What is Art?

Note: The author makes no claim to having answered the question posed in the title of this article; what follows is meant for discussion and is not intended to be definitive. Also, in this essay the words 'art works', 'art objects', etc., are understood as forms of artistic expression such as paint on canvas, board or wall, drawing, etching and other modes of art printing, in short, 2D forms; they also encompass sculpture in its various traditional manifestations, as well as architecture - although, not all are referred to specifically.

L'Incredulità di San Tommaso (Doubting Thomas), detail, 1483, approx. life-size bronze
by Andrea del Verrocchio (c.1435-1488), Orsanmichele. (photo: the author)

What is Art? This question was raised as a sarcastic and rhetorical 'road-block' about a comment I'd made on another site dealing with art. In fact, this question is an annoying one for me as, in most cases, people seem to know what is meant when they hear the word 'art'; defining it however becomes a complex philosophical problem, tied up with culture, history, taste and so on. And, in reality, the person asking another to define art is, I believe, not really interested to know the - or any - answer: they ask the question to put an end to an argument about taste, among other things, principally because their interlocutor has disturbed their own concept. So, in this essay, I attempt at least, to put some form around a possible answer or, some possible considerations. I don't think it is necessary to be able to answer that age-old question to be able to love, appreciate and be critical about art. It should be born in mind that for many people, including contemporary 'artists', their knowledge of art begins with perhaps, Impressionism; perhaps not even as far back as that. I believe that much art teaching, given over as it is in many cases to a kind of propaganda about the present, is where the root cause for the paucity of any kind of profound knowledge, not to mention comprehension, of the art of the past lies. This is important I think, because contemporary art has not come out of nowhere and an ability to make informed observations about it depends on a knowledge of what came before. If that is not the case, then let's not talk about 'art' at all and simply express our (uninformed) opinions! (see discussion 1 below) 

So, here goes; a quiet attempt at a definition to begin and then some elucidation. 

Art is: The successful translation of an artist's intellectual perception and/or emotional reactions into a new physical object, usually manufactured by the artist him- or herself, which then takes on an independent existence of its own; its condition invites contemplation. Art names those objects now in the world which previously existed, or originally came into being, only in the artist's mind. Such objects function in a physical form as communication of the artist's perceptions, and to a greater or lesser degree - as they are more or less successful - continue to 'insist' on their own existence, very often in spite of the eclipsing of any original material function they may also, or even primarily, have had (e.g. as religious objects).

The inclusion of the word 'artist' is not casual and so, to some extent, this definition depends on how 'artist' itself is defined. As we know, many objects which have little or no claim to be 'art' - e.g. an unremarkable, mass-produced chair - are made by individuals not called artists. It is interesting to note that, sometimes however, such objects are so 'beautiful' that people call them 'works of art' (the Concorde or a Lamborghini for instance). The question of how to define 'artist' will be dealt with later. (see discussion 2 below)

Art, like most things and activities, is subject to a gradation or variation from good to bad, and to a susceptibility to manipulation and distortion. A critical quality of art is that it is visual but this apparently benign and mundane quality makes it however, prone to being misunderstood, mis-read, abused and belittled. This often occurs amongst the visually illiterate - the visually un-schooled or uncultured. High-level visual art, to be properly comprehended, requires intellectual schooling. Proper comprehension has little or nothing to do with whether or not someone likes a given object but rather, refers to an at least general awareness of the historical/social/artistic context in which the particular object was produced.

This situation implies that there are different 'levels' or 'qualities' of art and arguments often arise due to differing opinions as to why one object is 'good' and another 'bad', or 'successful' or less so; this invariably leads to a (rhetorical) demand for a definition of art, with the accompanying smug self-assurance that one cannot be given; the game is concluded at this point with the assertion that Person A's opinion is just that, a mere opinion, and no better than Person B's. The obvious but frequently omitted rejoinder is that, while we may be discussing opinions, that of Person A (possibly) happens to be a cultured, intelligent one, while that of Person B may be based on little or no fundamental knowledge of how to read works of art (a skill incidentally for which a definition of art is not necessary).

Art is an immensely complex and varied phenomenon, one which has manifested through all history (in fact, even in pre-history!), and in all parts of the world. The question might be put: how is it possible therefore, to describe these myriad forms with the one word, Art? And yet, many, many of us can agree on assigning the denominator 'Art' to examples of work, to objects, as diverse as a central-Australian 'dot' painting, an Egyptian tomb fresco, a Hindu carving, a sculpted saint on the portal of a Gothic cathedral, a Renaissance altar-piece, a 19th century Japanese wood-block print, etc., etc., right up to a composition of the early twentieth century of straight lines and primary colours forming geometric shapes!

Is the artist's reverie, his or her absorption in the activity, i.e. the clear emotional and technical involvement of the artist - which is conveyed through the object to the viewer - a marker of something's 'art' status and quality? Perhaps! But the fact of this absorption itself does not necessarily imply that all objects so produced are therefore successful as art: the many flawed attempts of art students all over the world, every year, are witness to that. This would seem to imply that art is in part the successful transmutation of idea or concept into a physical object, and not merely an adherence to an 'art' manner or process.

But, a characteristic observation (even if left unstated) made about great art objects of the past for example, is that the artist was truly and fully involved with a given piece (see, for instance, the biography of Benvenuto Cellini). Of course, the same observation can be made about objects which might more readily have been classified as 'craft', especially prior to the mid-twentieth century. Very often, such objects (many of which incidentally have no pretensions to be considered as 'art') are on the border-line, so to speak, between craft as such, and art; this because, the obvious high level of emotional involvement of the craftsman or woman exists here also, but is inextricably enmeshed with his or her skill, understood as pure ability and independent of any, so to say, poetic expression. It should be noted that, for a very long time, artists were in fact considered as craftsmen, i.e. not as 'artists' as we think of them today (see below); this has meant of course, that the 'craft' aspect of any work of 'art' is one of the main criteria for its criticism.

An example of such an object could be an expertly hand-crafted dining table; such a table may be of extremely refined sensibility, extremely well-made, and serve its purpose admirably. In fact, such a table is initially appreciated for the same reasons we enjoy a lot of 'art' objects, and that is, for the sense of beauty it induces in us, through our eyes. The initial attraction usually leads to a desire for the tactile experience possible with such an object, and we will then run our fingers or hands along the surface of the table to also enjoy that experience or element of the object. People interested in the mechanics of the construction will then look under the board of the table to try to understand how it was made, how it was constructed!

But here already we have two elements not usually associated with what used to be called 'pure art': the desire for the tactile experience - a real, physical one - and the desire to know and understand how the thing was made. These two elements are usually not associated with 'art' objects as such; to take the example of a Vermeer painting in which might be represented an Eastern carpet of some kind: what we appreciate about Vermeer's carpet is how well he has rendered the colours, the light, the weight and the texture. I imagine that only a tiny number of people - if any - would feel the impulse to run their fingers over the painted carpet so as to experience the texture and weight as a tactile sensation. Almost everyone would be sufficiently satisfied and even stimulated by the information arriving at their eyes, and subsequently processed by their brain.

Here we have entered into another area characteristic of art objects and that is, illusion. The real, craftsman-made table actually exists in the same 3D space that we do, it actually occupies a space in the room we, as a result, cannot occupy - aside from sitting at the table, or standing around it. In a representational painting for instance, although the painting now exists in our real space as a, usually, 2D object, normally hung on a wall or being part of the wall, like a fresco, the carpet represented in that painting does not occupy our space - in fact, the 'carpet' doesn't exist: it's an illusion of a carpet! Our eyes are so accustomed to this kind of illusion that, although we happily describe a painted object in a painting as, for instance, a carpet, we also know full-well and simultaneously, that we are discussing an illusion, and not the physical fact of a 'real' carpet.

To want to understand how a painted illusion of a carpet was done is a natural part of our curiosity to comprehend things, particularly when an illusion is so convincing that our logical mind finds it difficult to 'compute' both the illusion itself and the knowledge that it is an illusion. In the case of the table, it is possible as mentioned, to get under the table and examine the structure and to understand the rational relationships in the engineering, as it were. In the case of the illusion of an Eastern carpet, naturally a skilled painter or teacher could explain how the artist might build up his image in such a way that the overall finished ensemble of colours, tones, light and shade produces the effect of a heavy carpet; but it remains however, an illusion. And without getting tangled up in Cartesian philosophy, the table is not an illusion, but an actual, tactile object occupying our real space.

Is it possible then, that illusion of 'reality' is one of the characteristics of art objects, even if that illusion may vary from extremely 'realistic' to little more than symbolic? Well, only in so far as those objects are figurative representations, in the case of paintings; if they are abstract, is illusion still operative? And of course, Michelangelo's David is not an illusion in the same way at all as Caravaggio's painted David is. Michelangelo's David is an actual, 3D object which we can walk all the way around; so it's not an illusion in the sense that Vermeer's painted carpet is. Nevertheless, it is an illusion in other senses: that it is neither the historical David, nor is it a real human being! It is a 3D representation of an idea, as opposed to Vermeer's or Caravaggio's 2D representation. Neither the painted nor the sculpted illusion is 'reality' in the day-to-day sense, although both exist as acceptable, man-made illusions which make up part of our everyday existence! Works of pure abstraction do not easily fall into the category of 'illusion'; very often, they in a way deny illusion (of physical reality) and assert their existence as 'independent' new realities. Yet, in a particular way, pure abstraction functions in the same way as 'in-the-round' sculpture does, that is, as a 'concrete' manifestation of the artist's idea; in that sense, it remains an illusion, given that is is not the idea itself.

And I think that here we may be approaching the beginning of a response to our question, what is Art? Most rational people would agree I think, that objects generally accepted as art in the Western tradition may be found at any point from the period of ancient Egypt (just to start somewhere) right through to today. Most people would agree that Nicola Pisano's reliefs are art, that Rembrandt's portraits are art, that Impressionist paintings are art - and so on, and so on. Nevertheless, what has been acceptable as art has been a subject for discussion and argument for centuries; change in opinions about what was and what wasn't acceptable, over those same centuries, led to the destruction or, at least, covering up of many fine works of art (e.g. Giotto's frescos in Santa Croce in Florence) subsequently rehabilitated as opinions swung back the other way. What all these things had in common, quite separately from style, form and content, was that they dealt in some kind of (visual) illusion.

Quite a lot of 'contemporary art' does not treat illusion, much less another quality - much maligned from the early-twentieth century onwards - beauty. I have previously mentioned beauty only once in this essay because it is much more variable, much more open to questions of taste and culture, than is the measurable, observable fact of illusion. I happen to believe that beauty is an important aspect of what we call art but, as history and time have revealed, beauty, while not so much ephemeral, is extremely problematical and, as such, may be treated as a separate issue, perhaps as a quality of art while not being a defining one. 

Another characteristic of certain kinds of contemporary endeavour is, often, its ephemeral quality: while being of its day, timely so to speak, as the world moves on to the latest political or social drama, the 'art' of the previous matters tends to 'date', almost immediately. This is relevant because another quality of Art, understood in a more general, historical sense, is in fact, its longevity. Highly successful art has about it a timelessness which seems to transcend even culture: many people from diverse cultures, once informed (schooled) about the aesthetics and the broad historical context of any given type or period of art, are able to participate to a large extent in the experience of that art.

It is also worth pointing out I think, that although artists certainly made objects which served given functions, be they religious, propagandistic or documentary, they also made objects which were decorative and often as well, objects whose only purpose was to please the eye. Objects which seemingly do nothing but please the eye could, by some, be described as useless, since they serve no apparent utilitarian purpose; frequently today, art is seen as a luxury and certainly not as a necessity (Aristotle is supposed to have remarked: "Culture is an ornament in good times, a refuge in bad"). The apparently useless art object, perhaps in part due to that very 'uselessness', provokes careful looking, in turn contemplation, to be followed by sometimes, a stimulated mind and an enlivened spirit. An object sitting on the table or hanging on the wall is a still object (unless it's a Calder mobile!) and that stillness is a quality which goes back at least as far as the ancient Egyptians. Art of this type has the quality of 'statement', not of any point of view per se, but of its own existence. Needless to say, I do not share the view that art is useless; for those who love art, it is one of the most useful, and least transient, aspects of a sound life.

In relation to this, in describing the dining table earlier, I used the phrase 'refined sensibility'; although some people are apparently born with a high sensitivity to aesthetic matters, many others are not and therefore, may benefit from education. Awareness and perception need to be taught, how to 'read' works of art requires schooling, not to mention how to interpret them from a historical/social point of view. And, in art matters as in all others, some people 'get' it more easily and profoundly than others do; given this, it is obvious that the observations of such individuals will be more pertinent and perceptive than those of more modest capabilities; to some extent, hence the problems with finding a definition.

La Madonna del Parto (1455-56?), fresco by Piero della Francesca (c.1412-1492)
Monterchi. (photo: the author)

1) Why is this a problem? Much of today's verbose discourse on art has been taken over by supporters of various special-interest groups, turning what was once 'Art' into a mere medium for ephemeral social issues; this results in a kind of intellectual vacuum, or, a kind of closed circuit where political/social comment has replaced the making of 'timeless' objects. One quality of art is that, although the product of its time - the time of its production - it nevertheless overcomes that temporal limitation, at least as far as the 'art' part is concerned (if not the content). Today, transient, trite points of view, often involving little if any manufacture as such on the part of the 'artist', have insinuated themselves into the intellectual space formerly occupied in culture by art (without the intellectual part, that being supplanted by an incomprehensible 'art-speak', a type of self-propagating parasite). Criticism of certain elements of the status quo, bland socio-political comment, an often neurotic desire for celebrity, and a ceaseless need for novelty now substitute for intellectual enquiry, contemplation and simple sensuous enjoyment.

2) An attempt to define 'artist'.
Originally, a maker of objects, or a decorator, an artisan, very often anonymous; an individual however, whose 'occupation' was the fabrication of art objects as distinct from simply utilitarian ones. In 15th century Italy, theorists began to assert the autonomous individuality of the artist (as we would call him or her) over and beyond that of the simple craftsman. Artists continued to be craftsmen of course, but their high ability in their chosen craft together with their informed creative or imaginative faculty, set them apart from the type of craftsman who merely - no matter how well and beautifully - executed the ideas (drawings) of someone else. An example of this difference is that between a stone-mason and a sculptor (even if, in earlier times, they might have been one and the same): it is obvious that a highly-skilled stone-mason may nevertheless lack imagination or creativity, and be quite content to earn his living manufacturing objects according to the designs of others.

Although it had occurred from time-to-time following the demise of the classical period, that artists extended or developed a given iconography, most artist-craftsmen tended to repeat styles and forms deriving from someone else's successful model. In other words, by and large in Europe, from the end of late antiquity through to about 1250 or so, artisan-craftsmen were expected to repeat what was already established, and not to go too far away from those examples (it must be admitted that this point is moot since more recent sympathetic studies have shown a notable variety amongst many medieval artists).

Again in Italy, by the time of the Pisanos, Cavallini and Giotto amongst others, i.e. the late-Medieval or Gothic period, artisan-craftsmen were beginning to see things differently, to want more in the way of form and space, and to diverge from the norm of repetition (an artist-led change). All this however, needs to be seen in relation to the much earlier classical Roman period of painting and sculpture which was derived largely from Greek models. We do in fact have the names of some of the most famous and sought-after individuals, whose work was not only widely-known in their own lifetimes, but was written about, eulogised and, especially by the Romans, copied. It is due in no small part to these same Roman copies that we have physical examples (the copies) of some of the great Greek sculptors' works, and, to a lesser degree, those of some of the painters. Quite a number were extremely famous and revered artists but, with the decline of the Roman empire and the rise of Eastern Christian art forms, Roman classical models were gradually modified, evolving into what is now referred to as Byzantine art.*

With the spread of Byzantine art and power, artists' names eventually - not entirely however - became less important, to the point where the makers and creators of Western art became largely anonymous. In many respects, we have amongst others the Italian art historian and writer (and artist and architect), Giorgio Vasari (1511-1574), to thank for the revival of the fortunes of the artist as an independent, creative individual - and for our modern concept of the artist as such. Not only much of what we know about many of the great artists of the time is owed to him, but also Vasari's awe-struck devotion to some of his peers, and most notably to Michelangelo, as well as to earlier artists, was a form of recognition of and respect for artists which we still observe in the 21st century!

But early writers on art (in Italy at least) certainly had some very clear ideas about not only what an artist was, and what he or she did, but also of levels or grades of ability and success. Not all things were art, and not all art was of the same standard (Vasari, while usually generous in his comments, was quite capable of discerning the better from the less able, not sometimes without his own prejudices however). The modern-day lack of clarity, of deliberate wordy obfuscation, would have been entirely foreign to a man such as Vasari, who knew not only what to look for in 'art', but how to evaluate what he was seeing (notwithstanding that people then and now may disagree with him). Of course, in his day - not to mention in earlier times - and in fact up until relatively recently (the last 200-odd years or so), art fulfilled comparatively definite roles in European societies, principal among which were those of illustrating religious dogma and representing both temporal and religious power.

An artist's self-expression, so highly prized in the late 19th and the 20th centuries, was achieved, as it were, by default: some artists expressed their own personalities almost incidentally while painting or sculpting the fashionable styles of their times. It seems that, with the advent of the Renaissance proper however, artists had achieved and were allowed to express much greater individuality than in earlier periods (partly due to a shift in focus from God the Maker to man the maker). Close study of the art from almost anywhere will however reveal, usually, the different personalities at work; an artistic personality can be manifested even in the most humdrum or clearly stylised production. The point here is that, until the general period Vasari chose to write about, the individuality of an artist was not a primary concern, and neither was his or her particular expression (bearing in mind nevertheless, that certain artists were chosen for certain commissions while others were not).

So, what is an artist? It is a person capable of expressing visually, through some kind of object, his or her perceptions, in such a way that other members of the society are induced to see in like manner, very often concerning indefinite but generally-agreed consistent realities of the state of being human or of human perception. Sounds like what Art is really!

* See André Grabar, Les origines de l'esthétique médiévale, 1992.  Éditions Macula, Paris.

I would very much appreciate comments about this essay, helpful ones of course, as I don't pretend to have the final word. It would be very nice however, to build up a rough definition together!