Why looking at abstract art makes me feel hopeful
On my “art discovery” journey, I found I was naturally drawn to abstract art right from the beginning. I understand the medium is not for everyone and find there is a split between those who prefer the initial mystery of this style and those who want to know what they are looking at right off the bat. And this split makes sense, neurologically, as we interpret abstract and portrait artworks differently. We actually call on different systems to break down the image and then rebuild the interpretation in our minds. (This process happens so quickly we are often unaware that it is even happening).
Abstract art became popular post World War II in the 1940s, with the center of this radical artistic process taking place in New York City. You might be able to easily associate this era with artists such as Mark Rothko and their prowess in visual storytelling through color and forms. Abstract art exists without connection to a specific visual form, and in some way, without a connection to reality. Another counterpart equally as talented however not as well recognizable, is Natvar Bhavasar, contemporary abstract artist who lives and paints in New York City today. (Born in India and having migrated to the US in the 1960s, his story took a different path even though his style and use of the ‘colorfield’ process is on par with the American cohort). What is most interesting about this period is that these artists somehow understood intuitively what it was about color and form that attracted us to the paintings. They figured out the hook, and used it to draw us in.
My first real exposure to what it truly meant to immerse yourself in this style of thinking came from spending time with Mr. Bhavsar and taking in the enormous and breathtaking canvases in person. I was immediately overwhelmed (in a good way) with bright colors, something I might add I am extremely drawn to. The way the color took shape and emitted this powerful light even in the shadows is something I will never forget.
Standing in front of the painting, staring into the abyss of color that got brighter as my eyes moved outward, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of wonder and hope. It was as if that vastness called on you to think of the unlimited possibilities of where your mind could go in relation to what you were looking at. And in that wonder, I felt hopeful that we still have the ability to imagine. To believe. Sometimes we self select as creative, or not creative. Imaginative or logical. Artistic or not. Yet we all possess the ability to imagine and create. The output just takes different forms.
The Waterfall (1909) painting in high resolution by Wassily Kandinsky. Original from The Yale University Art Gallery. Digitally enhanced by rawpixel.
We naturally spend a bit more time with abstract works because our brain is processing the input in a less logical manner. Therefore you very well could come up with different stories to accompany a piece of art, separate from the artist’s original intention and production. The conversation you have with it, with others around you, or perhaps with yourself, becomes a part of your creative expression. For me, hope is tied into that expression. And adding your experience in with the artist’s experience- now that is something special.
Article is also available on Medium, published March 12th 2021.