Next term's title is 'Research and Practice', and the book to read over the summer is "Practice-led Research and Research-led Practice in the Creative Arts', edited by Hazel Smith and Roger Dean.
In amongst the gobbledy-gook and self-aggrandisement that seems an essential part of an art theory book (they always use words associated with the interpretation of religious texts) there are some interesting ideas, and an excellent description of the process of developing an idea and a body of work by Kathleen Vaughan. She describes how her idea begins, thrust upon her by a single image of poster spotted while hurrying to an airport taxi.
"Stopped in my tracks, I was reminded of Jeanette Winterson's remarks, on having been halted on her walk through Amsterdam by 'a painting that had more power to stop me than I had to walk on'. In my case, I was stopped by the mental image of art that I might make, arrested mid-stride......I've learned over the years in the studio, to recognise that characteristic inner quickening - which I actually feel as a kind of stomach pang- as an indication that there is depth and density of creative potential in the idea or image that has come. I have learned to respect and respond to this feeling, as to a summons. Indeed, I have come to understand that (so far, at least) my creative practice is one of response, either to a visual image that grabs me and hurtles me forward into unexpected imaginings, or to a deeply felt inner experience, one that links emotional and body-based realities, and percolates into an external aesthetic expression. Such a summons does not come just once, to kick start a body of work, but can recur throughout the entire process of making, as I am faced with decisions and directions to take up or not." (p167)
The use of the term "quickening" is interesting. I've only come across this word in the past as an archaic term for feeling your baby move inside you, or the process of spring. This idea of something akin to creating a child is one described by Jenny Saville, when she said that painting and pregnancy were similar (unfortunately I have no idea where I came across that comment, well before I started this MA). The notion of the liveliness of an idea, grabbing the gut, and the sensation of liveliness of an art work that really works for me, seem very close.
"Art critics, anxious to emphasise the resonance or beauty of a particular work, have a tendency to exaggerate. They will tell you, for instance, that a canvas seems almost to vibrate, such is its power. But this painting moves well beyond vibration. No superlative I can think of seems to do it justice. It's uncanny. If I heard its subject softly breathing, I would hardly be surprised."Rachel Cooke (article about Jenny Saville and her works)
I have a memory of a recent bit of data which said that well over 90% of sensory data the body receives isn't processed consciously - again I'll have to hunt for the reference on that. There is data to support the idea that 'hunches' and intuition can support decision making as they capture some of this information even though people couldn't articulate the process for this. A simple search produces an article that says unconscious information increases performance but not people's confidence in their accuracy, which an interesting insight into why data derived from this unconscious input might be discredited.http://www.pnas.org/content/111/45/16214.full.pdf
The book also refers to Walter Benjamin and his text on 'The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction'. An article by Nick Peim in the Journal of Philosophy of Education (Vol 41, No 3, 2007) discusses the notion of the 'aura'...
"Aura seems to signify something of the symbolic halo generated by objects of special significance that is both powerful and indefinite."
It is going to take a lot of energy to really get to grips with what this paper is saying, and the single sentence in the original text book by Kathleen Vaughan may be sufficient to frame the ideas I am becoming interested in. She says
"I have...a belief...that embedded and embodied withing a work of art, almost holographically, is a reservoir of knowledge and understanding, the 'research' of the work as conducted by the artist. This conception of research is perhaps similar to Walter Benjamin's concept of aura (1955/1968) as something that pertains irreducibly to the artistic object, performance or event, a quality we can feel although not always decode." (p169)
One of my goals for the MA was to develop a clearer idea of why some pieces of art work for me and others don't. I find, just occasionally, that a piece of art will grab my attention, and it feels as if the work dances off the wall and enfolds me in some sort of psychic force field. I'm more Doctor Who than Mystic Meg, and I'd more happily think it was something akin to a sonic screwdriver that was affecting my response than an 'aura', but there is definitely a non-conscious visceral response to works which either entrance or repulse.
So what is it that does this? Is it an intrinsic attribute of some pieces of work or is it a product of the interaction between an art work and an individual viewer? If it is entirely individual, why do some pieces of art acquire cult status, with queues to view? How does this process happen? Is it a 'forever' thing or does it vary in time- can you 'fall out of love' as abruptly as you fall into love with art. Are there cultural differences? Does a well-executed fake work as well as the original?
Lots of questions, and possibly impossible to answer. I am reminded of Lewis Caroll's "The hunting of the Snark"poetryfoundation, where a ridiculous group set off in pursuit of the undefinable Snark- and hope that even if they capture one it doesn't turn out to be the deadly Boojum. A worthy pursuit for me, with the hope I don't 'suddenly vanish away' just as I triumphantly believe I have completed my quest.
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