More thoughts on games as art
Just yesterday, I dashed off a quick post on games as art. A reader, Yehuda, pointed me to an article he wrote over a year ago on the topic, and it has some great thoughts. Not only does the article prove that the question has been discussed since long before I started this blog, but it also good job of defining “art” and “game” for the purposes of any discussion on the topic.
In contrast to that post, I deliberately tried to avoid getting into definitions—in part because such posts have done a grand job already, but also because I wanted to argue my point in such a way that the common, unspoken definitions of art and games would suffice to support my contention that games are art.
The more I’ve thought about it, the more I think that it’s the emergent, participatory, interactive element of games that makes them an exciting and distinct form of art. This is not to say that a beautifully designed board game might not be a piece of visual art. But when the game is played, the convergence of the rules, the pieces, and the players themselves becomes a fascinating expression of art.
There have been many attempts at “interactive” art, such as museum exhibits in which visitors are in some way incorporated into the art. Museums are pushing for more interactivity in their exhibits, with good reason. In fact, here is a simply terrific blog on the subject.
But not all such attempts are games. Letting visitors touch objects, move through interesting drawers, or get a feel for the perspective of some historical group may be very compelling, but a game is something different.
I remember visiting an exhibit of work by the remarkable sculptor Alexander Calder shortly after his death. I was only seven or eight years old at the time.
The museum was bursting with Calder’s glorious, kinetic mobiles and bright, abstract sculptures. But what I remembered best was a series of doors in a row. Visitors were invited to walk through the doors, only to discover that each door opened in a different way. Some had a simple knob. One was completely covered with knobs, only one of which worked. One, I recall, didn’t open at all, and the solution was to walk around it to the next door.
I use the word “solution” deliberately. See, the doors were definitely art, a sculpture, but they were also a puzzle or game. (No, I’m not going to get into the definition of “puzzle” and “game.” They’re different, but the line is decidedly fuzzy.)
That simple exhibit—both a game as art and art as a game—has stuck with me for thirty years. I remember what it felt like to turn the knobs that didn’t work and the thrill of finding the solution to a door. I remember laughing with my brother as we tried to solve the door that couldn’t open, then realized that the solution lay in looking at the problem from a different angle.
I’ll note here that Calder created a great many wonderful toys as part of his work. His charming Cirque Calder is as delightful today as it was when he first exhibited it.
I haven’t read much about the man, but I don’t think he drew a line between the toys and games he made and the art intended to dangle magnificently from a domed ceiling.
Calder we have someone who delighted in visual art, in toys, and in games. In his hands, all these things were more definitely art. And although I love the look of his sculptures, for me at least the one that has made the most enduring impression was a game he created.
(You know, after all this chatter about Alexander Calder and games, I think it’s time I start writing up a profile of the GURPS campaign I ran a few years ago that heavily featured the public sculptures created by Calder’s father for the City of Philadelphia. Voodoo, witchcraft, horror, and secret history on the streets of the City of Brotherly Love! I’ll get around to it eventually, but if you’re very interested, comment here and I’ll try to move it up in the queue.)
Add comment July 24th, 2007
