When recently I wrote reviews of exhibitions, I did so in part to engage with work with which I did not feel intuitively aligned. I wanted to examine the possibility that my prejudices might be set aside. It was a taxing experience. Judgemental statements can insinuate themselves into what might appear an innocuous observation. And could I engage with the work, and move from my intuitive position to one which was arguably more objective? There is a sense in which all objective positions become intuitive with experience. The path from one intuition to another is the educative bit.
I came across a mathematical equation the other day. It was created by Leonard Euler. It contains plus and minus signs, exclamation marks an arrow sign, letters and numbers. I haven’t a clue what it means. But I can assign a limited meaning to its components simply from my experience. The most interesting is the exclamation mark. From my position of complete mathematical ignorance, the presence of this mark of surprise, surprising mark is a pleasure. Its poetry replaces my incomprehension. The plus sign is welcoming,its implications are of inclusiveness, the equal sign democracy. A Greek letter put me in the presence of gravity of intellect and tradition.
My visit to the Whitechapel Gallery was similar. I understand my incomprehension of Euler’s equation, and what I must do to rectify the situation. And it seems to follow from that, that my problems with art are ones of learning. I assume that as there are people for whom Euler’s work is not a mystery, who can respond to it in a properly intuitive sense, such people exist also who stand before sculpture at the Whitechapel. Do I therefore deceive myself upon entering the galley into thinking that I have a place in it?
I wonder if the historical connectedness of art is analogous to that of mathematics? To understand Euler is a matter of one kind of learning. To not understand a piece of art can be (dis)regarded as a matter of taste.
Amongst all this stuff in my navel is the matter of doubt and personality. A person, who is inclined, disposed, toward a particular kind of doubting, takes that disposition to every experience.
I have been painting today. It has gone a little better. It seems that my technical capability is carried in the pocket of my mental state. I am at my clumsiest when I have most doubt.
I kind of ‘know’ that all the technical capacity in the world does not guarantee artistic success – it might even disguise failure. But the ‘work’ somehow has to ‘work’. It has to be believable. But belief and truth are often at odds. What I believe I experience may be a necessary myth, created out of incomprehension.
