R: Low Culture is High Culture

On a warm summer’s night in May 1913, a crowd of roughly forty riotous theatergoers burst from the doors of Paris’ Théâtre des Champs-Élysées in disgust. The cause of their discontent was the premiere performance of the Rite of Spring, the ballet collaboration of Russian artistic titans Igor Stravinsky and Vaslav Nijinsky. Stravinsky’s score, which incorporated dissonance and melodies from a collection of Slavic folk tunes, and Nijinsky’s choreography, which exchanged the elegance of classical ballet for the earthliness of pagan gyrations, shocked and horrified many of the box-seat aristocrats who were beholden to the production’s original run. However, the bohemian artists, seated on the ground floor, acclaimed the work for its abrasive originality as well as its attachment to popular images of a common man’s culture. This notorious episode in modern artistic history shines light on a puzzling dilemma: whether or not there is a distinction between “high culture” and “low culture.” In this debate, we will attempt to resolve the issue and establish if low culture can achieve the same ends over which high culture claims to hold a monopoly.

The affirmative proclaims that art is for everyone, and that no single artistic endeavor is necessarily more valuable than another. The various genres and styles of art—from African drum beats to European symphonies—should be divided only along lines of good art and bad art. As Picasso himself said after marveling at a site of prehistoric cave paintings, “In 15,000 years, we have learned nothing.” The culture of the people has touched far more lives than any culture that was commissioned by the royal courts. Instead of trying to force people to enjoy some overly-complex artistic work, we should focus our efforts on making popular culture as moral as possible so as to both pleasure and enlighten the minds of our fellow man. 

The negative hesitates to equate the low with the high in such a dramatic fashion. While pleasure certainly can be gained from a simple tune or sketch, there is little meaning to be derived from low culture. Harmony is inherently imbued with more meaning than unison; color-blending, than monochromatism; precise writing, than stream of consciousness. High art represents a masterful ordering of chaotic elements, creating a tension within its audience that yearns to be resolved. Low art instead aims to eliminate tension, providing its audience with an anesthetic for the pain of daily life. In short, few are able to appreciate high culture, but this does not lessen its worth.

Is the presence of the divine spread equally across the spectrum of art? Can art truly be universal? And what, if anything, do Beethoven and The Beatles have in common?