Extract from: Beyond the Stage of Time, Volume I Realised Realms. The Master of the Water, Pine and Stone Retreat

18 19 Th at sounds blindingly obvious, but there’s one aspect of this which is very o ft en overlooked—the audience response, and the nature of that response. Th e vision that we’ve discussed is fi rst and most obviously transformed through the artist’s techniques—painting, drawing, sculpting, and so on—and their ability to encode meaning in the various languages of art into a physical art object, and the various ways they choose to display the object to the audience. It then continues with the audience’s response, through the audience’s approaches to understanding art and de- coding meaning. So the art object is a separate, physical entity that remains relatively unchanged once it is produced if adequately protected; the process, on the other hand, is open to inde fi nite reinterpretation by the audience, thus changing both its meaning and its impact. And it’s worth noting here that the audience also includes the artist: part of process-based aesthetics as a theory states that the artist is his or her fi rst audience during the process of vision, technique and art-object production. G Th at’s a very interesting idea. It suggests that it’s impossible to separate the art object from the process, or the artist from the audience. M Art is one of our most sophisticated means of communication. It’s one of our most persistent records of human progress and adaptation, a crucial means of passing on accumulated knowledge from one generation to the next. As such, it’s a primary tool in evolving consciousness, and, therefore, civilisation. Without the arts (music, the visual arts, architecture, literature and everything else), civilisation is inconceivable. Any theory of art in a mature aesthetic culture must be a theory of art and consciousness, and cannot stand apart from its overriding role. Art is, in short, enlightening. Th at doesn’t mean that it can’t also be banal, of course. For some people, it serves no greater purpose than matching the curtains; to others, it is the very lifeblood of humanity. Examining these many di ff erent levels throws up di ff erent answers to the same questions, from the utterly ordinary to the highest levels of intellectual understanding—and then, beyond even that, to the trans-intellectual realm of spiritual meaning. I don’t mean spiritual in a merely religious sense, but in the sense of being able to realise something very profound— something beyond intellectual comprehension, beyond the limitations and con- straints of the languages we are suspended in as rational, reasoning beings—in a uni fi ed rather than fragmentary way. To me, all of that is the process. It includes the art object, of course, in so far as there is one, but however pivotal, it is only one aspect of the process. Any creative activity stems not only from the isolated individual, but from the entire experience of that individual and the culture(s) that created him or her. In the same way, wisdom comes not from a single mind, even if a single mind processes the accumulated wis- dom of civilisation. If this theory of art and consciousness is to make any sense, then the process has to include everything the artist understands and thinks, in whatever fi eld. It’s the sum total of that experience, that understanding, that wisdom, that constitutes the art, not the single painting in front of you. Jean Renoir said that he thought there should be a Nobel Prize for plagiarism, and I completely agree— indeed, I was considering plagiarising Renoir and pretending that I said it! Without it, neither art nor civilisation would have fl ourished, or possibly even existed. G What does all this mean to you when it comes to thinking about your art? How does your approach change when you’re thinking about the whole experience and meaning of art, rather than merely the production of it? M Th at’s an interesting question. As part of the process of learning about the art of painting, it quickly became clear to me that intellectual fragmentation between aspects of the process was only useful up to a point. Distinctions between medium, message and marketplace (both for the physical work of art and its meaning) were useful; as were distinctions between artist and audience; between fi gurative and ab- stract (in the western sense, anyway, where it must be one or the other—the Chinese see no contradiction in abstract paintings made up of fi gurative components); be- tween the various participant groups (artist, collector, curator, academic, dealer, etc.). But as I said, only up to a point. Such distinctions always come with the inherent danger of becoming locked into the de fi nition, only to miss the overall picture. We become besotted by the fragments and miss the whole. It is a bit like poetry in this respect. Th e words can be understood individually, the lines interpreted, but it is the more profound meaning within and between the lines that is the true art, the real source of its power. It is the ability to reach beyond the words that matters. Th e same is true of music, of course. Its meaning and profundity rests not in the notes played, which can be recognised distinctly and analysed very matter-of-factly in the score, but in the overall e ff ect of the process: the composer, the notation, the setting, the musicians, the audience, the historical and social context. Th e uni fi ed experience is truly greater than the sum of its parts, as anyone who has listened to a symphony orchestra can attest. It de fi es mere de fi nitions. Th at is what makes it, and art more generally, so profound. Th e fact is that there are very many levels and variables in play in any work of art. In the context of painting, even the distinction between artist and audience is initially called into question, because the artist, while working on a painting or drawing, becomes her own audience. Every move changes the process and the experience, however fractionally. She is constantly learning and changing as it evolves, just as conventional audiences do as they absorb the fi nished work. So at the outset, the artist-as-audience mirrors what is happening on the oth- er side of the physical art object, where the intended (and, of course, unintended) audience becomes artist by reaching into the process and mastering it. Th ey may not be doing so with brush and paper, but they are still applying their own emotional, intellectual and spiritual tools to it. Back on the artist’s side of the object, every brush stroke, every choice of col- our or ink-tone, every adjustment made to an original idea is a dialogue with the self through the medium. Th at’s why the process of creating the work of art is itself enlightening. And this harks back to your earlier question about distinguishing art from cra ft . If you can competently turn out the same thing over and over again without learning anything fresh, without any exciting developments arising, without any magic happening, then you’re leaning towards cra ft rather than art; still a creative process, but a di ff erent one nonetheless. With all art, and particularly with its higher roles in evolving consciousness, simple binary answers soon give way to much greater subtlety of understanding.