Telling

Inessa Kotkov Telling According to Lucy Lippard, “telling” is the process of drawing strength through nostalgia. It is ironic, then, that her legacy lives in the present despite her immense influence as a feminist writer. Nowadays, people are too busy to reflect on their past: they strive for political reform, partaking in movements such as affirmative action. It is a well-known fact that revolutions have helped many artists gain notoriety -- their depictions of history rarely retain the entire truth of an event, yet they manage to find their way into textbooks anyway. If you are incredulous to this reality, then heed these strange juxtapositions of morality: billions are spent on weapons in order to humanely murder other humans; rights of criminals are given more respect than the privacy of their victims; even though there are destitute children living squalor, philanthropists donate money to protect endangered species. Perhaps that sounded too selfrighteous, but surely it is wrong for our future to resort to prostitution and suicide? Values in times of yore may change for the sake of something more relevant (or rather, as one plausible conspiracy theory puts it: truth is an artificially altered paradigm that serves governmental interests -- a cesspool of digital information is controlled by powerful individuals who can change the course of history at will -- which might explain why textbooks miraculously omit the more mundane events), but the need for moral vertebrae in our increasingly secular society is dire. This is the sole reason why artists give us lessons in didactic: humanity is devolving into a self-serving, commercial stupor completely oblivious of everything truly important. But I digress: artists concerned with their own interests are rarely financially viable: in order to be internationally renowned, one must appeal to people of all ilk -- which means that

an artist must invariably sacrifice their integrity in an attempt to eschew the looming possibility of having to deal with conflicting races, genders and creeds. Lest if they refuse to do so, they will probably remain in obscurity. (This rule applies to virtually any form of art, including literature, music and film.) Throughout history, there have been many defiant artists whose work was deemed taboo. This is because they advocated ideas that were unwelcome in their time: the abolition of slavery, questions regarding religiosity, ad nauseum. Even though their byproducts of love were banned outright, these artists have managed to garner cult followings and attain success. Some even become popular with gruesome, shocking portrayals of intensely sadistic graphic violence (i.e. Pasolini’s silver screen adaptation of 120 Day of Sodom). Lucy Lippard once stated that nonwhite artists were ignored by critics, in spite of their talents and groundbreaking ideas. This is a shame since many of them have ventured far from their homeland in an endeavor to fulfill the “American dream.” Her argument was that critics would rather pay attention to historically relevant artwork -- they did not care for itinerant minorities who were skilled with spray cans. During the reign of Hitler and even in the Cold War, artists were relied upon for indoctrinating the hoi polloi. They had to create propaganda: convincing people of the justice in a political cause. Perhaps someday critics will unearth the lost art of our time as well, praising its keen insight and sheer beauty. Until then, the United States is a melting pot which has yet to establish an identity. It is blatantly obvious that we have an array of folk from all walks of life. (With so much inbreeding, Orwell once quipped that this nation will become a uniform race -- a hellish egalitarian ideal. Rest assured, ‘telling’ stories does not necessarily need to have a political connotation: it can be poetry, appreciating the duality of nature and whatnot.

To end on a positive note: even though historians are inclined to heed heroic stories, more modern thinkers try to get the “big picture”, putting less emphasis on key events (which almost always revolve around war). Lucy Lippard is on a quest for truth: she does not want historians to delineate, fragment and sunder reality: we need to understand it wholly -- otherwise we can only write short stories with cliffhangers and plot holes. As humans, we are prone to think in context of our own prejudices (which are usually influenced by parents and neighboring communities), but now is the time to herald a new era: one where there is mutual understanding between people regardless of their appearance or origin. One where opportunities are granted to less privileged people. Even basic necessities like food, shelter and water are hard for many to obtain. Children should be pursuing careers or at least getting a formal education, but alas: this is an impossible feat when we have a “necessary evil.”