Have you ever had the insight that a dollar bill has absolutely no inherent value or meaning other than what we attribute to it? It’s just some ink on a small piece of paper.
Even the specific patterns of the ink on the paper – the numbers, words, and pictures – only have meaning when we agree that they do.
I have read art reviews wherein the critic elaborates upon this or that aspect of a painting, adding great significance to the subject matter and even technical aspects of the painting down to the choice of color, that flourish of a brushstroke, and maybe even that seemingly accidental drip over there. They might say that the work is derived from some important thing and indicative of a new trend and has great social implications.
And maybe this was all part the artist’s intent – or just as likely not – but it’s all true now. Because that meaning has been assigned to the painting by an authority.
People inquire about the meaning of my paintings. Believe me, I put a lot in there. I even try to infuse the energy of what it means to me so strongly that any viewer will get a sense of it. I don’t know if that works, so I often say that my work is asemic – there is no meaning except what you as the observer bring to the work from your own consciousness.
After all, the painting is akin to the dollar bill and is just paint on canvas, with no meaning except that which we assign to it.
Here is Rene Magritte’s famous painting, “The Treachery of Images”. This is not a pipe, it’s just an image painted on canvas. Moreover, the image itself is assembled in our mind from otherwise meaningless juxtapositions of color.
We like to do that. Assign meaning to everything. Why is that crow trying to get your attention? But that arrogance is ultimately personal – not inherent. In some cultures black is for mourning, in other that would be white.
Let’s extend that thinking to the cosmos. Do you think there is any meaning out there beyond what we puny humans attach to it?
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