Emotion, Uncertainty, and the Work of Art
Emotion
“It is the aim of the artist”, Carl Jung wrote, “to give expression to his inner vision of man.” [1] The creation of No. 100 relies not upon external objects — but upon one’s emotional response awakened by intentional interaction with one’s surroundings — and an intense awareness of one’s inner processes throughout this process. It is, in other words — a reflection not upon external symbols — but upon the deeper mechanisms awoken in oneself when one disregards what is immediate, shallow, and premeditated.
Art, according to R.G. Collingwood — is not the arousal of emotion (exit symbolism, propaganda, and television screens) but the realisation of emotion. It is not the attempt to manipulate its spectator — but an invitation for her to express herself on her own terms. [2] “When experiencing a work of art,” Pallasmaa states, “a curious exchange takes place; the work projects its aura, and we project our own emotions and percepts on the work.” [3]
The solitude, melancholy, or delight one experiences upon encountering a powerful work of art is thus not a forged emotion — it is the solitude, melancholy, or delight already in existence within the spectator herself. “Enigmatically,” Pallasmaa continues, “we encounter ourselves in the work” — and if we are alert (and brave enough to face the challenge), it is the most raw and truthful version of ourselves. [4]
Uncertainty
No. 100 is not premeditated, but an exploration into chance and the unknown. To reach that far inside the depths of unmarked land you cannot bring a compass or a guide: you must venture by yourself: charged not with confidence and courage but with scepticism and doubt.
To reach the heart of darkness (or in the author’s words, the “nightmare of my choice”) [5] one must not only disavow one’s harbour and one’s land — but urge, desire, fear, and lust. One must lose one’s mind inside of the unknown — engulfed completely but the strength to tell the tale.
No. 100 (and the works before and after it) is a meditation on the unknown. It is an exploration of the uncertain, the experiential, and the intuitive. It is a celebration of introspection, obscurity, and a mistrust for the contrived. It is visceral and emotional, dependent on a gap inside one’s mind and the abandonment of the material.
Uncertainty requires failure — repeated and perpetual. It is to tread the line between revelation and catastrophe; a space extremely taxing to inhabit. But upon success it is indeed revealing (even more so since you were so close to complete destruction):
“But love”, Cixous writes, “is when a real wolf suddenly refrains from eating us. The lamb’s burst of laughter comes when it’s about to be devoured, and then, at the last second, is not eaten…To have almost been eaten yet not to have been eaten: that is the triumph of life.” [6]
[1] Jung, Carl Gustav. Man and His Symbols. 1964.
[2] Collingwood, R.G. The Principles of Art. 1938.
[3] Pallasmaa, Juhani. The Eyes of the Skin. 1996.
[4] Ibid.
[5] Conrad, Joseph. Heart of Darkness. 1899.
[6] Cixous, Hélène. Stigmata. 1998.
