Facebook Heckler Gives Fine Art Photo the Finger -- My Response

A few days ago, a photographer posted a landscape image on Facebook. One person commented that it was a shot a 12-year-old could have taken. (For the record, I believe the picture in question required considerable imagination and skill to envision and produce.)

The comment about the image reminded me of an episode shortly after I graduated from college. I was visiting someone who was far wiser to the ways of the fine art world than I was. In an attempt to show off my undergraduate knowledge, I spotted a Norman Rockwell work and made a snide observation about it. My host presented a different perspective. He pointed out Rockwell's ability as a draftsman and that one should respect skill, even in unfashionable works.

For decades, some visual artists have endured similar "a monkey could do it" potshots as the photographer experienced on her Facebook site. For artists to resist coarse opinion requires strength of purpose and a healthy self-regard. Unfortunately, the temptation to believe that unflattering commentary is limited to provincial show-offs does not correspond with the varieties of human nature. There are plenty of professional reviewers, for example, who cynically or thoughtlessly believe pithy smart remarks demonstrate wit worthy of Voltaire. It's fair to say some Philistines dress in all-black New York outfits, talk a good game, and are savagely ignorant.

Martin Scorsese once sagely observed about his own craft that the more he produced, the more he realized he didn't know. Scorsese learned to embrace exploration and learning, qualities not always highly valued in the movie business. Artists from all visual disciplines have independently arrived at the same conclusion.

Scorsese grasped how fleeting and precious the chances to expand one's intellectual horizons really are. When one compares accomplished creation to the level of a pre-teen's guesswork, a much greater opportunity for inquiry, for understanding, for enrichment, has been given the finger. That's sad. However, I have the consolation of returning to the photograph and appreciating its quiet confidence, observational skill, and simple beauty. I'm thankful for that.