Before we explore what is not art, let’s establish a working definition of what art is, "Art is an intelligible representation of the real or imaginary world and its inhabitants that manifests an artist’s conceptual value system in physically perceptual, aesthetic form."
At its highest level, it is an independent entity intended to communicate universal meaning and instigate a spiritual experience of connection or "oneness" with its content, its fundamental meaning.
The traditionally five distinct fine arts are painting, sculpture, literature (including poetry), music, and architecture.
Each of these corresponds to a primary human faculty of perception: visual and written arts via sight (and in sculpture, touch), and music via hearing.
Architecture expresses aesthetic vision via visual design combined with structural function, so it stands apart from other arts because it has a practical aspect to it but still at its greatest level can offer a universal experience of inner plenitude.
What all of these fine arts share in common is their unique status as autonomous creations that can be contemplated intellectually and technically.
Plus, if they are deep with values as well as dramatic in appearance, they can be experienced psychosomatically (spiritually) as well.
The more enticing subject matter, the profundity of philosophically based content, and the brilliance in implementation of craft determine the level of meaningful importance.
Tattoos are far outside being defined as an art form because they cannot exist apart from the body to which they are affixed, they are ornaments of surface without any aesthetically expressed artist-originated-value-laden mental content, and their subject matter is (usually) dictated by paying clients rather than selected by the actual executer of images.
Thus, it follows that applicators of tattoos are not "artists."
While some people who apply tattoos may possess the basic craft abilities of a genuine artist — drawing for example — they (usually) do not select the subject matter nor the conceptual content (if any) of the images they create, both hallmarks of a fine artist.
Unless the client who pays them for their technical services chooses a tattooist’s own pre-drawn stencil, they almost invariably dictate both subject matter and "meaning" similar to the arrangement of every advertiser who pays a commercial illustrator to create images that accompany products.
One might argue that an accomplished fine artist can be commissioned (paid) by a client to paint or sculpt a portrait image of a particular individual or group of individuals —themselves or others — in which case that artist cannot select the subject because the subject is the person(s) they are depicting in the art.
But their portraits by nature of their demanding artistic creative process are imbued with a vision of their own individual humanity as well.
The portrait subject then becomes a vehicle for the artist’s expression not limited to replicating likeness but also interpreting character or temperament or more. How the portraitist expresses the life energy and spirit of the sitter makes the best works memorable, even revered.
Why?
Because the artist’s own values insist not only on high skill but also on an artistic handling that speaks to the corporeality, indeed humanity of the person being portrayed.
There is a reciprocal tension between likeness of subject and orchestration of pose, anatomy, expression, form adjustments, and aspects of finish that communicate the artist’s own world view.
Many top-excellent fine artists even use literal likeness as a jumping-off point. They create an artful execution that evokes a feeling of connecting with another invisible soul.
The master first observes, selects a facet, then applies according to a mix of technical skill in rendering with touches motivated by an unconscious-but-operative or purposeful conviction of their own.
The portrait subject becomes a vehicle for the artist’s expression not limited to replicating likeness but including character interpretation, temperament, or expressing the subject’s most subtle mannerisms.
How the portraitist brings out the life energy and spirit of the sitter makes the best works memorable, even revered. John Singer Sargent's portraits do not pedantically copy his subjects’ appearance (think "Madame X").
Or would anyone write off "Mona Lisa" as just a faithful, prosaic likeness?
These magnificent portrait paintings exemplify the fact that the artist’s own value system insists not only on high skill but also a management that speaks to the corporeality, indeed humanity of the person being portrayed.
There is a reciprocal tension between likeness on the one hand and orchestration of pose, anatomy, facial/bodily expressions, arrangement of form, and aspects of finish that inevitably communicate the artist’s own world view.
Many artists, in fact, choose to paint "character portraits."
These are non-commissioned works where with sitter cooperation artists can represent the individual exactly how they want to see them without considering their direction or judgment on the outcome.
In cases like these, the artist wants the freedom to portray their chosen subject completely as they see fit.
Here, the artist doesn’t have to hold back personal creativity in any regard by the feeling that they must conform the portrait to the sitter’s wishes or agenda.
In fact, this kind of "portrait" painting is so common that the Portrait Society of America holds annual competitions in which there is a Commissioned Portrait as well as Non-Commissioned Portrait category.
Tattoos fit none of the criteria for being considered "art," a fact that leads logically to the conclusion that none of the tattoo practitioners fit the definition of "artist."
In essence tattoo clients are narcissistically advertising images (or sayings) representing personal values or obsessions (and often displaying addictive behavior by sporting multiple and/or overlapping images that completely cover arms, legs, and other body parts).
Ergo, the tattooists applying the images with electrical devices armed with needles that move up and down thousands of times per minute to puncture human skin and deposit droplets of pigment most definitely are not "artists."
"To each his own" for sure.
But let’s avoid dishonoring genuine fine art by calling things that clearly are not art "Art.
Alexandra York is an author and founding president of the American Renaissance for the Twenty-first Century (ART) a New-York-City-based nonprofit educational arts and culture foundation. She has written for many publications, and is the author of "Crosspoints A Novel of Choice." Her most recent book is "Soul Celebrations and Spiritual Snacks." Read Alexandra York Insider articles — Click Here Now.
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