Special Feature #2 — Art and Reality
The following article is comprised of excerpts from the website of Si Lewen.
Albert Einstein said of this man, "Our time needs you and your work".
Si Lewen is a unique artist who has not chosen to compromise himself on the illustrious altar of money and recognition. He has fearlessly followed his own path, a path that few would care to tread.
Some of you readers may have a different view of the 'world of art' and very different artistic values and personal beliefs. Lewen has had his taste of it a long time ago, but 'his' is not the world of the mainstream art leadership and self-proclaimed art critics and gurus. His beliefs on "what is art" are his comments on reality as he sees it.
Is he one of those few "pure" artists amidst an ever-increasingly "monetarily-measured and driven" Art world?
In my humble estimation, a true artist has a strong sense of self but not in an outward, 'marketing' kind of way. He or she has a pervasive philosophical perspective on life and their art. This is often the under-girding and driving factor in an artist's creativity and freedom of expression.
May this article challenge you about any of your own potential narrow or confined views, if that should be the case. "Why do you do what you do?" is the key underlining question to muse over. What is your "modus operandi"? Or is it all about 'commercially surviving' in today's Art world? Where does the 'pure artist' emerge amidst the ego and the adulation, and the dollars and the sense?
There's too much that could be said about this artist to put into a single newsletter. In an upcoming issue, we'll do one of our "Forgotten Biographies" on him. I strongly encourage you to visit his website, his "Museum Without Walls", www.silewen.com/Contents.html, and see what this remarkable artist and 'his reality' is all about.
May this make for a fascinating 'teaser' glimpse into Si Lewen's life. If it 'gets your sprockets turning' and challenges you to think a little deeper and more provokingly about your creative values and life beliefs, that can always be a good thing. See if you can relate to what Si Lewen expresses to us.
"Art is not a commodity!" — [Reprinted from the website of Si Lewen]
To reduce art to a commodity, to a product, is to compromise and, ultimately, corrupt art, the artist as well as art appreciation.
In 1985 I decided to declare my art "no longer for sale". "Would I sell any of my children?" had become one of the ever more nagging questions. To escape the rat race (and the price) for "recognition" was another reason. These and other reasons for my decision are detailed in "Reflections and Repercussions", a memoir.
However, the price for "price less" art was the closing of all meaningful doors to exhibit. Fifteen years later, in the year 2000, and in my 82nd year, I decided to go public, to go "Online" - beyond galleries, even museums. Call this site then a "Museum Without Walls."
This "Museum Without Walls" will be an ongoing process: forever changing and evolving. It is also what my art is about: a constantly evolving metamorphosis of many, seemingly, unlimited dimensions and possibilities. Perhaps this is also what we are about.
"Art and Reality"
"Art is not a commodity!" True, art has had its price, but only in, comparatively recent, mainly Western, history. Increasingly, money and greed seem to overwhelm artistic sensibilities. Art should be an obsession - for both the artist and, hopefully, for a perceptive public. It can redeem the dross, even tragedy, of ordinary existence. However, transforming art into a commodity, a product, corrupts the very atmosphere in which art can flourish.
Art should transform the bareness of existence into something extra-ordinary, supernatural, even beautiful. It is "beauty" (esthetics) that distinguishes art from everything else. Art must be beautiful, no matter what the subject. Beauty may not only lie in the proverbial "eye of the beholder" but within the very essence of the world. The artist can only discover and reflect the beauty there is; he cannot invent it. Whenever he tries to invent, his art turns into contrived artificiality. The beauty is already out there, reflected, whether in the melodies and rhythms a Mozart hears, or in the designs and colors a Klee perceives, or in the formulas an Einstein discovers, or in the strange divine voices and visions of a Buddha or Moses.
All art forms seem to depend on transforming reality into the illusion of reality. Or does art transform the illusion of reality into the reality of illusion? No matter, but in this process of transformation the artist, as well, may become transformed. Perhaps also the beholder.
"Assemblage". We are all assemblages - assembled originally out of the very same stuff the universe is made of, and again and again out of each preceeding generation.
"Reality" is a real possibility.
The electronic, computer generated images in this Website [www.silewen.com] are but poor reflections of the actual images (paintings, graphics, etc.). These actual, real, images are but poor reflections of reality. "Reality" is but a poor reflection...
"Style" may have several meanings: uniqueness, even quality, but it can also become a trap, a prison, a straight jacket. In the unfolding of Modernism, one can readily see the coming of an art, free of the restrictions of "style". Most "modern" artists have gone through several, successive "periods." The history of art reflects an inevitable pattern and trend: From the highly stylistic cohesion of Egyptian art, for instance, (with hardly a change for centuries or from one artist to the next), to cultures and individual artists loosening and broadening art into ever greater diversion of styles until, with the advent of twentieth century Modernism, all cohesion appears to fly apart. If not for the expectations of the market and collectors, art and artists should become progressively free from the constrains and the limitations of "style". The artist must be free to roam to wherever inspiration and imagination beckons.
To appear foolish may be the special privilege of children and the old - comrades in arms against the pompous seriousness of middle age. Artists, as well, never quite outgrow their childish, juvenile stage, seeing their world from a very different perspective, they can never accept the adult world or its notion of reality. Artists may indeed be different - their nerves may be too close to the surface or strung too tight. Their environment may be no different than that of others, but is perceived differently and more intensely. No one can learn to become an artist. No school can teach it, no diploma can confer it; it is inherent from the very beginning. This is not to argue for "abnormality" (or rather "anomaly"), but to suggest that art might not be a normal or common occupation. No matter all the magnificent art throughout the ages; it is not "common-sense" which creates it, nor by people of steadfast nature. If not the madman, but the non-normal, the uncommon, the outsider may well see clearest the madness in the norm - what commonly is accepted as normal, and rebel.
The revolution called Modern Art has been more than one of form; it was also one of content: Descending from ancient depictions of Gods and myths, down to earth - to kings and aristocrats, and then further down to ordinary life and burghers, art finally descended to portray even the lowest, the poor, the misbegotten and the victimized. To insist that the revolution - or rather evolution - of Modern Art was only, or primarily, one of form is to deny its possibly most virulent aspect. It was in Germany, following the trauma of the first World War, that this aspect of content found its most potent expression. The one consistency of Modern Art has been its restless inconsistency - rushing on, in all directions, and in conflict even with itself. If art truly reflects its time, then the pace and inconsistencies we live in now must be seen reflected in the art of the 20th Century. And who can say which is art and which is life and which begot which.
Most contemporary museums, audacious and novel in design, seem to serve more the ego of its designers and patrons than permitting a leisurely contemplation of its paintings and sculpture, which appear merely peripheral to the grandiosity of the building. Rarely has the relationship of art to its architecture been resolved successfully or with great concern to either art or its beholder. The architecture of a museum should not compete with the art it houses. The ideal art museum would be one in which the visitor could be oblivious of any architecture, but left undisturbed in his contemplation of art. Museums, however, appear to become ever more intrusive and disturbingly louder, and merely another tourist attraction. Museums, evidently, were not built for the edification of artists, but the smaller, less pretentious museum appears, generally, more responsive to what it houses.
In most museums, art, usually, is rigidly categorized by style and period, enshrined and entombed in neat compartmentalized cells of straight, orderly history and traditional expectations. But, a purely mechanical and antiseptic separation of every style and period, purged of all possibility of interaction, misses the far more intriguing and irreverent relationship and dialog between diverse works regardless of style, manner, period or media.
Against a manmade world of prescribed order - everything defined with a set beginning and end - I prefer to create my world (art) of neither absolutes nor absolute order: undefined, unfinished, uncertain, ambiguous, even contradictory, but unlimited in possibilities. As such, I have no qualms fragmenting one painting to recreate and reassemble it into another - a process rather than a product. The universe as, perhaps even a playful, constantly recycled and reordered assemblage, appears as good, or better, a metaphor for reality as any other. When God created Her universe, She may well have been in a most playful mood, beginning with The Big Bang, and artists may well dance along.
None of the serial works (Millipede, Procession, etc.) have an absolute beginning or an absolute end. Nothing, probably, has - neither birth nor death. Even the Big Bang was, probably, just one beginning of many beginnings - again and again, eternally, in an infinite universe of, possibly, infinite universes, dimensions and possibilities. It is only our finite minds which cannot grasp all the possibilities.
Among the most vital of the world's art appear to be those created by anonymous artists, beginning with the mysterious Neolithic murals in caves such as Alta Mira and Lascaux, and on to Egyptian tomb murals, the friezes of the Aztecs and Mayas, the totem poles of North-American Indians and most other so called, but misnamed, "primitive" art of no matter which culture. Only recently ego and greed began to corrupt the very nature and origin of art.
Is the artist condemned to "fawn", to try and please - gallery or museum director, curator, critic, collector - anyone who could be of help or service. "Recognition" often must turn the artist into a groveling, grasping opportunist. Society does not bestow its largess without a high price in return.
I could readily dispense with most so-called "art treasures": "Domesticated", "Kitsch" - too easy to live with, reflecting nothing but conformity, comfort, decor and decorum. Art was meant to transcend, transcending even itself. "Art is not about art", I would advise my students. "Transcendence" - an almost religious fervor - was what I would ultimately search for, atheist that I thought I was.
The rare, truly inspired work becomes increasingly difficult to find. How is one to distinguish between genuine art and its commercial counterfeit? It is neither color, design, subject, skill or novelty (presented as "original"), but something ephemeral, "authentic". This "authenticity" can arise only out of inspiration, which cannot be produced or duplicated. Among all the acres of canvasses covering the walls of museums and galleries, the truly inspired work is rare, no less than the inspired drama, poem or symphony. The rest is merchandise, of one media or another, supplying the demand of a market and catering to fashion and expectations. Art must be a revelation, extra-ordinary and inspired.
How account for inspiration? How explain a Mozart who, even as a child, must have heard melodies in his head which, literally, poured from his mind and fingertips? No natural talent ever decides to create anything; it is beyond decision; it just happens. In Shakespeare, words must have occurred and arranged themselves and spilled out into poetry beyond thought or control. Words, melodies, images - they pour forth, literally by themselves, triggered by some peculiar sensibility? Surely, in a Da Vinci, Vermeer, Van Gogh or Picasso and all their kind, talent is never acquired, but reflects some peculiarity one happens to be born with - a "divine gift" or a birth defect, a genetic inheritance, some allergy or even more troublesome mystery? The "born artist", the person of peculiar sensibility and obsession has little control or choice over his talent or inspiration; he does what he must do, or as his muse directs.
"Inspiration" might start any place, at any time - some image or other "popping up". It may start in the quiet of night, sometimes in a dream, an image repeating itself, especially during that strange "twilight zone", between sleep and wakefulness. It may continue on during the day, and for day after day, ever more insistently until finally committed to paper or canvass. There may be several inspirations at the same time, a procession of images, each one clamoring to be "realized". But this confrontation with the, as yet, untouched canvass may be the most delicious moment in the long, often agonizing process of creation. It is like an act of love - it permits no intruders or outsiders watching or spying; it is a very private, sacred, secret tryst between the artist and what beckons and confronts.
When the canvass is finally touched, at first perhaps tremulously and tenderly, then with ever increasing passion, dialogues ensue, even arguments, at times becoming a wrestling match, a mutual embrace of the painter and his painting till both lie exhausted. Poets and composers facing their blank pages, probably, experience similar love affairs. Love affairs can be maddening for the artist, born of fertile inspiration and giving birth to what is mostly inexplicable and often unacceptable.
There may be only a slight shift of balance and emphasis between inspiration and madness. In a madman, inspiration may have gone too far and awry. Where then is the dividing line between one and the other? Sharp lines of demarcation or safe perimeters evidently explain little. We insist on straight lines and sharp divisions, certainty, hard facts and absolutes, perhaps, because of our own limitations. The world, however, is not merely black and white, good or evil, either or, but composed of, mostly, subtle shadings, infinite possibilities, eternal paradoxes, indeterminable change, constant contradictions, asymmetric symmetries and - indescribable beauty. Mostly, however, it appears composed of question marks - in all sizes, colors and melodies.
The theoretical basis of much of Modern Art and its dependence on ideas and concepts, were born, not in the artist's studios but mainly in, often heated discussions, in the cafes of Paris, Berlin and Vienna. The art of imagery and images became debased into mere illustrations of theories, ideas and concepts. "Conceptual Art" became fashion, as "originality" and "the forever new" - degraded into novelty. Framing art into a straightjacket of intellect and theory, "art" could be understood only by the initiated, the cognoscenti and its coterie, turning art into conversation pieces. Perhaps, had artists stayed and worked in their studios, it might have spawned fewer "interesting" theories as well as spurious "controversies". "Theories" and "concepts", in turn, triggered an outpouring of ever more convoluted critiques, attempting to explain an art beyond all meaningful explaining.
Art is meant to illuminate, without the constant need for theoretical crutches. Lacking all substance and meaning, much that passes as "significant" lend their bareness to be filled with flights of fanciful interpretation and "profound", but belabored, philosophical discourse. The philosopher critic then becomes the creative artist - providing "meaning", and filling the void the artist has left in his wake.
"Meaning" of a work of art, no doubt, can be deepened and broadened by meaningful commentary, but it can be carried too far - to the point where commentary has to do less and less with the actual work but more and more with the sound of its own voice and vanity when commentary turns into its own work of art - the "art of commentary". There comes a point when intellect can overstep that delicate line separating illumination from fanciful obfuscation. What and where is that line? We never quite know - except in retrospect. Time must pass - the longer the better - to truly discriminate the meaningful from the fashionable and momentary sensational. Time, and time again, it is always time which appears as the most significant dimension.
A work of art should be a wondrous discovery - for the beholder as well as the artist.
Without the guiding and goading of a muse, the artist is lost.
It is perfection the artist aims for, but can never achieve. The attempt, however, is worth while. But - is there perfection in the universe? Hardly. It is asymmetrical - slightly "off". And so are we, especially artists, poets and all their kind, seeking perfection.
"Beauty" incorporates the notion of not only esthetics, but also ethics, justice, truth. Then - let there be "Beauty"!
It has been said that "after the Holocaust, poetry is no longer possible". Probably, this is meant to refer to all art. I disagree: Art - in its most glorious manifestations - is what is needed to redeem horror and tragedy, and possibly heal the wounds.
In its decline, a culture produces trash and kitsch and calls it art, and it becomes highly profitable. Not to be swept along by this avalanche of garbage, one had better stand aside.
It may take a certain innocence to create art as well as experience it. "Understanding" can get in the way. Art is not an intellectual, academic or philosophical exercise. The art of imagery must rely on imagination, perception and intuition.
The direction which future art might and, I believe, should take is toward greater freedom from the demands of the market as well as style and fashion.
Editor's Comments:
I could go on, but I won't. Visit Si Lewen's website! Read his biography there; hear what he has to say; see how he evidences that in his art. Some of what he says may ruffle some of your feathers or cause you to see some of your own complacency or compliance or compromise, or maybe not… but regardless, I humbly believe you will find it a refreshing thought-provoking encounter.
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