My ontology has a conspicuously undefined art section. Although it separates art into literature, sensory art, gaming, drama, and parasocial art, this classification remains deeply flawed because it does not specify any linear thematic sorting, and because it does not clearly distinguish common aspects like live-action and animated shows. This is of importance not only because organising art is important for understanding and archival, but because I have found that expressing my preferences for art requires this sort of framework. Part of the motivation for this essay stems from an unfulfilled promise to share my preferences for lewd art with others, hence the sexual undertones to this article.
Any classification necessarily introduces bias because it implies that it is a valid—or even the sole valid—way of seeing the world, which necessarily predicates certain assumptions and perspectives. In other words, the perfect system would be a booru: many thematic tags so the user can sort them however they wish by simply making a flowchart of how the tags should be sorted, as opposed to the automatic chronological sorting that most boorus give the user.
Currently, imageboards mainly have physical tags, e.g.,
skirt or hands_on_own_hips. Someone close to
me once suggested that it would be straightforward—if time-consuming—to
go through everything on an booru and tag images/animations with genres
and power dynamics. After all, in the context of lewd boorus, we already
have thematic tags like femdom and futasub.
However, I would argue the opposite: that those tags are generally used
in a relatively objective (or at least consensus-based) sense, and there
are really near-infinite thematic tags. Take, for example, this image by
Kasuga (CC BY-SA 3.0) of Wikipe-tan (from Wikimedia).
Sure, you could file it as an example of 2000s anime art as Danbooru does, shelving it as part of that chronological art movement, but that’s not so simple. One could argue that it forms a part of wider concepts like indie art (in the sense of the working class), free/libre art (through the lens of copyright), or Internet art (through the lens of the digital age). Moreover, one could argue that Wikipedia itself is a type of nonfiction genre and art form given the editorial style that many images follow. As a form of high art, it could even be lumped in with Warhol because it’s all modern/pop art anyway (not to mention the parallels between comics and manga).
What about the traditional genres? People tend to disagree on the major ones, so I’ll just go off free MasterClass slop (https://www.masterclass.com/articles/what-are-the-different-genres-of-literature-a-guide-to-14-literary-genres). It’s mystery because Wikipedia collates journalism and one could interpret Wikipe-tan as the trope of an armchair detective. It’s thriller because a Wikipedia article creates suspense by mentioning a scandal in the lead section—or even just the table of contents—then elaborates on it after the biography of the person or organisation. It’s horror because Wikipedia covers true crime. It’s historical, for obvious reasons. It’s romance if you interpret Wikipe-tan as your waifu. It’s a Western (or a critical revisionist dystopic Western, anyway) if you subvert the cliche and interpret Wikipe-tan as primarily American. It’s a Bildungsroman because Wikipe-tan—as an anthromorph of Wikipedia—is 24 and has gone through many emotionally compelling losses, such as the suicide of the great Aaron Swartz (at the time opposing co-founder Jimmy Wales by arguing that irregular specialists made most contributions while regular users mainly edited, not the other way around). It’s speculative fiction and fantasy because Wikipe-tan is not a real girl—so it’s science fiction because Lain ;), meaning it’s dystopian or utopian or realist depending on how you feel about a Wikipe-tan with blue hair, blue eyes, hiding in your wifi…
And those are just the obvious answers, as we can interpret it
through essentially any philosophical lens and tag it with essentially
anything. Feminists might argue that Wikipe-tan, as part of a historical
trend of anthromorphism stretching far beyond Japan to, say, ancient
idolatry or the gendering of ships, objectifies women—or
they might argue the opposite, suggesting that it reflects
female power and intellect. Nietzscheans might argue that
Wikipe-tan, as a representation of Wikipedia, symbolises the
Übermensch with its constant chaotic fact-checking, or they
might argue the opposite that it shows the public’s lazy
dependence on this maid-like source. Civil rights activists
might argue (as I’ve occasionally seen) that moe anthromorphism in
general is a symbol of interracial fetishisation
appropriating a primarily American (or international) organisation by
falsely portraying it as Japanese, or praise the community for its
acceptance of Japanese culture by not opposing this
depiction of their work.
Even approaches that we generally don’t consider to be “philosophies”
are still valid perspectives. Marketers might argue that Wikipe-tan is
merely a marketing mascot meant to improve public
perception of the website, for example its use by the Hong Kong
community to raise donations, or appreciate it as an example of a
cultural icon that has both cultural value and a monetary
background, as it’s been drawn by people who do not expect monetary
compensation for their efforts. Republicans, with their well-known
dislike of Wikipedia, might argue that Wikipe-tan is a
mockery of American traditional values, perhaps even
criticising the new generation for relying on that source;
alternatively, they might interpret the personification as implying that
Wikipe-tan’s just a helpful, subservient young woman:
nobody’s always right or knows everything, and Wikipe-tan is here to
suggest, not dictate.
Slimming things down to power dynamics between the character and the viewer doesn’t help, either. That simple image can be interpreted as a submissive, subservient young female wearing a maid uniform. However, it could also be interpreted through the lens of lolicon to mean someone too innocent to understand the sexual undertones of submission. On the other hand, the professionalism of the maid dress and the stout rigidity of the frame can imply assertiveness or even teasing softdom/smalldom. I doubt whether the power dynamic can be dismissed simply because the viewer is out-of-frame or the picture depicts an offer gaze, either, since it is still implied. Sure, maybe it isn’t explicitly futa, but—from a feminist perspective—the subversion of gender identity related to the predominantly male endeavour of intellectual investigation could imply that Wikipe-tan is a hermaphrodite and her futanari penis symbolises the gender-neutrality of Wikipedia, or its left-wing civil rights tilt, or Wikipe-tan’s ability to spread the seed of ideas, or Wikipedia’s tendency to be toxic-masculine, or… something, fuck you, and her age does not invalidate those perspectives.
Furthermore, those examples are oversimplified dichotomies of the complexities within any area of study. I daresay the first few hours of talking about Grandpa Chomsky might be fun, but I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in heated arguments about bronze inscriptions from the Western Zhou dynasty just because someone questions orthodox interpretations of the glyph on Wikipe-tan’s hairpiece.
In other words, making and using comprehensive thematic tags would be impracticable not just because of the time involved, but because that would involve cataloguing and defining every potential interpretation—or at least reasoning why some interpretations are included while others aren’t, at which point bias, elitism, and arbitrary distinctions come in. That is why I personally prefer a linear organisation, as shown in my ontology. It’s simply a lot easier to have one system.
So. How do we interpret art? Perhaps that question is ill-formed as it implies a focus on popular consensus. More accurately: how do I interpret art, and how is that valid?
I believe I take a much wider view of art than most, in part due to my background in the IB English LangLit course which trained students to see that sources not commonly considered literature, like political speeches, television shows, and even wordless photographs, are nevertheless applications of a very general sense of language (i.e., not just verbal language but visual language). In other words, distinction based on medium seems—to me, at least—to be arbitrary because the way we perceive these combinations of sensory elements depends on social norms. For example, many modern historians have discussed how the study of non-Western oral traditions has mostly been neglected; and musicals are nowadays relegated to Broadway where once the bard was arguably the key artist.
Similarly, I believe that we should not sort by artist or movement. It implies that an artwork is not a standalone piece—that it should be interpreted through the lens of the viewer’s parasocial relationship to the artist—and takes an overly individualistic view to the identity of artist, something that many have tried to consciously reject. In simpler terms, it places an unnecessary and invasive burden on both viewer and artist while neglecting the context of the piece, to the point of implying that certain works are less or more valid depending on the artist’s background and beliefs—leading to elitism that some artists are on a higher level than others and people are obligated to respect not specific works but the artist themselves, at least from what I’ve observed of modern art discussions in both formal and informal contexts. Perhaps this made more sense in the socio-economic context of the classics, where many artists had consistent themes and styles that reflected the social consensus, their patrons, and major events in their life, but nowadays artists are much more inconsistent.
However, complete rejection of it also seems like a flawed view as the existence of parasocial relationships are undeniable and pervasive. Celebrities have always existed, but the existence of the Internet has made online personalities much more common. For example, consider OnlyFans. The photos aren’t very good—they’re usually low-quality images with imperfect bodies that superficially look very similar to anything in pornography, not to mention the often cheap and shoddy cosplays. Rather, perhaps the main reason people subscribe is because it constitutes a parasocial relationship—because they believe they’re interacting with a fun online personality, or really just a real person, rather than an actor.
What if, instead of defining art through the artist, we define the identity itself as a work of art? After all, many would agree that the online persona is distinct from one’s real persona. In that sense, perhaps art is not a tangible thing—rather, our perception of a “piece” is heavily layered and subjective, like concepts in general. For example, we can split a song into different parts and remix a sole element (like the melody or drums) which is itself perhaps an artistic meme, or we can consider the song through the context of the album, or the artist, or whatever other context. Moreover, the existence of collages shows that a gallery can itself be a work of art; I’m also thinking about galleries meant to show a single piece, for example the Inoue Takehiko gallery that depicted a Vagabond chapter. However, this still doesn’t solve our fundamental problem—if anything, it worsens it.
We thus return to boorus and the concept of the image/video as the fundamental “meme” of visual art. Images and videos are tagged and pooled according to aspect, medium, and interpretation, but there seems to be no road to continue. Traditional library classifications cannot offer any advice, as DDC (Dewey), LCC/Cutter (Library of Congress), and UDC appear to sort by medium and then alphabetical order, while colon classification sorts by facets I consider arbitrary. Meanwhile, art museums sort by confusingly curated exhibitions. Online acquaintances are of no help either because even the more collective of them generally use folders organised around their own preferences. As for other classifications like Booker’s Seven Basic plots, I believe enough has been said earlier about the problems with rigidity and interpretation of such promises.
In conclusion, I do not think there is any way to classify art without introducing bias. Therefore, it’s not my fault that I’ve owed somebody a list of nice art for three or four months now. Wahahaha!