The Art of Art Snobbery

(Written 2005)

Depending on what circles you travel in, it is quite possible (indeed, likely) to come across someone who claims to know something about art. To engage such a person in discussion (at a party, for example) can prove difficult, at best; for one thing, they always seem to direct the conversation towards their area of expertise, using far too many French words. Three minutes into the chat you've lost any sense of direction and have begun to inch backwards towards the door, which you may or may not reach before collapsing in a frustrated stupor. And that would seem to ruin the whole party experience, wouldn't it? But this need not always occur: one can turn the tables. With a little practice, anyone can make art an impenetrable fog, incomprehensible to the listener.

Certainly the most important factor in becoming an art snob is attaining the vocabulary to sound impressive. Key words include many '-isms', such as modernism, impressionism, expressionism, regionalism, neoclassicism, fauvism, deconstructionism, revivalism, dadaism, surrealism, and others. Put a 'post' in front of one, if possible. Then, insert an adjective—the longer, the better: Kafkaesque, metacritical, Aristotelian, übermenschian, etc. Finish by adding a 'reminiscent of...' a foreign phrase: Die Neue Sachlichkeit, La Belle Epoque, Kamchatka. Feel free to make up appropriate-sounding words. Such phrases are even more bewildering when applied together—compare these two sentences:

1. "I really like how the artist paints that fruit."
2. "The artist's verdant, luxuriant painting, while continuing the pastoral dichotomy of past works, admirably captures the subversive hermeneutics of desire, embodying a subaltern pathos of duplicity and dialectic into a polysemous weave of interleaved multitextuality that fitfully illuminates a life's work spent dancing on a metacritical pin."
For maximum effect, use adjectives that have no relation whatsoever to art, for good measure: arsenious, lugubrious, schadenfreudeian, agrarian, diaphanous, esophageal, etc. Your unfortunate listener will be unable to do anything but nod and smile weakly.

Though it may prove impossible to constantly evaluate specific art works or artists, the snob must relate everything to at least an art topic. Name-drop—the more obscure, the better: "Why, just yesterday I was eating lunch with Hans Namuth. The Hans Namuth. And he was telling me about his Vin d'Anges with Andreas Becker—can you believe it? What? You haven't heard of Andreas Becker? Or Hans Namuth?" If the person listening hasn't heard of the person referenced, cultivate an appropriate sneer, saying, "Well, you certainly don't get around much, do you?" Remember to place the spoken emphasis in the oddest of places. Then continue: "As I was saying, he had ordered the minestrone, and I said..."

Wardrobe, too, constitutes a vital part of the development of the "art snob" mystique. If possible, grow a goatee, regardless of your gender. Wear a turtleneck, preferably with a snazzy jacket. (Taste—at least what other uncultured plebeians consider 'taste'—isn't really an issue. Actually, you'd do better to dress as ostentatiously as possible.) Then there are the glasses: whether or not one has a vision problem, tinted glasses are absolutely essential. Favorite colors include rose pink, olive green, maroon, or lavender. One's clothing should be eclectic, yet refined.

The most difficult part of feigning knowledge about art is truly a test of craftiness: conversing with someone who actually does know something about art. Such a person may be a college art professor (though many of these also prove fraudulent, fortunately), or a curator. Now, chances are the person will prove just as fake as most snobs, but there may be the slight chance that they aren't. Drop a phrase or two on them, perhaps with a reference thrown in for good measure. Note their reaction—do they stare rather blankly, glassy-eyed? Or has such a comment, heaven forbid, engaged them? Do they seem puzzled? Perhaps they suspect that anyone who would say such a thing knows nothing whatsoever about art. Now is the time to abort. The easiest way to do this consists of excusing oneself to go to the restroom. Make it clear: you absolutely have to use the restroom. Don't allow the individual to continue talking, lest they discover your deception. Walk away slowly, maintaining a slow, easy pace—any sign of nervousness and the jig is up. Once out of the room, leave. Don't come back to get a coat left behind. It's not worth it. If the bathroom door is actually in sight, your problem is more severe: escape through the window may be the only solution. Afterwards, make a conscious effort to avoid the individual at all future parties.

Once one is able to pass this test, however, art snobbery can prove to be both enjoyable and profitable. Have fun with it. Make up convincing-sounding words. Use a watch to time how long it takes for someone to get lost in the depths of art jargon. Practice a suitably upsetting sneer. The art historian Erwin Panofsky once said, "he who teaches innocent people to understand art without bothering about classical languages, boresome historical methods and dusty old documents, deprives naïveté of its charm without correcting its errors." But why even bother trying to understand art, when one can so easily pretend to be an expert?