The Meaning of Art

By CALVIN CHEONG ‘20

After reading the title of this article, you’re probably groaning at the fact that yet another fool is ready to present his clichéd opinion on a subject so vast and amorphous that only a heavy cliché will do the trick. And you’re probably right. Perhaps my opinion will come across as a cliché. But before you move on with a dismissive sneer, I implore you to consider these words: what is the meaning of art? What is its purpose?

Art brings people together from all over the world. Art is whatever we want it to be. Art has no meaning. Art is doing what you love. Have you heard these platitudes before, in some form or another? Maybe. Can you think of others that are just as relevant? Probably. Are they overused? Definitely. But more importantly, are they correct? They absolutely are. After all, it’s difficult for such broad statements to be incorrect, abstract as they are. But maybe a more precise answer to the question would be a shrug and perhaps a half-committed nod because in reality, each proverbial claim has its technical truths and untruths. For example, art, based solely on taste, can just as easily estrange two people as it can bring them together. So how do we mash all of these—and many other—artistic clichés together?

Put simply: we don’t. We can’t. The sheer number of contradictions and discontinuities that would result from such an immense union is impossible. Does this mean the question is unanswerable, then? What is the meaning of art?! We can’t compile all the different meanings into one ultimate, transcendent definition. Just like having a complete understanding of everything is impossible, the meaning of an all-encompassing, ethereal concept like art is unattainable. But what we can do is add another “cliché” to the list, so to speak. We can clarify the definition of art and refine it; we can approach the true answer, and thus get a vague impression of what it might be. So that’s what I’m going to try to do: contribute a little piece to the giant puzzle.

Have you ever witnessed a sunset, the great ball of fire casting abnormally mellow hues across the sky? Have you ever listened to the two-seconds of a song during which a shiver runs down your spine but with a feeling of pure satisfaction? Have you ever experienced the timelessness of perfect contentment, in a moment where a single moment is drawn out into eternity? How about the feeling of irreversible hopelessness when the teacher asks to see homework that you didn’t do? The red-hot, unquenchable anger at all the injustices of the world? The inexplicable yet ever-permeating fear of being ostracized for some reason or another?

Each of the above experiences on the spectrum of life, can represent a particular emotion, a unique slice of the human psyche. Incidentally, the same emotions (or sometimes the lack thereof) are what inspire art: a creation, imitation, or expression of our feelings; of ourselves. Art is not only a verification of our sentience but also of our ability to replicate that which the universe crafted: us. Shaped by the sculptor of self-awareness and tempered in the fires of past experience, we seek to make our own mark on this world, and that mark can take a number of forms. That mark is art. As the playwright George Bernard Shaw once said, “You use a glass mirror to see your face; you use works of art to see your soul.”

This amalgamation – one of feelings, identities, random thoughts, struggles, compulsions and more – makes up who we are, and it’s also what we end up putting on the canvas, or the paper, or the score. We are art. And that’s why we create it.

So, there’s my theory. And, full of philosophical plot holes it may be (as many vague definitions of art are), it’s an alternative response to an age-old question deserving an answer. Whether you agree or disagree doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things; in fact, like fog dissapating in the sun, the contents of this article will likely evaporate from your mind in the wake of Parent’s Day. But I would have been able present my perception of art, based on my experiences, my feelings, and, ultimately, my self. If I have all of that, what more could I ask for?