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Finished art was critiqued in class!
Mar. 29th, 2013 05:25 pmIt was an interesting experience. First, though, photos.
( cut for PHOTOS~! )
My piece was the second to be talked about. I put my title next to it and shut up while people talked about my work. Which was one of the weirder experiences I've had lately.
People seemed to understand it, which was awesome. They also thought it was kind of creepy, which, well, happens. They read it as creepier than I had, but their understanding made sense. They read in things like torture, leeching the life out of something, beauty torn and caged.
All of which were things that I had meant, but building it.... I had seen the implications distantly, sterile and tame in my hands. Which is part of why I write and part of why I build such creepy fucking thing sometimes - to take control of the things in my head, to make them into something safe. (The rest of the time it's because I think whatever it is looks cool.) But at the same time....
It was kind of a...magical thing, really. People looking at this thing I had made and making their own meaning - not finding it, not reading it like it was a message in code. They constructed it themselves, using the pieces of plaster and wire that I had made and using them as a jumping off point for something fascinating, in directions I had never imagined.
Apparently from the right angle, the top piece looks like the torso of a woman. Which changes the piece into a much more interesting one than I had aimed for. It's like fanfiction - honoring the original, and doing so by using it to make something new.
I think I might have stumbled onto a part of what makes art beautiful, what makes it important - the idea that it's not something you view, it's something that is made every time it's viewed. The viewer and the artist working in sequence to make something the world has never seen before, meaning created anew in every reaction of person to person.
( cut for PHOTOS~! )
My piece was the second to be talked about. I put my title next to it and shut up while people talked about my work. Which was one of the weirder experiences I've had lately.
People seemed to understand it, which was awesome. They also thought it was kind of creepy, which, well, happens. They read it as creepier than I had, but their understanding made sense. They read in things like torture, leeching the life out of something, beauty torn and caged.
All of which were things that I had meant, but building it.... I had seen the implications distantly, sterile and tame in my hands. Which is part of why I write and part of why I build such creepy fucking thing sometimes - to take control of the things in my head, to make them into something safe. (The rest of the time it's because I think whatever it is looks cool.) But at the same time....
It was kind of a...magical thing, really. People looking at this thing I had made and making their own meaning - not finding it, not reading it like it was a message in code. They constructed it themselves, using the pieces of plaster and wire that I had made and using them as a jumping off point for something fascinating, in directions I had never imagined.
Apparently from the right angle, the top piece looks like the torso of a woman. Which changes the piece into a much more interesting one than I had aimed for. It's like fanfiction - honoring the original, and doing so by using it to make something new.
I think I might have stumbled onto a part of what makes art beautiful, what makes it important - the idea that it's not something you view, it's something that is made every time it's viewed. The viewer and the artist working in sequence to make something the world has never seen before, meaning created anew in every reaction of person to person.
