Art and Thought
Wednesday, February 4, 2009 by Ero-Sennye
In the idyllic world of metaphorical escapades and unblemished profundity woven into the fabric of the paper, the brilliance of a "remarkable thought", an "idea", still figures as the sole nourishment to the soul of the reader. A thought that so strongly permeates our deepest, most vividly preserved ideals, like a lightning bolt through a cloud laden sky and poignant it is, for it pokes at the reader's mind and beckons to be received with unabashed delight, tends to achieve its purpose if it were ever meant to serve a purpose. Words flutter meaninglessly then, in and around the spectrum of the thought, embracing it, but the "thought" creates forever the impression that the author wishes to etch into the mind of the unsuspecting reader.
The more masterfully is the thought disguised by the author in poetic lyricism, the more it is appreciated by the reader, such is the aesthetic sense that we as human beings have come to develop, because, there is then, established, a sense of unavowed intimacy between the author and his reader, and the language transcends the mere disfigurations etched on the paper. The writer on his part, may be concerned whether the poetic lyricism which he lends to his writing, helps in clarifying his statement, or makes it really just impossible to comprehend. But, any allusions to the substance of the thought, as clarification, by say, the crudest way, by giving an example, somehow tends to limit the domains of the consumed reader, and in some sense diffuses the aura of exploring the unknown in the mind of such a reader, which may be disengaging for him. On the other hand, such clarificaitions, serve as much needed respite to the confused reader who prefers to grapple with the mere essentials as he perceives it, and skims over the extras.
But such is the enigma of secrecy, and convoluted meaning, that the human mind is, I fear, prone to epitomising this essence of artful deceit into a statement of epiphany-like proportions, and the objectivity and wonder or clarity of an original thought is lost to playfulness for art's sake, but only in the mind of the reader. The author, is most unquestionably, always aware of the intentions of his words, unless ofcourse, he is intoxicated into delirium, which ofcourse isn't something unknown to many great writers, but I still question if subconsciously those words that he uses in his works do not mean to him far more than what the reader can ever derive from them. So the thought remains, in all its conformity, an intellectual property of the author who may use this to his advantage and create art wherein meaning lies only in the elegance and the profundity of words, and demands the intellect of the reader to conjure up the meaning, meaning which may lack the author's consent or authority or acknowledgement, by virtue of either the absolute absence of meaning attributed to the art by the author himself or by virtue of the multiplicity of the connotations of the ideas imbued by him into his art.
Unquestionably, any work of art in itself, invites the reader to breathe into, the imageries and goings-on as described in the work, a certain symbolism and picture, somewhat characteristic to the reader, characteristic to his musical composition in some sense. Hence, the sphere of existence of a work of art, bridges the divide between the minds of the reader and the author and at the same time, colours itself with the many attributes distinct to either worlds. Further, each work of art itself adds as a little musical staff, or a conglomeration of many different notes from many different scales, into the composition of the mind of the reader and the imagery presented in the work of art, arouses certain nostalgic cues and notions in the mind of the reader. This is really why the creation of art provides limitless exciting opportunities for the author to work with.
However, what does "art" really add to the "thought"? Is "thought" really dependent on "art". To clarify what I am trying to say here, is, does the representation of an idea in terms of words or pictures, does the form of representation, which is "art", add anything qualitatively and maybe quantitatively to the value and knowledge of the "thought", which is the real intent behind the work or a little part of the work. Objectively, it is questionable, whether a thought may convey less "meaning" than what it may achieve in conveying when it is "artfully" presented. There is a certain sanctity about scientific "art", or a scientific thought, in this regard, in that it tends to evade all notions of plausible discrepancy and registers itself, in the mind of the reader, as the absolute Quality of say, the physical reality, that it wishes to capture.
However, Quality is as artful as any artful thought. Quality, is very different from what is and what is not. The world is. Nothing can change that, no words can describe it better than what it actually really IS. The number of qualifiers we would require to completely describe any single object of this universe would span infiniteness. Just like a Turing machine asked to work on irrational numbers, we merely limit our number of qualifiers to attain a minimum level of acceptable accountability in the absoluteness of the imagerie conveyed by the qualifiers, that works well for all our practical purposes.
What however, remain, absolutely untarnished by the finite precision of our thoughts, are, purely mathematical constructs, which are then, really just thoughts since they do not describe any real world scenario, and hence, the absoluteness with which purely mathematical ideas can be communicated isn't surprising. (For no two sticks in the real world are ever absolutely equal, like 1=1 is ever so conviniently used in mathematics) (Note: The advocates of Quantum Teleportation would disagree in general while even believeing that consciousness can be equated if we are able to transport each and each every atom and electron of the human body keeping everything exactly the same)). Mathematically fundamental thoughts, then, are the building blocks of all increasingly difficult and more compound thoughts. Thoughts themselves intersperse and intertwine and give us art, when presented with a certain panache and social delicateness that interests the reader and qualifies by the canon as "art".
But since, we have ascertained, that thoughts themselves are just manifestations of inaccuracies and limitations in describing reality, it is hardly surprising that "art" can pry open the heart of these thoughts and add in them flavours and coloration than transcend the original discreetness or the primitiveness of the basic thought, which is very often closer to the totalitarian decree of a pure mathematical construct. Hence, we can reasonably argue that art operates covertly through the obfuscation and compound presentation of mathematical truths. Such is the nature of reality as well! Art and reality are therefore partners of the same crime, if crime is the right word :D .
Language ofcourse, is just another form of exposition of art, and therefore, it imbibes all the illusory qualities of art, and with it, the same charm and endless possibilities of excitation on part of both the author and the observer of art. But what persists, amongst all, appreciators of art, and of reality automatically, to different extents and degrees, is the desire to delve into the delusion of another world, an unknown world. This desire, to find comfort and meaning in the unknown, seems to me to be an innate virtue of all human existence and a very fundamental need indeed. Kitsch, as they say, in German, the idealization of reality, and complete denial of anything inferior, is what all are lives base themselves on, and reality only attempts to warp itself into either kitsch or something diametrically opposite kitsch. Art, then, only serves as the pyre to light these tamed curiosities.
Well, in almost poetic deliberation, we have so far merely managed to convince ourselves of the possibility of adding quality to thought, via succinctness and brevity or, in other cases, the diametrically opposite, profundity and obscurity, in the presentation of thought. We have managed to convince ourselves that thoughts are constructed on basic inaccuracies in expressing reality and hence present room for being exploited into assuming different connotations using a magical play around with the choice of words the author may use.
However, what I really believe is the author is almost powerless here, and that the quality of a thought perceived by a reader, is what value the reader himself can associate with the thought over and above the basic mathematical construct of the thought, and this association, which is so specific to every reader, can be pried open by the author unintentionally by using imageries and word constructs that arouse completely different feelings in different people, because, all these images, and words are merely staffs in the musical compositions of the lives and minds of the readers, and the very essence of disparateness amongst readers is what makes every thought so very meaningful in different ways to its many observers, not merely on account of the multiplicity in interpretation initially sowed into the thought by the author themselves.
In the end, I'll say this that, its the world of both the reader and the author that makes art what it is.
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