Black Bucket Essays
Volume 2, Issue 1
“The value of art is in the observer."
- Agnes Martin
Kristen Letts Kovak
Comparison for Critical Distance
My two-year- old likes to ask abstruse questions about the origin of life, the meaning
of illness and the presence of social inequality. Yet when she asked a comparably
simple question - “Why do you put your paintings in galleries?”- I was bewildered.
After a long pause, my spouse responded, “So people can see them.” Placated, my
toddler went back to playing and I engaged in a spiral of aesthetic doubt.
In theory, the relationship between artist, artwork, and observer is direct. An
artist’s thoughts are manifest in her artwork and have the potential to communicate
across cultures or centuries to an observer. The artwork is essentially a declaration
of the artist’s existence in time: “I came. I saw. I created.” By encountering the
artwork, the observer acknowledges the co-existence of the artist’s voice with his
own. He compares his experience with that of the artist in an effort to better
understand the artwork. He will assume that everything he encounters, the artist
intended to do. For the observer, the artwork and artist’s intention are synonymous.
In practice, the relationship is foggy and myopic at best. As an artist, I know that my
artworks slide away from my intentions. There are limitations to my physical
materials and technical skill as well as a constant reframing of my own objectives.
My persistent intentions prevent me from seeing the artwork as it really is. Sure, I
made it, but it slithered its way out of my hands in spite of my best efforts to contain
it. I came. I was really curious about what I saw. I decided to create my way through
the confusion. Then, counter-intuitively, I hung up the product of my befuddlement
in a gallery for other people to observe and critique.
At the opening people will ask, “Do you really see things this way?” Unable to
examine the observers’ minds, I cannot confirm what about my images are
surprising. What I perceive is too innate to seem anything but inevitable to me. I can
recognize where my transcription wandered away from my observations, and
whether I chose to keep those meanderings. Yet, only the observers of the artwork
have the ability to compare multiple perspectives simultaneously. Their question
substantiates my desire to show my work publicly.
Even if I am not physically present, the artwork asserts that a mind perceived in a
certain way. The presence of an audience augments the number of individual
interpretations. By placing my work in front of others, I am also reminded that my
own perception is limited. My artworks become tangible records of my perceptual
confusion and evidence of the gaps in my understanding. Exhibiting is an invitation
to consider alternative viewpoints and a statement about the multiplicity of
perspectives always present, but often ignored.
Volume 2, Issue 1
“The value of art is in the observer."
- Agnes Martin
Kristen Letts Kovak
Comparison for Critical Distance
My two-year- old likes to ask abstruse questions about the origin of life, the meaning
of illness and the presence of social inequality. Yet when she asked a comparably
simple question - “Why do you put your paintings in galleries?”- I was bewildered.
After a long pause, my spouse responded, “So people can see them.” Placated, my
toddler went back to playing and I engaged in a spiral of aesthetic doubt.
In theory, the relationship between artist, artwork, and observer is direct. An
artist’s thoughts are manifest in her artwork and have the potential to communicate
across cultures or centuries to an observer. The artwork is essentially a declaration
of the artist’s existence in time: “I came. I saw. I created.” By encountering the
artwork, the observer acknowledges the co-existence of the artist’s voice with his
own. He compares his experience with that of the artist in an effort to better
understand the artwork. He will assume that everything he encounters, the artist
intended to do. For the observer, the artwork and artist’s intention are synonymous.
In practice, the relationship is foggy and myopic at best. As an artist, I know that my
artworks slide away from my intentions. There are limitations to my physical
materials and technical skill as well as a constant reframing of my own objectives.
My persistent intentions prevent me from seeing the artwork as it really is. Sure, I
made it, but it slithered its way out of my hands in spite of my best efforts to contain
it. I came. I was really curious about what I saw. I decided to create my way through
the confusion. Then, counter-intuitively, I hung up the product of my befuddlement
in a gallery for other people to observe and critique.
At the opening people will ask, “Do you really see things this way?” Unable to
examine the observers’ minds, I cannot confirm what about my images are
surprising. What I perceive is too innate to seem anything but inevitable to me. I can
recognize where my transcription wandered away from my observations, and
whether I chose to keep those meanderings. Yet, only the observers of the artwork
have the ability to compare multiple perspectives simultaneously. Their question
substantiates my desire to show my work publicly.
Even if I am not physically present, the artwork asserts that a mind perceived in a
certain way. The presence of an audience augments the number of individual
interpretations. By placing my work in front of others, I am also reminded that my
own perception is limited. My artworks become tangible records of my perceptual
confusion and evidence of the gaps in my understanding. Exhibiting is an invitation
to consider alternative viewpoints and a statement about the multiplicity of
perspectives always present, but often ignored.
