Why art moves us (& what it teaches us about love)
A piece of art is an immortal love letter. In his fragile mortality, the artist says — “Here I am, putting a piece of my being, my most authentic self, into this art. Anyone who wishes to know it, to know me, can come see it.”
Good artists are people who feel reality intensely. They are seers. Literally, people that see. They see this intense, vivid picture of reality, with all its beauty and pain, and get a desire to communicate. To tell someone what they see. And it is not as simple as talking — if it were, our daily interactions would be much more than superfluous, banal workings to keep the machinery of the world going.
No, great artists will rush us into a room; a room which the stark, brittle reality of life cannot penetrate, and lock us in with them. Once they’ve done away with all the distractions, emotions and personalities that get in the way, they point us to what they see. And they ask, “I see this. And it is beautiful beyond words. Can you see it?”
I also like to think of artists as guides (to their reality). They are relentlessly making incisions; pathways that break on through to the other side of our personality — to the core of our being. They are constantly trying to get under the layer of our ever-tuned, alert, utilitarian brain.
That is why great art — be it music, painting, cinema, books, or any other form — moves you. It successfully connects you with something from the core of another person’s being. It is not because of how precise the artists’ brush strokes or how ostentatious their vocabulary is; those are only means to break through.
A piece of art is an immortal love letter from a mortal artist. In his fragile mortality, the artist says — “Here I am, putting a piece of my being, my most authentic self into this art. Anyone who wishes to know it, to know me, can come see it.”
The romantic in me believes that every artist is trying to make you fall in love with them without ever meeting you.
Art and Love
In its own beautiful, twisted way, I think life makes the best artists out of lonely people.
When you’re in a truly loving relationship, you reveal parts of your being, piece by piece, to (and with) each other. Honest, thoughtful conversations with someone you love are like art. You become vulnerable and expose your innermost self. You learn to communicate with your being to one other. And the love grows deeper. It supports you through your vulnerability.
In my experience I find it is not the lack of people, but a lack of this vulnerability that makes you feel lonely. And this feeling can find respite in art. Finally, a way for the lonely person to express their being. And when you’re creating, art asks no questions. You are free to come as you are. Warts and all.
It’s no surprise that the pleasure experienced in emotional intimacy is similar to the artistic pleasure of creating.
And in that, an artistic pursuit is a great partner. By accepting you as you are— it becomes your mirror. It allows you to see all your parts, unbroken and broken. By the sheer virtue of shining a light on your innermost self without judgment, art can become meditative. And it can make you a better person. Just like love.
When I think about love, I see its discerning characteristic as just there. Love is there. It doesn’t seek to move, break or change things forcefully. People love their partners because, well, they love them (this may well be the optimism of my youth). That’s a beautiful thing, and I think we can pursue art in a similar fashion.
Art, not as a means to an end, but for art’s sake. Not for likes, comments, headlines or engagement, but for the heck of it. The French have a beautiful saying for it — “l’art pour l’art” (art for art’s sake). Words to live by.
