Matter Matters

An artist defined by both scale and physicality, Anselm Kiefer made work that mattered to him, and ulitmately, art that mattered to mankind’s moral consciousness.

“This is not only an emotional process, it’s also a process that involves matter… what I’ve found over the years in going around and talking with painters or people who are more philosophically inclined, on aesthetics and so on, is that thinking is too free. I mean, boy, it’s like a spaceship. You’re like a space cadet. You can move everywhere freely. Boom! You can zoom all around… (but for ) an aesthetician and a painter, and I guess it’s also true with a poet and with a man who works with sound, is that the moment you use the stuff there’s a commitment, a resistance, where you’re not so free.” — Philip Guston

Matter — i.e. physical stuff — matters.

It’s why we have to be very careful how we conduct our lives. Since the advent of digital technology, we’ve moved further and further away from things we can touch and feel. Even what we see and hear are often mere fabrications — things created not by nature or artists but by machines and propaganda. We live in a world dominated by perception and illusion; our thoughts dominate our experiences, our minds rule over our hearts. Perhaps soon, we won’t even be able to tell the difference between information and life. This kind of reality is very dangerous for anyone but for the artist it is lethal. It’s the reason why this blog has taken such a long hiatus; I’m just as burned out by the overload of digital provocations as the next person.

The great scupltor Constantin Brancusi, seen here in his studio, always took a “hands on” approach with everything he made.

Now, don’t get me wrong, for I love technology and its possibilities for bettering our world. But the excessive amount of usage and constant bombardment of digital media is an interference to how we would otherwise experience the world. Our minds and bodies were never designed to handle this quality or quantity of artificial stimuli at this level of frequency. We need breaks between the sights and sounds of computers and smartphones. We need time to mentally breathe and let our bodies recover from its exposure. And as artists, we need the space and time to feel and foster our ideas and then, more importantly, allow those ideas and feelings to act against the physical world. To express, after all, means to “press on” to a tangible surface.

And it is in this interaction with matter — an action that implies force — that marks the beginning of creation. The writer is not a writer until he puts words into physical space; whether his fingers touch a pen or keyboard is irrelevant. It’s the contact that counts. Same goes with the composer, or painter or architect. The life of any idea begins only when there’s adjoining of human hands with the elements of the universe. And, like giving birth to a newborn, the creator must push that new entity into the real world. When we make our marks, the marks begin to take form. Life begins.

“The first step is the most important step.” — Zen proverb

Now of course, any endeavor towards an artistic renaissance will encounter resistance; our egos will always try to stop us from making dreams come true; creating causes a disturbance to the comfortable norm or status quo. But this resistance, which we’ve discussed at length before, is primarily a psychological preoccupation, an illusory force concocted to test our will and courage. Matter, unlike your ego, is scientifically and tangibly real and its resistant power is actually beneficial even if it brings about frustration in our encounter with it. Materials and tools have shape, form and capacity. They have their own characteristics and behaviours. Its uniqueness says “this is what you can do with me and this is what you can’t — at least, not without some serious innovation and resourcefulness.” In other words, matter is a limitation that challenges us to ponder the possibilites, capabilities and boundaries of our visions and ideas. If I work in oil paint, I must understand its possibilites for providing rich, deep or sensually lush experiences but I must also mind its tendencies to go dark, muddy or speak with a broodish tone. If I’m a writer, I must know the limits of words, knowing that they can tease the mind but can never quite bring about the immediate visceral sensations that images or sounds or touch can bring. A stage actor doesn’t have the luxury of a different take or re-do. And it would be poor form for a pianist to try to sound like a trumpet. Uniqueness, in all its glory requires boundaries. This is why they must be respected.

“Sketching enables exploration of the problem of space and the solution to proceed together… a kind of intelligence amplifier.” — Nigel Cross, Designerly Ways of Knowing

Ultimately, the limitations matter imposes force the creative to define the world he is to create. If his art is merely a series of ideas, they are too free. They become barrier-less and groundless. It may have a jet engine but no breaks. We can’t relate to it because without boundaries we can’t know what world it is in or where things belong. Just check out any common science fiction movie that refuses to define its physical setting or characters; they lose both their believability and fantasy. But when the artist works with matter and understand its properties, the physicality of materials pushes back at him. It demands the artist to establish a very firm environment for his world. He makes a choice. He designs. Start a drawing or painting, and you are bound by the borders of your surface. The sculptor can not add to the wood block or granite, he has to work with what he’s got. This is a powerful thing for the artist. It stops him from just thinking and makes him do, making him respect the objects he’s making and the tools he’s making them with.

So my advice is this: go analog with your work, at least periodically. Use your senses, especially the sensation of touch. It’ll make you smarter, more creative and it’ll also remind you that there’s a world out there that’s not just in your head (or on a screen). And, you just might find life fun again too.

“People should talk less and draw more.” — Goethe