Art as Art
Artists aren’t in the consideration of ideas at that unique and very moment of a creative act. No hidden design or intention or prescribed meaning is under wing. Just as it is to look at a thing and at a later date label it – something. Common Naming is the background of logic and is meaningless to the origin of intent by the artist. Absorbing art undefined by the artist allows others to explore and dream – this is the beauty of art in action – the means to see in a new light and push cognitive values in hopes of inspiring new insights for observers who experience it.
To tender an explanation – to decode is to conjure. Similarly, later realizations, as valid as they might be, are not a part of the moment in the action of creation but are in reaction to it. It’s always fascinating when entering a display of art to seek out the little placard of verbiage on the wall – the ‘explanation’ – historical viability = insight?
I love the little placard of verbiage as it drains all mystery from the viewer – All Knowing is the key to unlocking fear and doubt which is the mainstay of the establishment in avoidance of conditions of “Oooohhhh that’s so scary because I don’t understand it!” but these attempts explain what can only be a lie. The artist is the only one who knows the truth. Must vested interests must be clarified – identified – nailed down? It is a shame for artists to decode in the face of Art as Art because there isn’t really any ‘planning’ of intent in the realms of self-expression. Cultural ties – commentary – insights – inroads are all “after-words.”
Desperation of the need to know and understand is a tendency of our rational culture. We should instead access our ability for simple joy or wonder or revelry in face of beauty. An artist who stands on a soapbox in attendance of their own show with heart in hand blubbering and blabbing about this or that is the stuff of critics not true artists. There really isn’t anything to say or sell or convince anyone of – and if there is – then we’re not viewing art – we’re just viewing the commoditization of art. I find myself in the scene and in the midst of writing this note as I myself am entrenched in the very muck in which I live – I slip up and find myself facing that desperation for the need to know and to understand and then I remember – that’s not it – that’s not art.
Predetermined impassioned making is a self-referential mockery and an oxymoronic condition of fakery because you can’t ‘look for inspiration’ – you can’t ‘look for the poetic’ you have to live it and be it and discover these things on your own terms – and – there are many many distractions in the world – you can be derailed from yourself in an instant of lazy mindfulness and lose sight of the universality of all things. You can wake up in the morning with an instant to remember a vision soon lost. Lorcas’ little deaths are all part of the beauty of making art as art and there is a constant moment to moment paradox which presents itself to us from beyond. Art must beware the Cultural Commentary – insights – inroads and “after-words” as they come to bear on the scene. If we decide that these words are the thing then we define ourselves as only viewers – digesting our hubris in accepting a contrived bit of cloudy business because true art is to be experienced – to be lived – not objectified.