Update: Art and Stuff

To avoid the inevitable brain rot that will occur if I stay in my dorm all day, I find myself here, at the big library in Harvard, tippy-tapping at my laptop while whoever's left of the students here are doing their law or medicine or whatever readings. This place is a lot nicer than any of MIT's libraries, that's for sure. The marble ceilings are incredibly tall, with nice little skylights and hanging chandeliers. The bookshelves are a deep brown and the furniture is too, and everything just has the same cool academia vibe. There are so many lamps around, providing minimal functional use but so much aesthetic pleasure. In other words, it screams Ivy.

Anyways, I got up early this morning so I could walk my friends to their finals. I've wanted to revisit the Harvard Art Museum for a while. I had gone there not too long ago on a date, but I really wanted to sit down and soak in the art for way longer but I would feel bad if I asked the guy to wait for me, so I didn't. Maybe I should, but I supposed it wasn't going to be fun for someone to watch me stare at ink stains on canvas. Anyhow, I think enjoying art is an experience I'd rather do by myself, without other people around to augment my expectations or my mood. Or maybe I just haven't found a kindred soul who sees art like I see art yet.

There was a specific piece that I really wanted to see: Helen Frankenthaler's "Rex." I'm not even going to attempt to describe it because I don't want to embarrass myself with my terrible use of art terminology. If you're too lazy to look the piece up (which you should for a little bit more context), all you really need to know is that it's abstract art. Abstract art gets shit on a lot nowadays, and I get that it's not something that a lot of people like, because people feel like they need to "get" it or something like that. I've always tried my best to go into these pieces with an open mind, but I'm by no means a big fan of it.

Oh, but when I first laid eyes on the painting when I walked into the gallery, I felt things. I could feel the passion, anger, love, fear, and all the raw emotions in its deep red. It towers over you. Standing at over 8 foot tall, the painting could swallow you if you stood in front of it. I let myself get swallowed today. I sat on the bench in front of the painting and I looped Meltdown by iroha (sasaki). Music definitely helps art hit. It primes you into the right emotional state for you to get swayed.

I thought abstract art was nothing more than some intellectual or philosophical experimentation. Sure, I've definitely heard that abstract art is supposed to reach our deepest emotions (at least I believe this is true with Rothko's paintings), but a lot of the times it just looks like colors on a canvas. The funny thing is, Rex is quite similar to Rothko's works, which I've scoffed at before, and yet here it is, Rex, evoking a visceral reaction in me.

After this experience, I think I'm ready to put down on paper my definition of art. I'm drawing a lot from my experience with classical music, but this visit to the art museum showed me that my ideas there can be transferred to other mediums. I'm still working on seeing more art and gaining experience with all kinds of things, so keep in mind that this is not entirely formulated. I'm still pretty confident with my answer (to the question "what is art?"), which is why I'm writing it down here. I suppose this is all subjective, but this is how I define art for myself. (I suppose this means that I believe that art is up to the individual to define for themselves).

Great art evokes strong emotions, whether it be positive or negative.

A quote that I first heard in the creative writing class I took in the senior spring of high school: "The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference" - Elie Wiesel. A lot of the time, I'll look at a painting or listen to a song and I'll feel nothing. If asked to comment on the piece, I'll probably say something like, "Well, it looks pleasant" and then look more into the technical aspects of the piece and comment on that. Something along the lines of "I like the use of a trill here" or "I like the detail in the girl's hair." After an hour or so, I probably would have forgotten a lot of what the piece was. When I see these pleasant pieces that I'm sure take a lot of skill and talent to create, I don't really feel anything. Of course, I'm not completely indifferent to the piece, but let's just say that it doesn't evoke a lot of emotions in me.

Contrast this with when I hear/see something that I really love. An easy example for me to cite is Tchaikovsky's Romeo and Juliet. The overture of the piece is overflowing with love and I love it. There are tons of other examples from the Romantic era, which is known for this kind of really emotional works. A lot of people like Beethoven because of this, though I think Beethoven's symphonies are a bit too much for me. On the subtler side and a recent discovery for me, I've found that Caroline Shaw's Partita for 8 Voices infuses me with so joy, which is what Shaw said is the point of the piece. The second movement, Sarabande, is my favorite. It's a contemporary work with plenty of modern voice techniques, and honestly the newness of it also adds to the mental stimulation and thus emotion.

Coincidentally, the next sentence of the quote is "The opposite of art is not ugliness, it's indifference." Thanks Elie, you've figured out my philosophical approach to art before me! Well, it's good to derive things on your own, so I'm fine with that. Honestly, it's a bit reassuring that other people agree with me, or at least, they agree with the main sentiment of my philosophy. I digress.

I use this idea to explain why people like watching horror movies. It's not a pleasant experience, yet they seek it. Now, I'm not a horror fan so I can't speak to exactly why they like it so much, but I can guess that it has to do with liking the adrenaline that you get from it? It's like a controlled administration of emotions that's appealing or something. I'm a fan of psychological horror, so I'll speak to that.

There was this phase that I had where I watched a lot of playthroughs of psychological horror RPGs, mostly RPGMaker games. One that I remember vividly is called Blank Dream. It features some really, really uncomfortable concepts. I like the game a lot, (to be clear, not because I am okay with the concept, because I am very not okay with it) because it's able to make me feel so uncomfortable. It's able to evoke emotion. I mean, when you look at RPGMakers, a lot of them don't have a lot of engaging gameplay, and it's the story that's the main driver. It essentially works like a visual novel with minigames, which is essentially just a more immersive book, and isn't literature a form of art? So yes, I would call Blank Dream a great work of art.

Some mediums have an easier time achieving this than others. Or maybe it's that some people are more attuned to one medium than others. For example, music speaks to me a lot more than the visual arts does. It's unclear whether or not me being a musician causes me to feel more connected to music or if it's the other way around. Either way, that's why I feel more things when I listen to music than when I look at art. Something about the fact that I'm taking it in aurally helps builds the vibes a lot easier than just looking. It's just easier to get vibes from listening than from looking at something, right? And storytelling has to work with something else entirely, and I don't know enough about literature to say much about it. I guess film has both an easier and harder time. You get visual, auditory, and storytelling, but you have to be good at all three.

I think it's easy to overlook how much goes into creating the effect that good art has. I realized this as I was furthering my studies on the clarinet. There's much more to music than just playing the right notes, rhythms, and dynamics. The way you start and end each note, or the subtle tone colors that you can get out of your instrument is so important to elevating your playing. The master soloist can do these well. As a consumer, we all pick up on these small things subconsciously, even if we're not a trained musician, writer, or artist. And so we love these masters, because they know how to imbue more emotion into their work than others.

I wish I could pick up on these subtleties more. Of course, I also wish I could perform these subtleties, but I understand that that's a matter of effort and talent, so it's fine, since I'm not willing to put in the required effort. But I want to be a better consumer. I want to be more moved by art. I have seen myself change from feeling indifference to love in a year's time, and I really wish I can get to the love part from the beginning. Maybe it requires maturity that I don't have yet. Maybe it's something I can't change. It's not entirely clear. Right now, I'm just working on gaining exposure and doing research. I can't tell if it's helping or not. Sometimes I try focusing very deeply, and I don't end up getting much out of it. Ah, who knows. I guess I'll keep trying.

Ironically, when I read the description of Rex, I lost the reverie that I had for it. The placard pointed out the crown at the top of the painting, and then I could see the side profile of a king in low flowy robes with a purple sceptor or cane. Then it wasn't fun anymore. It wasn't about pure passion and emotion. I couldn't unsee the image of the king (which makes sense, since the title is "Rex," but also I didn't know the name until after I read the placard). Where was the fun in an abstract rendition of a king?

I suppose you can take that as some sort of parable for the world around us. Everybody sees what they want to see in things, I guess, and the truth is sometimes a let down. Maybe it's some kind of commentary on people like me, who like to deal with interpretations and vagueness. I don't know exactly. All I know is that it makes me feel kind of stupid and naive. I really should think these through and then I would feel better about my thoughts, but I think I'll just let them sit for a while and be unhappy I guess. I'll work on them in the future.

So, after the museum trip, I went to a cute little vibey cafe. I ordered myself a matcha latte and a pain au chocolat. The latte came in a cute mug and had latte art on top! I bought Nietzsche's Beyond Good and Evil at the Harvard bookstore before the museum opened and I read a couple pages while I sipped at my latte. I was starting to get sleepy, so I decided to walk over to this library to test out the Harvard ID that I got today. I was so not ready to take the ID photo, though, and so I look kinda goofy on my Harvard ID but that's okay, I guess, because I'm not going to use it a lot. It's just cool to say that I have a Harvard ID. I checked out the first and second floor before settling into an armchair and pulling out my laptop to write. I was feeling very reflective from the museum and honestly just traveling and doing things on my own that I felt like it would be productive if I wrote while I felt like in a mood to write.

Man, writing is quite time-consuming. A "quick" update to my blog takes 2 hours to write. I suppose it's better than spending the 2 hours on League of Legends or Valorant, which I did do yesterday. That was a mega brainrot day. The first time I left my dorm was to pedal on the Peloton bikes at the Z (fitrec center), and that was at like 9:30pm. That's probably what my life is going to be like when I go home for winter break. It's both nice but also kind of depressing. It's nice to drag yourself outside sometimes. Being alone is also quite nice, especially if you get tired (both mentally and physically) easy like me.