The tweet below initiated a discussion on the nature of art. It also provoked this post, in which I’ll try and define, for myself, what art is. Yes, I know I’m tackling a touchy subject for some, but that’s never stopped me before so I don’t see why it should now.
If we paint with a broad brush, we should not expect fine art.
— C.G.Ayling (@CGAyling) October 27, 2013
If we paint with a broad brush, we should not expect fine art.
Onward! The following are my views on the nature of art, you’re entirely free to disagree.
If someone has to tell you it’s art, it isn’t.
I’ve had many people tell me various things are art. If they don’t move me on some emotional level, then to me they are anything but art. I don’t care how smart, popular, or prolific the artist is. I don’t care how brilliant and renowned the critic attempting to coach me on the meaning of art might be, or might believe they are. If it doesn’t make me care, then it is not art, least not to me.
What art is not, is easier than to grasp than what art is. But art is not, simply because someone says, "it is."
— C.G.Ayling (@CGAyling) October 29, 2013
What art is not, is easier than to grasp than what art is. But art is not, simply because someone says, “it is.”
Art, is soul essence, extracted.
I know when I encounter art. It doesn’t matter what form art takes, I just know. And I think you all do too. There is something very special about real art that makes it easily recognized. I think each of us has favorite art forms. It might be music, painting, sculpture, poetry, or prose – what it is doesn’t matter so much as that it is. And when we see it, we feel it as well. If we don’t feel it, well then is it really art at all?
Art is not created for cash, but for necessity.
Can an artist prevent themselves creating art? I don’t think they can. Whatever their muse, if theirs is like mine, it wants out! It needs out. It will get out. And we, the appreciators of their creativity, will be the richer for their muse’s escape. Do artists release their muse for money? If I sold mine, I don’t think it would ever return. Am I saying artists shouldn’t make a living from their art? Hard question, that. I don’t think I am.
Art is not arrogant.
It might be bold, it might be brave, art might be bigoted, or free, but one of the things that art never is to me, is arrogant. I’ve never gazed on a piece of art and felt it looking down on me. Critics? Another story entirely. Artists? Those few I’ve met have never been arrogant, indeed they have been as close to arrogance’s opposite as I can imagine. The word? Humble. Perhaps humble people are more willing to bleed, and what is art if not a soul’s essence, reformed?
Art is created, not accidental.
Can there be such a thing as accidental art? I firmly believe there cannot. Yes, within nature are many beautiful, wonderful things, but art is more than that, and sometimes art is neither of those things. Something essential about the nature of art is that it is created with deliberate intent to evoke emotion. By extension nature does not create art. Nature creates things with an intent of life, not of emotion. However, whatever art is, art invariably has soul. Soul comes from the living, and to be released from its holder requires a conscious decision by the artist. Art requires effort. Art, it don’t come easy…
Artists should be the last to label themselves so.
Said it already, but I’ll say it again. Humble. Humility is not feigned. The “artists” I’ve encountered who break this pattern are invariably the ones who need to explain their art. Usually in a condescending manner expressing amazement we cannot perceive the magnificence of the emperor’s new clothes {reference intended}.
Art needs no explanation.
We get it, and it grabs us, or it isn’t art.
Artists are indeed capable of creating stuff that simply isn’t art.
Even the most prolific sometimes simply can’t. Do you doubt me? If you do {and who in their right mind would not}, then reflect on this next sentence. If everything an artist creates is art, then the world’s sewage systems are treasure troves.
And that, is a tiny piece of what art is, to me.
{With the post completed, I’d like to mention how the tweet that started this wasn’t referring to art, per se. It was about how willing we are to apply broad labels to individuals.
I write. Tweets, thoughts, obscure thoughts, even a couple of books. I don’t consider what I do art, but it’s as close as I can come to creation. Browse around my blog, read some samples of my work, who knows my words might touch you, and if they do… they’re art, least they are, to you.}
These words of identification were sent to me today. They seem to encapsulate what you say.
Why Do I Use My Paper, Ink And Pen
Why do I use my paper, ink and pen,
And call my wits to counsel what to say?
Such memories were made for mortal men;
I speak of Saints whose names cannot decay.
An Angel’s trump were fitter for to sound
Their glorious death if such on earth were found.
Henry Walpole