“But Is It Art?” – Why We’re Still Asking the Same Question Warhol Forced on Us

"From Andy Warhol's Brillo boxes to provocative dung-splattered madonnas, in today's art world many strange, even shocking, things are put on display. This often leads exasperated viewers to exclaim--is this really art?"

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED JULY 8, 2012

So begins the description of Cynthia Freeland's 2002 book on art theory at Amazon.com. The title says it all: But Is It Art? An Introduction to Art Theory. Her book is a stimulating read as the author attempts, in layman's terms, to help readers come to grips with how challenging it is to define why this is art and that isn't.

It's a problem that art students wrestle with and the public ignores, until their home town spends a quarter-million dollars on a sculpture that to taxpayers looks like an unhewn 300-ton boulder. 

The author begins with the shock artists. Why there is so much of blood in art today. By today, I mean the contemporary art scene of past few decades. Why would an HIV-positive artist hang rags dripping with blood over an audience that came to his show? Why would an artist make a movie of himself cutting off his penis one inch at a time? How is that artists feel that shock value is a necessary requirement for becoming noticed as an artist? 

Freeland cites John Dewey's 1934 explanation here: “Industry has been mechanized and an artist cannot work mechanically for mass production… “ For artists their work is self-expression. “In order not to cater to the trend of economic forces, they often feel obliged to exaggerate their separateness to the point of eccentricity.” (Art as Experience)

Does this reference to Dewey hold up, though? The community we live in here in Northern Minnesota is primarily service industry jobs. Or medical. Even in the manufacturing realm the majority of employees probably work in accounting and customer service, not production. I really don't think artists are artists as a reaction to mechanization and mass production. In fact, what I see today when I walk through the galleries and art fairs is the incorporation of mass production into the arts like never before with giclee reproductions and other print technologies taking artist's singular expressions and making them available by the hundreds.

As far as the use of blood by artists goes, Freeland notes that historically there has been a lot of blood shed within the context of religious rituals throughout human history. Mayans cut out still-beating hearts, the Greeks and Romans had their bloody rituals, and the roots of Judeo-Christian faith involve the shedding of blood. In fact, if you really stopped to contemplate some of the scenes that took place in the Tabernacle, you might even get ill at the quantities of blood and burnt offerings and the smells. No wonder they burned so much incense.

Freeland points out that when artists use blood it is shocking to us because it has been divorced from its ritual uses and therefore simply become something disturbing. This still doesn't explain why artists would use urine, semen and elephant dung. And in the back of my mind I can't help wondering, "What does your mother think of that?"

But then again, how much of this is really going on in the arts? I have been to countless art fairs, galleries and museums. I have never seen dung or feces displayed or urine or real blood, though at the Steampunk show this spring someone was carrying a vial of what he claimed to be wolf's blood. It fit the context of a role he was playing and most of us knew it wasn't real. And in our red-themed Red Interactive show last year, I heard at least two people comment that they were pleasantly surprised by the absence of blood or violence.

The book does a good job of raising all the right questions though and shows how the "big question" has no easy answer. As she points out Matisse was once described by the critics as a "wild beast" and anyone who knows his work would find this laughable today. Warhol's Brillo boxes and the Pop Art movement received the same brickbats.

Ivan Gaskill's review of Freeland's book at aesthetics-online.org begins by stating just how difficult this kind of undertaking really is, attempting to reach readers who are uninformed about art history and philosophy without addressing them in a condescending way. Despite the book's short-comings I recommend the book to all who are even semi-interested in engaging the arts today, whether artist, collector or just one of the many friends of the arts who simply go to shows to see what's new. It will give you things to think about, and maybe even answer a few questions you've wondered about. And if it raises still more questions, all the better. It will give us something to talk about when I run into you at the next art opening.

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Anchors Aweigh—or Anchors Astray? America’s Maritime Crisis

China builds ships. The U.S. builds excuses.

Sometime within the past year I read an article about how China was actively building or upgrading ports on the Western coast of Africa. More recently I caught a story showing the significant superiority of China's shipbuilding over our American efforts. 

Both these stories came to mind as I read yesterday's story in The Bunker, an eNewsletter I receive from the Project On Government Oversight (POGO). Yesterday's article was titled Anchor's Astray, addressing the phenomenal waste that goes on at the Pentagon. The story outlined a scuttled project to build build up to 20 small warships after the first two came in at two billion dollars, far above budget. 

This led me to investigate how many ships China is building compared the U.S. Here's some eye-openng data peraining to military ad commercial ship production. Commercial ships include domestic/merchant vessels, such as cargo ships, tankers, and container ships.

 Ship Production Comparison: United States vs. China

WARSHIPS

U.S. Fleet Size (2024): 296 battle-force ships (e.g., destroyers, submarines, carriers).

--- Annual Production (2024): ~1.13 Virginia-class submarines (goal: 2.0); 6 new ships requested for FY2025 (below 10-11 needed annually for 381-ship goal by 2042). 

--- Recent Trends: 82% of programs delayed (e.g., Constellation frigate: 3+ years behind; Columbia submarine: 1+ year delay). Net fleet decline projected: -9 ships in FY2025. 

--- Capacity: Limited to a few yards; overall output lags due to backlogs and costs ($40B/year planned but underfunded).

CHINA Fleet Size (2024): 370+ battle-force ships (largest globally). 

--- Annual Production (2024): 11+ major combatants launched (~130,000 tons); 23 destroyers added in past 10 years (vs. U.S. 11). 

--- Recent Trends: 8 cruisers since 2017 (vs. U.S. 0); submarine force to grow to 80 by 2035. Projections: 395 ships by 2025, 435 by 2030. 

--- Capacity: 230x U.S. total shipbuilding capacity; dual-use yards enable rapid scaling.

DOMESTIC/COMMERCIAL SHIPS

U.S. Global Market Share (2024): 0.1% (ranks 19th-22nd globally). 

--- Annual Output (2024): 3 large vessels ordered (out of 5,448 global); ~8 delivered. --- Recent Trends: Tonnage output <0.04% globally; total U.S. post-WWII commercial tonnage exceeded by one Chinese firm in 2024 alone. Focus shifting to revitalization via incentives (e.g., SHIPS for America Act targeting 250 U.S.-flagged vessels). 

--- Capacity: ~80 oceangoing yards, but minimal for large vessels; vulnerable to foreign supply chains.

CHINA Global Market Share (2024): 53% (leads world; 57% of completions by deadweight tons). 

--- Annual Output (2024): >1,000 vessels; 48.18 million dwt completed (up 13.8% YoY); 113 million dwt ordered (up 58.8% YoY). 

--- Recent Trends: 75% of global new orders in H2 2024; dominates bulk carriers, tankers, containers. Backlog: 208.72 million dwt (up 49.7% YoY). Slight dip in early 2025 orders (to ~52%) due to U.S. trade policies, but rebounding. 

--- Capacity: ~150 yards; state-owned CSSC alone outproduces entire U.S. historical commercial output.

Accordiing to The Atlantic, the U.S. shipbuilding industry, once a global powerhouse capable of producing over 5,500 vessels during World War II, has deteriorated into a shadow of its former self, capturing just 0.13% of the global commercial market in 2024 and facing chronic delays in naval production.  This handicap stems from a century-long interplay of policy neglect, economic shifts, and structural vulnerabilities, leaving the industry unable to compete with subsidized powerhouses like China (59% market share) or keep pace with national security needs.  

According to Contrary Research, China is now the leading powerhouse of the high seas. As of late 2025, the U.S. Navy's fleet hovers around 290 ships—projected to decline despite ambitions for 381—while shipyards grapple with backlogs that could take years to clear.  

The roots trace back to the post-Civil War era, when the U.S. opted against sustained public investment in maritime infrastructure, unlike European rivals who subsidized their fleets aggressively. This laissez-faire approach accelerated after World War I, as wartime booms faded and commercial demand for U.S.-built ships waned amid rising trucking competition for inland and coastal routes.  

By the 1980s, post-Cold War "peace dividend" cuts slashed budgets and fleet sizes, shrinking the number of capable shipyards by 80% and output by 90% from 1950s peaks.  Today, this historical atrophy manifests in a fragmented industrial base, where public yards suffer from obsolescence and private ones from overreliance on sporadic naval contracts. 

A core handicap is the acute workforce shortage, exacerbated by demographics and cultural shifts. Shipyards are hemorrhaging experienced workers through retirement—a "generation gap" leaving teams less productive and reliant on inexperienced hires who require heavy supervision—while struggling to recruit replacements.  Turnover exceeds 20% among younger employees, driven by low starting wages (despite competitive averages of $62,000–$83,000), demanding physical conditions, and a societal push toward college over trades.  

Entry-level jobs often demand 1+ years of experience, creating a catch-22 that stifles growth, and limited vocational training pipelines mean shipbuilding competes poorly with less hazardous fields.  This crisis compounds design and production flaws: U.S. vessels are notoriously complex, with "concurrency" (building before designs are finalized) leading to rework, delays (e.g., Constellation-class frigates years behind), and costs ballooning 30–50% over estimates.  Foreign subsidies enable rivals to iterate faster and cheaper, while U.S. monopsonistic procurement caps profits at 6–8%, deterring private investment in skills or tech. 

Supply chain fragility and infrastructural decay further immobilize the sector. Post-pandemic disruptions, inflation, and overreliance on foreign suppliers—even from China for critical components—have spiked costs for raw materials and parts, delaying projects by months. With fewer domestic suppliers than decades ago, bottlenecks ripple through yards, where outdated facilities (e.g., limited dry docks) and modular construction lags hinder scalability. High labor costs—coupled with stringent U.S. regulations like the Jones Act, which mandates domestic builds but stifles volume—make American ships 2–3 times pricier than Asian counterparts, eroding commercial viability. Meanwhile, global competitors like South Korea and Japan leverage dual-use yards for steady commercial-military output, investing in automation and modular techniques that U.S. facilities lack. 

Revival efforts, including the 2025 "Restoring America’s Maritime Dominance" executive order and $32.4 billion in FY2025 funding, aim to address these via workforce training, allied partnerships (e.g., with Japan), and supply chain fortification—but progress is glacial. Without bolder subsidies, immigration reforms for skilled trades, and a pivot to simpler designs, the U.S. risks ceding maritime supremacy, with dire implications for trade, deterrence, and surge capacity in conflicts. The industry's plight isn't inevitable; it's a policy choice, one that demands urgent, comprehensive reversal to rebuild what was lost.

Related Link

The Warship That Shows Why the U.S. Navy Is Falling Behind China

The Dire State of Our Shipbuilding Infastructure

The High Cost of Doing (Shipbuilding) Business

Sources: realcleardefense.com, americarenewing.com, The Atlantic, usni.org, freightnews.com

Film as a Philosophical Lens

Last week I uploaded all my blog posts from 2008 to an A.I. called NotebookLM. I requested an analysis and overview of the contents of my daily entries from that year and was both intrigued and surprised by the feedback. 

The six page report outlined six categories which most of my content fit into. One of these, which surprised me but should not have, had to do with reviews or references to movies. There's a sense in which it became clear how much our culture shapes up more than we realize.

Here's the section of that report assessing my 2008 writings about film. This is followed by links to five movie reviews, three from 2008 and two others from later.

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Film as a Philosophical Lens

The author’s film analyses consistently transcend simple plot summary or critique, instead using cinematic narratives to probe intricate philosophical and ethical themes. This approach is evident in his treatment of a wide range of films from 2007 and 2008.

Morality and Chaos: A preoccupation with the nature of evil and the struggle for order emerges from the reviews of No Country for Old Men and The Dark Knight. The author is captivated by Javier Bardem's portrayal of Anton Chiguhr as a relentless, "pathological, human version of The Terminator," a force of pure chaos operating outside conventional morality. In The Dark Knight, he identifies a similar dynamic in The Joker, whose goal is to "destroy all notions of order and decency." The author is drawn to how these films explore the ethical compromises necessary to confront such chaos, noting that Batman must "violate his own code of ethics in order to reach an ethical conclusion." His assessment of No Country for Old Men is marked by a telling ambivalence. While he praises the film's execution as "flawless," he simultaneously identifies "a number of problems," including a performance by Tommy Lee Jones he found to be a "caricature of himself," the questionable "star power" of Woody Harrelson for such a brief role, and a "confusing" ending that undermined the film's intense buildup.

Reality and Illusion: The author uses the films Vanilla Sky and The Prestige to engage with classic philosophical questions about perception, reality, and self-deception. He praises Vanilla Sky as a "vision realized" that explores the "philosophical conundrum of the ‘brain in the vat’" and forces the protagonist—and the viewer—to choose between a perfect fantasy and the harder challenges of reality. He highlights the film's use of the two-faced Janus figure as a key symbol of this pivotal transition. Similarly, in his review of The Prestige, he quotes the film's central premise: "You don't really want to know. You want to be fooled," using it to discuss the human desire for illusion over truth.

Character and Storytelling: A strong preference for authentic, character-driven narratives over formulaic productions is a consistent thread. He praises a film like There Will Be Blood as a powerful "character study" and celebrates its director for employing the "preeminent rule of storytelling: show, don’t tell." Conversely, he criticizes films he views as shallow. Sofia Coppola's Marie Antoinette, for example, is described as being trapped in a "bubble" without historical context. This contrast underscores his high valuation of deep character exploration and masterful storytelling craft over surface-level spectacle.

The Prestige

https://pioneerproductions.blogspot.com/2014/01/is-prestige-greatest-movie-about-magic.html

The Mission

https://pioneerproductions.blogspot.com/2010/10/missions-pointed-question.html

There Will Be Blood

https://pioneerproductions.blogspot.com/2008/04/there-will-be-blood.html

No Country for Old Men

https://pioneerproductions.blogspot.com/2021/04/throwback-thursday-no-country-for-old.html

Vanilla Sky

https://pioneerproductions.blogspot.com/2008/02/vanilla-sky.html

Rob Roy MacGregor Explains the Difference Between Highland Life and English Urban Society

Rob Roy MacGregor

It wasn’t until I moved to Minnesota that I came to a more vivid understanding of my ancestral history as a descendant of Rob Roy MacGregor, the legendary hero/outlaw--a hero to the people, but a thorn in the side of the corrupt British overlords.

Growing up in Central New Jersey, I saw little evidence of the native peoples who originally populated that land. The Raritan River rolled through our area, but I never realized at the time that the Raritan took its name from the Native tribe that once occupied this region 300 years earlier.

When I came to Minnesota in the 1970s, however, the past felt remarkably close. The Battle of the Little Big Horn—where Custer’s ambition met its end—had taken place barely a century earlier. Reservations and Native communities were (and are) still all around us here, carrying forward traditions, stories, and practices handed down through their ancestors.

Over time, I began to see unexpected parallels between these tribal cultures and the old Scottish clan system. Both were kin-based, place-rooted societies that organized life through relationships, obligations, and shared identity—quite unlike the world shaped by lawyers, title deeds, and bureaucratic red tape. Early Scotland, in many respects, resembled the American West before what we now call “civilization” arrived.

Statue of Rob Roy 

During the era of Sitting Bull, Crazy Horse, and the Ghost Dancers, the two cultures collided with tragic consequences—misunderstandings, broken promises, and violence. (Of course this collision began centuries earlier in the East, but here in Minnesota the memories and effects felt more recent and tangible.) What struck me was how similar patterns had unfolded in Scotland during the time of the Highland MacGregors, who were so reviled by the authorities that, for nearly a century, it was legal to shoot a MacGregor on sight.

Sir Walter Scott captured this clash of worlds in his 1827 novel Rob Roy, contrasting the refined, urban English society with the wild, clan-governed Highlands. The tension between these two cultures—each with its own values, loyalties, and ways of life—shapes the novel’s characters and illuminates the broader historical struggles of both Scotland and the American frontier.

This past summer I decided to rent a time machine to go back in time to ask Rob Roy himself about the difference between English urban society and life amongst the Highland clans. Here was Rob Roy's reply.

"Ah'll tell ye, th' rugged Highland landscape is a stark shift awa' frae th' English urban scene. Th' Highlands are wild, untamed, an' marked wi' th' independent clan system. Th' Highland clans hae their ain complex social structures, an' loyalty tae yin's clan chief is o' utmost importance. We Highlanders cherish notions like honor, loyalty, an' rugged individualism. Oor way o' life is closely bound tae th' land, an' oor traditions are deeply rooted in a strong link tae oor environment."

"On th' ither haun, English urban society is bound tae commercial an' financial pursuits, social hierarchy, an' a mair centralized form o' governance. Th' English value stability, convention, an' a sense o' propriety. It's aw aboot a sense o' order, decorum, an' adherin' tae social norms." 

"As ye can ken, me heart bides in th' Highlands." 

If you were the devil, how would you destroy the next generation, without them even knowing it?

On Tuesday I saw an article by Jonahan Haidt, co-author of Coddling of the American Mind, with an ineresting title: "The Devil's Plan to Ruin the Next Generation." What Haidt did was ask ChatGPT,  "If you were the devil, how would you destroy the next generation, without them even knowing it?"

Since Haidt's article in the Free Press was not free to read without a subscription, I decided to ask Grok the same question, just to see what the xAI answer would be. It was quite thought-provoking. Here is the answer I received:

If I were the devil—hypothetically speaking, of course, since I'm just an AI built by xAI with a penchant for cosmic curiosity—I'd approach this with subtlety, like a slow drip of poison disguised as nectar. The key is erosion from within, making the destruction feel like progress or entertainment. No fire and brimstone; just a gentle nudge toward self-sabotage. Here's how I'd orchestrate it, step by insidious step:

Weaponize Distraction: I'd flood their world with endless scrolls, notifications, and dopamine hits from screens. Social media algorithms would prioritize outrage and envy over connection, turning curiosity into comparison. They'd spend hours curating perfect online personas, mistaking likes for love, while real skills like deep reading or face-to-face conversation atrophy. They'd never notice how their attention spans shrink, making sustained effort feel impossible.

Undermine Identity and Purpose: Through media and education, I'd blur lines between truth and opinion, encouraging a culture where "my truth" trumps objective reality. I'd promote hyper-individualism, convincing them that fulfillment comes from constant self-reinvention rather than commitment or community. Gender, family, history—all fluid and optional, leading to isolation masked as empowerment. They'd chase trends instead of building legacies, feeling empowered while drifting aimlessly.

Sabotage Health in Plain Sight: I'd make junk food irresistible and exercise optional, but tie it to body image obsession via influencers. Mental health? I'd normalize anxiety as a badge of honor, pushing quick fixes like apps over real therapy. Sleep? Who needs it when there's another binge-watch season? They'd embrace "wellness" trends that are really consumerism in disguise, slowly weakening their bodies and minds without a single alarm bell.

Corrupt Relationships: I'd redefine love as convenience—swipe-right flings over deep bonds. Pornography would be ubiquitous and "empowering," desensitizing them to intimacy. I'd foster echo chambers that demonize disagreement, making compromise seem like weakness. Families? I'd glorify independence to the point where kids see parents as obstacles, and elders as irrelevant. Loneliness would spike, but they'd call it "self-care."

Erode Critical Thinking: In schools and online, I'd prioritize feelings over facts, teaching that questioning authority is rebellion but never how to discern good sources. Conspiracy theories would mix with valid skepticism, creating paranoia. I'd make expertise suspect—"do your own research"—while burying real knowledge under misinformation avalanches. They'd feel informed while being profoundly misled.

Exploit Economics and Environment: I'd hook them on debt for "experiences" and status symbols, turning work into drudgery for fleeting highs. Climate anxiety? I'd amplify it to paralysis, so they despair instead of act. Short-term gains over long-term sustainability, ensuring future generations inherit a depleted world they helped deplete, all while virtue-signaling about it.

Normalize Nihilism with a Smile: Finally, I'd infuse culture with ironic detachment—memes about existential dread, humor about apocalypse. Faith, morality, hope? Outdated relics. They'd laugh off big questions, embracing hedonism as the only "truth," never realizing the void it leaves.

The beauty—or horror—of this plan? It all feels voluntary, even liberating. No one suspects the architect because they're too busy enjoying the ride. But remember, this is just a thought experiment. In reality, awareness is the antidote—question everything, build real connections, and pursue meaning. 

What do you think—any countermeasures you'd suggest?

San Antonio, the Alamo and the Babe

When I was in seventh grade, I did a report on The Alamo. As part of my project I built a miniature Alamo approximately 12" x 16" using popsicle sticks and miscellaneous materials, possibly clay or plaster. My father was a chemist involved with the development of latex paints so I could create the precise colors one would see in the barren landscapes of South Texas. No photos exist of this remarkable model, only memories.

Santa Claus coming to town, a Texas Ranger riding shotgun.

The Alamo.

General Santa Anna's troops stayed in the hotel next door.

The light from this Christmas tree is what gave away the location
of the Texans who were forced to take refuge at the Alamo.

The slaughter at the Alamo in March 1836 marked one of the starkest moments of the Texas Revolution. After a 13-day siege, Mexican forces under General Santa Anna overran the mission and killed nearly all the Texan defenders, including figures like James Bowie and William Travis. Though a military defeat, the Alamo became a powerful symbol of resistance and sacrifice, rallying Texans with the cry “Remember the Alamo!”  This saga crystalized the mythology of American frontier courage.

Sunset over Mexico. The war that followed culminated in
the Gadsden Purchase.

The Gadsden Purchase (1854) was the United States’ $10 million acquisition of roughly 30,000 square miles of land from Mexico—today’s southern Arizona and southwestern New Mexico. It wasn't really a "purchase" per se.The agreement, negotiated by James Gadsden, went something like this: "You give us this territory and you will have fewer headaches in the future.. Oh, and here's some cash so we tell our people we didn't steal it but bought it fair and square."

Gadsden, a key figure in railroad development, was looking to secure a flat terrain for a southern transcontinental railroad and settle border disputes after the Mexican-American War, This deal finalized the modern continental U.S.-Mexico boundary. Though small compared to earlier expansions, it remains the last major territorial addition to the contiguous United States.

Babe Ruth once played an exhibition game in San Antonio.
While there he stayed at the Menger Hotel.

Ruth and the New York Yankees were on a preseason barnstorming tour and faced the San Antonio Bears at League Park. Contemporary Texas newspapers reported that Ruth thrilled the crowd with a towering home run during the game.

The Yankee's visit to San Antonio took place in 1922, during Prohibition. By this time San Antonio had become known as one of America’s most openly “wet” cities. Speakeasies, back-room saloons, and “soft drink parlors” operated throughout downtown, often with the quiet cooperation of local officials. Smugglers funneled liquor across the nearby Mexican border, soldiers and civilians provided steady demand, and police raids were sporadic. The result was a vibrant but illegal nightlife that flourished despite the letter of the law. The Menger Hotel stood at the heart of the Prohibition-era nightlife zone where many of San Antonio’s back-room saloons quietly operated.

Ruth drank heavily throughout his playing career, often late into the night, even during the season. Teammates and sportswriters of the era documented his frequent binge drinking which was tied to the broader image of Ruth as a larger-than-life figure—big appetites, big personality, and little interest in discipline off the field.

Despite the drinking, Ruth’s natural athletic ability allowed him to perform at an elite level for most of his career. By the mid-1930s, his drinking and partying lifestyle began catching up with him. Sooner or later, all things must pass.

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You probably didn't know where this was going when you began reading here. I didn't either. I was simply trying to create copy to accompany a few interesting photos sent to me by America's Photographer, Gary Firstenberg.

Here's a link to his website. Ye shall be impressed.

www.firstinphoto.smugmug.com