_1215_fine_art_catalogue

Continuous Creation
by Lucy Moss
There is a literary theory in which the reader writes
the text simply by interpreting it. Because every
reader will have a different interpretation, every time
the text is read it is changed, re-authored, if you like.
A chronologically backwards creation. Is this also
true of art, that to be a viewer is to co-create the
artwork? Perhaps an artwork is not a singular entity,
rather a rhizomatic relationship between its three
parts; the artist, the art-object (however it is
manifest) and the viewer.
It is easy to comprehend how the artist affects the
art-object, and by proxy the viewer. It is also not a
great leap to see how the art-object affects the
viewer, and can even influence the artist (think of a
painter responding to the canvas, or a happy
accident in which the artist chooses a ‘mistake’ to
become part of the work). But what of the viewer’s
influence on the art-object? The art-object acts as a
stimulus to the viewer, a catalyst that encourages a
response. This response can be termed
‘interpretation’. Each interpretation is unique, it has
never arisen before in precisely the same way. It is a
creation created from the artwork, but it is also a
creation created from the viewer. If the artwork,
instead of being a finite form, is in a constant state of
reinvention, an open work where the artwork is
changed every time it is viewed, then every
interpretation alters the artwork. But the artwork still
has a body, material form, a boundary. The object
itself never seems to change, how can an entity be
continually created anew if its manifestation never
alters?
The viewer’s interpretation can work backwards, it is
not only a response to the artwork, but it is part of
the artwork. This is because the conception of an
artwork, the idea or psychical manifestation of an
artwork, is part of that artwork. For example Francis
Bacon’s paintings are colour and paint and canvas,
they are also war and crucifixion, love and jealousy,
and a thousand other things. They are the emotions
they inspire and the resemblances of themselves
that people hold in their heads. Because these
things are part of the artwork, a viewer, simply by
interpreting the artwork shapes what that artwork is,
making it different whilst it physically remains the
same. The viewer, by interpreting the artwork,
becomes, in part, an author of that work. We return
to the three parts of the artwork, the artist, the
art-object, and the viewer. Each can change if the
others hold steady. The material the artwork is made
of can change, for example, yet if the idea of the
artwork remains intact, so does the artwork. These
‘mechanical’ rules seem to hold in other areas as
well. Think of an object, a tin-opener. A tin opener is
the metal that forms it. It is the shape, but it is also
the idea of the tin opener, and the uses it is put to. It
is its name and its name is a concept. The concept
originates from us, therefore we make the tin opener
what it is. What about other areas of art?
Mechanically, an artwork is akin to a song. A song is
finished once it is written, or perhaps it was sung
once. It is now complete, and doesn’t need to be
sung again to be finished. But, if it was sung again,
wouldn’t that second singing also be part of that
song? An artwork, when complete, is a finite form,
however it can be reinterpreted in infinite ways.
Each of these is part of the artwork, yet none have to
happen for the artwork to be complete.
So an artwork ceases to be an object, it becomes a
rhizomatic relationship of connections, momentary
couplings, and un-couplings. An art-machine. Its
cogs and gears, interpretations and influences. It is
the reviews that are written about it, the contexts
that surround it. While the artwork has a finite body
it contains infinite possibilities. It is paradoxically the
infinite contained within the finite; a multiplicity,
more than the sum of its parts, a product of
continuous creation.
Where does this leave us as artists, where does our
authorship stand? If we view this rhizomatic
relationship between artist, artwork and audience as
a dialogue, this becomes a question of who is
speaking, and who is speaking first? Just as it is
important that the viewer reacts to the artwork, it is
also important that they have something to react to.
As artists we are instigators of the conversation,
propagating a dialogue, giving it flesh, bones, a
heart, and a ribcage. We bring it into existence, an
active catalyst for the dialogue or ‘performance’ of
the work to come. An artwork is this movement
between entities, a dialogue. But it is also an object,
even if that object is an idea, made by the artist, and
it has many qualities other than communication.
Artists travel the borders between what a thing is
and what it is not. They are like a Shaman, a
channeller, bringing a multiplicity of ideas,
methodologies, theories and influences into the
single pinpoint that is the artwork.
Continuous Creation
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