I saw this bird sitting on a wire, for a while it was just staring at the clouds and the colours, well…it was pointing in that direction. I wonder what this bird sees, does it feel joy? Yesterday I wrote about art and what kind of art I like; I don’t know if I said it yesterday but, I cannot say in all honesty why I like something. I can think of all kinds of reasons but I am pretty sure that the split-second it takes the visual information from my eyes to go to the brain and from there to ooze into my consciousness, the feeling of bliss is already there to feel. Somewhere between what happens in my brain and the route to consciousness a detour is made to my happy center, or the room opposite of that door.
I think that some animals can also enjoy a nice sunset like we do. I think that they have that “happy center” also in the brain , it’s something we probably share with a common ancestor from millions of years ago, they just miss the part that can reason and talk. Because they never express those feelings with a lot of abundance like we do, and we do it already for at least 200 000 thousand years, so we have developed a lot of muscles in our face just to enhance what we feel and talk about. Animals just look at it seemingly emotionless, but I think that they enjoy it to.
I am not sure off course; I made this whole story up while writing and looking at the picture of the lonely bird. But I know that the reasons I give for why I like certain art pieces and dislike others are just placeholders for “I don’t know”. I can sum up similarities between all the pictures that I like and call that the reason why I like it, but that doesn’t feel right. I like realistic art but there are now artists that paint photo realistic and if I see that I think: “that’s no art, that’s just a really cool skill”, things that are made to good or beautiful are just ugly (for me). They are “ugly” because they don’t represent anything, maybe a thrive to perfection, and a thrive to perfection leads to…
Most people like looking at the sky, during the day or when the sun goes down or like we do here in the north of Norway, to see if there is Norther light. I been thinking now for a while about this and I don’t know why I like the beauty of a sunset or the darkness of thunderclouds. I can sum up what I see and use the words I have to my disposal to put letters together that form words, that have their own interpretation to describe what I feel. See, words are a useful tool but how can you describe a feeling with it, you always have to look past the words. That’s why we all like art, you can look at it, listen to it, taste it and without any words we just enjoy it, no reason. That’s also why we have excluded the artists for thousands of years from the workforce, even the caveman already knew that those crude hand drawings were worth more than some extra meat on the table above the fire.
Art … wishes to convince us of the eternal joy of existence: only we are to seek this joy not in phenomena, but behind them. We are to recognise that all that comes into being must be ready for a sorrowful end; we are forced to look into the terrors of the individual existence – yet we are not to become rigid with fear: a metaphysical comfort tears us momentarily from the bustle of transforming figures.