Chapter 8 of potential hindrances to our creative development :
**00VIII: We don’t understand art unless we get what the artist intended.**
Although it’s always a possibility to understand art as an artist says they have intended (on some level), I hope I’ve made it fairly obvious how much this presupposition is potentially a prompt for failure or disconnect. If we find it difficult to enjoy and appreciate works of art in a natural way, it’s likely we’re just overthinking it. Have you ever wandered (or been forced) into a gallery or museum and gone straight to the didactics on the walls so that you’re on board with what you’re looking at or hearing— because that’s what you thought you’re supposed to do? Have you found yourself in a trying-reaching-grasping contracted vibe when you think you should get a certain something? As soon as we bring up questions like what does it mean to understand art? and what does it mean for an individual to understand art? or what is a work of art beyond the artist’s intentions?, there’s much more space to unclench in.
There are countless examples (beyond what I’ve mentioned here) of artists refusing to stake claims about any singular meaning in their work. Perhaps one of the main reasons for this is that any final conclusion would collapse the space for the work to exist and evolve beyond the limitations of the artist.
Thinking back on art school, I can recall the realization and my acceptance of the fact that there will always be someone who understands my work at a degree that I do not. If I insist that the audience understand it through my intentions alone, I would feel like I was letting the work down; to me, this would be totally limiting its spontaneous capacity to connect and communicate on multiple levels (levels that I haven’t opened up to or can’t fathom yet). Plus, it’s much more fun and intriguing to step back and fade into black when I show my work—to watch it work its magic from backstage. This awareness of my work having it’s own independent potential allows me to feel free to bring my own perception and receptivity to the tables of other artists’ work (without being cavalier about it).
When asked in an interview, “what was your intention with your latest film, ‘Persona’?”, Swedish director, writer and producer Ingmar Bergman refused to weigh in with what he personally meant:
“If I’ve really managed to make a film that has sparked a debate, it would be very tactless of me to barge in on that debate and talk about what I really meant by the film. It would be tactless towards the audience, because I’m sure they all have their own interpretations, and tactless towards those commenting on it in the media, who might feel hurt if they found they misinterpreted the film. Therefore I prefer not to say anything at all. I played my part in this debate when I made the film.”
When we bring up great works of art, the word and concept of ‘creativity’ can get up on a high horse and make us feel intimidated or low class. I’ve been over this before in Chapters 2 & 3— holding the false impression that we have to be smart and special enough to make or experience art. If we understand creativity as something fundamental and essential to our nature and that it is not learned but more like remembered, perhaps it makes more sense that the important thing is to see things with our own eyes and feel them through our own hearts.
This seems simple enough but I’ll admit I have continuous doubts about my own eyes and I tend to shush my heart. I get super frustrated by my relentless habit of intellectualizing my experience— always reflexively putting it into strings of words, thoughts and reasons that often weave a curtain that blocks out the light and has a stunting effect. It can feel like I’m just filing facts (that came from a bunch of other people) and missing out on integrating knowledge into my own depths. It’s like being able to rattle off a wordy explanation of our philosophy of life but then actually living in some other way (often contrary to our philosophy).
I now recognize this highly rational/logical thinking routine as a strong cultural influence and art allows me to explore other ways of knowing beyond thought (like enjoyment, wisdom or ‘embodied knowledge’, which I’ll come back to). To get the dominos moving toward possibilities in understanding art, it’s enough to recognize the limitations of a strictly analytical approach to a subject or thing that is not susceptible to theoretical abstraction. In other words, we gotta forget what we learned in school (if it sounds anything like this overthinking insanity). Let’s just forget what we think art is and what artists intend and what we’re supposed to get and how we’re supposed to get it. Though human problems may always remain similar, they are not the same.
If we come out of this chapter feeling more comfy with our baffling, curious, profound, boring, spontaneous and/or delightful encounters with diverse creative expression, we’re in a pretty decent position be more open to the creative potential in ourselves.
A story isn’t really any good unless it successfully resists paraphrase, unless it hangs on and expands in the mind.
-FLANNERY O’CONNOR
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