A Conversation Between an Artist and a Philosopher
What do you take yourself to be aiming at when you begin a piece of art (e.g., a concept, a mood, a shape, or something else)?
I generally begin from a sensation. Shapes are important, but secondary — and concept can only be elaborated upon after an initial stage of open — ended experimentation. Though I keep the concept and intention at the back of my mind throughout the entire process, I try to avoid articulating or focusing on it in the beginning. It seems to me to rob the openness, unpredictability, and potential for novelty within the work.
Defining art is contentious in philosophy. Do you think art can be defined (and, if so, is there a particular view you endorse)?
In the sense that we can define anything at all, I think art can indeed be defined — although not in very specific terms. I am fond of R. G. Collingwood’s view of art as “the expression of an emotion” which not only covers a lot of ground but also considers art both from the artist’s point of view, as well as that of the spectator. In other words, in their own ways — both the creator as well as the recipient of the (formal) work of art can be involved in the (non — formal) creation of art.
It also doesn’t constrict art to its formal expression — as in, its physical manifestation. Although my work rely quite heavily on its material expression, that is not what defines the work itself — one’s emotional response to the work is what defines it. The formal elements of the work of art are, in other words, a vehicle guiding you towards the actual art rather than being the art itself. If I had to point towards the work of art, I would point towards the emotion.
A question about the relationship between philosophy and art, both of which you have studied: philosophy requires a lot of conscious, deliberative thought. When you’re engaged in creating your art, do you find yourself to thinking in such a conscious, deliberative way, or do you create without reflecting on what you’re doing while you’re doing it?
Like I mentioned before, I try to avoid deliberative thought in the very beginning in order to let the materials and my direct sensations guide the way — not my (often biased) rationality. The deep reflection emerges gradually as the work starts to materialise, and it is only once the work is approaching completion that I can fully articulate what it is and what it does. If I would be able to fully articulate the intention of the work from the beginning it wouldn’t unveil anything novel — and in turn, it would be completely uninteresting.
What significant similarities do you see between painting and engaging in other creative processes like writing prose or music?
I’m not sure that you can establish a specific set of similarities across different creative fields when you also consider different kinds of artists. However, I do know that these similarities can be established when you look at individual transdisciplinary artists, and I think they are simply to be found within the process of creation itself.
I personally approach all my creative activities (painting, drawing, prose, sculpture, architecture) in pretty much the same manner: a spatial sensation, experimentation, mistake, and discovery. I re — work the piece (be it a painting or a piece of prose) over and over until it finally reveals itself to me and I can view it objectively. To some extent the process relates to that of a story or a narrative, in which each step informs the other and creates a sort of thread, binding each step of the way together into a coherent whole.
The creative process of other artists may in itself look completely different to mine, but the fact that it nevertheless remains largely the same across their different disciplines is to me a very interesting feature.
Much of your art shares a common colour palette. What does your use of colour mean to you?
Aesthetically speaking, colour is not a primary element in my work. Light plays the largest role, composition comes in at some point thereafter, and colour at some point after that. I work primarily in black because it is the most interesting way of working with light and its subtleties. Of course, black is in reality never purely black: it has endless shades, nuances, and values of its own (of which I’m very particular) and I find these elements much more interesting to explore than stark colour combinations.
On your website you note that artists do not invent but rather uncover, and you talk about art as replicating the world as we feel it. What are some of the most significant discoveries you have made about yourself through your art?
Given that invention implies that the thing did not exist before, I find it quite self — serving to claim that us artists invent things. Unveiling, unraveling, uncovering — I much prefer to speak in terms like that. That said: although my work is deeply personal, it is not personal in a very direct sense. In other words, I do not directly set out to discover things about myself and my own personality through my work. My primary intention is to understand the nature of space, form, time, materiality, and all of their subsequent meanings.
These latter concepts could of course be superimposed upon myself as well. (I am after all the author of the work, and at least to a degree the subject making the decisions.) I can discuss many, but perhaps most importantly I am coming to a better understanding of uncertainty, brittleness, imperfection, and the unknown. Many of us are perfectionists (in art as in life) and it is the death of so much potential. At least I know this to be true in my own life.
