Intentionalism: Abstract Art

Intentionalism is the idea that an artist's intentions determine the meaning of a work of art, not necessarily the content or subject of the work (sometimes it is or can be relevant). It can also refer to the theory that all mental states are intentional, meaning they are about something. This theory is also known as "representationalism." In psychology, intentionalism is a synonym for act psychology.

What does all of this mean in relation to abstract art? For me, it means that art created with intention and with some direction is difficult to make successfully. And it is even more difficult to communicate those ideas to an audience. There’s a book called "Why Your Five-Year-Old Could Not Have Done That: Modern Art Explained" by Susie Hodge. I thought it might be a good read on the topic, but it turns out that she doesn't really defend "intentionalism" very well. There are no deep explanations for the theory and ideas behind modern abstract work. It was a bit disappointing to me and doesn’t really do justice to abstract art, or even art in general.

“The aim of art is to represent not the outward appearance of things but their inward significance.”

— Aristotle

Addressing this topic poses significant challenges as it is filled with subjective opinions, preferences, and various perspectives. It stands in stark contrast to the objective nature of science, which is one reason I love science as much as art. Many contemporary artworks are challenging to advocate for (or defend), with a majority being seen as unoriginal, lacking depth, and artificial in their conception. We have become very shallow in a lot of ways in our culture; this includes making art. I suppose what I’m saying is that a lot of work done today lacks intention.

I have a deep appreciation for painting because it provides a unique avenue for expressing my intentions within a picture, whether implicitly or explicitly. While photography allows for a degree of expression, it doesn't offer the same level of freedom that painting does. This artistic medium has been a source of liberation for me over the past few years. Painting has unlocked numerous avenues for conveying my thoughts and theories in ways that photography couldn't achieve. I believe that combining paintings and photographs will create a compelling and lucid exploration of where I discover the most impactful expressions related to existential terror.

“Yellow Stacked Stones,” 3.75” x 5” acrylic and charcoal on paper.

How does one make “original and interesting work”? Can it even be done? I’m making paintings every day—no master pieces, that’s for sure—but it makes me wonder about all of the people doing the same thing that I am. And even more photographers are making photographs every day. It drives me mad sometimes to think about these things, but at the same time, I’m fascinated by the question. How many “artists” can really defend their work in an honest and authentic way? Moreover, how much work out there is interesting or intriguing? For me, not much. Some would say that includes my own work. That’s okay; I get it, but I can defend what I’m doing; whether or not the viewer understands or likes my intention is another question all together.

The answer to the question, at least for me, is that it doesn’t matter. It’s irrelevant to me because I’m not trying to sell anything, I’m not trying to gain fame or popularity, and I’m not after exhibitions and gallery representation. Take all of those things away, and you’re left with a personal drive for expression. That’s my goal, or objective.

One thing I do desire and would like to have come from my work is a better understanding of the theories I’m working on: death anxiety, the denial of death, and terror management theory. That would be my main goal for the photographs, paintings, and writing. If someone could come to the work and walk away with some understanding of the importance of how humans cope with the awareness of their own death, that would be a wonderful reward for my efforts. Far better than money, fame, recognition, awards, etc.

“Fish No. 6,” 3.75” x 5” acrylic and charcoal on paper.

Understanding the Relationship Between Words and Pictures

There are some people who believe you don’t need any words or explanations (context) with art. Period. I understand that, at least to a certain extent. However, that statement lacks context, to put it mildly. It’s too broad of a statement to include all art.

I would argue that it depends on your goal and who your audience is, or who you want to see the work and who speaks your language (creative language). If you want to make pictures and say nothing, simply post them, publish them, or exhibit them, you can. You’re allowing the audience to interpret or create a narrative for the work. Remember, text taken out of context is pretext. In other words, people will make up context for your work or ignore it completely. Imagine trying to read a book or watch a movie with no plot, no beginning, middle, or end. No story. In my opinion, few people would be interested in that kind of material unless it was connected to a larger concept in some meaningful way.

I believe all artists (and humans in general) are storytellers at their core. We create stories, or illusions, to explain our lives, to make sense of them, and primarily to repress our existential dread. We need to tell stories; they make us human (Homo sapiens). Artists are acutely aware of this need. They pursue it with purpose and meaning, trying to squeeze everything out of life that they can. Expressing their greatest fears, their biggest questions, and their greatest joy and love of beauty.

“An Eruption from Quartz-Detail,” May 10, 2023, 10” x 10” (25,4 x 25.4 cm) (Made in camera, no negative) RA-4 Reversal Color Direct Print. I’m using 19th-century Petzval lenses to make these images. Thinking about death evokes a flood of dread and terror for most people. Death awareness seems antithetical to our existence. Humans have evolved psychologically to repress death awareness and embrace their cultural illusions.

There is no “rule” or set way to tell a story. You can drizzle and drip paint on a canvas, or even paint a canvas black or white and reveal or tell a story. You can make abstract, blurry pictures or shape clay into some abstract form. It’s about context. It comes down to your narrative and your audience. All art is not for everyone—it’s never “one size fits all.” It’s a language as unique as spoken and written languages. If your “art” is appealing to the masses, it’s probably some form of “commercial art” consumable by most everyone. This essay is about personal, fine art work.

The artist has a specific audience that will understand and appreciate the art. Some audiences understand and appreciate documentary work. This is probably more of a stretch than most would make, but I think of Diane Arbus, Richard Avedon, Mary Ellen Mark, and many more who worked in the blurry (no pun) area between art and documentary work. No one, at least I think no one, would argue their pictures are art; they tell a story and are powerful pieces of work. And then there are artists like Jackson Pollock or Mark Rothko who demand more interpretation and investigation. Pollock’s work is about the paint itself and his movement. We’re used to seeing paint represent something, but Pollock challenges us with his work. Rothko believed that his paintings could communicate a spiritual or emotional experience to the viewer, and he often titled his works with evocative, poetic titles that suggested a deeper meaning beyond the surface of the canvas. Many of his paintings are untitled, however, leaving the interpretation up to the viewer. His paintings are a powerful exploration of color, form, and emotion, and they continue to captivate and inspire viewers today. These artists are on the other end of the spectrum of what I’m talking about, but they still adhere to my thesis. Most people won’t spend time with work like theirs; it’s too abstract, and the viewer feels they have no context for the work, which is true. In reality, the viewer isn’t equipped to appreciate or understand the work. Part of it is interest in the work, and the other part is education. Learning their language so you can appreciate their work is a big part of it. Like I said, art consists of as many languages as there are artists. Not everyone speaks that many languages.

“Fireworks in Red and Yellow,” May 10, 2023, 10” x 10” (25,4 x 25.4 cm) (Made in camera, no negative) RA-4 Reversal Color Direct Print. I’m using 19th-century Petzval lenses to make these images. Awareness of death has such a pervasive influence on our lives. Most people rarely think about their deaths. They embrace their culture, bolster their self-esteem, and numb themselves to life’s reality: death.