Notes from the Underground Part Three — Drawing, Without Knowing (Or, The Art in the Doodle)
I don't think he was talking about celibacy only (if at all); I think he was talking about a form of concentration he was unable to sustain, a concentration on a basic unresolved dilemma, which -- if unresolved -- very few people can live with permanently.
One way of putting this dilemma into words is this: Is meaning found or created?
If found, it means I am nothing ("it" independently exists outside of me).
If created, it means that I am utterly alone (alone because this "Meaning" cannot be experienced -- as such -- by others, as it belongs to their "external reality").
Merleau-Ponty points to this dilemma/paradox this way: "We derive meaning from our experience while simultaneously projecting meaning into it," (in effect pointing to the dilemma/paradox with which we seem to be living at every breath).
The tension this type of dilemma generates is precisely the wave Giacometti was riding, it is precisely the type of tension I was determined to sustain, to investigate.
A Different Approach
Progressively, the focusing on "the appearing as it appears" yielded drawings and paintings that were very different from my previous work, and yet much closer to the work of artists with whom I was most impressed.
Imagine that: I was getting closer to my heroes and this, not by emulating or plagiarizing their work, but by paying more attention to my most personal experience!
Indeed, the exhilarating part of this was that the similarities between their work and mine did not come from emulation, not at all, but came instead from a deeper connection with my own experience of "the real."
It is possible to break the stronghold societal models have on our experience of the visible, but to do so requires a serious effort, an effort that is turned "inward" as it were, quite different from much of what most of us are used to doing.
For example, seeing "this" means not seeing "that."
This means that most of our visible world -- as a context -- is held in place by our constant projection in the experience of the "here and now," all that we remember having seen, and that we anticipate seeing.
In that sense, the "naive" (not pejorative) experience of the "here and now" is loaded with recollection, and anticipation.
If we did not do that "naturally," we would not be able to read a sentence, or hear a musical phrase, or make sense of a representational drawing.
Animation itself relies on this naive recollection/expectation in order to appear as a continuous "meaningful" flow.
In fact, if we did not have this loaded "living present," we would not be able to make habitual sense of the world in which we live.
And yet, this is reality as we constitute it, it is not reality as it appears to us prior to our being actively engaged in our sense making projects.
This projecting into what we see of the parts we do not see but assume are there is called "adumbration," and we constantly "enrich" our experience of the visible world with that adumbration (it's like looking at the moon and giving it substance by projecting into the experience the faith we have in the existence of the parts of the moon that we cannot see).
The problem with (naive) adumbrating is that we can only project into the experience that which we already "know!"
In other words, living and seeing that way condemns us to see the world not as it appears (as it is constantly appearing), it condemns us to see "it" strictly as we imagine it to be, our imagination being formed by our culture, by our language, by our expectations. (Other cultures, other languages, give birth to different expectations, to other habitual visible realities.)
Undoing The Done
We will be looking at some of those ways in greater detail in the next article(s), but here are a few things that may interest those who want to explore this a bit further: physiologically, unlike film, our vision is not based on an even field, with a capacity to receive external stimuli with the same accuracy evenly distributed on the retina.
Far from it!
Our peripheral vision is very different from our central vision.
Going back to working "from the visible" armed with this new "understanding," I no longer tried to force the visible to conform to my habitual differentiation (as between "figure and ground"), but instead, I switched my attention from, "What is that?" to "How does 'it' appear?" (And it no longer mattered if that "it" remained undefined, unlabeled, in fact, the longer that undefined quality remained so, the better the work would become, though this would often be recognized long after the fact.)
Surely, there have got to be ways by which we can "undo" the control that our culture, our language, have on our experience, ways by which we can, at least temporarily, put aside these controls, shelve them, "bracket" them, and see "the appearing as it appears."























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