Roger Ebert recently posted this blog entry, "Video Games Can Never Be Art":
http://blogs.suntimes.com/ebert/2010/04/video_games_can_never_be_art.html
I enjoy Roger Ebert's writing on film [not to mention his wonderfully meandering discussions on personal historical minutia] in the same way I enjoy Richard Dawkins' writing on evolutionary biology: when they're writing what they know, they're wonderful to read, but once they stand on the philosophical soapbox--well, the proverbial shit hits the proverbial fan.
Anyway, several issues with Ebert's entry:
[regarding the cave wall art at Chauvet-Pont-d'Arc]
"[Kellee Santiago] begins by saying video games 'already are art.' Yet she concedes that I was correct when I wrote, 'No one in or out of the field has ever been able to cite a game worthy of comparison with the great poets, filmmakers, novelists and poets.' To which I could have added painters, composers, and so on, but my point is clear. [...] She shows a slide of a prehistoric cave painting, calling it 'chicken scratches on walls', and contrasts it with Michelangelo's ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Her point is that while video games may be closer to the chicken scratch end of the spectrum, I am foolish to assume they will not evolve."
Ebert then says, regarding the cave art:
"They were great artists at that time, geniuses with nothing to build on, and were not in the process of becoming Michelangelo or anyone else."
This elicits the question, Why should video games be exempt from this "genesis" stage, where the artists press into the unknown, creating something without a blueprint?
Ebert's diatribe then focuses on the dichotomy between "arts" and "games"; he says, "One obvious difference between art and games is that you can win a game. It has rules, points, objectives, and an outcome. Santiago might cite an immersive game without points or rules, but I would say then it ceases to be a game and becomes a representation of a story, a novel, a play, dance, a film. Those are things you cannot win; you can only experience them."
The unaddressed issue here are these arbitrary notions of "rules, points, objectives, and an outcome". Firstly, "rules": I'll assume [since he never defined his terms] that he means, "conditions that must be satisfied by the viewer in order to complete the viewer's experience", or something to that effect [again, I'm trying to fairly play his side, since he neglected to do so himself]--though that elicits the question of which conditions are necessary, and the undefined nature of those "conditions". I'll concede this point: games have intended rules; however, I would ontologically argue that art also has rules. And even if "rules" created a definable palisade between "art" and "games", I would ask why "rules" bar games from being art. When Ebert mentions "points", he again fails to define this term, which negates any meaningful debate: axiological value theory would suggest that games and art are both subject to "points"--or, to the application of value [and as a film critic, Ebert owes his career to this philosophy]; suggesting that games and art having differing "values" is fine, but said suggestion cannot logically serve as a predicate when it remains undefined and unsubstantiated. Similarly, "objectives" arguably apply to both games and art: one might argue that games differ in that viewers are asked to reach an objective, but this elicits the question of whether artists demand that similar objectives be met [which would suggest that art is subject to rules] in order for the viewer to view the art as the instantiation intended by the artist; Ebert even [unintentionally?] suggests that art has objectives: "Yet what ideas are contained in Stravinsky, Picasso, 'Night of the Hunter', 'Persona', 'Waiting for Godot', 'The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock'?" Oh, you can perform an exegesis or a paraphrase, but then you are creating your own art object from the materials at hand." Finally, the nature of the "outcome" depends on how one defines rules, points, and objectives: any contention would be meaningless unless one satisfied each predicate--and, subsequently, each predicate's predicate[s]; as I've stated, Ebert has unfortunately presented his arguments as stillborn statements.
[regarding Braid]
"You can go back in time and correct your mistakes. In chess, this is known as taking back a move, and negates the whole discipline of the game."
Having played this game, I can assure you that "taking back a move" doesn't make the game's puzzles any less difficult or meaningful [as Ebert seems to imply]; consider this: if you fall off a cliff, and then "rewind" time, you're back on the mountain, but the cliff is still there.
"Nor am I persuaded that I can learn about my own past by taking back my mistakes in a video game. She also admires a story told between the games levels, which exhibits prose on the level of a wordy fortune cookie."
I would counter this with Ebert's own preceding statements:
"I might argue that the novels of Cormac McCarthy are so motivated, and Nicholas Sparks would argue that his novels are so motivated. But when I say McCarthy is "better" than Sparks and that his novels are artworks, that is a subjective judgment, made on the basis of my taste (which I would argue is better than the taste of anyone who prefers Sparks). [...] Countless artists have drawn countless nudes. They are all working from nature. Some of there paintings are masterpieces, most are very bad indeed. How do we tell the difference? We know. It is a matter, yes, of taste."
[regarding A Voyage To The Moon]
"Obviously, I'm hopelessly handicapped because of my love of cinema, but Melies seems to me vastly more advanced than her three modern video games. He has limited technical resources, but superior artistry and imagination."
Again, I would counter with one of Ebert's previous statements:
"They were great artists at that time, geniuses with nothing to build on, and were not in the process of becoming Michelangelo or anyone else."
Which returns the argument to my [unanswered] question: Why should video games be exempt from this "genesis" stage, where the artists press into the unknown, creating something without a blueprint?
[regarding cited game examples]
"The three games she chooses as examples do not raise my hopes for a video game that will deserve my attention long enough to play it. They are, I regret to say, pathetic. I repeat: 'No one in or out of the field has ever been able to cite a game worthy of comparison with the great poets, filmmakers, novelists and poets.'"
To which I would respond, again, with Ebert's own statement:
"They were great artists at that time, geniuses with nothing to build on, and were not in the process of becoming Michelangelo or anyone else."
Ebert then ironically channels Rush Limbaugh:
[poorly-disguised, patronizing belligerence in bold]
"Why are gamers so intensely concerned, anyway, that games be defined as art? Bobby Fischer, Michael Jordan and Dick Butkus never said they thought their games were an art form. Nor did Shi Hua Chen, winner of the $500,000 World Series of Mah Jong in 2009. Why aren't gamers content to play their games and simply enjoy themselves? They have my blessing, not that they care.
http://blogs.suntimes.com/ebert/2010/04/video_games_can_never_be_art.html
I enjoy Roger Ebert's writing on film [not to mention his wonderfully meandering discussions on personal historical minutia] in the same way I enjoy Richard Dawkins' writing on evolutionary biology: when they're writing what they know, they're wonderful to read, but once they stand on the philosophical soapbox--well, the proverbial shit hits the proverbial fan.
Anyway, several issues with Ebert's entry:
[regarding the cave wall art at Chauvet-Pont-d'Arc]
"[Kellee Santiago] begins by saying video games 'already are art.' Yet she concedes that I was correct when I wrote, 'No one in or out of the field has ever been able to cite a game worthy of comparison with the great poets, filmmakers, novelists and poets.' To which I could have added painters, composers, and so on, but my point is clear. [...] She shows a slide of a prehistoric cave painting, calling it 'chicken scratches on walls', and contrasts it with Michelangelo's ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Her point is that while video games may be closer to the chicken scratch end of the spectrum, I am foolish to assume they will not evolve."
Ebert then says, regarding the cave art:
"They were great artists at that time, geniuses with nothing to build on, and were not in the process of becoming Michelangelo or anyone else."
This elicits the question, Why should video games be exempt from this "genesis" stage, where the artists press into the unknown, creating something without a blueprint?
Ebert's diatribe then focuses on the dichotomy between "arts" and "games"; he says, "One obvious difference between art and games is that you can win a game. It has rules, points, objectives, and an outcome. Santiago might cite an immersive game without points or rules, but I would say then it ceases to be a game and becomes a representation of a story, a novel, a play, dance, a film. Those are things you cannot win; you can only experience them."
The unaddressed issue here are these arbitrary notions of "rules, points, objectives, and an outcome". Firstly, "rules": I'll assume [since he never defined his terms] that he means, "conditions that must be satisfied by the viewer in order to complete the viewer's experience", or something to that effect [again, I'm trying to fairly play his side, since he neglected to do so himself]--though that elicits the question of which conditions are necessary, and the undefined nature of those "conditions". I'll concede this point: games have intended rules; however, I would ontologically argue that art also has rules. And even if "rules" created a definable palisade between "art" and "games", I would ask why "rules" bar games from being art. When Ebert mentions "points", he again fails to define this term, which negates any meaningful debate: axiological value theory would suggest that games and art are both subject to "points"--or, to the application of value [and as a film critic, Ebert owes his career to this philosophy]; suggesting that games and art having differing "values" is fine, but said suggestion cannot logically serve as a predicate when it remains undefined and unsubstantiated. Similarly, "objectives" arguably apply to both games and art: one might argue that games differ in that viewers are asked to reach an objective, but this elicits the question of whether artists demand that similar objectives be met [which would suggest that art is subject to rules] in order for the viewer to view the art as the instantiation intended by the artist; Ebert even [unintentionally?] suggests that art has objectives: "Yet what ideas are contained in Stravinsky, Picasso, 'Night of the Hunter', 'Persona', 'Waiting for Godot', 'The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock'?" Oh, you can perform an exegesis or a paraphrase, but then you are creating your own art object from the materials at hand." Finally, the nature of the "outcome" depends on how one defines rules, points, and objectives: any contention would be meaningless unless one satisfied each predicate--and, subsequently, each predicate's predicate[s]; as I've stated, Ebert has unfortunately presented his arguments as stillborn statements.
[regarding Braid]
"You can go back in time and correct your mistakes. In chess, this is known as taking back a move, and negates the whole discipline of the game."
Having played this game, I can assure you that "taking back a move" doesn't make the game's puzzles any less difficult or meaningful [as Ebert seems to imply]; consider this: if you fall off a cliff, and then "rewind" time, you're back on the mountain, but the cliff is still there.
"Nor am I persuaded that I can learn about my own past by taking back my mistakes in a video game. She also admires a story told between the games levels, which exhibits prose on the level of a wordy fortune cookie."
I would counter this with Ebert's own preceding statements:
"I might argue that the novels of Cormac McCarthy are so motivated, and Nicholas Sparks would argue that his novels are so motivated. But when I say McCarthy is "better" than Sparks and that his novels are artworks, that is a subjective judgment, made on the basis of my taste (which I would argue is better than the taste of anyone who prefers Sparks). [...] Countless artists have drawn countless nudes. They are all working from nature. Some of there paintings are masterpieces, most are very bad indeed. How do we tell the difference? We know. It is a matter, yes, of taste."
[regarding A Voyage To The Moon]
"Obviously, I'm hopelessly handicapped because of my love of cinema, but Melies seems to me vastly more advanced than her three modern video games. He has limited technical resources, but superior artistry and imagination."
Again, I would counter with one of Ebert's previous statements:
"They were great artists at that time, geniuses with nothing to build on, and were not in the process of becoming Michelangelo or anyone else."
Which returns the argument to my [unanswered] question: Why should video games be exempt from this "genesis" stage, where the artists press into the unknown, creating something without a blueprint?
[regarding cited game examples]
"The three games she chooses as examples do not raise my hopes for a video game that will deserve my attention long enough to play it. They are, I regret to say, pathetic. I repeat: 'No one in or out of the field has ever been able to cite a game worthy of comparison with the great poets, filmmakers, novelists and poets.'"
To which I would respond, again, with Ebert's own statement:
"They were great artists at that time, geniuses with nothing to build on, and were not in the process of becoming Michelangelo or anyone else."
Ebert then ironically channels Rush Limbaugh:
[poorly-disguised, patronizing belligerence in bold]
"Why are gamers so intensely concerned, anyway, that games be defined as art? Bobby Fischer, Michael Jordan and Dick Butkus never said they thought their games were an art form. Nor did Shi Hua Chen, winner of the $500,000 World Series of Mah Jong in 2009. Why aren't gamers content to play their games and simply enjoy themselves? They have my blessing, not that they care.
Do they require validation? In defending their gaming against parents, spouses, children, partners, co-workers or other critics, do they want to be able to look up from the screen and explain, "I'm studying a great form of art?" Then let them say it, if it makes them happy.
I allow Sangtiago the last word. Toward the end of her presentation, she shows a visual with six circles, which represent, I gather, the components now forming for her brave new world of video games as art. The circles are labeled: Development, Finance, Publishing, Marketing, Education, and Executive Management. I rest my case."
All of which is to say, Ebert wrote a shitty, shitty article: this blog entry would be laughed out of any serious philosophical discussion [assuming those still happen], but Ebert [unintentionally?] adopts the role of the patronizing polemicist, unconcerned with actually making an argument. Here's a thought experiment: read [or reread] Ebert's article, and replace references to video games with references to "liberals" and "liberalism"; it reads like a talk radio ad lib. I don't go to Ebert's blog to read this sort of dreck. Ideally, Ebert wouldn't write more articles like this, and he'd return to his strengths: film criticism, and his wonderfully meandering discussions on personal historical minutia; but, as he said, "The circles are labeled: Development, Finance, Publishing, Marketing, Education, and Executive Management. I rest my case."
Note: I'm not angry, unlike the hundreds of angst-filled comments on Ebert's blog. I don't understand being "angry", really; I'm simply disappointed that he was so incorrect.
Update, 4/21/10:
Roger Ebert, via Twitter:
"I'm not too old to "get" video games, but I may be too well-read."
My comment was disconcertingly [and unfortunately] accurate: Ebert [unintentionally?] adopts the role of the patronizing polemicist, unconcerned with actually making an argument.
All of which is to say, Ebert wrote a shitty, shitty article: this blog entry would be laughed out of any serious philosophical discussion [assuming those still happen], but Ebert [unintentionally?] adopts the role of the patronizing polemicist, unconcerned with actually making an argument. Here's a thought experiment: read [or reread] Ebert's article, and replace references to video games with references to "liberals" and "liberalism"; it reads like a talk radio ad lib. I don't go to Ebert's blog to read this sort of dreck. Ideally, Ebert wouldn't write more articles like this, and he'd return to his strengths: film criticism, and his wonderfully meandering discussions on personal historical minutia; but, as he said, "The circles are labeled: Development, Finance, Publishing, Marketing, Education, and Executive Management. I rest my case."
Note: I'm not angry, unlike the hundreds of angst-filled comments on Ebert's blog. I don't understand being "angry", really; I'm simply disappointed that he was so incorrect.
Update, 4/21/10:
Roger Ebert, via Twitter:
"I'm not too old to "get" video games, but I may be too well-read."
My comment was disconcertingly [and unfortunately] accurate: Ebert [unintentionally?] adopts the role of the patronizing polemicist, unconcerned with actually making an argument.
