Much like a human death, we routinely experience the death of certain practices or professions. French literary theorist and philosopher Roland Barthes introduced the idea in his 1967 essay Death of the Author. He suggested that it was the language that wrote and not the author.
This notion echoes the famous dictum of Nietzsche that first appeared in 1882 in his collection The Gay Science, where he argues that Enlightenment has replaced our archaic idea of a divine being. However in later years, especially in the post 9/11 world, there was evidence that religion was still a strong, perhaps the strongest, element in the lives of millions of people around the globe. This makes one realise that when we talk about the death of an entity, we imply only a conversion or a momentary shift.
Like ideas, art forms are stubborn. They never perish, just change location. Frequently, they acquire a new guise and transform into a different mode. Not just art, our ordinary everyday practices and habits have altered too.
I fondly remember hand-written letters. But I can’t recall when I received the last one. I miss holding a photo-album, looking at the various stages of my life, leafing through its pages. But it’s been ages I last gazed at a printed photograph. I am even nostalgic about those exhibition cards received through post. Now there is electronic mail, digital photography and Facebook announcement of art shows. Many have stopped buying a printed newspaper as they can access the paper’s website.
What did die in this transformation? Did the change of medium also alter the message?
Perhaps yes. I can shoot hundreds of photos without a thought about focus, composition or content, just because I can delete whatever I dislike. This has modified my aesthetic attitude. With email being the course of communication, I prefer brief, informal and to-the-point messages, most likely in English.
The disappearance of these means of communication and documentation is not an isolated phenomenon. To borrow a phrase from American poet and art critic Peter Schjeldahl: "Many things determine the flow of interest in a culture". One is witnessing the decline of some subjects in humanities as well as certain disciplines in art schools. A few practices which were popular at one time in art institutes and attracted many students are becoming less favoured -- sculpture, ceramics, printmaking and calligraphy being a few examples. There may be many reasons for this.
In the case of sculpture, it could be religious consideration or lack of facilities after a graduate leaves the institution or absence of storage space or problem of packing and transportation of heavy three-dimensional pieces.
Apart from these, there is this other factor -- market. Market is a monster that devours everything that is not profitable. How to compete or combat market forces may be an ideal question, but it is one without a clear answer or convincing solution.
Selling and collecting of artworks have played a major part in the rise of one discipline and wilting of the other. One could act naïve as part of the academia but the demands of market decide how we speak, dress, act, interact and create. If not directly, through various indirect channels including social media, cinema, advertisement and shopping malls (some private galleries, too, have outlets in shopping malls).
In the context of pedagogy, particularly in the teaching of studio art, one suspects the immediate question is not about the death of one or the other discipline but the demise and disintegration of what we call the art school. In its conventional understanding, an art school is a place where trained professionals guide the next generations into the intricacies of art-making. Arguably, in the coming years, we won’t have an art college or a university situated within walls and protected by security guards. Nor will we have studio spaces located in these institutions where students might go and spend hours fabricating art projects. One can predict that the greatest university of future would be the YouTube (if it hasn’t already acquired that status. During the interview sessions for new admissions to an art college, one is bemused by applicants’ skill in unimaginable areas, such as Korean language, Ethiopian food, and Brazilian folk music, all thanks to YouTube).
YouTube, Google, and other such search engines in the future could demolish cultural, regional and economic boundaries. Students who can’t afford to study in the US, Europe, or even at local universities charging high tuition fees can sit in their homes in Nawabshah or Nowshera and study not only from a group of 10 teachers in Lahore, Karachi or Islamabad, but also professors around the globe -- with no exorbitant fees, visa restrictions or language barriers.
In that sense, the future is not about the death of learning disciplines. It is about the displacement of disciplines -- from the privileged and power-infested surrounding of the classroom to the comfortable, if humble, environment of one’s personal space. One can imagine individuals accessing techniques and understanding of their profession in front of the computer screen, and producing remarkable work; all by themselves, yet not fully alone. They will be able to reach whatever is needed to improve ideas, develop imagery and polish skill with the click of a button. It’s a process where eventually machines and technology will take over, and diminish human contact.
A situation well illustrated by a still from Basir Mehmood’s video installation -- a man lying on the floor next to a huge piano. The image shows that in the face of art, its perception, reception and consumption, it is the maker who will be the biggest loser if he doesn’t stand up and move away from the grand musical instrument to a small table at a public café, login with its password and connect to the internet to compose tunes which may be as good, if not better than Bella Bartok, Bach or Beethoven.