Listen, I get it, I really do. Politics can be boring, messy, and sometimes too much of a mental load for us to be able to take on. It's hard to walk anywhere, open any site - hell, even talk to a friend - without getting inundated with bad news. The town crier in old period pieces screaming that "the sky is falling!" is real, but they're telling you instead that the world is burning, the waters are rising, and all you really want to do is hit the mute button so everyone can just get out of your goddamn ear. Art, consequently, has become a solace for people. A way to shut out the noise and immerse yourself in something make-believe, something that doesn't exist in our current sphere. My goal here isn't to talk you out of that, far from it! If art is your happy place and your spot of mental solace, there is nothing wrong with that. That being said, there's this interesting narrative I've seen circling that art shouldn't also be political, and if that's an ideal you subscribe to, oh boy, do I have some disappointing news for you.
Art has always been deeply political. It's been used as a vessel of propaganda, protest, religion, and so much more since before humanity could even conceptualize toilet paper. In the high renaissance era, artists were commissioned by wealthy patrons to create works of art that reflected the current beliefs and culture of the time, led by the elite (this will be a theme). The Sistine Chapel ceiling, largely considered to be one of the most masterful paintings of all time, was commissioned by Pope Julius II, then painted by Michelangelo from 1508-1512. It was deeply intrenched in old catholic storytelling, meant to capture a sense of awe and wonder when the viewer looked up, surrounded by the majesty of God. Regardless of your stance on religion, it is an undeniable fact that it is synonymous with government, for right or wrong, and that it's had an enormous impact on culture even today. This is largely in part due to art. I mean, even the iconic symbol of the crucifix? Art. The ornate chapels with high architecture and detailed stained glass? Art. The Bible itself? You guessed it; art. These are feats of storytelling through multiple different mediums created to reach worldwide audiences, and to hopefully recruit non-believers to their cause. Regardless of how we feel about it, this is political.
This is a theme that's been carried through history, and it's not bound to religion either. In 1916, the Dada movement was born in Switzerland at Cabaret Voltaire. If that year feels like it rings a bell, it's because it's only two years after the beginning of World War I. The Dada movement was in direct response to the increase of intense nationalism that founder Hugo Ball and Emily Hennings believed led to the war. They used art to mock its own conventions and the elite who founded them (sound familiar?), and to critique the senseless slaughter happening in the trenches. The Dada movement was deeply political, countering the nations' absurd decent into chaos with their own absurdity. Poet Tristan Tzara said; "The beginnings of Dada were not the beginnings of art, but of disgust."
Now, I can sit here and type up an entire art history course worth of movements and pieces that prove art's deep link to politics and protest, but I really do need to move on (if you want more examples, I'd recommend looking into protest art found in ancient Egypt and Greece, as well as more contemporary examples such as Frida Kahlo and Kent Monkman). So we've established that art has been political for ages, but why does it matter? Why does it need to be political now? Well, the simple answer is that it's near impossible to separate the two since art is a direct reflection of the times the artists live in. But more importantly, art is a powerful vessel for change.
We need change. Desperately. Direly. In April 2024, it was reported that Canada's poverty rate increased by 38.9%, and food insecurity jumped by 31.0%. In 2019, The Global Citizen reported that when looking at poverty rates amongst indigenous populations, 47% of all indigenous children lived in households below the poverty line, which was three times higher than the nation average reported in 2016. Internationally, a minimum of 37,765 Palestinians have been killed since October 7th, 2023 to the date this article is posted. Regardless of your stance on the genocide from Israel against Palestine, we can recognize that that number is staggering. Since the beginning of 2024, over 738,000 people have been displaced in the Democratic Republic of Congo. I know I acknowledged earlier how morose the world can be when we're inundated with bad news, but this is essential to point out in the conversation of art and politics.
Arts have been proven to make a shift in political landscapes; we know how far its influence goes. We also know that art is effectively used to generate dialogue and debates in ways that we'd never thought of otherwise. It has specific power, especially when made by the people rather than the elite. Art surrounds us, it's impossible to ignore. It speaks about the perspectives of the people at large, and it disseminates integral information that otherwise gets buried under government funded propaganda. We notice when posters about a genocide overseas starts to cover our streets. We notice when singer with two-millions monthly listeners creates a song with a deeply political message. We notice when a priceless painting gets vandalized to call attention to our climate crisis. Regardless of whether we agree with the messages or not, we see them. We think about them. They become unavoidable, and eventually, become reoccurring topics of conversation that we can't block out entirely. Art is a vessel for our humanity, and it demands attention. Not only should art be political, it must. It has to. It's as closely linked together as an inhale and an exhale, no space between the two. And what change we could make if we shift to listening rather than running.
Paige Bartsch