By Glen Maganzini [Written for College Writing]

In our modern age, or at least since the twentieth century, art has been defined on broad terms. Interpretations of what art really is supposed to be are, for sure, more than what is necessary for a subject that seems to have endless bounds. Putting limits on what one perceives as “art” is as comparably and fundamentally fraudulent as putting limits to free speech. To even remark on art, be it performance, drawing, or anything really, is to endeavor to repress whatever the original author intends to convey even if the critic speaks of the work in an affirmative manner. A simple introductory example would be noise music.

To a first-time listener or anyone lacking an appetite for such a genre, noise comes across as exactly what’d you think: dissonance and cacophony jumbled together into what is produced and marketed (or not) as a “song.” The listener could quite easily make the claim that what they just heard was not art at all. They could, also, make the claim that it was art and should be appreciated in some way! If response and comment aren’t rooted in reality or reasonable expectation, then who honestly can appropriately criticize art or non-art? I find myself asking this question a lot because I constantly am reviewing new music for my blog, Kids Like You and Me. While I’d like to believe that what I have to say is of value to whoever is reading my post, I’m only giving my interpretation as a largely unknown critic, but my criticism is essentially just as imperative as well recognized publications like Pitchfork Media and Rolling Stone. Such a statement can be echoed and applied in an equivalent manner for paintings.
When an art commentator like John Berger brings up for discussion in his essay Ways of Seeing paintings like Regents of the Old Men’s Alms House by Frans Hals, he’s doing art a misdeed; Berger’s doing nothing realistically constructive besides introducing to the reader his own perception of a phenomenon called mystification, a task that can be accomplished by both you and I. Mystification (defined by Berger as “the process of explaining away what might otherwise be evident”)  is not an objective evil to be condemned, it’s more of just something that you or I could call something because that’s what we think. By mystifying the reader, we can be as honest to ourselves as we want or purposely come off as to confuse; these are natural freedoms which should be taken for granted and not questioned as Berger proposes without adequate justification. His unintentionally (at least that’s how I see it) authoritative tone should be taken with a grain of salt as should any secular or political figure who tosses the word “we” around gratuitously.  As a result, whenever Berger makes a bold statement, which by all means is intrinsically acceptable, that “when the camera reproduces a painting, it destroys the uniqueness of its image,” he essentially begins operating on the same plane of analysis as an art historian who endeavors to conclude that “we know the personality traits and even the habits of the men and women portrayed” in the Regents of the Old men’s Alms House painting (112, 101). Such logic also applies to when I went to the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. I examined a painting and wrote about it. I was pretty much completely off base as to both why it was painted and what essentially the painting’s meaning was. What I saw and what the small description plaque states are quite disparate to the point that’d one ought to disqualify my comments. We know that’s not so. Neither I nor Berger nor the art historian is superior in belief; to actually say so would be comparable to suggesting that only people well versed in art or art history should be allowed to go to a museum.
Undoubtedly educational background plays a role in who visits art museums, but it wouldn’t be adequate to conclude that a poor person who doesn’t know much about art doesn’t have a place in a structure that’s most frequently compared to a church (110).  I’d argue that churches have long been a source of welcome and comfort for the working class so it would only seem to make sense that these people should have no problem flocking to museums if that’s what they want to do. If they actually “believe that original masterpieces belong to the preserve (both materially and spiritually) of the rich” then I must ask: how is art so accessible today? Are there even barriers to viewing paintings or other forms of art?
Berger seems not to embrace the fact that reproduction is a genuinely anti-classist phenomenon.  He concludes that “…a class which is cut off from its own past is far less free to choose and to act as a class than one that has been able to situate itself in history” (118).  Original works of art, by their very nature, are exclusive meaning that they do in fact hold an importance as being the “first.” The importance of originals can be compared to a music related anecdote. A respectable advocate for originals, which in this example will be album release dates, is Bradford Cox of the bands Deerhunter and Atlas Sound. Cox would probably nod his head in agreement when Berger says that a reproduction becomes “information of a sort, and, like all information, it is either put to use or ignored; information carries no special authority within itself” (111). I was watching a John Norris (of MTV fame) interview with Cox the other day and Cox mentioned how the emergence of leaks, which are typically unavoidable and easily reproduced versions of songs, “has destroyed an art form.” Cox continued, “The album leaks like a homemade sex video or something…once the album comes out it’s like ‘yeah, I screwed that person already’…the album isn’t even out yet!” While reproductions come after original paintings and most other forms of art, musical reproductions come before. Regardless, they are still viewed with practically the same kinds of contempt. The major difference, which is definitely worth mentioning, is that music is meant to be viewed on a wide scale in a variety of physical and digital forms. This doesn’t lessen the significance that the file sharing of leaks has stymied the implication of “original” release dates. Other critics have gone to interesting lengths in describing how art is not being destroyed as Berger (or Cox) alleges it is.
The most reasonable moral argument in favor of reproduction is rooted in the benefits of sharing. Art is an infinite good, unlike a bottle of orange juice or a printer, and thus it creates a culture and is beneficial to the world. An article on techdirt.com puts it perfectly, “Creative works like art and music are, at their core, about sharing with others. They tell stories, reveal personalities, or comment on the world in ways that others can appreciate, forming a part of our culture as they are spread around.” Sharing, in this context, includes reproduction. Just as the author says “forming a part of our culture,” I’d like to make the point that reproduction serves a function in deforming a part of our culture, a positive as I’ll explain.
For the past century, various texts like brand logos and corporate advertisements, which are in fact just as original as any Van Gogh painting, are being reproduced on a large scale, most likely to Berger’s dismay. What’s important though is not recreating the original precisely, but altering it to give it a new meaning. Anti-corporatists and anti-globalization advocates have flourished in this regard by culture jamming an original (like the Nike logo and slogan) so that it “becomes itself the reference point,” just as Berger says (114). Keeping in mind the culture jamming movement, Berger is simply misguiding when he alleges that:
“the means of reproduction are used nearly all the time to promote the illusion that nothing      has  changed except that the masses, thanks to reproductions, can now begin to        appreciate art as the cultured minority once did…The masses remain uninterested and             skeptical” (118).

If the masses are, in fact, uninterested then it’s the individuals own complacency to fault, not the system. If the average artist can make a reproduction of something that is widely distributed and arguably indoctrinating, I’d call that a victory for the unprivileged majority. Reproduction empowers the lower classes in being entrepreneurs of expression. Art is an expression that’s welcoming to those who stand up against the status quo and present altered texts to those who would’ve otherwise just revered the mainstream or read a passive criticism like this, Ways of Seeing by Berger. Artists who adhere to underground and Do-It-Yourself ethos understand that their art doesn’t have the power to become huge and compensation is little, if anything. These artists know that their art might be recreated in some form and they aren’t opposed to this idea unlike their big business serving counterparts who rush tirelessly to protect corporate art from being used negatively or in a way that would so call “ruin the company’s image.” DIY art spaces like The Smell in Los Angeles, California are dedicated to “complete artistic freedom and innovation” and run counter to traditionally “high art” performance art and gallery spaces like The Wang Theatre and the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston.^ To reiterate a point structured previously in this essay, while the survey Berger presents makes the point that the more educated you are, the more likely you are to be an art museum visitor, he doesn’t make the outright claim that anybody (regardless of qualification) can make art or view art (if even in a single tiny room).
Our society has become far too technologically advanced to ever endeavor to do away with reproductions. Efforts to preserve intellectual property will probably become obsolete over the years. Though the culture jamming underground is often largely left in the dark and avoided in mainstream discussions, it could easily become an artistic force large enough to subvert the evils of corporate and statist thought crime. Perhaps Berger was (and still is) unaware of the movement, but that’s no excuse for a subject so fundamental to our daily lives. The upper corporatist “class” is obviously a problem but as I’ve alluded to, it’s the complacent lower class and middle classes that will need to take a step up in their game and use art as a weapon and expression in advancing society. This need not be in the form of class warfare; it’s a case of allowing everyone to become their own individual to the fullest, in a way that can’t be subdued by inevitable forces like the government and, as I’ve mentioned, corporations. It’s not artists like Hals fault for painting “the new characters and expressions created by capitalism,” which implies that capitalism is an evil or otherwise undesirable economic system with major cultural implications (103). God bless Hals if that was his objective, because nowadays there are enough resources available for people to spread other forms of rhetoric meant to, in a way, “compete” against the status quo. Criticizing art historians and lazily making presumptions about society is not doing that!