One of the most challenging things about the visual arts is explaining the “why” behind the artwork - the inspiration, motivation, or “what we want to say” with the work. And artists have to do it a lot – in our artist statements; applications for exhibitions, public art, grants and awards; critiques and reviews; and just plain conversation.
Some years ago I was asked by Lonnie Graham, photographic artist and educator, at a portfolio review, “How do you want someone to feel when they see these photographs?”
Feeling like it’s not for me to dictate how someone feels, I answered something like, “I want the viewer to feel something, but exactly what is up to them.” He wasn’t very satisfied with that, asserting that I should have an opinion since it’s my work that’s in front of them.
And the question stuck with me, so I guess I wasn’t satisfied either. I’ve developed more insight since then with much pondering, writing and discussion, and this post is about today’s answer.
I had to ask myself first
At some point I turned the question around and asked what sorts of experiences make me feel best or most alive (in a positive way). How do I want to feel?
And for me, I simply love being delighted by something unexpected or surprising. Something I don’t think I’d ever imagine myself, or don’t expect at a given moment.
For instance, my favorite movie is Monsters, Inc., not because it’s cute or heartwarming or beautifully made or technologically amazing, all of which it is, but because in addition, I would never in a million years have thought of that story.
If you’re not familiar (spoiler alert!), Monsters, Inc. is about Monstropolis, a world of monsters in which they have to sneak into the human world to scare children into screaming so that they can harvest the scream energy to power their world. Of course things go awry and both hilarity and sweetness ensue, but I digress.
My point is that I’m simply delighted by the uniqueness of the premise, which I would never, ever have thought of.
I’ve done scientific research for decades and besides the huge satisfaction of learning new things (learning also delights me), I always feel jazzed when someone comes up with a new, clever way to do a previously impossible experiment. Or they put two and two together in a way that equals 8 or 15 or 237, not because they play fast and loose with science but because they realize the actual question wasn’t 2+2=? to begin with.
With music, I’m delighted when rhythms or harmonies or keys morph in unusual ways, or when a jazz improvisation goes an unexpected direction. Last night I heard Taylor Eigsti (pianist) and Lisa Fischer (vocalist) put a completely different spin on John Lennon’s Imagine and it was awesome!
After watching my sisters make many (many!) quilts, a practice which is often based in symmetry and pattern, I find those I love best are ones where the quilter threw in a twist - some block is rotated or snuck in the “wrong” color somewhere. The same goes for the rest of visual art – nontraditional uses of materials and offbeat concepts or subject matter wake me up. (I’ll write more about art inspirations another time.)
And then there’s nature, which provides me no end of awe and delight in both form and function. From my travels to lands vastly different than home (Iceland, below) or filled with different flora and fauna (Australia!), to daily glimpses of grace like ice crystals on a window or the unfurling of a fern frond, nature delights and awe when I choose to open my eyes (and other senses).
How I want the viewer to feel
After putting words to what I love most to experience, I realized this is a big part of what I want others to feel with my art, too.
Delight. Surprise. Mystery and piqued curiosity. While it’ll vary with specific portfolios and pieces, I hope in some way that my artwork will evoke a version of, “Wow, that’s unexpected!” or “I would never have thought of that!”
Experiencing delight and awe are a core part of being human, I think, and we all need experiences with the arts, food, stories and so forth that evoke them.
My art’s not for everyone but for those who also feed on surprise and delight, I hope my it brings them forth! In these days when so much is contentious, difficult or literally dangerous, having more delight in the world as a counterpoint can only be good.
(P.S. This last photograph is abstracted from the silty water pictured in the Icelandic lake in the Landmannalaugar region, above.)
Receive more timely and personal updates about my creative practice, join my email community by clicking here.