Art’s Purpose

Two great artists — Leo Tolstoy and Ilya Repin — sit together. One the writer, the other the painter, each a devotee to the highest cause of his art.

“Art is not, as the metaphysicians say, the manifestation of some mysterious idea of beauty or God; it is not, as the aesthetical physiologists say, a game in which man lets off his excess of stored-up energy; it is not the expression of man’s emotions by external signs; it is not the production of pleasing objects; and, above all, it is not pleasure; but it is a means of union among men, joining them together in the same feelings, and indispensable for the life and progress toward well-being of individuals and of humanity.” — Leo Tolstoy

It’s not always easy to define what art is or what it’s for. To many, art is a luxury, a plaything, a leisurely post retirement activity to bide time or the mere idea of what we could do if and when we might be free from the burdens of working for money. But to those of us who actually make art regularly, we know that it is none of those things. And like Tolstoy so aptly stated, art works towards a higher cause, one that doesn’t just serve to satisfy our own individual whims but that of uniting humanity itself.

Documentary of the Judy Baca’s LA project. Here, an artist’s vision and her actions have united an entire city in perpetuity.

Now of course art doesn’t always have to demonstate such noble traits nor carry the burden for saving the world. But even in the individual pursuit of personal understanding it can serve the greater good for the world is ultimately a better place when its inhabitants are better members of its fraternity. The practice of art, with its encouragement of individual adventure sprouts authenticity and uniqueness. Life and lives become lifelong documents of wonder and self-discovery. The practice of delight brightens not only the practicioner but his audience. And we do need to learn how to be delighted; the world is so full of anxious complexity and violence that gracious uplifting joy is rare. Furthermore, the long and ardous challenges of being a true artist that tests him also grounds him. In sharing a common foundation, he promotes the big picture rather than stand apart from it. Existentially, it reminds him that to arrive early is not the purpose — skip the journey and we skip all the growth, understanding and fun that is life. It’s so easy to lose sight of this but quick success is short success.

Jean-Michel Basquiat was a wonderfully creative and engimatic talent who exploded onto the NY art scene in the late 1970’s/early 1980’s. Although his work remains powerful and valued at the top of historical artists, his quick rise to fame was met with huge psychological despair which led to his early death at the tender age of 27.

“The shortest distance between two points is often unbearable.” — Charles Bukowski

Art can also help us and others bear the hardships of living. Sometimes as reprieve and at other times enlightment, to step into a world better than the one that faces us. Inside the world of imagination arrives wonder and magic, things that awaken us from our stupor in surprising blends of the strange, surprising and beautiful. Art transmogrifies as much as it transforms those who involve themselves with it.

Miyazaki’s Spirited Away is not only a gorgeous dive down into the unknown and strange, but one that brings joy, love and meaning in its viewing experience.

Art is like a fire; it always put us into an active state of attention that directs our energy in positive constructive ways. It institutes a feeling of productivity not as a byproduct of goal driven industriousness but one that arrives with deeply felt meaning and worthiness; stated goals and targets are only starting points of activity. Furthermore, we feel very good about ourselves after a hard, conscientious day spent tackling our creative challenges even when we don’t meet hopes or expectations.

“The secret of change is to focus all of your energy, not on fighting the old, but on building the new.” — Socrates

A still from The Disney short film How to Fish with animation by Milt Kahl. It must’ve been a good day at work making this kind of animation.

Making art requires intense focus. Focus is a powerful thing, it enables us to empty ourselves of ego and submit to the demands of the task. And it’s a great challenge to wield the tools of any craft never mind make art. Rather than avoiding our difficulties, which infers ignorance, art teaches us to face them. Art invites proactivity; you don’t postpone when you’ve got art to do. Making art changes our patterns of thinking — it alters the brainwaves. The mind goes from the distress of self-pity or aloofness to one of courage in action. We align with the only thing that’s real which is the now; we keep it real while also making our own reality.

The soul is dyed with the colour of its thoughts.” — Marcus Aurelius

Art, in altering our thoughts, is also a transformer of time helping it to pass nicely and worthily. It’s why the clock seems to jump when we’re having fun — we don’t want the journey to end. A healthy psychological hunger develops and we mysteriously find the energy to sustain our activities. We know this when we don’t mind skipping dinner when that great idea strikes or when we’re in the flow of creating. But when we invest in unfruitful things, time drags and we can’t wait for things to finish. Mindless energy expenditure whether it be job-related or escape oriented is often frivolous in nature and tends to fall into the category of “wasted time.” Meaningless activity — so common in today’s culture of commodification and ego enhancement — always carries with it that distasteful quality of abject disposability.

One of several iterations of Rodin’s The Thinker. Great artists like Rodin don’t make disposable art.

Ultimately, creative action is a positive muliplier. Art betters so many things; it keeps us active, productive in the positive sense, gives purpose, and provides direction; it brings joy, elevates our sensibilities, draws out intelligence, develops coordination and discipline; it grants and demands order while providing a path where discovery, growth, ability, experience, sympathy, beauty, communication, relationship, and perspective are gained; it even keeps us healthy. In a medical study on the effect of creativity on stress, it showed that making art statistically improved physical well-being. Here’s a short summary of its findings:

“Our main hypothesis, that there would be a lowering of salivary cortisol as a result of visual art making, was supported by the results. Additional hypotheses were not supported: Those with prior levels of experience with art making or who used less structured media did not show greater reductions in cortisol. Also, there were no associations between reduction of cortisol and age, gender, or race/ethnicity… Results indicate that a brief experience of art making produced physiological changes in most participants, indicating that art making can lower cortisol levels regardless of prior experience with art, media type, or demographics.” — Excerpt from NIH study Reduction of Cortisol Levels and Participants’ Responses Following Art Making.

Now, how can we not develop gratitude and appreciation of life when we make art? And with the power to bond the whole world through empathy, beauty and wonder, art is everything Tolstoy says it is and more. What it is not is mere utility or luxury. True art has always objected to being object or methodology and fights stoutly against commercialization and its associated propaganda. It rejects what writer Jeanette Winterson calls “the lie against life” and exists beyond the rationality of exchange transactions. Cave men made beautiful art.

For me, traveling along the voyage that is artmaking always reminds me of that crucial message from The Iliad (Homer’s Odyssey), namely that “the treasure you shall find will not be the treasure that you seek.” In daily creation — turning the intangible into the tangible and vice versa — we learn to live along the journey of continual birth and re-birth or, what I’d like to call genuine living.

“He who’s not busy being born is busy dying.” — Bob Dylan

Complexity vs Complication

John Willam Waterhouse’s Hyla and the Nymphs is a simple yet stunning painting that carries a complex mix of elegant sensuality and rich mythology.

“An intellectual says a simple thing in a hard way. An artist says a hard thing in a simple way.” — Charles Bukowski

Life is complex. Making art is complex. We don’t mind complexity. What we don’t want is complication. Yet complexity invites complication, implying more ingredients, more ways and more difficulty. Hence, simpler is usually better.

That said, complexity can be very beautiful, very fun. Making art itself is a complex process and making things simple in art is often the most complex challenge of all. So why don’t we naturally strive for simplicity and good order, for the simpler, smaller and slower? Here’s the thing, most things aren’t inherently in good order, at least when it comes to anything human. We’re a tangled mess the moment we leave the purity of early childhood — that unrecallable moment when we gained self-consciousness — and it gets messier as the years pile on. The desire for more and faster take over. Genuine maturity is difficult, dealing with the larger world while retaining one’s authenticity is commonly a lost battle. The trick is turning growing complexity into simplicity without losing depth or sophistication, finding meaningfulness without getting lost. That’s the way of the artist.

“The art of art, the glory of expression and the sunshine of the light of letters, is simplicity.” — Walt Whitman

I’ve always felt that excess was over-rated. This ridiculous idea of abundance is almost as silly as the idea of scarcity. Too much or too little, neither is optimal. Sometimes, when options are restricted, the creative can find resourcefulness and innovation — the limitations stretch his imagination. But when there’s too much, complexity can often end up as complication. A common example is when there’s far too many elements in the picture or way too many ideas to begin with. Then it becomes too hard for the artist to balance and even harder for the viewer to grasp. There’s no clarity, no directness. Themes and visions come out cluttered and vague. The desire for complexity often leads to chaos, confusion and fear.

“I’m full of fears and I do my best to avoid difficulties and any kind of complications. I like everything around me to be clear as crystal and completely calm.” — Alfred Hitchcock

While complexity can get ugly quickly we still find ourselves hopelessly drawn to it. It might be the machine in us. It’s been said that whenever an opportunity presents itself for thinking like a machine, we will almost always do so. This is a disturbing realization. Plus, our culture magnifies this tendancy, nurtures it and inflames it. Then it tries to sell you simple solutions so you don’t have to put in the work. Thinking is hard work and all work is an expenditure. This happens with politics, religion and technology — why think when someone or something can tell you what to think or do! We must be highly wary of this. To derive simplicity out of complexity requires wide open awareness as well as deep introspection; thinking mustn’t ever be outsourced to outside parties. The artist, in fact, must do the opposite; he must hold on to his heart and exercise his agency.

Generalized as a colorist, Mark Rothko’s artistry is so much more than meets the common eye. This painting, titled No 14, is fully of feeling and intent.

There are times, of course, when rich complexity is necessary; some ideas are just fuller and require greater elaboration or detail. Personally though, I’d avoid it unless your heart says that you must take on such responsibility. Even the greatest artists have struggled to pull it off, this striving for extravagance; art history is littered with collosal and expensive creative failures. The best works of art are shockingly simple yet sophisticated, a kind of refinement not so easily subjugated by category. Art is an organic thing that comes out of an organic process, it’s never purely mechanical. Real art has soul and retains mystery, things that can never be found as by-products of fully automatic operation. To allow unattended mechanism to produce or judge art would be like grading a movie soley by its technical and commercial achievements.

One of many great scenes from Peter Weir’s Dead Poet’s Society.

Story, composition, color and if you’re an animator, lines of action, posing, paths of action, rhythm — are these clear and simple? If not, you’re in trouble. Remember that failed art tends to show a lack of the vision or the feeling of chaos. Humans are like snails, we leave trails. What and how we do things matter. The lack of cohesiveness and harmony can never be hidden from view; the astute will notice. When the mind isn’t clear, the result is confusion, the culprit of poor decision-making. A good artist makes good decisions. He’s got a focused mind, a passionate heart, skill and patience, plus a good dose of courage. These are the actual ingredients to making good art. These are the virtues witnessed in the practice and artistry of the masters who, first and foremost, strive for simplicity.

“The closer to the true way of martial arts, the less wastage of expression there is.” — Bruce Lee