Notes from the Underground Part Three — Drawing, Without Knowing (Or, The Art in the Doodle)
It seems to me that most people think that "the eye works like a camera and we all see the same thing," especially if the same people are totally indoctrinated into believing that there is an "objective" world, the same for everybody, and that the differences between our respective experiences are "merely" subjective.
In that frame of mind, drawing is a way by which we think we can (re)produce an image of reality as we believe it to look.
However, much of that "reality" isn't as "real" as most would think, it is above all based on expectations, expectations rooted in culture, shaped by language.
We can hardly see some "thing" if we do not have a name for it, a label, with which to isolate it, to differentiate it from the infinity of available stimuli, from the infinity of potential readings available in any and all situations (the "here and now" as a door to infinity, the living present as "infinite manifold," as Husserl called it).
Things Are Not As They Seem
The notion that the objects retained their identity and were always easily distinguishable from their surroundings was one that made it fairly easy at first to draw, but progressively this notion started to be challenged by the evidence of my own experience ("things" were not always behaving as they were expected to, according to that "objective world" theory).
When still a student at the Académie Royale des Beaux-Arts de Liège (Belgium), I tried my best to follow the methods we were taught, much of which was based on an "explanation" of the appearance of "reality," an explanation that was rooted in the belief that the world consisted of solid objects existing in empty space.
Most painters whom we, as students, were encouraged to study, seemed to function with a great deal of ease within the confines of that system of belief, a system with which I, like a few colleagues, felt more and more uncomfortable.

























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