Musings of a Bored Barista
Whilst standing around making coffee all day, the mind tends to wander. Or at least, mine certainly does. Truth be told, it shouldn't be wandering if I were to do my job correctly: engage with customers whilst making - sorry, hand-crafting their drinks, smile, make conversation, and generally enjoy being at your job. Obviously I don't do this, as I tend to ignore the customer completely and put all my effort into their drink. I like to think that this extra attention to detail pays off, but my manager disagrees. Well, for now we'll agree to disagree.
At some point in the day, once my grande skinny latte routine is honed to perfection, I start to the think of other things. In the beginning, I created the perfect milk and foam. And the foam was without large bubbles, and smooth. Except, after a while I started noticing that different milk foams in different ways when steamed. Skimmed milk, for example, is the worst at clumping. I've yet to figure out why this is, but I think it must have something to do with the fat content per millilitre of milk. The variations in protein and carbohydrate between the three milks we use (full fat, semi-skimmed, skimmed) are negligible, differing by only 0.1g per 100g on the whole. The same goes for the various vitamins and minerals that are found in milk, which don't change enough to affect the clumpiness of the milk foam. That pretty much just leaves the fat content, which must make it smoother somehow, though for the life of me I couldn't tell you the specifics.
You're wondering now how I managed to tear myself away from such a fascinating subject, am I right? Well, not very easily. As it turns out, not thinking about the things directly in front of you is actually quite difficult - particularly when life grants you mysteries such as the varying foaminess of milk. Time to steam is time to dream however, and boy do I do that. I've tried to guess at the average body temperature of a cow (without cheating and using a smartphone), decided on the best and most efficient way to heat milk at home (without a steamer), and realised that most of my daydreams are now milk-related. Great.
But thankfully I've now mooooved on to pastures new, inspired by my recent foray into the wide world of modern art. That's right; the new stuff. Or, more technically, most things produced in the art world between the 1860s to the 1970s (so not including the postmodern). This definition also includes well-known styles such as Impressionism and Surrealism, as well as famous painters such as Edvard Munch, Pablo Picasso, Marc Chagall, and Wassily Kandinsky, to name only a few.
When people describe 'modern art' nowadays, their definitions cover more of the abstract and reductionist movements than the ones I've mentioned above. They may say something along the lines of "Well, they're modern and recent artists, but I don't think that's 'modern art'," or something along those lines. There's a general attitude of being, at best, ambivalent towards modern art, but at worst people can be downright vitriolic. "Anyone can do that," they say, "I have a small child who paints better than that."
On the surface, this is true. Technically speaking, many of the compositions that people think of when they say 'modern art' are simplistic, reduced down to the bare minimum. Take Marcel Duchamp's, Fountain (1917), for example (see below). A run-of-the-mill porcelain urinal, Duchamp has done nothing but sign it as his alter ego and date it. If the piece were only to be graded on technical skill, then it's true: even a child could have done this. But no art is ever solely about technical skill. This work was first exhibited in 1917, a time of extreme conflict all over the world. Traditional values were being questioned, from the role of the government and figures of authority, to the meaning of life for those who sacrifice theirs. The First World War inflicted the largest losses of any war up to that date, and Duchamp created Fountain towards the end of the war. Very few people remained disillusioned as to the true cost of the war, and more and more people were becoming vocal with their objections.
For artists, this meant a new road entirely. They began using their medium not only to convey a message, but to question everything they came across. Particularly in Duchamp's case, he questioned the importance of art and the idolisation of artists. He submitted Fountain to an exhibition of the Society of Independent Artists, which had promised every artist paying the fee would be featured. Fountain was refused entry to the exhibition, being hidden from visitors during the show, as the board members did not consider Fountain to be art. Duchamp, who had been a board member during the debate, resigned in protest.
At some point in the day, once my grande skinny latte routine is honed to perfection, I start to the think of other things. In the beginning, I created the perfect milk and foam. And the foam was without large bubbles, and smooth. Except, after a while I started noticing that different milk foams in different ways when steamed. Skimmed milk, for example, is the worst at clumping. I've yet to figure out why this is, but I think it must have something to do with the fat content per millilitre of milk. The variations in protein and carbohydrate between the three milks we use (full fat, semi-skimmed, skimmed) are negligible, differing by only 0.1g per 100g on the whole. The same goes for the various vitamins and minerals that are found in milk, which don't change enough to affect the clumpiness of the milk foam. That pretty much just leaves the fat content, which must make it smoother somehow, though for the life of me I couldn't tell you the specifics.
You're wondering now how I managed to tear myself away from such a fascinating subject, am I right? Well, not very easily. As it turns out, not thinking about the things directly in front of you is actually quite difficult - particularly when life grants you mysteries such as the varying foaminess of milk. Time to steam is time to dream however, and boy do I do that. I've tried to guess at the average body temperature of a cow (without cheating and using a smartphone), decided on the best and most efficient way to heat milk at home (without a steamer), and realised that most of my daydreams are now milk-related. Great.
But thankfully I've now mooooved on to pastures new, inspired by my recent foray into the wide world of modern art. That's right; the new stuff. Or, more technically, most things produced in the art world between the 1860s to the 1970s (so not including the postmodern). This definition also includes well-known styles such as Impressionism and Surrealism, as well as famous painters such as Edvard Munch, Pablo Picasso, Marc Chagall, and Wassily Kandinsky, to name only a few.
When people describe 'modern art' nowadays, their definitions cover more of the abstract and reductionist movements than the ones I've mentioned above. They may say something along the lines of "Well, they're modern and recent artists, but I don't think that's 'modern art'," or something along those lines. There's a general attitude of being, at best, ambivalent towards modern art, but at worst people can be downright vitriolic. "Anyone can do that," they say, "I have a small child who paints better than that."
On the surface, this is true. Technically speaking, many of the compositions that people think of when they say 'modern art' are simplistic, reduced down to the bare minimum. Take Marcel Duchamp's, Fountain (1917), for example (see below). A run-of-the-mill porcelain urinal, Duchamp has done nothing but sign it as his alter ego and date it. If the piece were only to be graded on technical skill, then it's true: even a child could have done this. But no art is ever solely about technical skill. This work was first exhibited in 1917, a time of extreme conflict all over the world. Traditional values were being questioned, from the role of the government and figures of authority, to the meaning of life for those who sacrifice theirs. The First World War inflicted the largest losses of any war up to that date, and Duchamp created Fountain towards the end of the war. Very few people remained disillusioned as to the true cost of the war, and more and more people were becoming vocal with their objections.
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| Marcel Duchamp, Fountain, 1917. Photograph by Alfred Stieglitz link |
Knowing this, it becomes clear that modern art relies heavily on context. Who was the artist? What were their beliefs? When was the piece created? How was it created? Artists like Duchamp opened the doors for a wider discussion and critique of a field which, until this point, had been based almost entirely on aesthetics and technical skill. Duchamp wasn't arguing that his work was technically difficult, but he was questioning the definition of art itself: if technical skill was no longer important, what was the difference between art and everything else?
With the advantage of being recent, and the artists having lived in living memory, the reasoning and meaning behind their work becomes much easier to discover. Nowadays, looking at paintings and sculptures from hundreds of years ago, it's easy to get lost in the astounding abilities of classic artists. Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to belittle these abilities at all - they really are amazing. At the same time, there's still a huge aspect of every piece that gets lost in translation. Why this particular scene? Why paint the sitter or object that way? Where was the artist in their life when they created this? The same logic and questions apply to classic as well as modern art, the only difference is that the answers aren't always as easy to find.
Currently reading:
Friedman, J. and Valenti, J. (2008), Yes Means Yes!: Visions of Female Sexual Power and A World Without Rape, Seal Press
Further information:
Nutritional content of milk: http://www.milk.co.uk/page.aspx?intPageID=197
Hodge, S. (2012), Why Your Five Year Old Could Not Have Done That: Modern Art Explained, Thames & Hudson
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