Distance Yourself from Aesthetics
How to distill meaning when it counts
As I write and think about art, I find myself repeatedly focusing on the visuals of a work, the aesthetic, which really slows down production of the work. The thesis for this short essay is thus that aesthetics means little, what matters is meaning.
I do find it imperative to discuss a bit what it is we say when we mean aesthetic. In many senses, aesthetic has become synonymous for a vibe. In this way, aesthetic acts as a noun. We find here movements of art, which have left their artistic impressions imbued in an aesthetic; Bauhaus aesthetic, Brutalist aesthetic, Retro aesthetic, Impressionist aesthetic, Cubist aesthetic, and the like. Similarly, we have general “vibes” which have been encapsulated in an aesthetic; Croquette aesthetic, Dark Academia aesthetic, Old Money aesthetic, Cottage-core aesthetic (the keen reader may notice that this phrase is a bit of a pleonasm, as core has taken on a synonymous meaning to aesthetic), and so forth. It may be fair to say that it was at once commonplace to fit a work of art into a movement, but in modern times “aesthetics” have allowed those who are not keen to study art history, yet still desire to find their place in the art of the world around us, to artistically categorize the world around them. Granted the presence of social media, aesthetics then become an even more powerful way for its engagers to find their artistic place.
All art is category. The human instinct takes from the past and analyzes the present. That is why we judge art. It is unavoidable to have a reaction to art, even no reaction is still a reaction! When we are content with art, it has simply fit itself into a category which we have found easily recognizable. Hence when I walk through central Minsk, I find myself content at the near mirror images of Prague that I see in its architecture. When I walk through central London, I feel content at the big-city similarity I see to my home-city of New York. Songs do not offend me when they sound vaguely similar to the songs I have been listening to for the past few months. ****After a few years, listening to songs that sound exactly the same do begin to offend me, and perhaps their blandness may offend you as well. What begins to occur is a desire for change, and new art is born.
All art is inevitable. We cannot avoid art, it blooms in every crevice around us, indeed it exists solely in the judgment of its viewer. It is impossible as a viewer to not have a reaction to the world around you, whether that be a reaction of contentment, disgust, or appraisal. But this is where art leads us astray.
We react to art before all else. Our discussion of aesthetic early serves to exemplify how much the appearance of an object carries its weight. But do not lose sight of the meaning in a work. Aesthetic, beauty, dub it what you may like, the aura that art gives off into the world is a powerful phenomenon. It stimulates the senses in an transcendental way. But the most beautiful, successfully aesthetic pieces of art in history are those that can be distilled into a meaning that is not lost in its beauty. Do not be fooled by the cover of a book, for indeed the best books in history are those that when printed on parchment, with a cover page that looks like an international treaty, make no less of an impact on the reader.
Vladimir Nabokov, upon his release of Lolita, requested that no book shall be printed with “any kind of representation of a little girl” on its cover. The themes of the book are real and depressing, and reading the story reveals its tragedy. Walk into your local bookstore and seek the nearest copy of Lolita, Nabokov would likely be appalled at the presence of book covers that feature a young girl on the cover. Publishers ignored the message of the book, and as such, weaponized aesthetic.
Meaning is what makes us produce art, and if you are ever on edge about producing art, do your absolute best to sideline any conception of aesthetic. Of course, do not forgo aesthetic all together, it is important that your art find its artistic home, indeed you cannot break the rules lest you know them well (any student of the fine arts will know this too well). But in the early stages of your art, find what it is that your art means, find what it is that brought you to want to produce it in the first place. From there your art may grow in its most natural habitat, from meaning.
It was Byung Chul Han who said in an interview that, “A 1,000-page book, which has to explain what the world is about, perhaps cannot express as much as a single haiku can.” What is meant here probably needs little explaining (and to do more than a little explaining may betray the quote itself!). But the message is clear: the answer is in simplicity. We live growingly-complex lives in growingly-complex worlds. Should you seek refuge in your art, seek further in its simplicity.
All art is category, and all art is inevitable, therefore you must be careful to not be trapped only by the ever-present aesthetic of the world around you, locate its meaning. So when you go to observe the next piece of art in this world, ask yourself, “what does it mean?” and just maybe, you can try writing a haiku.