed a similar idea to. Everyone from people I respect to total strangers that think they know something about art call my idea trash. Having to try and defend it is challenging in itself, because no matter what I say to justify it, nobody will buy into it. They will just see it as nothing more but me being stupid and copying someone else's idea.

And because of this, my education has once again taken a back seat on the priority car. I found myself playing games again and wasting time sleeping trying to figure out my own personal path in life, knowing full well that what I want to do is just so far over my head it might as well be in orbit. And with such a broad scope of what I consider to be art without any kind of justification as to why I categorize them as such just makes it even more difficult to win my peers over and give myself some kind of validity.

Sometimes I wonder if I was better off untrained. The people I was around before seemed to appreciate what I was doing. Now the people I'm around tell me how bad something is and then close it all nicely by saying "Thank you for sharing" as if it was the best thing in the world. If this is the world of the artist, then I guess I should learn how to grow some balls and just take it.

But I'm burned out. The more I try to think of something intelligent and artistic, the more I realize that I don't know anything at all. The only things I do know are the things that classified as trivial and useless. And the things that I do as art are seen as naive and blatant copying.

I hate to do this to Terry, because he's seen it and told me about it first hand. I'm starting to feel like the only way I can make what I want is to just do it to spite the teacher. You know, the kind of art program where by this time, the students are so beaten up over the head by technical skills that they break all the rules out of rebellion. They blatantly make blank canvases and call it art citing everyone that came before them to justify it, bullshitting to legitimate themselves. And they get away with it but don't grow as artists because they are denying their education simply because they are just burned out.

But what else can I do? I can't think of any other ideas that would be cheating both the class and myself.

I wish the process for making art was more about "make it now, look for meaning later." I've been taught that is rarely ever going to be the case the world I thought I wanted to go into. Now I wish that I could go back to the days when people saw my cartoons and actually liked them.

Am I really an artist?

I tried posting this the other day, but apparently it and the saved version for the Post Recover feature got lost in the last server crash over at blogspot. I didn't give it much thought until just now. I'll leave the reason why to the people that know the reason why.

For the longest time, anyone who has ever seen my drawings have always told me that I should go into art school. They loved my drawings and thought they were the best things they ever saw. It is because of this support over the years that made me want to seek out art schools. I felt like becoming an artist was my place in life.

Now that I am here, I'm being told that everything I do needs work. All around me, I see pieces of beautiful taught and craft, and yet mine are the ones that need the most work. What I do is either too cute, naive, too simple, not simple enough, kitsch, and sometimes even declared not falling into the realm of fine art. I stopped cartooning, mostly because of my own changes in priorities. I've fallen out of doing what people said I was so great at doing.

Why? Because suddenly people are saying that what I am doing isn't so great.

Meanwhile, there are people that have not seen the education that I have up until this point making more of an impact than I probably ever will. Because they are untainted? I was there, but I was also told that an education is better than none at all. Yet here I am looking at slides on a PowerPoint presentation of untrained artists whose works are in galleries all over the country. Like everyone else in the class, I can't help but ask the one question that must be going through your minds right now.

What am I doing here? Why have I spent three years of my life studying to be an artist when there are people twice as old as myself making a fortune off of paintings that look like a grade schooler did them? What was the point?

I probably am not even suppose to be an artist given what I want to do, what I want to create. And by that, I mean what I am really interested in and what ideas make me obsessive.

Go figure that the person that considers everything from video games to stills in an animated film a form of high art is the one that is now considering if he even belongs in art. Ironic given the openness and the willingness to ask "why can't this be considered gallery worthy? So what if it was originally created in a theme park with the intent of being entertainment? It can still be art, can't it?"

Naive questions coming from a naive person whose talents and creative energy have been over run by insecurities causing him to escape once again to the worlds of video games despite the loud voice telling him to pull away, to stop living this false life again, to go back to being stressed and worried and angry and not sure if there is enough time to finish the project before the due date. Because that is how you are suppose to live life. This isn't the way.

Well then, what way should I go now? I was told all my life that I should be an artist because of my cartoons. I don't want to go into animation because I don't like the assembly line process that is masquerading around as artistic creativity. I don't want to go into professional illustration because that would mean becoming a commercial commodity as a person, which I don't want to become. I rather create things that will eventually become a commercial produce against my will rather than willingly become a living, breathing, walking commercial product.

But apparently I'm not an artist. So where do I go? What do I do?

I want to gather everything I've created into a big pile in an empty parking lot and then set it on fire. I want to film the process of this act. I want to project it larger than life on the wall. I want to title it I am not an artist. Does that make me one in some ironic twist of fate?

Incomplete Thought Concerning Authenticity

In the last class of Contemporary Art History, the questioning of authenticity brought us to question what if anything is original. This lead to wondering what it means to be original in the very meaning of the word. It was then that I brought up Terry’s Tanuki figures.

I argued that the Tanuki has been around longer than most of us and has gone through several variations. Its figure constantly changing from artist to artist, yet Tanuki itself remains the same in both concept and representation, albeit that too changes from person to person. Enter Kensuke, who argued the fact that the mold Terry made was original even though Tanuki looks nothing like how Terry fashioned his version of the mythical beast.

Kensuke then went on to describe how Tanuki should look like. I know that he is from the culture in which Tanuki was essentially created and that he has every right to say what he wants, but what gives him the authority to say how the Tanuki should and should not look? The following are my thoughts on the matter as I would have stated them in class provided that the course of discussion didn’t swiftly take another turn.

Tanuki is similar to the yeti of Nepal or any country with snow covered mountains. The culture has described what it may or may not look like in art pieces and stories that have found their way around the world, changing in the process. The yeti, we are told, is a giant white man-ape of some kind. But who says that it cannot be a different color than white? Maybe it is more of a lighter brown or even gray. Some would argue this by saying that a brown yeti is really “Big foot” from North America (who was recently spotted in Malaysia last I heard anything about him/her). But even Bigfoot is up for debate on if it is really brown or black or even some other color we haven’t even thought it could be. For all we know, Bigfoot could have spots on its furry coat, which even that could end up being not fur at all!

So what gives Kensuke the authority to say how something is suppose to look? Is it because it is within his culture? That may have some part to do with it. But I live in America, and if I told someone that had no idea what Bigfoot looked like my version of how I think the creature looked like, does that mean that I have the authority to say that anyone that creates a different version is wrong? I am an American, last I checked. And Bigfoot is a part of the American mythos similar to Tanuki is to the Japanese culture. So why can’t I say that Bigfoot is probably hairy with black fur that has brown spots on it like a cheetah?

The only answer that I can give to my own question is the fact that I’m not the original source. I’m not where the idea of Bigfoot came out of. I’m not the creator of the myth or the legend or even the facts surrounding Bigfoot. I’ve read up on the creature, but even the books I read are probably not even accurate. The same can be said about Kensuke and his description of what Tanuki is suppose to look like. He may be part of the culture, but he doesn’t have the authorship rights to say how Tanuki is suppose to look like even though he knows more than me about the creature. He didn’t create Tanuki. And neither did Terry in his art work around the Tanuki.

As someone who is very much interested in the mythical worlds of dragons and magic and even realistic fictions like alchemy and Bigfoot, these are things I have to acknowledge. Whenever I read something about one of these mythical beings, I have to remember that no matter how true the legends are, they are and have been changed over the course of time through seemingly original thoughts. And the added information, no matter how realistic they may sound, could be just as false as the creature itself. On top of that, I have to also remember that myths and legends may also really be facts, similar to how lies and gossiping could turn out to be factual if one does enough digging and research.

In the end, to prevent myself from talking in circles, he is wrong and I am wrong. This whole argument falls back upon the fact that everyone is both correct and incorrect at the same time. Even now, what I wrote is both correct and incorrect in some fashion or another. After all, who am I to say that someone has no authority to say what they want?

Musing on Authenticity

Recently, I was assigned to produce an alternate self-portrait using Photoshop. The idea was to portray at least three different sides of myself in one realistic image. The assignment was an impossibility from the start. To realistically portray myself three times within the same image and make it appear like one realistic photograph that just so happen to be taken by some candid force would require cloning procedures to start the moment I was conceived. And yet, here I was doing exactly just that. Cloning myself into a single realistic image as close as I can get with what little Photoshop skills I had.

The next part of the assignment couldn’t be more timely. I was to write an artist statement validating or invalidating the authenticity of the image and/or its intent. I went the scientific angle, invalidating the image as real.

My little story of an assignment is part of a bigger question that has been asked since the days of Rembrandt. How can something be authentic and true in an era where even that is questioned in a court of law? We have authors making up true stories in the same manner advertisers bend the truth about their products usefulness to society. Artists are getting credit for pieces they never even touched unless they just so happen to put their name on it. So what is true anymore and what is false? I was pretty much told in my assignment to produce a visual lie. What’s stopping people from lying about other things and profiting from it like Duchamp essentially did with his ready-made urinal? What’s stopping Koons from using his connections to produce perfectly crafted pieces of art he never touched because he doesn’t know how to move the material? Nothing short of their own morals and ethics. The authenticity of anything we do in this day and age is up for questionable debate. Even what I write right now could very well be false, reflecting someone else’s opinion that I may or may not have found on the internet. And what’s to stop me from turning this in even if it results in a failing grade and the ultimatum of doing it over or failing the class? Nothing but myself.

Examining Gallery Displays

It seemed like an odd assignment, going to an art gallery to look at how the pieces are displayed instead of the pieces themselves. But one probably has never taken the time to think about the space the paintings or statues are in unless they are told to. Surprisingly, the area is just as interesting as the pieces.

The Lost Boys of Sudan exhibit featured paintings of images that allude to a child like experience of something very brutal. The space was dimly lit and the walls were almost as brown as the paint used in the skins of the figures in the pieces. It was almost insulting given how powerful the images are. I noticed that people just walked right on by, not paying attention to the paintings unless they saw someone standing in front of them. It was as if the long hallway had nothing on the walls because of the brown tone matching so well with the earthy colors of the paintings. In fact, I still wonder if anyone consciously knew about the exhibit instead of stumbling upon it like so many of the people I saw.

The main show at the Frist Center, African Voices, was more offensive than the free exhibit. The entrance to the appeared to be set up as if it was a theme park attraction rather than a themed gallery show. Faux wood fabric strips arranged in a way that mocked a tree trunk served as dividers for most of the rooms, which were darkly lit for the most part. The only lights that were in the area were all soft lights, aimed at the various masks, statues, and costumes that were shown. Every item, for the most part, were lit in a way that looked similar to the way the History Channel lights their shots for the same artifacts. The offensive part of this exhibit comes from the fact that the only well lit area is in the area themed to show the contemporary art pieces shown from South Africa. Ironically, this area is also the only one with white walls. It is as if after walking through 90% of the show, I am being told that everything I just saw wasn’t art. Here is where the art is, is what the gallery was trying to tell me, in this white space with all these hot light on all of these images and statues. I was pretty much being told that all the items of historical and artistic value in the previous rooms didn’t matter.

In the gray area of the exhibit--which ironically had gray walls--there was a video that I believe tells how I feel about the exhibit pretty well. In the video loop, footage of African dances are played out. Some of the dances are done in a theatre setting where two white males and one Asian male accompany a cast of native Africans as they display their culture’s various dances. Inter-cut with this footage is home video images of the same types of dances as they happened in the streets of Africa. The difference between the two is that the images from Africa are more raw and give off a sense of magic more than the seemingly rehearsed and properly lit theatre versions. Much like the dances in the video that were preformed in the theatre, the exhibit doesn’t properly display the real African arts properly.

About 24 hours later and after much reading for the other half of this assignment, I wrote the following.

The world is not only flat, it is starting to blur. Galleries are trying to be museums; museums are trying to be galleries; theme parks start to look like art galleries; art galleries are starting to look theme parks. What is it that the world is trying to show to the people that live in it? That we are same? Or maybe that we really don’t know how to show to each other what it is that makes our individual cultures worth learning?

With this in mind, the way the Frist Center displays their African Voices exhibit proves that I don’t have a clue what I’m talking about! Most of the items on display are lit in a manner that is akin to historical museums, making the dark setting and dim lighting convey a sense of holiness and an ancient awesomeness equal only in biblical proportions. And for them to light the more contemporary pieces as if this area is an art gallery is justified. After all, those pieces are more art pieces than historical or cultural artifacts.

That being said, the Lost Boys of Sudan exhibit is probably more offensive than I previously thought. The paintings against a brown wall, a brown close to the skin color of those that live in Sudan, in a dimly lit area are presented neither as art in a gallery or as historical records of a culture worlds away from Nashville. They are just there, almost as if without purpose other than to line a hallway that functions as a free gallery for the community. Something to fill empty space and nothing more. They are not lit in any way that could help them pop out of the brown wall that they are on.

I don’t know what to think about galleries or museums now. Here are two equally important exhibits, but only one gets the attention it deserves while the other, because it is free, gets nothing more but a frequently traveling route for patrons to distract themselves as they head towards either the café or the parking lot. And even with the seemingly more important show, the one that takes up the most floor space, the space confuses me. Am I suppose to be in a museum or a gallery? Am I looking at a collection of art or a collection of historical items from a culture on the other side of the ocean?

I guess the big question here is what am I looking at and why should I be looking at?

An Education, An Experience, A Reason For Change

Tonight I went to my third independent art gallery. I describe this as "independent" as the group and the space the show is in is not your typical gallery, one that is funded by patrons of the arts who want to leave their name on something other than a tombstone. No, this is a gallery run by artists for those that appreciate contemporary art.

And it was an education I cannot get from schooling of any kind.

Some back story. If you look through the recent comments of my blog, you'll find someone by the name of Jason. I have been in contact with him since he left his comments, everything dealing with mostly art and putting your art in front of people. Over the course of the week, he has been the only thing that has kept me happy, helping me forget everything that gave me any problems. I had to thank him for that. I had to thank him properly. How? I don't know.

He mentioned that there was going to be a show in the new location for Secret Show. After that, several other people I knew who were in the show mentioned it as well. Jason and another person said I had no excuse not to show up.

Being the fool that I am, in my twisted mind this meant there was a demand for my presence, something very rare given who I am and how I act. I made efforts to make it out to the show. At one point, I was convinced that I wouldn't be able to make it. Then my parents, the source of most of my angst and blessings, gave me a ride. They originally wanted to see the show, but due to the failure of finding any parking, they just dropped me off.

Over the course of two hours, I received the most amount of education I had ever had in my life! I saw people interact with art from other students I knew and respected. I found myself looking at things and even people in a new light that I had pretty much denied myself in viewing.

I was witnessing people having a life. And it felt odd being that spectator that nobody wants to be.

I did interact with people. I talked to people about the art they produced, questioned some of it (albeit very stupid questions), and even revisited several of the pieces. It was a strangely comfortable social scene. It had its awkward moments. A random person came up to me and introduced himself in a way that scared the hell out of me, but other than that, I felt like myself for once. Yet at the same time I didn't.

The things that will stay with me the most, I can only hope, are the conversations I had with Jason, all of which involved trying to get over this contradictory set of thoughts I have about submitting my art, how to present it, and to top it off the fact that I'm not afraid about getting rejected yet think my art isn't good enough. I don't ever seeing someone being able to convince me how much that last part never made any sense the way Jason did. The look of illogical curiosity on his face just said it all to me.

Why wasn't I doing what he is doing? Because I was canceling myself out in my head.

At the end of the night, I had to thank Jason. He was and will hopefully be a big influence in my life. I learned the hard way that if someone that special comes along, you need to try your damnest not to lose them. Unfortunately, I may have taken a few steps back after taking several forward. While thanking Jason, I apparently crossed a line with him by accident. I saw a scared look in his eyes as if he was afraid of me. He has wide eyes to being with. Very bright and welcoming. But these just read fear.

Attraction and appreciation are two aspects that apparently have been blurred together in my mind. A wall, not a line, but a fucking wall needs to be built.

On my way out, I said to Jason that I would try to make it to future shows. He laughed with a hint of doubt, paraphrasing Yoda's famous "Try not. Do or do not. There is not try." I responded by saying that I make efforts smiling at him, but the moment I was out the door, I was kicking my ass as to how lame that sounded. It was then that I'm convinced something else happened. Something that was only able to happen off the influences from the show.

When I got home, I watched TV, wanting to commit to a show whose plot is like a novel you can't put down because of the way the author ends the chapters. During that 30 minute program, I sat there examining my experience, my feelings from staying in an environment like that by myself for that long, the influences and conversations I had made, the observations. Everything. The show eventually became unimportant; I ended up keeping track of key plot points for references for next week's show if I was able to catch it. It was the other show that was more worthy of my mind's attention. The art show where the person who publicly said he hated me on this very blog impressed me simply by turning a grain of rice into a record became more of an important mental matter than trying to keep up with a plot about an alternate universe where the science of alchemy is a real form of natural magic.

Like I told Jason and Gillian, another artist I knew through class mostly, if I am not changed in some way by this experience tonight, then there is definitely something wrong with me.

Legitimation

When asked what it means to be legitimate, most people will respond with the idea that legitimacy means that one is right. But what is "right" in relation to "legitimate?" Everyone thinks they are right for whatever reasons those may be, and they are correct. However, at the same time, nobody is correct. Short of the scientific method, that is.

In the art arena, legitimacy is an ever-present and never-ending argument of validity. Each form of the arts has their own requirements or conditions as a way of saying that something is legitimate in their fields, but even those occasionally get blurred the moment something new and innovative enters claiming that it is a form of visual arts or theatre. We have stage productions that use movie projectors exactly like movie houses during scene transitions; we have visual artists who are showing their video works within normal commercials aired on the television during the stations prime time hour instead of in galleries; we even have someone putting rotting animal parts inside a glass box and calling it a sculpture. And every time, someone somewhere is asking how is this legitimate, arguing that it is because of this reason or that it is not because of that reason. And they are right in their opinion, but at the same time, neither of them are. This makes the possibility of being legitimate in art nearly impossible in the current time and place that the art is presented in. This also makes any effort to be right or correct in anything outside of science and logic a pointless endeavor. Then again, sometimes science and logic can also incorrect.

Is it necessary for art to maintain an individual voice/identity when it is merged with bigger culture?

Note: I was going to start a new blog and post these there for my teacher's easy access, since this is technically for my Contemporary Art History journal... but I got lazy with the set up process, so I'm shoving them here. My opinions and responses to these questions given what I've been reading as well as what I will be reading probably reflect my ignorance more than my intellect. Consider that your warning from here on out.

Personally, I don’t think the question is of about necessity but about if it actually matters if art maintains its original individual voice and identity. One could be overly defensive about art being this holy relic of the human race that should not be a commercial product as Ad Reinhardt, implying that procreating even images from popular media isn’t original. And yet we have an art movement that reflects popular culture during the 1950s, a movement that has been parodied by popular media it was using. Warhol’s multiple images in colorful squares have been seen in cartoons like Family Guy; Lichtenstein’s blown-up newspaper comic styles can now be downloaded as a filter tool for any digital image editing program; even religion isn’t immune to popular culture now that things like Muslim head scarves are being made fashionable. Given enough time, every image will be confused like the Santa nailed to the cross in the Tokyo department store Walter Anderson mentioned in his introduction to The Truth About Truth.

Given all this, does it really matter if art has an original voice? Art took images from popular media, and popular media took those artistic images into their own shows. As a reference to popular culture for their own social commentary on the matter? Probably, but it depends on the context of the situation. Eventually, nobody will care or even know that one of the photographs in the credit roll of the movie Lilo & Stitch is a parody of the thanksgiving painting by Norman Rockwell. There’s really no point for art to stand out and maintain an identity of its own since it will always be procreated into something else.