EM: I paint, I can't speak for others, but I paint to find out
something more about my condition than I knew before I wet the first
brush and began to paint.
EM: The world.
MR: You learn a lot from your art then?
EM: I do. My art is who I am, you see. When you look at one of my paintings, you are cutting through a segment of my life.
MR: But then you are saying that your art speaks, are you?
EM:
In ways that tell more than words can relate, for words - language, is
bound by laws that have little to do with the human condition. When you
write a sentence, you are limited by several things, I think you must
agree.
MR: Things? What things?
EM: Well, at an elemental
level, you are bound by letters, by words, by sentences. You are bound
by what can and cannot be said in language, are you not?
MR: That is true. What of music? Is the composer bound by such laws?
EM:
He most certainly is, but they are not the same laws, of course, and
the interpretation of his music is left to the listener without the
medium of language to confine and conform.
The musician is bound
by the notes that can be heard by the human ear, in that range and in no
other, and although there is little equivalent in music of the word or
the sentence to limit him, the musician is nevertheless bound by laws
that are not found in the visual arts, excepting one.
MR: And that is?
EM: The plane in which he works; if he paints it is in the two dimensional, if he chisels marble, it is in three such.
Where all art is released from these various confines is in the receptor - in the being that sees, or hears or touches.
MR:
But then he is bound again in trying to say what he feels, about how he
is affected by the art he takes some part in as the onlooker or
listener, if you prefer.
EM: Precisely, and it is in this attempt
in words to say what reasons have made me paint this way rather than
another that the critic errs.
MR: Then who can say?
EM: No one can say with any certainty, for that is what words give - they apportion an amount of certainty where there is none.
One
person looks at my paintings, and then is told by what he subsequently
reads about what he has seen, told what to think he has seen, and in
that telling, and in that thinking lies the error. Art is only truly
that to the person experiencing it.
One man comes from the joys of
lovemaking, one from the despair of bereavement, let us say, yet
another comes from his place of work, or from his home, whatever that
may be like, and yet we persist in saying that this art means such and
such to all, as if ten men were but the one, as if a million were one.
Art is whatever it is at the point of experiencing it.
MR: So how do you hope to convey your feelings to the person looking at what you have painted?
EM:
I do not hope anything. I merely represent a feeling on canvas. That
one man comes to my own experience is fortuitous indeed, though I fail
to see how that can really be so.
MR: But if a person is able to
express himself in those terms in which you have expressed yourself when
painting, then surely there is some congruence, is there not?
EM:
How can there be? Have we not just agreed that once an utterance is
made in words, then something is lost, or say that something that is
essentially intangible is made real, but how can that be reality when it
is confined and confounded by words that adhere, as we have said, to
laws that are not at one with feelings - real feelings. That is the
difficulty of saying why I paint, and what my painting means. In so
doing, I must needs use words, and that takes away any simulacrum of
reality.
MR: But let us still talk about what you ostensibly say
your paintings are about, even as you have now admitted that words fail
you.
EM: They do fail me, but they do not fail my art.
MR: Why not?
EM: Because my art expresses itself in a non-verbal form.
MR: But when someone wants to talk about how your art has affected them, they use language.
EM: They are affected by my art in ways they cannot express.
MR: Then how can they know how they have been affected, if they cannot express it in the only way they have?
EM: You mistake yourself, my friend, if you think that language is the only way we can express ourselves.
MR:
Well then, let me put it this way, using language, speaking, to someone
who can understand that language is the best way we have of expressing
ourselves.
EM: Again, you are mistaken, my friend.
MR: How so? What other way is there of communicating?
EM: I am surprised you can ask such a question when you use ways other than language to communicate most of the time.
MR: What other way?
EM: The non-verbal way.
MR: Which is?
EM:
Let me ask you a question; how does a mother communicate her love for
her newly born child? That child is not yet able to understand one
syllable of the language her mother speaks, and yet the child
understands that it is loved by its mother. Is that not a fact?
MR: Certainly.
EM: Then how is that? How has the mother communicated her love?
MR: By the things she does, I suppose.
EM: You might say by the things she does, and the manner in which she does them, don't you think?
MR: By her smiling at the child when she feeds her, you mean?
EM: That is certainly one way in the myriad of ways a loving mother communicates her love for her child.
MR: But there are others.
EM: Many others, and there is one way in particular.
MR: Which is?
EM: Which is her way of being.
MR: Being what? You will have to elaborate.
EM:
I thought I might. Let us say that she expresses herself through
everything she does, and everything she does is an expression of her
love for her child. Can you not see the truth of that?
MR: I can, yes, but how does the child understand what is being communicated?
EM: By being her child, again, by being.
The
mother conveys her love for her child in everything she does, and the
child understands that she is beloved even if she cannot say that word,
'love' or understand what it is.
MR: But what has this got to do with how your art affects me?
EM: Because it expresses itself by being.
MR: Again, you will have to elaborate.
EM:
Bear with me, my friend. You stand before my painting, 'The Scream' and
you look at it for some time. You cannot be but affected by it.
MR: But I might not be able to say how it has affected me.
EM: That is most probably true, but it has affected you.
MR: How, if I cannot say how?
EM: Remember the child looking up at her mother; she knows she is loved, even though she cannot say so in words.
MR: So what you are saying, are you not, is that words - language - is not enough.
EM:
It is n ever enough. The ways my painting have affected you go too deep
for words. You cannot find the words to express how you have been
affected.
MR: Then how do I know I have been affected by your work?
EM: Because you are human, from a broadly similar culture and of a similar age. How can you not be affected?
MR: But I ask again: how can I know, how can I relate it?
EM:
You can't, not really. But your desire to tell others has nothing to do
with my art, and everything to do with the fact that you are a social
being, you need to tell, to express your feelings to others.
MR: But you have said that I can't, that I haven't words to help me.
EM: That is true, you haven't. What you have is your ability to be.
MR: So my needing to talk about how your art has affected me is merely a product of my culture, is it?
EM:
Yes, it is, and your language. First, you have lived in this industrial
age of ours, and all you have been taught in the course of your life is
that everything of value should be capable of being quantified, put
down in words or spoken about to others.
MR: But that is normal, isn't it, to have that need?
EM:
It is for you, and for me, but for the being you really are, your soul,
it is not necessary. In fact, I would go further and say that your
propensity to want quantify and elucidate has led us to the impasse we
find ourselves at.
MR: What impasse?
EM: The impasse we have
come to that has brought us through wars, through all kinds of
violence, through hatred and prejudice - that impasse.
MR: And you think it is language that has brought us to it, do you?
EM: Language, certainly, and its properties within us.
MR: Which properties?
EM:
Those that come with language - faith in words, and a loss of faith in
ourselves as human beings. Everything we say and do proclaims it;
everything except art, that is.
MR: So you think art expresses itself in a sort of way that is prior to our attaining or acquiring language, do you?
EM: I most certainly do.
MR: But why, how?
EM: Because we enter a world of images, not of language. We are born without language, are we not?
MR: Yes, but we soon learn how to speak, don't we?
EM:
We do, and in so doing, we are being inculcated into a civilization and
its ways, its social mores - we are learning much more than language.
We are learning how to be, and what to be.
MR: And so you think art, your art, speaks to a sort of me that is pre-lingual, if I can say such a thing.
EM:
All art does so. It communicates to you in elemental ways that go
beyond words, but it communicates to you nevertheless. And, furthermore,
because it communicates in a non-verbal sense, it acts more deeply upon
you than it would were it to be merely a form of verbal language.
MR: But what of art that uses language? What of a Shakespeare play? Does not Hamlet speak to us who watch and listen?
EM: It does, most certainly, but it does so in ways that are different from those ways though which visual art expresses itself.
MR: But it is no less art for that, I think.
EM: No less art, no, it is a different form of art; it is a way that is more culture specific, as it is language specific.
MR:
But surely those failings shown to us in plays such as Hamlet, Othello,
and King Lear - those are not culturally specific ways of behaving, are
they? They are surely universal. Is not jealousy a universal emotion?
EM: We have come to think it is, but I think you will find it too is a product of who we are and what we are.
MR: But I hope you are not saying that there are people who feel no jealousy. I cannot believe that.
EM:
And nor can I. What I am saying is that in our culture, we have made
jealousy functional, or say it has become so because of the utility
society gains from it.
MR: What utility?
EM: Jealousy is a part of desire, is it not?
MR: A part, yes, but a perverse part, surely?
EM: We have reined it in to control it, but it has its part to play in the way we live, I think you will agree.
MR: What part can it play?
EM:
My dear friend, we live in a world in which the Earth and its treasures
are unequally divided. Can you not see that were we not to have this
propensity to be jealous, the world of commerce and trade would not turn
have so smoothly or so rapidly as it does?
MR: But we punish those who become jealous, don't we? Is Othello not mocked for his insane jealousy?
EM:
He most certainly is, but would he be so mocked if what he coveted was
another king's land or property. Shakespeare shows us the green God
jealousy for what it is and how we treat those who use it unwisely. The
world is full of stories of those who envy and who acquire; it is only
those who behave in such ways that attract moral reprobation that are
attacked. In its other forms, it is lauded, is it not?
MR: In what other forms?
EM:
Why, in its competitive spirit, by us forever wanting to be what we are
not. By us forever wanting to be ambitious; which is no more or less
than a socially acceptable form of a kind of jealousy. Watch Shakespeare
again, and learn what is acceptable in our society and what isn't.
My art makes no such bold challenges to your faith, but challenges you nevertheless, I think.
MR: But what kind of challenges? How can I be challenged if I cannot express myself so in language?
EM: The mistake you make is by imagining that the only way to express yourself is through language, or through art.
MR: What other ways are there?
EM: Merely by being. Did Gandhi say, 'Be the change you want to see in the world!'?
MR: Yes, I believe he did say that.
EM:
Well then, being the change you want to see in the world is a way of
self expression that does not rely only on words, but on being.
MR: How can I change who I am?
EM: Do you know who you are? Do you know what you are?
MR: I should hope so.
EM:
There you are again hoping. Don't hope - be! Any change that comes to
the way we liv our lives will not come merely by hoping it does, don't
you agree?
MR: Well, I think we must start by hoping.
EM: I
cannot agree. Hoping is idealizing, whereas what needs to happen is more
practical. Change needs to begin, rather than be hoped for. If you hope
for something, you are doing something more or less akin to wanting
someone to begin. Being the change is starting the change, and if change
is to happen, it has to begin somewhere, don't you agree?
MR:
Yes, I suppose it must start somewhere. It's just that I always imagine
it starting somewhere else and then taking hold and spreading like
wildfire.
EM: But if it must start somewhere, why not with you?
MR: Because I am only one person.
EM:
But one person can be a symbol for the whole world of people, can it
not? What happens to you happens to millions of others, does it not? You
are exploited by greed - your own greed and the greed of others, are
you not?
MR: It is hard to say I am exploited by myself. We usually think we are exploited by others, don't we.
EM:
Yes, we do, and that is our first error in thinking about change.
Someone is doing something to us, yes, but really, our systems are so
pervasive, so omnipotent, so real in our minds that we take on their
values, make them our own, internalize them and then identify with them.
Being
the change you want to see is to look at everything you do and ask
yourself if you are doing it voluntarily, really voluntarily, or are you
acting out of motives that are not your own, are motives foisted upon
you by the status quo.
When you act, are you acting in an original
sense, or are you merely copying? That is why my art is so important to
me, and why all art is so important to the world of people, because it
signifies a person acting originally and creatively.
What is
creativity but a way of acting originally, of having possibly
non-original thoughts coalesce in ways that are entirely original to
you. When you create, you become original, you stand alone and you stand
out.
If you want a change, you must want to be it, surely. You
must really want it, for if you do not really want it, it probably means
it is not of you and you are not of it. Being the change is the change
being you, which is nothing more than being creative with your whole
being.
If you can do that, you can surely escape from the shackles
that bind you. They may be invisible, but they are no less real for
that. You must be yourself in a real way in order to become the change.
Can you see that?
MR: I think so. You are saying that I am a product of my time and the way I am required to be, aren't you?
EM:
Yes, I am. Even that realization is profound. We hardly ever come to
that point. We should, if we look at what we do, examine everything we
do and say, even everything we think.
MR: Do you really think it is necessary to examine our thought? Surely those are our own, aren't they?
EM:
You think so. Think about anything g you care to think about and you
will find it has the stamp, even the seal of approval from those
interests that would have you act in ways beneficial to them.
You
cannot help thinking in those ways, I think, but you can and must become
aware of them and once you are aware then you can alter them, you can
alter your way of habitually thinking about yourself.
Tat is the first real step to changing; becoming aware of the source of your thoughts.
MR: I think you must have become aware of who you are and what you think, and why you think in the ways you do.
EM: Why do you think that?
MR: Because you can express yourself through your art, which is yours and yours alone.
EM: But are you saying that everything that is painted expresses originality?
MR: Yes, I suppose I am.
EM:
A lot of art is done to sell, selling it being the way success is
apportioned and considered, and in targeting a buyer or a market of
buyers, the artist fails in what he does, fails in being original, fails
in expressing something in a way that is unique to him. Real art
expresses only the artist who created it. If it expresses anything else,
it is either thought to do by those who look at the art, who judge it
art.
Art should express something that cannot be expressed in any
other way, should it not? We have already agreed that it cannot be
expressed in words, that words fail utterly and miserably. Art is that
which cannot express itself in any other way, is it not?
MR: Yes, I think it is.
EM:
Then if it is so, it must be original, must it not, and to be truly
original is to be truly creative. The be creative is to change something
within oneself, to express an idea that does not copy other ideas but
rather synthesizes from existing ones.
There are those who say
that any text has meaning only in reference to other texts. While that
is undoubtedly true of words in texts, it is not necessarily true of
visual art, or at least let me say it is not true of any art that comes
from the non-verbal, and expresses itself and its artist in ways that
cannot be hijacked by any authority higher than the individual.
To
be the change you want to see, be that individual, thinking in ways
that are not a part of a text elsewhere, and in ways that do not have
meaning except in reference to other texts or other meanings. Let those
meanings be yours alone, not expressed by language - that way quickly
and easily becomes tainted by other, 'superior 'texts, which are not
your own but are those put there by others. Be the change you want to
see by giving meaning to your own self rather than merely standing as a
mirror for those meanings that originate elsewhere. Be yourself, in a
real sense, rather than in a way that is sanctioned and approved of by
others. That is the test of art, if anything is, art is so by virtue of
it not having a meaning other than the original one given to it at its
point of creation. As the first stroke of the brush is contemplated,
that is the point at which creativity begins. It is not dependent upon
language, and consequently cannot take its meaning from other language -
texts, for in those other texts resides the control others have over
you.
MR: What I must do then, is to be creative, original?
EM: Yes, after all, there are only certain ways of being individual.
MR: And those are?
EM: Well, the shadow you cast is yours and yours alone, is it not?
MR: Surely, yes.
EM: What about the sight of the sun as it sets, throwing its light across a stretch of water, a lake, let us say.
MR: Anyone may see that. How does that signify anything original in anyone?
EM:
Think about it. You stand at the edge of a sheet of water, a lake, and
watch the sun setting in the west. Is the light thrown across the water
to your feet, not yours and yours alone?
MR: Why is it mine and mine alone? Surely anyone standing next to be will see the same shaft of sunlight, will they not?
EM:
Again, I would ask you to think about it. Will they see the same or
will they see the sunlight reflected in their particular direction, or
in yours?
MR: I see what you mean. They will see it in their particular direction, of course.
EM:
But in both cases, with the shadow and the shaft of sunlight, it is the
sun allotting you a portion of individuality, is it not?
MR: Yes, it is.
EM: Whereas when you create something new, it is yours and yours alone, is it not?
MR: Yes it is.
EM: Being creative is the only way I know of being truly creative.
MR: And so we must strive to be creative, then, if we would be considered as individuals rather than merely one of the herd?
EM:
Yes, I think we must. Someone once said that life without examination
is not worthy of the name. To be truly alive, we must strive to create,
and perhaps then we may solve a lot of our problems, and in so doing,
solve others' problems, even the planet's, which are ultimately our own,
though we do not consider them our own most of the time.
MR: I now see what you mean about being the change you want to see in the world.
