Most gallery owners are reluctant to put my work on display. I was therefore grateful when a friend directed me to one he knew. She naturally wanted to see my pictures before she exhibited them, and I showed her a carefully censored selection. This did not help; my remaining works were rejected for being too disturbing. While I am used to this sort of treatment, I was somewhat bemused by her statement that “we display art in our gallery, and what you do is… something else.” Forgive my ignorance, but I thought that art was about self-expression, and I make no apologies for expressing myself as I see fit. I also believed the relativist views that hold such currency these days had broadened our definitions of art. Perhaps I was wrong on both counts. So what is art and who defines it? Some of my heretical thoughts on this issue are discussed below.

Some Thoughts on Art

How I cringe when I write these words! I feel they are too pretentious. Many people in Australia have no time for visual art. They would show me more respect if I was a famous actor, musician, filmmaker or professional athlete. The art community is no better; according to some gallery owners, my work is not art at all. This is a remarkable statement in this supposedly liberal age. Most artists claim to be broad-minded people who cherish independent thought, but my attempts at self-expression apparently need to be suppressed.

At the time of writing this, I have never made much money from art, but I am not about to stop. What am I without my art? A man with no formal qualifications, a high-school dropout predictably trapped in a dead-end job and squalid home. In the eyes of those who loathe my work, I am a loser, an outcast, a freak. This does not discourage me; if they are blind to my vision, I am deaf to their abuse. Even so, I hesitate to call myself a visual artist, for the name has such negative connotations.

If artists in general gain little respect from society at large, they only have themselves to blame. I personally have no time for art that displays neither technical merit nor accessible ideas. Postmodernism was meant to be a liberating force in art, one that broke down established traditions and supported different points of view. It has had the opposite effect: too often, what passes as art these days is entirely lost on the general public. Now art is ruled by an elite who can see the merit in paving stones, glass jars filled with coloured sand, and household appliances wrapped in red string. Of course, these installations challenge our traditional notions of art - but does that alone make them worthwhile?

Although it has made my life harder, the postmodern assault on art is ultimately self-defeating. If it is carried to its logical conclusion, there will be nothing left to challenge but postmodernism itself. I have long since reached this point, and do not believe that a blank canvas has just as much artistic merit as a Caravaggio.

What form, then, should fine art take? I strongly believe that the best art should not just challenge traditional concepts of what art should or should not be. As well as being self-defeatist, that idea is limiting. Great works of art should stay with us when we have left the gallery; they should tangibly affect the way we view the outside world. Artists do themselves no favour through being inscrutable; if their ideas have any worth, they can only benefit through sharing them with everyone.

I know that my opinions will anger many members of the art world. They will brand me ignorant, uncultured and uneducated, or claim I am beneath contempt and therefore deserve no attention at all. I am used to such closed-mindedness, but they would do well to listen to me. If art is to gain the respect it deserves in the greater community, at least some of its practitioners should rediscover what has been lost - accessible and relevant themes that capture the imagination and encourage further thinking. Technical skill should be respected, for it is proof of an artist’s conviction. While much of my work is anti-religious, I believe a Gothic cathedral is infinitely more impressive than a crucifix immersed in urine. The effort that went into the former ennobles an otherwise dangerous lie. The crude shock value of the latter devalues an important truth.

In calling for communication, I am not taking a populist standpoint. My own work is reactionary, in some cases violently so. The pieces that attack religion were not designed to win me friends and I do not expect them to. Besides the abuse I receive from believers, I also attract the postmodernists’ wrath. The religious take offence at my themes, which they consider blasphemous; the high priests of contemporary art have problems with my imagery, which they find too explicit. I feel that my work must be both if it is to succeed in its aim. In this age of relativism, truth is an unfashionable notion, but I aspire to express it through allegory and metaphor. I may not yet have the skill of a Caravaggio or Goya, but I believe it is worth striving for. While I would appreciate some recognition in my lifetime, this is not my primary goal. My ideas are more important than the lure of wealth and fame; I hope my vision outlives me and shapes the world for years to come.