The fine art of appreciation – Part 2

Part one on the fine art of appreciation.

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There’s a growing expectancy these days, at least in the western world, that many things should be free or at the very least, easily and cheaply available; a mere click of a button and our wish is fulfilled. Free software, free music, free videos and images, legally acquired or not, it’s all available with little effort. My hardest task as a parent is instilling a sense of value and appreciation in my children for those things that they take at times, all too casually. Value, not just in the sense of monetary worth but in terms of significance to one’s life and appreciation, not simply in terms of being grateful but in terms of awareness or mindfulness.

When given a sonnet by Shakespeare, my son can “get the gist” with a quick search on the Internet. There is no need for him to appreciate Shakespeare’s work when someone else has already worked it out. Trying to explain to him the value in arriving at his own understanding through his own effort is difficult. It’s possible that Shakespeare is no longer relevant to today’s generation or perhaps he no longer speaks to the youth but my son’s attitude, common among his peers as far as I can tell, is the same even with contemporary artists and poets. It’s all taken at face value and quickly judged as either cool or boring. Of course it’s not to say that everything must have meaning deeper than the superficial. I do not doubt that some people create works only for entertainment; pure and simple and for that I am grateful.  But I’m digressing, best I return to the topic on hand.

Appreciation of art does not come from someone else. I can not acquire an appreciation for art from the Internet. I seriously doubt I can acquire it from a course where I can learn all sorts of fancy words that will allow me to form an opinion and sound ever so clever next time I visit a gallery. As far as I can tell an appreciation of art is achieved by cultivating right practice and right mindfulness, in the same way as the artist goes about creating his work. So just as the artist must know how to impart the message, I must know how to cultivate the right attitude to receive it.

In a previous comment, Paul Lester suggested that “Art is the finger” using the Zen analogy that the finger-pointing at the moon is not the moon. Art is there pointing at something which the artist experienced and wishes to share. Simply looking at the art though is like looking at the finger when I’m wanting to see the moon. To see where the finger is pointing takes effort, albeit no great effort but effort nonetheless as I must turn my attention from the finger to the object it points at. For some reason however I often remain transfixed with the finger, perhaps in forming an opinion so quickly as the mind tends to do, I close myself off from the actual beauty that I hunger for.

We are fortunate, at least in the Western world, to live at a time where access to seemingly unlimited talent and creativity is but a few clicks away and yet I hear people talk about being bored or say they are unmoved by anything they see. Some almost demand to be awed. Interestingly enough, if I suggest that perhaps the problem lies with them I get a reaction similar to the one that arose in me when my Sifu made a similar statement. And so I usually refrain from suggesting any such thing. Instead I work on developing an equanimity which will prevent me from swinging wildly between indifference and resentment. An equanimity which will allow me to look beyond the opinions that form so readily in the mind so that I may be drawn into the masterpiece, letting it become a living reality that I may see it’s soul rather than the technique. In so doing, the art, the artist and I become one. Across space and time a sympathetic communion of spirits takes place. It is, I feel, the least I can do for the artist who wants nothing more than to take me into his confidence and share that which he can only express through his craft. The true master does not seek accolades or opinions, he does not seek ”hits” on his art nor does he hope it will go “viral”, he does not try for fame and fortune. He creates because it is beyond his ability to do otherwise. He creates art because he has something to share and he knows the limitations language imposes on our understanding, limitations which art does not recognise. As Diego Rivera exclaims to Frida Kahlo when she asks him for his “serious opinion” on her art, “What do you care about my opinion? If you’re a real painter, you’ll paint because you can’t live without painting. You’ll paint till you die.” (from the film, Frida 2002)

It is regretful to some extent, that so much of the enthusiasm for art today is devoid of any real feeling. By my reckoning, and I accept that my perception may be flawed, it appears that there is more desire for the costly than for the refined, more passion for technical perfection than for introspection. And maybe, just maybe, the ghastly works which are paraded as art in so many galleries of modern art owe their existence simply to the deafening absence of genuine appreciation.

Silence is, after all, the context for the deepest appreciation of art: the only important evaluations are finally, personal, interior ones. - Robert Adams -”Beauty in Photography” 1996

I mentioned earlier that we have access to more art than ever before in the history of the world and yet I have an uncomfortable feeling that our art may become barren as it goes unappreciated, adorned only with mundane opinions and perfunctory judgements. And should this happen, should we lose the ability to commune with the masters of art, we will surely find ourselves starved of beauty.