My definition of art

I have coined a new, complicated, multi-point definition of art. All right — I have modified the one I use for my own purposes.

For me, intentionality has always been number one. If you wanted to create a work of art, you had to assume that this was exactly what you were creating. Example: an Omega watch is considered a work of watchmaking art. To me, it is just a watch. A beautiful object. However, I could recognize it as a work of art if an artist built it — assembled it? — from the very beginning as an artistic work. The premise and the intention must be clear.

Does that mean it is enough for me to call my scribbles a work of art and they automatically become one? Well, however that may sound — yes. It will probably be weak art, banal art, an insult to good taste, meaningless, irritating, and not worth spitting on — but still art.

That is why I have a second criterion: quality. Subjective, like everything that cannot be counted. For me, quality means consistency with basic rules. A composition may be surprising, but it must make sense. Color, lighting, proportions, anatomy — all must be conscious choices. Nothing hurts like an image intended to be realistic, yet full of errors caused by a lack of knowledge about the realistic world.

The third premise: art must defend itself. Without description, without a specially prepared place, without context. Cave paintings are, for some reason, excellent even on the screen of a modern laptop. An icon taken out of an Orthodox church is still beautiful in a contemporary interior. A painting by [painter’s name] would catch your eye even on a shelf in a hypermarket. Rothko at a bus stop? Interesting…

I know there are ideas according to which art is only what important and wise institutions decide to call art, what a circle of curators graciously chooses to grant its attention to, or what the collectors’ market finally values highly enough. Well, since the days of Van Gogh, we really have learned very little.

Art is fleeting, just like our perception of it. Our attitude toward it changes with age, experience, and the number of exhibitions we have visited. But does the art we have abandoned stop being art?

If you sit down to paint because you want to create something you will call a work of art, you are halfway there. When you finish and proudly show your work to the world, no one can forbid you from calling it art. Unfortunately, no one can forbid others from calling it weak, banal, an insult to good taste…

Courage!