Monday, September 8, 2008

who stares at cat poop while having a conversation?

Before I begin, I must say this: I really need to get over my shyness and start contributing to discussion in class.

Now, on to the blog.

As I left Mark Hopkins Hall, I reflected on the discussion we'd just had in class. One thing stuck out from the explaination behind the painting "Junk." That thought: "Who stares at cat poop while having a conversation? Especially if it's supposedly 'the most profound conversation of your life?'"

I voiced this opinion to a classmate, whose name I dare not try to spell for fear of awful misspelling. His point made me ponder... that "staring off in to space" some people may adopt while having profound conversations. I realized in that moment that I do the same. I avert my eyes and turn an ear to the speaker, and thus I absorb the conversation. While I can't say I've ever found a piece of cat poop on the ground to study while having this conversation, the idea of staring off is something to which I can relate.

Oddly enough, cat poop can be quite the conversation starter. At least in this particular instance. We found agreement in liking the painting (though I don't recall if I voiced it... curse my inability to get my tongue to move!), for the reason of the impact it made.

This lead us to this point: Art is in the impact. If a piece makes an impact on the viewer, regardless of whether it was the artist's intention... does that thus make it "art?" Can art be so simply put down to the mere emotional impact elicited when human eyes lay upon it, if for only a moment?

Thinking back, I recall Professor Johnson mentioning perception. How a person (for purpose of example, I shall name my hypothetical person "Bobert.") can look at something, like a tree, and sees it as only Bobert can, and that by seeing it, it permanently alters Bobert. That the arrangement of neurons in Bobert's brain is permanently altered in the mere act of seeing the tree.

If this holds true, Art must be the same way. Art must make this permanent change, this alteration of the viewer. But Art makes its impact in the way a tree perhaps never could. By viewing the tree, Bobert sees the world through his own lens, makes his own judgments. By looking at, say, a painting, Bobert still uses his own judgment. But he sees through a different lens. He sees as the Artist sees. This is not to mean that he sees what the artist INTENDED. Rather, he takes that little part of the artist into himself, and thus, a little part of himself is permanently linked to the Art, and by extension, the artist.

I feel I am starting to become longwinded, and shall thus end my post, and attempt to leave a philosophical challenge for you, my dear readers, to ponder: have you ever linked an object (like cat poop) with something completely unrelated (say, the most profound conversation of your life... SO FAR)? If so, what, and why? How has that altered your perception of the world?

1 comment:

David K. Braden-Johnson said...

The selectivity of perception is partly intentional (I hear what I listen for) and partly contextual (I hear what happens to be audible). Frank's example, then, is an instance of the latter -- he experienced the world a particular way because of his proximity to the cat's you-know-what.