FA+
Shop
Blah Blah Blah Art Blah Blah
16 years ago
The Neuroaesthetics article got me thinking about art theory, so I thought I would explore my current views for the record, and revisit them at some future date.
I've drifted back and forth about formal rules in art (including film and literature as well as visual arts). One of my teachers used to say 'No Rules, Just Tools.' But he also said, '...but while I'm teaching you, do it exactly how I tell you to.' I guess that is to say that before you can think outside of the box, you need... a box.
Foundation skills and theory give one the platform from which to push off into uncharted territory, and a parachute if something fails. For me, the one solid rule of art is 'If It Looks Right, It Is Right.' You really can do anything you want. When you get hopelessly stuck, the theory is there to offer some solid footing while you get your bearings. Most artists have the foundations internalized to instinct. Clever artists know when to ignore it. Geniuses don't need it at all.
But there is a reason that foundation exists. Art theory wasn't just thrown together out of thin air, it was built and shaped as artists explored and discovered what best allowed them to connect to their audience. It is that universal connection to the viewer that makes something a 'masterpiece.' To step away from that body of accumulated experience is to risk an inability to connect with the viewer. The Philosophy Today article seems to support the idea that our brains really do engage with many of these foundation rules, which is why they became rules.
My college art education was at UC San Diego, where the philosophy was 'just go for it.' There were foundation classes, but although they placed the student in front of a model or still life, they offered very little guidance as to what we should be paying attention to, or how to use the tools we had, or even what tools we should have. As a result, student work tended to be abstract concepts that were so ineffectively expressed that a lengthy verbal explanation of the piece was required. This is reflected in many of the pieces in the university's Stuart Collection, which may be visually interesting,* but are either very simplistic in theme, or incomprehensible without a long explanation.
When I say "incomprehensible," I mean a failure to connect with the intended audience. Picasso's work, for example, was probably most understood by his colleagues, then by his followers and countrymen, and it still has found a resonance with a large segment of the general population.
This is not to say that all art should be perfectly comprehensible without any explanation. A knowledge of what the artist is trying to accomplish makes a deeper appreciation of their work possible. But a masterpiece should be able to stand on its own.
I personally tend to stand too much on theory. I don't have a lot of ideas, but I have a lot of education, so my finished work tends to be pretty formal and stiff, even when it is supposed to be light, because I'm relying more on my intellect than my imagination. Another great piece of advice I got was to make a mess first, then try to clean it up. "You can't steer a car that's not moving." Once you have something down, it's easier to see where it is not working and fix it, than it is to whip it up perfect out of thin air.
(There should be some sort of conclusion here. Oh well.)
*I make a distinction between something that is art, and something that is merely visually interesting. It has to do with the intent of the creator, and how well that intent is passed to the viewer. If the artist's intent is received intact by the viewer, his piece is successful. Visual interest is ridiculously easy to achieve. You can throw a bucket of paint off of a building, or set a car on fire. If these kinds of things are considered art, it allows art to be defined too broadly, in my opinion. Visual interest is Pluto in the artistic solar system. It's like a planet, but it's not a planet. That is to say, it is a necessary but not a sufficient condition of art. If we can agree that art does not encompass every human act, then the viewer has to understand why you threw the bucket of paint or set the car on fire.
I've drifted back and forth about formal rules in art (including film and literature as well as visual arts). One of my teachers used to say 'No Rules, Just Tools.' But he also said, '...but while I'm teaching you, do it exactly how I tell you to.' I guess that is to say that before you can think outside of the box, you need... a box.
Foundation skills and theory give one the platform from which to push off into uncharted territory, and a parachute if something fails. For me, the one solid rule of art is 'If It Looks Right, It Is Right.' You really can do anything you want. When you get hopelessly stuck, the theory is there to offer some solid footing while you get your bearings. Most artists have the foundations internalized to instinct. Clever artists know when to ignore it. Geniuses don't need it at all.
But there is a reason that foundation exists. Art theory wasn't just thrown together out of thin air, it was built and shaped as artists explored and discovered what best allowed them to connect to their audience. It is that universal connection to the viewer that makes something a 'masterpiece.' To step away from that body of accumulated experience is to risk an inability to connect with the viewer. The Philosophy Today article seems to support the idea that our brains really do engage with many of these foundation rules, which is why they became rules.
My college art education was at UC San Diego, where the philosophy was 'just go for it.' There were foundation classes, but although they placed the student in front of a model or still life, they offered very little guidance as to what we should be paying attention to, or how to use the tools we had, or even what tools we should have. As a result, student work tended to be abstract concepts that were so ineffectively expressed that a lengthy verbal explanation of the piece was required. This is reflected in many of the pieces in the university's Stuart Collection, which may be visually interesting,* but are either very simplistic in theme, or incomprehensible without a long explanation.
When I say "incomprehensible," I mean a failure to connect with the intended audience. Picasso's work, for example, was probably most understood by his colleagues, then by his followers and countrymen, and it still has found a resonance with a large segment of the general population.
This is not to say that all art should be perfectly comprehensible without any explanation. A knowledge of what the artist is trying to accomplish makes a deeper appreciation of their work possible. But a masterpiece should be able to stand on its own.
I personally tend to stand too much on theory. I don't have a lot of ideas, but I have a lot of education, so my finished work tends to be pretty formal and stiff, even when it is supposed to be light, because I'm relying more on my intellect than my imagination. Another great piece of advice I got was to make a mess first, then try to clean it up. "You can't steer a car that's not moving." Once you have something down, it's easier to see where it is not working and fix it, than it is to whip it up perfect out of thin air.
(There should be some sort of conclusion here. Oh well.)
*I make a distinction between something that is art, and something that is merely visually interesting. It has to do with the intent of the creator, and how well that intent is passed to the viewer. If the artist's intent is received intact by the viewer, his piece is successful. Visual interest is ridiculously easy to achieve. You can throw a bucket of paint off of a building, or set a car on fire. If these kinds of things are considered art, it allows art to be defined too broadly, in my opinion. Visual interest is Pluto in the artistic solar system. It's like a planet, but it's not a planet. That is to say, it is a necessary but not a sufficient condition of art. If we can agree that art does not encompass every human act, then the viewer has to understand why you threw the bucket of paint or set the car on fire.
I bookmarked this to come back to it later. Good thoughts. ^^
I am curious if you have a link to that article?
that said, the notion of motivation and "what the artist wanted to make/ended up making/what the audience sees" is a huge can of worms
I can admire a piece of work without liking it. Critical Acclaim is not the same thing as connecting with your audience. One is analytical, the other is visceral. A piece can be successful on either level, but I'd say the very best work is successful on both levels. I think it is perfectly possible to create work without an audience in mind, giving it to the world, so to speak. But if it is sublime, it will connect with people anyway. If one person calls something a masterpiece, that is an opinion; if a hundred million people call it a masterpiece there may be something to it. If a hundred million people call it a masterpiece two hundred years later, I think it's probably a masterpiece. Consensus + time.
Intent vs. actual experience is a huge can of worms yes. But at the most basic level I think it's the artist pitching and the viewer catching. Not only is the pitch affected by things like cultural or time period differences between artist and viewer, but there might be multiple layers of meaning to catch, and the viewer might even catch meanings that the artist never thought of. On top of that, you're throwing to men and women, steel workers and philosophers, conservatives and liberals, etc. etc. So it's some luck but mostly skill; it takes a pretty good pitcher to find the elements that make all those frisbees easy, but not too easy, for most, or even some people to catch.
These are issues that will not be resolved anytime soon, of course. But discussing them helps me analyze my own thoughts. Thanks for the comment!
all good points
its not just a matter of the artist going "what do i want my audience to experience when viewing/hearing/observing my art" - because that is usually measured in immideate effects, like shock, awe or amazement (or if its porn, arrousal) - there can also be long term effects... which can also apply to critical acclaim and popularity.
i know that around the year 1810-20 the art colony in Skagen, denmark, revolutionized the then conventional art norms by drawing new things never done before - in ways never done before... like actually drawing the weather cloudy or rainy, or people that looked rough around the edges who'd had a tough life, instead of the norm which was sunny days and happy people. they weren't particularly popular because of it. heck, one of the artists was so bold as to draw men not with their wives, but with their mistresses! now 200 years later, they are hailed as some of the finest non-royal art in denmark, plus they started a whole new trend in art.
At least for those into the gag panel thing rather than just the subjects just posing around.
Charles M. Schulz is my biggest influence... expressive characters and philosophical points of view and funny punch lines behind deceptively simple art work in four panels for most of the "Peanuts" strip run.
He expressed himself marvelously.
However, this "something more" cannot simply come out of a vaccume, but require discussion and a bit of self awareness for their bases.
As such, thankyou for the interesting read.
How do you know, then, when you actually are doing art? A lot of what I do I don't feel is trying to be a message to the world. I mean, sometimes I use emotion, but I am always at a lost to figure out what I am trying to communicate to the world. Most of the time, I just am exalting in the feeling of actually creating something that I don't ponder heavily about creating a deep message, if any whatsoever.
I mean, sometimes I try to convey a message. Giraffe Spots, Giraffe 2, and the Crying Kensan's are trying to convey some emotions and ideas, but I don't hit the state where I want to make a message very often. Is this a bad thing? Should I be trying to make more messages? I don't know if I have that much of a crusader spirit inside me.
I completely understand about having a strong basis in theory (Even if my theory is not the strongest in the world), but I am not sure how deeply important it is to have a message to convey. I am not even sure if I have a Message to send. I just want to create and to share.
I suppose that might be part of the issue of me always struggling to find a topic or subject to share with others, though.
I think that even when you create without conscious intent, you're still broadcasting something of yourself. Good work will still connect with the viewer on some level, even if it's just by hitting those psychologically sensitive spots that most people have. "It's pretty," "It pleases me to look at it" are perfectly good responses, even if they won't necessarily change someone's life. I don't think everything needs to address the big heavy ideas to be successful; it just needs to find something in common with the viewer. Sex and Beauty are obvious examples, but there are others.
As far as exalting in the process of creation, I think that is great, but it is only the first stage. Unless you're a performance artist, you need a result as well as a process; and unless you are a prodigy or a marketing genius, to successfully reach a result you're going to need a toolbox containing art theory, at least at first. At some point you have to decide what (if anything) you want to do with your work, or else you end up with a pile of stuff that neither you nor anyone else can connect with.
It's funny, though; the place you're trying to reach after all that study and practice is exactly where you start-- at the place where you simply take joy in the creative process. Only now, you have a voice, and you have internalized the theory, and your technique with the tools is unconscious, so the work can flow unimpeded from your imagination to the canvas and really sing.
I don't think it's necessary to worry about whether what you are doing is art. Just keep trying, and the results will let you know.
Thank you, it's given me something to think about.