Featured Forum: What's With the Kids These Days?

[Scott Stulen]

Featured Forums are Back!

We are very excited to bring back the Featured Forums to mnartists.org. We had such a strong response to January's conversation that we've decided to revive the feature with a new topic each month. The topics will be introduced with an essay or opinion piece about a relevant topic to the art community and contemporary culture. I will serve as the moderator and occasional contributor. Several “guest” contributors will be selected each month to add their opinions and expertise to keep the discussion lively and engaging. Our hope is that the forums thrive and become an online hub for discussion, debate and perhaps action. The forums will be open for everyone to participate…so spread the word and jump into the conversation.

We ask that you observe appropriate online etiquette with the forums. The topics will be controversial at times and the diversity of opinions is what makes the forums interesting. However we ask that you refrain from vulgar language or angry name calling. Please keep the discussion on topic and interesting.

So on with the August featured forum. Some argue there is a growing generation gap among those working in the MN arts scene. We want to know what you think about it--generally speaking, have you noticed a burgeoning disconnect between the interests and values of older artists and those of younger artists emerging on the scene? What have your own experiences been, as you've worked with younger/older artists? Are such complaints just cyclical gas-baggery about "kids these days"? Or is there really something to the idea that the older and younger generations of artists working today just aren't speaking the same language anymore?

One of our favorite arts provocateurs, Michael Fallon, will kick off the conversation on Monday with a friendly opening polemic on the issue. The folks from the Walker Teen Art Council will weigh in with their observations and responses, and the floor will be open for your comments as well. You won't want to miss what's sure to be an intriguing discussion.

And do check in here again next month for a new topic and discussion--the next featured forum promises to be a lively one.

Scott Stulen
Project Director
mnartists.org

[Michael Fallon]

WHAT’S WITH THESE KIDS TODAY?: Young Artists and How the World They’re Creating Will Be Completely Fucked Up, and Perhaps That’s As It Should Be

by Michael Fallon


TWO WEEKS BEFORE THE GREAT AMERICAN ARTIST Robert Rauschenberg passed away at age 82 this past May, a group of seven young people, all of them one-quarter of the artist’s age, stood in front of an audience of about 100 at the 2008 Mpls-St. Paul International Film Festival (M-SPIFF). The occasion was the screening of a film, Disconnected, that the group had made for a class on documentary film at Carleton College in nearby Northfield. As I listened to these kids answer questions from the audience about their film, several subtexts to the event came to mind.

First, it was odd that these students from blink-and-miss-it Carleton were, for the most part, calmer and more relaxed—smug almost—than any twenty-year-old has a right to be in front of such a large audience. This is especially true considering the event, a notable international film festival, was older—at 26 years—than these kids were. But then, this may not be so unusual after all, given the numerous reports from those in-the-know which suggest that most kids of this age—those of the so-called Generation Y, born after about 1980—have come to believe that attention and fame is their very due. According to a 2006 survey by the Pew Research Center, 51% of 18- to 25-year-olds identified “to be famous” as one of their top two goals. This was above “to help people who need help” (30%), “to be leaders in their community” (22%), and “to become more spiritual” (10%), but behind the number one choice (“to get rich,” 81%).

Second, as I listened to these young filmmakers talk, a strange thought struck me: at the same time that the aspirers seemed confident their career was (finally, gosh!) well underway—rushing outside afterward like movie stars on the red carpet to take a group marketing photo—it was near miraculous that the venue for their film (i.e., M-SPIFF) still existed. While the festival was healthy enough this year, with more than 140 films from 40 different countries, last year’s event showed far fewer films to scant fanfare, and buzz had it that the organization overseeing the festival, Minnesota Film Arts, was selling off assets to deal with a ballooning deficit. "We didn't know if we were going to have enough money to pay bills to have a festival," said Al Milgrom, who, despite being older than Rauschenberg’s age at death, was widely credited for rescuing M-SPIFF this year, after taking a few years off due to health problems. What’s truly ironic about this? A cause for the festival’s recent struggles may be that young audiences—much like these fame-seeking film students—who once kept alternative film festivals and other such events afloat are no longer showing up to support the cause. It is remarkable and fortunate that Milgrom, who, in 1962, founded the org that would eventually start up M-SPIFF, still showed up to rally people to the cause after all these years. Because the truth is such arts events (which, after all, play a crucial role in helping young artists become known) are rapidly dying off, no thanks to the young generation that seems unwilling to attend them.

Finally, it was clear to me that the abundant self-confidence on display by these kids wasn't necessarily evidence of skill or achievement. The film they made was actually not all that good; it was not revealing, not at all introspective, and it made little logical sense. The subject of the film—to follow three of their fellows who pledged to give up their sundry electronic devices (i.e., to become “disconnected”)—for the final three weeks of the semester, was simply contrived to fulfill their course requirements. And though there were a few funny moments (such as when two students tried to figure out how the library’s three old typewriters worked), in the end, the film’s characters went through little growth, and Disconnected didn't have much traditional narrative arc. The rather shallow and blasé conclusion of the film seemed merely to be: Wow, it’s amazing how much valuable time we young people waste on our computers, though I sure wouldn’t give mine up again!

ONE CAN’T REALLY FAULT YOUNG PEOPLE their personal blind spots regarding their own originality (or lack thereof). Every young generation sets out to reinvent culture—first by pooh-poohing the idea that any original thought has been had in the centuries leading up to their arrival, then by tossing up their supposedly (but rarely actually) “new” takes. How could these “disconnected” kids intuit, for instance, that the majority of the population (anyone older than, oh, about twenty years old) still remembers an unwired world, and so would find their fabricated “struggles” and shallow conclusions fairly ridiculous? Still, common as the myopic creative ambition of young artists is, this blindness can be—now, in an age of near-ubiquitous youthful delusions about fame and fortune—especially problematic.

This youthful hubris is (and always has been?) an affront to older, established artists and grunt-workers who've been doing hard time for years to keep culture alive. And such arrogance is often taken as a negative acte provocateur that, in the end, causes the most harm—at least in terms of turning off future audiences and potential allies—to the wanna-be revolutionary him/herself. It’s a nasty Molotov destined only to blow up in the thrower’s own naïve face.

Now, I’m entirely aware that these musings on my part may just be the usual generation-based sour grapes (more on this below) coming from someone who feels the creative imperative slipping from his hands. In fact, my wariness of being charged a grumpy has-been has kept me from writing on this topic until now, although I have been pondering the subject for more than two years. After all, every aging generation produces essays just like the one I’m writing here. The argument, in effect, goes like this: the nascent generation is misguided, culturally and in most every other way, and once we elders grudgingly hand the world over to them, everything we've worked for will go to pot.

My particular concerns about kids today go back to an intense experience I had in early 2006 leading a group of ten people between the ages of 21 and 28 on a large research project about aging artists. It was then that I first became aware of the fairly sizeable chasm between my generation and theirs. In the wake of my own frustrating interactions, I've remained sufficiently concerned about what sort of future these artists were setting themselves up for to keep seeking info about this emerging generation. And it turns out I haven’t been the only one. In the past two years, the generation most commonly known as “Y”— born between 1980 and 1997 (give or take a few years, depending on whom you talk to)—has become the focus of much observation, study, and commentary in scores of articles, both popular and academic, and books, including: The Dumbest Generation by Mark Bauerlein, Millennials Rising by Neil Howe, Managing Generation Y by Carolyn Martin, and so on. Much of this attention may have to do with this group’s connection to the Internet and wireless revolutions—as so-called digital natives, who can’t clearly recall a time prior to these tech developments—and with the rapid social and economic changes which have accompanied them. One of the best documented of these books, Generation Me by psychologist Jean Twenge (who counts herself a member of the generation she has studied), is also one of the most damning assessments of Gen Y.

“Young people today,” writes Twenge, “have been consistently taught to put their own needs first and to focus on feeling good about themselves.” She further claims that, despite what you might expect, such self-pampering has done the group nothing but harm. Twenge cites numerous studies which offer evidence for a host of problems among her generational cohorts: a decline in manners and regard for social rules; a disengagement with civic concerns; a tendency toward cheating and an antipathy toward authority; a strong sense of entitlement and inability to take criticism; high levels of drug use; loss of faith in the rewards of responsibility and hard work; increasing sense of loneliness and an inclination toward shorter relationships and sexual promiscuity; rising levels of depression, anxiety, panic, and nervous breakdown; and suicide rates twice what they were in 1950.

Despite its myriad problems, this young generation also has—tellingly, and incongruously—a remarkably high sense of self-regard, or what Twenge calls a “cotton candy sense of self with no basis.” In psychological terms, according to Twenge, her generation is afflicted by abnormally high rates of “clinical narcissism,” a pathology with numerous manifestations (many of which are listed above). In fact, her discovery of increasing rates of narcissistic personality disorder among recent annual surveys of college freshmen is what initially alerted Twenge to her generation’s problems. Much of the blame for this, according to her research, falls squarely on educational and parenting philosophies that came into vogue after 1980, which focused on developing “self-esteem” in children. She explains, over the past decades Gen Y-ers have been told, over and over in school and in the home, that it is who they are, not what they do, that is important; that they are valuable and worthy, no matter their accomplishments; they are simply special. Ironically (or perhaps not so ironically), such ego-boosting has resulted not in more well-adjusted kids, nor in more accomplished ones, but in a whole host of disconnects: unrealistic expectations for success; a lack of interest in striving for accomplishment; an inflated sense of the value of their own efforts; taking for granted the “nullity of others' opinions”; an overall thin-skinned-ness; a diminished capacity for extended study and deep thought; and frustration and disappointment when realizing that others don’t share their high self-regard.

The nicknames that others have given to Gen Y tell the story: The Look-at-Me Generation, Generation Me, the Dumbest Generation, the Entitlement Generation, Generation Why? “Instead of creating well-adjusted, happy children,” Twenge writes, “the self-esteem movement has created an army of narcissists… Praise based on nothing teaches only an inflated ego. The purpose of school is for children to learn, not for them to feel good about themselves all the time.” Twenge ends her book, in fact, with a near-desperate plea for immediate reform of the education system, gearing it more toward the teaching of skills and accomplishments over self-esteem—lest we face a long future of underachieving, unfocused, unproductive, and disgruntled kids.

I UNDERSTAND TWENGE’S CONCERN FOR HER FELLOWS as they try to cope with the bad bill of goods they’ve been sold. But unlike Twenge, I’m not certain what should, or can, be done to counteract such a widespread and deeply entrenched generational shift in terms of psychology and cognition. One might suggest tolerance: that older generations should just learn to deal with these petulant young people. To be frank, however, since my generation is rapidly reaching the too-set-in-its-ways stage of life, I don’t think that’s likely to happen (I know it’s not going to happen with me). It's much more likely that Generation Y will learn to cope with its lot—perhaps pharmaceutically (it’s already, by far, the most heavily medicated generation in history) or through the age-old process known as “growing up.” Still, while I don’t worry much about the inevitable life disappointments that lie ahead for the next generation as it reaches (a delayed) adulthood, I am truly concerned—as an art critic—about what lasting effect the group will have on the declining future prospects of cultural endeavors and the arts in this country. I am worried that the arts culture these kids are creating is likely to result in much more grief and failure than we're seeing, even now, in the arts.

The darker characteristics of Generation Y—the blind hubris, the inability to concentrate deeply, the lack of foresight and of balance (and I haven’t even mentioned the whole Facebook/Youtube/Myspace/Flickr/blogosphere hall-of-mirrors time suck that young people are increasingly addicted to)—while mildly annoying to deal with over the short term, most likely do not spell doom. The world will continue on in its way, as it always has, as these new generations emerge.

What truly worries me is this: I'm concerned about the lasting repercussions to art and to the culture which correspond to the widespread downward slide in the way young people use their brains to think about and perceive the world. And others share this concern. Nicolas Carr, in a recent Atlantic Monthly article called “Is Google Making Us Stupid?”, suggests that, because of his own decade-long habit of surfing and reading articles on the Web he feels, “someone, or something, has been tinkering with my brain, remapping the neural circuitry, reprogramming the memory…chipping away my capacity for concentration and contemplation.” He cites a recent study by scholars from University College London that suggests we may be “in the midst of a sea change in the way we read and think.” That is, as a culture, we are giving up concentrated reading, deep introspection, and intellectual synthesis in favor of ever-quicker “skimming” of a very wide, but shallow, pool of information. Andrew Keen (author of The Cult of the Amateur) concurs, citing recent research by British scientist Susan Greenfield which suggests “grave consequences for the future generation” owing to its addiction to “online culture.” “Her research indicates,” Keen writes further, “that the ubiquity of digital technology is altering the shape and chemistry of our brains,” potentially leading to “mental disorders such as autism, attention deficit disorder, and hyperactivity.” And it might get worse, as she goes on to suggest that “children of the Web 2.0 generation… will be more prone to real-world violence, less able to compromise or negotiate, apt to be poor learners, and lacking in empathy.”

It's not surprising, considering these factors, that the past five years have seen a clear decline in cultural discourse, locally at least. The quality of work coming from new emerging artists, for instance, has taken a nose-dive. Four to five years ago, the local landscape was overrun with hot and somewhat accomplished youngish local artists— Alec Soth, Jay Heikes, Angela Strassheim, Santiago Cucullu, Rob Fischer, and so on—whose work was beginning to make a national splash. Today there’s none of that energy or national interest. Much of what I see being made by young artists these days is too easy, less thought out, and far less carefully made than even just a few years ago; and it is fairly justifiably being roundly ignored by the larger public.

Worse than this short-term decline, however, and more distressing in terms of our shared cultural future, the artists of today appear to have no idea that their efforts are perceived as mediocre. In fact, many are so firmly convinced of their own superiority to what came before that it’s become difficult for me—the professional observer of art—even to deal with them. There's a distinctive new pushiness and sense of entitlement whenever a young artist determines to contact an art-critical writer like me. I’ve never been so pestered and harried—called at home, e-stalked, called at my day job, and generally hounded—as I have by young artists in the past few years. And, while in the past I’ve occasionally had my critical motives questioned (as should happen from time to time), when I’ve made an effort to write something about a young Gen Y artist’s work, my critical assessments—usually very measured, so as not to discourage—have almost always been treated as personal affronts. The prevailing attitude among young artists today seems to be, “If you don’t believe my work is fabulous, then there’s obviously something wrong with you.”

I don't mean to make a blanket condemnation here. Maybe things will level out in time, as the more talented of this generation discover their voices. Maybe that saying about cream rising to the top will prove accurate yet again. Maybe this younger generation will figure out the difference between trenchant and moving expression and self-love for one’s own every little creative thought. I certainly hope so, lest my twilight years will be spent in abject aesthetic misery.

And while it would of course be easy to discount my dismissal of the next generation’s art—again, as sour grapes—the truth is with so many people wondering why the culture at large seems to care less and less about art, it may just be possible that my critical attitudes are reflective of more widespread sentiments. (Heaven forbid a critic actually have a meaningful perception!) At the very least, I suggest to the young artist desperate to become as famous as you’d always knew you’d be: You might take to heart that a person who is paid to get the word out your art—that is, me—is seriously questioning the worth of paying any attention at all to you.

So yes, it's true: every generation has its battles with the one(s) that preceded it, and the younger generation has always had to deal with the one that established itself beforehand. Even so, I'm doubtful that the kneejerk badgering and melodrama coming from today's youth in the face of criticism is the best strategy for their long-term artistic and cultural success. Rauschenberg himself, the once-young artist who just passed on, may offer a lesson to guide us in this. I’m speaking, of course, of his 1953 work Erased de Kooning Drawing, in which the young Rauschenberg—then just 28 years old—cajoled the veteran painter Willem de Kooning—aged 49—into giving him one of his great, explosive, expressive gesture drawings. And then Rauschenberg simply erased it. While this was the ultimate act of “reinventing art” by one younger generation at the expense of the previous one; what made this work particularly special and meaningful was it was a knowing act of destruction of what Rauschenberg called “greatness.” It was at once as much an homage as it was an act of cultural reinvention. Or, as Rauschenberg himself said of the piece: "It's not a negation. It's a celebration."

If Generation Y had the slightest ability to pay homage in this way or even to learn a little humility as they go about their own cultural revolutions—we might all be better off.

I want to be like you Michael Fallon. I want to become an art critic and drink martinis instead of studying agriculture and helping the poor of this world have food. I want to become as rich and famous as I possibly can because I will be able to find the most attractive mate that way.

[Susannah Schouweiler]

If you needed evidence that we're a welcoming sort in the forums, look no further! (Art critics=martini-lovin' rich guys? Who wanna be famous? Really? On a related note, though--have you guys caught a load of Mr. Fallon's smoking jacket? Nice....)

Anyhoo--just to provide a little something from the other side of the age divide, I thought I'd throw the following in the mix. I ran across a post the other day; it's an apt counterpoint to Michael's take on what Gen Y-folks bring to the table. From Clay Collins (author of The Growing Life) via Penelope Trunk's blog, "Brazen Careerist:" Twentysomething: 7 reasons why my generation is more productive than yours.

Thoughts?

[Sam Spiczka]

I do pick up on a little "Hey you kids, get off my lawn!" here, but I doubt Michael cares since that's usually an undercurrent in his writing. That's flavor, I like it. But I question his suspicion that the navel-gazing he observes in the younger generation is related to a lack of national-quality artists coming out of MN these days. Wouldn't that be the same case for all other geographic locations as well? Wouldn't the GenYers in NY or LA suffer from the same malady if it was truly widespread? Could it be that there is just a wider, across-the-board decline occurring in this state that inevitably afflicts the arts community?

[Michael Fallon]

Sam, you make a good point about the rhetorical weakness of this piece's transition between arguing for the problems inherent in Gen Y as it emerges from the education system into the work force and the lack of quality I see in local/national arts. I could have argued that art in general is currently going through a fallow period (something I believe), and that this is at least partially due to the values and self-regard of the young generation, but that would've a massively difficult thing to quantify and/or prove and would have taken many more than the 3,000+ words I'd already put down. I think instead we can leave it to individuals to decide what they think of the art being made by young artists now...

My larger point, though--and the basic reason why I even bothered to struggle with this issue in the first place--is we are obviously facing a quite drastic retrenchment in the local nonprofit sector in general, and in the arts in particular, exactly at the same time as a new generation emerges that, even as it lacks an interest in civic engagement and in supporting art as an audience, is acutely interested in achieving fame and fortune above all else. Much as it pained me to grapple with these issues and thoughts (opening myself up to charges of being a fogey well before my time) (ahem), in the end I felt I couldn't sit by--as a social critic--without remarking on the fantastic irony of this perfect tangle of conditions and attitudes. In the end, I can wonder what kind of art scene we'll be working in after a decade of this has passed...

[Sam Spiczka]

An across-the-board decline in quality is a much stronger argument. Yes, harder to quantify, but I suspect correct. It's interesting to think about this in relation to Glenn's recent article. The problem with looking back for guidance is that, then as today, 99% of everything made is forgotten. We just get to look at the remembered stuff from then, while the rememberable stuff of today is still often hidden in places.

At any rate, I know personally I spend most of my time associating with older artists who've managed to continue working year after year. Their work is usually better and they're much more pragmatic. Perhaps the aspirations of the younger folk (along with us all) would be more endearing if they were willing to follow the advice of William James, "Do every day or two something for no other reason than you would rather not do it, so that when the hour of dire need draws nigh, it may find you not unnerved and untrained to stand the test."

We are auto-global latitude forms. Remember? How that happens...

It's an interesting dynamic to lay out the rules of engagement and then have the invited guest break them in the second post. Thatsa high concept. wow you know your target market.

I like the base induction. Old artists wanting to reconnect and learn new language...

But old and young being relative, I feel roles are confused.

Am I the young artist? Or do you out number my age, yet decide yesterday that you were an artist, thus making ME the old artist?

I decided long ago, never to walk in anyone's shadows
If I fail, if I succeed
At least I'll live as I believe
No matter what they take from me
They can't take away my dignity
Because the greatest love of all
Is happening to me


I didn't even read the second post because it broke protocol. Suppose I'll be interested enough tomorrow.. when the WACTAC kids get here.

[Sam Spiczka]

It also occurs to me that in an age of darkness, the interesting/memorable work may be happening in the shadows, where you least suspect it.

I would like to make two points – the first in defense of Generation Y, the second a closer look at narcissism among young artists.

1. I believe Generation Y has an overdeveloped sense of self importance because the world laid the groundwork for it during their lifetime. This group grew up with an educational system that stressed multiculturalism and diversity (thank you civil rights and feminism). Older Gen Y witnessed the passing of the Americans with Disabilities Act and the younger ones, and everyone else in America, benefited from a little more understanding. GLBT individuals are coming out in greater numbers at younger ages because they have support for it, whether from their parents, peers, or school. The best of this generation’s idea of ‘special’ leads to tolerance and acceptance.

2. I am not disputing Mr. Fallon’s vision of narcissistic and entitled 20 somethings. As an MFA candidate, I teach too many BFA students who are lazy, spoiled, and lack the ability to take constructive criticism, hindering their growth as artists. Unfortunately, I think many are unable to recognize (or are just in plain denial) of when they fail. Even more disheartening to me is that schools appear to be encouraging soft landings with cake walk critiques when art students should be given the opportunity to fall on their asses. I am not the only instructor (ranging from grad student to tenured professor) who has been tempted to fail a student, for lack of performance to outright plagerism, that the school I work for has discouraged. There is simply no mechanism in place as to deal with failing BFA students where I work. Additionally, I believe schools are downright scared of the economic repercussions of handing out Fs, which includes low retention and loss of tuition dollars to lawsuits by over-zealous parents. Whether it is the system or the parents, an older generation is enabling these students’ belief that they know everything already. It’s time to bring back the value of a strong work ethic, eliminate cushy critiques, and reward those students that grow a thick skin and learn the more because of it. The future of aesthetics, and in turn arts organizations, will thank us all if we do.