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...Curiously the observer of the art sees images that are different than what the artist sees. There was no intention to create eyes nor was there any intention to create nipples. After a while the artist gets up enough nerve and shows her work to many people. Each individual sees something different in this abstract piece of art. It appears that each viewer interprets the drawing differently. Perhaps that is another of the artist's intent, a secondary intent to create mystery and the result was that she succeeded.
Bottom line, there was no intention to create eyes, nipples or toes or whatever one might see. The intent was to create ambiguity. Each viewer was allowed to interpret the marks without being told what they should see. The drawing becomes a sort of mirror and reflects back more about the viewer than the artist. Abstract art is curious in this way and perhaps that’s why it leaves many people baffled as to the artist's intent. They want to see the artist's intentions, they want to know what it means. Are they being put-on? They may feel that way but few artists apply their art just to make fools of people, maybe.
That's a chain of events that I find plausible, although I'm left to wonder how often this sort of thing actually happens. Not the part about the artist's intention to "seek a particular state of being (mind) while in this process of mark making." - that's something that I'm intimately aware of, and it's certainly one of a multiplicity of intentions that I ascribe to myself.
What disturbs me about this hypothetical anecdote is that it seems to imply that important Art can somehow be made by accident, or - even more disturbingly, that the critic's rationalization after the fact is somehow more important than the artist's original act. This was precisely the initial point of contention, reflecting back to a seminal conversation that I had with David Cohen in the September, 2003 issue of Art Critical. Assigning meaning or value to such an object beyond the intentions of its maker seems to me a rather questionable idea.
"..."If a herd of pigs knocked over a table of paints and smeared a canvas, and you liked it, then you'd have to call it art..."
We do often find beauty or significance in the chance arrangement of things, whether done by an artist or an accident; an historical accident, in the case of... some museum pieces...
And, as Carl Jung pointed out with his concept of Synchronicity, this is far from trivial - it tells us something important about ourselves (and nothing in particular about the object).
"...do you think people need to know what your intentions are to understand your paintings? Do you not think something is lost by explaining it? If they don't get it without it being explained to them, have you failed?"
I don't think there's anything to "understand"; I'm more interested in having the viewer experience a certain state of mind, of emotion, a profound and lucid calm. If they don't experience that state when looking at my paintings, I don't think there's anything to be gained by "explaining" my intentions; insofar as that particular viewer is concerned, my work has failed utterly. To quote David Cohen, "...I wouldn't want to participate in a criticism the function of which would be to award brownie points for good intentions."
One's paintings might work for some people and not for most people, regardless of any intentions. The fact that some viewers understand and appreciate and others do not has absolutely nothing to do with the question of intentionality. Intentionality is about one's own purposes and goals, not about the reactions of others.
An artist of a mystical/Symbolist bent had this to say:
"...consciousness reflects reality, thus if you alter consciousness, you alter reality... Intent is simply a concentrated, intense energy that we apply --to whatever. As bodies of energy ourselves, we certainly can manifest many things. It is the same with prayer, per se, or meditation. It's all energy."
And a very pragmatic artist shared this point of view:
"...Intent has to do more with Preparation. Even Improvisation requires some sort of preparation. Spontaneity requires also preparation.
The very ability to approach a blank page, a blank canvas or a computer screen is contingent on our inner preparations... contingent on the alignment of our heart, mind, and hands... in the direction of the task."
In conclusion, here is an interesting area of thought: i.e., the historical relationship between Art and ceremonial magick. Arguably this may have been the original (prehistorical) reason for the invention of representational Art. Perhaps Art is something that exists in a realm beyond intentionality, more akin to instinct. It seems to me that the impulse to make Art is both necessary and inevitable, an inextricable part of human nature.
I am again reminded of P. D. Ouspensky:
"Man is a machine, but a very peculiar machine which, in the right circumstances, and with the right treatment, can know that he is a machine, and, having fully realized this, he may find ways to cease to be a machine.
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Writer Profile
Carson
An artist/ painter, Carson Collins describes himself as a "gently ironic, world-weary, post punk misanthrope". He has been working on a project that he calls "The Ocean Series" for the past 30 years. A Remodernist response to the color-field paintings of Mark Rothko; it appeals to serious art lovers, those who meditate, and ocean lovers as well.
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Comments
Beautiful! R Kahendi | Mar 8th, 2008
Beautiful article and picture! You should write more often. :)
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