Call Me Crazy...

Today, a respected adult asked me, "You're pretty eccentric aren't you?" while looking me dead in the eye with half an index finger buried in his nose.

That's all.

Written to Proofread

Mark Rothko

No. 14

1953

Writing things down helps me think.

I need evidence, in the form of visual symbols that represent vocal sounds (and vice versa) that I've learned are the most convenient way to organize the things those symbols have become directly linked to...my experiences and emotions.  If I can make sense of those carefully organized letters and noises when I read them back to myself, I can convince myself that what I'm thinking is worth thinking about (palpable irony being experienced during first read-back).  Every time I write something down, it's like I'm sitting across the table from myself, responding to my own questions about things I don't really understand with a language that has become more concrete than any topic up for discussion.  It's a tricky thing, trying to communicate, juggling your emotional responses with what is, at it's most, an extremely limited vocabulary.  It's like MacGyver diffusing a bomb...it would be easier with a toolbox and loads of time, but you only have a stick of gum, plastic fork, and three minutes.  You might be able to prevent an explosion, but I doubt you'll convince anyone to relax and stay a while.  Let me double-down with another analogy.  Maybe eloquent writing, or all communication for that matter, is like cooking a great meal with only what you have in the kitchen.  It's not about being able to find the best ingredients, it's about the thrill of making the best meal possible with things we all can find in the cupboard.  

So, here come the rhetorical questions...

When you explain yourself to someone, are you really worried about conveying your thoughts and emotions to that person or are you really just using language that leaves you self-assured that you left them with the right impression?  If you're sure that you delivered the most eloquent description of any aspect of life, whether it be the taste of salt, the value of virtue, or the feeling of love, are you more sure that you're understood?  If I try to describe the color green to someone that only sees the colors red and blue, did I prove they're colorblind or did I prove that my vocabulary is inadequate in describing anything other than my own experiences?  If you only speak English, travel to Japan to have a conversation in Arabic with a man from Italy who only speaks German, where do you begin?  How long would you have to listen before you create a new language to validate yourself with carefully orchestrated symbols and sounds?

I guess what I'm trying to get at is...
Communicating has everything to do with recognizing what you already know, whether it be vowel sounds or curly marks or stories about the past or what a tree looks like.  We've all found ways to communicate without words, both spoken and written, but how does our history with certain symbols and sounds affect the meaning of that which we're communicating about?  As they say, much is lost in translation, and evidently, even in the most simple forms of communication.  

So, with my paintings and career as an "artist" in mind, how can "art" function as language?  How does an abstract artwork communicate on an emotional level if the viewer can't find any imagery they recognize?  Is it because of the size?  Is it because of the brush marks?  What about the color?  If you were to put 100 people in front of a big yellow canvas, and you asked them all to describe it, I'm willing to bet the vast majority would reply with just one word..."happy".  Do they really feel happy?  Or has language and history compelled all of us to feel that way?  And while it's so convenient to describe a piece of artwork, abstract or representational, with an emotion, I can't help feeling it might be a cop-out.  If one word is sufficient to describe an emotional response, is that a problem of the artwork or our language?  Whichever it is or isn't, what does that mean when it comes to making art?  Should I focus on how well I can depict my ideas and emotions or should I focus on how well those ideas and emotions are conveyed?  Do I attempt to write the whole book or should I just focus on making the most accessible Cliff's Notes?  

I feel like a deaf man trying to describe what something looks like to a blind man.  I keep trying to explain my reality with words made up of letters that represent sounds I can't hear to someone that can't see what I write regardless.