What is Art? Paul Bloom Discusses "Essentialism"

Art is art context. That is to say the classification of anything as art comes largely (if not entirely) from outside forces, such as price, venue, and exclusivity - those factors that we inherently feel go into art, but seldom admit to as we hold "art" in such a higher regard.

Consider, for example, how many times you have gone to an art museum and hated a painting, but at the same time called it art? Now, ask yourself: Did you call it art simply because it was in an art museum?

Now you may be thinking, "But what about those things that are aesthetically profound? Didn't you leave that out of the defintion above, as surely aesthetics comes from the materiality of the piece in question?" Simply put: no. I would argue that even aesthetics are largely defined by outside forces, such as the trajectory of art history, the intent of the artist, and so on and so forth. For instance, how could we come to love a painting by Pollock if we hadn't already been incrementally preconditioned to accept abstraction as aesthetically pleasing by the artists before him?

Still not convinced? Watch a recent TED talk by Paul Bloom wherein he argues that human beings are essentialists - that our beliefs about the history (or what I am calling the context) of an object change how we experience it.

The Stories in Our Heads as Artists

What goes through your mind as you paint? What games do you play in your mind as you create art? In the following post I describe my experience with the color red. Please share your art experiences in the comments below.

There is a moment right before red turns to marigold, where red is in its most profound state. Then all is lost. This color, both a quiet friend and undermining foe, comes and goes either in age or with a quick death of contradicting color as the whole of the piece must move forward. A bit playful and gopher-like, the perfect color red is also a taunting, troublesome hobgoblin.

No doubt, the search for the perfect red leaves me somewhat torn between a the joy of a minor, vibrant victory and the need to create something greater. Foolishly, I once thought I could paint the perfect red and be satisfied. And as my brush came to the last vacancy on the giant canvas, the red was not so bright anymore. I grabbed graphite, charcoal, and paint, and destroyed the painting. For one brief moment the last of the perfect red peered through rebar lines of gray before I snuffed its life with a jab of my thumb.

The perfect red peered through rebar lines of gray.

Contemporary Art Aesthetics: Relinquishing Control

We all too often seek to keep things in their pristine or idealized states, be it polishing a car, mowing a lawn, taking a bath, or even painting a scene we captured in a photo. And while I am not suggesting that we all stop bathing, I do want to suggest we embrace - or at least appreciate - the natural aesthetic that is born when one relinquishes control. As things age or attract the remnants of outside forces, like a spill of gas on the shop floor or a boot print in wet cement, something new and unexpected is born. Overtime these remnants find a certain harmony with one another that is, if only for a brief moment, beautiful. Look around, you will see it everywhere - pen marks on a child's school desk telling an untold story; names chiseled into a park bench bisecting lines of green; construction paint on the sidewalk providing instruction and color to a gray, cold pathway; or even rotten fruit in a knotted, wooden bowl telling a story of a relative lost. 

An aging sidewalk bears high aesthetics.

In painting, relinquishing control means allowing for mistakes to happen - one after another - until the whole piece blossoms. It is much like a meadow, wherein plants we would otherwise call weeds come into a natural harmony that is largely impossible to recreate unless we allow it to happen on its own. Ask yourself this, for example: is your backyard more beautiful than the mountains?



Scraping a painting everytime a color is added produces an aesthetic beyond conventional planning.



Painting Without the End in Mind

In defining and exposing the elements of beauty, try this: paint backwards. That is to say, paint uninhibited without the end in mind. And when the work is complete, you will simply know. The piece of art will feel familiar, in place, and of great, almost historical, importance - like it has always been.

Now try this too: in painting backwards, also paint in a destructive fashion, redefining the piece with every stroke, splatter, spray, or whatever it is you do. Eventually there will be a certain unexpected serenity in the piece; colors and patterns seldom or never used will now harmonize and expose beauty like the dust settling after some great war. In painting this way, I sometimes imagine I am a city planner, the world is in ruins, and all I have are bombs to make it whole again.

Unlike something contrived and planned, the backwards piece will not hide the process in its final stroke. Rather, the tug-o-war between human control and nature will sprout up in layer after layer to come to a fully satisfying, abstract, and natural resolve.

The color green and white erupt in a yellow-red war.