Brain Food #848: Making up for what isn't there
What we do when the meaning is not immediately obvious
Thoughts of the day
When something does not make sense, there are two ways in which humans tend to approach it. We try to explain it, often by placing it within some familiar framework (or a story or narrative); or, we stop trying to explain it, and then it all comes together when we least expect it.
It usually takes effort to understand what is not glaringly obvious. Constant effort and hard work are praised as the main ingredients of multiple forms of success, but depending on the context and the environment, there may be a point where trying too hard can yield the opposite result. This is ‘the law of reversed effort,’ described by Alan Watts as trying so hard to stay on the surface of the water that you sink. By relaxing our attention, we can instead begin to take in the bigger picture.
Such is the experience one has when encountering a work of art that is not immediately accessible, like the paintings of Cecily Brown. Raw and dreamlike, they let the viewer enter her world while challenging us to make sense of it, though an interpretation may not always be within easy reach.
Reflecting the concept of Wu Wei, Brown’s paintings obscure the subject, inviting our effortless action. When you are paying just enough attention, the image starts to become clearer. Focusing on one thing or clue, or concentrating too hard on one area, will not work. When the viewer finally stops trying too hard to understand what is there, when we stop searching, then we can see. And when there is just enough to see, the mind begins to make connections.
“The place I’m interested in is where the mind goes when it’s trying to make up for what isn’t there.”
—Cecily Brown
Brown started her work from landscape paintings but left those behind as she developed her own style. Where we have been often leads us to where we are going.
Even if clear figures and items are often absent in her paintings, there may be enough hints there, whether in the title or in an object that is somewhat familiar, to allow us to start making up a story; even enough to let the viewer project themselves onto what they are seeing.
We make up stories to explain the events of the world in a way that feels acceptable to us, echoing Joan Didion’s infamous line “We tell ourselves stories in order to live.” To that, one could add ‘live with ourselves.’ Storytelling fills in gaps, and those gaps can exist in our awareness, in our understanding, or in some other parts of our inner world. And so our interpretation of anything that is not straightforward and linear will inevitably carry pieces and revelations of ourselves in it.
Whether it is trying less hard or attempting to create a story from what we know, whichever approach we choose to interpret something new or foreign to us (and this does not have to be a painting), we can learn valuable lessons from both: the benefits of occasionally letting go and taking a step back, or simply discovering a little more about who we are, while making up for what isn’t there.
