Contemplating Contemporary Art

And how I have been doing a disservice to myself by only looking at paintings made by dead, white people.

Nothing does it for me like a good ol’ museum. Every visit is like skimming through a non-fiction book (which is good, because I rarely can get past the first 30 pages of those well-acclaimed non-fiction books that swear to be life-changing). I do have a preference, and that's your classical art museum. Think of your impressionist paintings and portraits of royalty and never-ending depictions of scenes from the Bible. Since moving to Chicago, I have spent a lot of time at the Art Institute, which is truly top-tier and I endearingly call it “my happy place”. Through my conversations with other frequent visitors, I kept being recommended to visit the Museum of Contemporary Art. Let’s be honest here – I had never stepped foot in there, or any art museum that catalogued itself as a contemporary one. I kept telling myself my taste just inclined towards more classical stuff. Oil paint on canvases depicting nature and people doing ordinary things. I decided to take a chance and visit the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago, and it finally hit me –  what a disservice had I been doingd to myself by only looking at art made by dead, white people.

My skeptical visit started on the second floor of the MCA. I walked into a room and saw a set made to look like someone's bedroom, with their shoes in the entryway and his clothes folded in the end of the bed. However, yellow splattered paint covered every surface of the room, with the paintball machine responsible still standing to the side. I looked at it and pondered, without having taken the time to read about the artist or the piece itself. I did an exercise I often like to do at art museums, which is to stare at a piece for long and try to come up with the meaning behind it. You cannot blame me, I am a romantic – everything must be a symbol for something bigger and deeper. Eventually I thought to myself, “Hmm, maybe this is a commentary on the effects of war.” When I turned to read the piece’s description, it turns out I was onto something.

This piece was the first one in the exhibit Indulge Me, by Wafaa Bilal. In his work, Bilal “investigates the dynamic between international and interpersonal politics while highlighting the tension between his home in the United States, which he has deemed the ‘comfort zone,’ and the ‘conflict zone’ of Iraq.” As soon as I started looking at the different pieces and the stories behind it, I was completely captivated and absorbed into his work. Through different pieces, mixing different techniques from 3D printing to video game design, Bilal takes the viewer into what it is like to be an Iraqi person living through what feels like a war against them and their culture, both internationally and by Al-Qaeda itself. His pieces used mediums totally unlike the ones I claimed I gravitated towards (he even surgically installed a camera to the back of his head for a year to record his life and make a commentary on cultural cannibalism and consumption).

This immediately got me thinking about the discourse surrounding the value of contemporary art – especially conceptual and performance-based work like that of Wafaa Bilal – compared to traditional painting and sculpture. Without intending to, I was keeping myself on the side of the discourse that reduced its value. This discourse is deeply rooted in long-standing debates about artistic legitimacy, medium hierarchy, and cultural institutions’ roles in shaping aesthetic values. This can be problematic, as it reduces the value of an artist’s work simply because they have decided to partake in the evolution of art, as technology and life in general has changed. Historically, painting and sculpture were seen as the highest forms of artistic expression, particularly within Western art traditions. The Renaissance ideal emphasized technical skill, mastery of form, and adherence to classical principles of beauty and harmony. This hierarchy persisted through the modern era, with critics and institutions often privileging oil paintings and monumental sculptures over emerging media.

However, contemporary artists like Wafaa Bilal challenge these assumptions by expanding artistic expression into performance, digital media, and conceptual art. This pushes art beyond passive viewing into engagement, participation, and political critique. As I gave this some thought, I was immediately reminded of the “art for art’s sake” saying and Aestheticism as a movement. Although I enjoy much of the sentiment behind the idea of making pretty things just for the sake of looking at them (I buy a lot of little trinkets that bring me joy but are otherwise useless), I cannot fully subscribe to the idea that art is ever not making a commentary on something – whether it is about society, politics, or even just personal to the artist. For instance, take the Gilded age as an example. During this time, many artists turned household items into art by making them intricate and beautiful to look at. This was a result of a demand for them as American people became wealthier. However, only the very wealthy could afford to display these pieces in their homes. This means that, whether we want to or not, this movement made a commentary on social inequality.

So, what is art for if not to say something? How is it moving if it does not target the pains and conflicts that move humans? During my visit to the MCA, I realized that through its innovative mediums, contemporary art was able to move me in a way classical art never had. Many argue this reduces art to a “performative” act, devoid of any aesthetic value, which they claim should characterize art based on Eurocentric definitions. Maybe it does, after all I am not an art historian nor a curator. However, I cannot help but embrace art that moves you, that makes you ponder and examine the life you lead and the society that surrounds us. Contemporary art invited the viewer to interact with it – perhaps by taking a grain of wheat genetically modified to carry Iraqi culture in its DNA – and to go home having something profoundly changed in them. All art is inherently political, and artists have always responded to their times. Even the Renaissance masters worked under religious and political patronage, shaping their work’s content and meaning. Contemporary artists argue that beauty, form, and skill are not the only measures of artistic value – impact, engagement, and social critique are equally significant.