Artistic Creation as a Negotiation Between Mind, Body, and Spirit.

In this essay, I explore what the process of artistic creation is through Japanese-inspired ink paintings.

Introduction

What is a negotiation? According to the Cambridge Dictionary (2019), a negotation is “the process of discussing something with someone in order to reach an agreement with them.” That an ‘agreement’ is made suggests a synthesis of viewpoints, where something new and agreeable to both parties is decided upon.

The question I am concerned with is this: How is the process of artistic creation a kind of negotiation? In this work, I negotiate Eastern and Western philosophy and art, experimenting with ink paintings to explore how artistic creation is a negotiation between mind, body, and spirit. The flames of this thought were kindled by Ehrenzwig’s psychoanalytic text (2011), which explores the role of the unconscious in artistic creation. It was in Japan that the inspiration for this work was fully ignited. During April, I spent three weeks in Osaka and Kyoto, soaking up the history and culture of Japan.

Sesshū and Monet: Masters of Contrast

Visiting Kyoto National Museum’s exhibition, ‘The Legend of Sesshū: Birth of a Master Painter,’ was a pivotal moment in the development of my thought and work. What struck me as most impressive from Sesshū’s paintings was not only the beautiful details of the landscape, but the masterful use of active empty space.

In sumi-e, or Japanese ink painting, the artist looks “at white on paper also as space” (Sato, 2014). Perhaps it was because I had been reading Ehrenzwig, but it seemed to me that the empty space of Sesshū’s landscapes was suggestive of the unconscious and the role that it plays in human experience. It was the harmonious balance between fullness and emptiness, conscious and unconscious, light and dark, that made Sesshū’s work so masterfully effective. What was left out, and left for the viewer to fill in with their imagination, was just as important as what was depicted in the details.

Sesshū’s masterful synthesis of opposites was also present in another exhibition I saw in Japan: ‘Claude Monet: Journey to Series Paintings’. Although superficially very different to Sesshū’s ink paintings (i.e. the colour palette and use of oils instead of ink), it seems to me that these two artists, separated by history and culture, share something of the same spirit. They are artists of feeling, who understand something of the lived and felt experience of human life. They are also artists who are successful in depicting a harmonious balance or synthesis between opposites, negotiating the forces of Yin and Yang, light and dark, to capture the forces which colour human life. Sesshū and Monet point to the ineffable, to the indescribable essence of collective human experience, the realm of the intersubjective, whilst at the same time rooting their work firmly in the landscapes of their contemporary physical existence. They are masters of negotiating the intersection between realms, achieving a synthesis in the convergence of antithetical states.

Ruminating on these insights, and feeling deeply inspired by and connected to Japanese culture, I knew that there was something to be learnt here about the process of creating art.

Experiments With Zen and Sumi-E: A Negotiation Between Mind and Body.

Returning to the studio, I was bursting with inspiration to capture what I had felt in Japan: feelings of connection, awe, an almost ineffable sense of belonging. I had felt my soul drawn to Japan for the last five years. This pervasive feeling of connection was phenomenologically evident, but beyond the grasp of my intellect. It is not something I could explain or understand in intellectual terms. It is, however, something that I felt could be captured in art. I wanted to explore how painting can capture this layer of human experience which transcends philosophical or analytical understanding.

Following in the footsteps of Zen monks, “who painted in a quick and evocative manner to express their religious views and personal convictions” (Department of Asian Art, 2019), I began sumi-e sketches on A4 paper. With a bamboo brush and black ink, I repeated paintings from photographs I had taken in Japan of Zen Buddhist temples and Shinto Tori gates.

In the Zen Buddhist philosophy of no-mind, I let go of my conscious mind to let my body create. As Nagatomo (2019) explains, “no-mind does not mean a mindless state. Nor does it mean that there is no mind.” Rather it is a kind of self-awareness independent from the everyday mind associated with ego- consciousness.

Zen Buddhist Master Dōgen said that, “as long as you try to figure out buddha dharma with mind, you can never attain it even for myriad eons or thousands of lifetimes. It is attained by letting go of the mind and abandoning views and interpretations” (Dōgen, 2013). This is the philosophy of no-mind that informs my work. My paintings are a meditation, a letting go of the mind, which allows the body to create. As a young child creates for pure enjoyment, I wanted to paint from a place of freedom where ego- consciousness (thoughts, beliefs, conditioning) is silenced and observed through self-awareness.

Series 1 and 2 were created in a very fast burst of joy and inspiration. Throughout the course of this body of work, I explored painting as a full-body experience, using the wall and the floor to allow for fluidity in movement. Observing my psychological disposition towards perfectionism, I opened myself up to imperfection. Taking inspiration from Sesshū, I allowed for boldness in my brushstroke. I repeated the same image on different papers to understand the essential lines/form/structure of what was being depicted. Details were evaded; I wanted to capture the feeling of the place and my experience, something of the ineffable.

Artistic Creation: A Negotiation Between Mind, Body, and Spirit.

My experiments in Sumi-e, which focused on Japanese Zen Buddhist temples and Shinto shrines, pointed me towards the realm of the human spirit – the intersubjective socio-historical realm of non-physical phenomena that unconsciously informs creation.

The word ‘spirit’ carries a lot of baggage. It is muddied by centuries of misunderstandings and preconceptions. For the purposes of this work, let us first understand ‘spirit’ as the intersubjective world, what Watsuji (1996) called the realm of ‘betweenness’: “we might think of betweenness as the field or place (basho) in which we live” (Carter 2018, p. 140).

Betweenness is the space of connection to other people and objects, a realm of non-physical existence where empathy and resonance seek to connect one being with another. The terms ‘betweenness’ and ‘spirit’ also point to our shared cultural, emotional, and historical experience. It is the world of art, philosophy, religion, culture, collective influences, and ancestral history. The spirit is ever-present for the individual in the same way that the mind and body are. No being inhabits an existential vacuum. Every person is connected to and conditioned by the intersubjective, both spatially (e.g. through relationships) and temporally (e.g. through history). The realm of the intersubjective or spirit is hugely significant to our way of being-in-the-world, and therefore demands our attention if we are to better understand human life.

When attempting to categorise the spirit, we are faced with obstacles. The concept of intersubjectivity, understood through time and space, largely evades rational interpretation or analysis. I do not, however, think that is a weakness. Not all areas of human existence are to be understood by the analytical mind alone.

A phenomenological investigation suggests that art can help us to understand this dimension of human experience. Through art, the ineffable can be expressed. When one lets go of the enquiring mind, observing it through self-awareness, a state of neutrality or no-mind can be achieved. Creation becomes possible in this emptiness of the self. It is here that free artistic expression opens up a window to what cannot be captured in words, but can be seen, felt, experienced, through the medium of art. Art is a beautiful example of how humans can connect with the realm of the spirit, and feel/understand something of the intersubjective through space and time, beyond the limitations of logic. Art fills the void where philosophy ends.

Conclusion

My painting practice and phenomenological investigation through self-observation has led me to the conclusion that artistic creation is achieved by a negotiation between mind, body, and spirit. Free artistic creation achieves a balance between these three realms of human life.

Whilst I began my painting practice in a state of no-mind, allowing the body free reign, through an encounter with Japanese art, philosophy, and culture I understood that a third dimension of human experience is essential to the process of artistic creation. This encounter with the intersubjective was enabled by my visit to Japan, and through grounding my work and thought in a studio environment. This change of environment in my painting practice gave me the physical space to experience forms of betweenness first-hand.

This work has brought me to the further conclusion that art is able to communicate dimensions of human experience which are indescribable and beyond rational analysis. Ineffable feelings, emotions, and experiences which are essential to human life are expressed and shared through the act of making and observing art. Painting not only allows us to open up and confront the depths of our souls, it allows us to share the indescribable with other human beings, across all times and places. Art is a platform for empathy, and a medium for human life to be expressed. Not only does art enable us to express our own feeling, it also enlarges our sense of self through empathy with others in the space of betweenness.

The limits of my language do not necessarily mean the limits of my world (Wittgenstein, 2011). Art opens a new door, where Western philosophers dare not go. I agree with Dōgen that enlightenment must go “beyond thinking” (2013). In other words, understanding human life in all its dimensions cannot be achieved by logical interpretation and analysis alone.

To summarise my approach to painting I have adapted this description of the Kyoto School philosophy, parentheses are my own:

“[Artistic creation], understood in this way, is a transformative activity and not just a cerebral exercise in logic or the analysis of words or propositions... The goal of such [artistic creation] is some personal transformation, akin to enlightenment, which alters our way of being-in-the-world for the better. Anything short of this is mere mind-play or intellectual gymnastics” (Carter. 2013).