It’s Wonderful, But Is It Art?

Our perception of art can be like the weather—totally unpredictable and entirely dependent on where you’re standing. Of course, it’s worth noting that everyone, regardless of whether they’ve got a PhD in Art History or think Matisse is a type of pasta, has a reaction to art. Imagine a spectrum: experts are huddled at one end, non-experts loitering at the other, and in between lies a vast expanse of responses to the usual suspects—color, shape, size, and so on. Research suggests that one of the strongest indicators for art appreciation is simply being open to the experience. And while the aesthetic experience of art is a deeply personal journey—one in which emotional response may vary wildly based on your level of expertise—there’s something undeniably universal about the emotional tug of art.

Now, defining art is another matter entirely. We’ve had thousands of years to figure it out, and yet, here we are, still fumbling for a comprehensive definition. So who, exactly, gets to decide what qualifies as art? The jury is perpetually out.

Back in the early '90s, I took a color and composition class with Larry Poons. It wasn’t the course content that hooked me—it was the electric atmosphere, the kind of room where you either developed a thick skin or ended up in tears. Larry’s teaching style was about as gentle as a freight train. He’d say things like, “You should have stopped adding to this painting hours ago. Now you need to put it in the garbage,” or “Don’t try to make it pretty, it’s not a beauty salon.” I, for one, relished his brutal honesty because it made me think. I’d sit near him, absorbing his cynical philosophy on art like a sponge. He once told me that being an artist was akin to getting away with murder, and if someone bought your work, it meant you’d successfully fooled them. “Start another work and fool them again,” he’d say with a wry smile.

But let’s circle back to this idea of the spectrum of art enjoyment. In a world obsessed with equality, the notion of a more accessible art world is undeniably appealing. Yet, it’s the very exclusivity of the art world that keeps so many people at arm’s length, denying them a more integrated appreciation or even a basic openness to the experience. Take music, for example: why is it that no one needs a music theory degree to have an opinion on a song? But when it comes to visual art, people often retreat, feeling that some sort of expertise is required to even form a basic like or dislike. How many times have you heard someone dismiss the possibility of enjoying art with a, “I’m not an art person”? More often than not, what that person really needs isn’t an education, but a willingness to experience it.

Art, much like life, doesn't require a handbook to be appreciated—just an open heart and an open mind. The key lies in the willingness to engage, to allow yourself to be moved, challenged, or even confused by what you encounter. When we strip away the pretensions, the gatekeeping, and the fear of "getting it wrong," what remains is a simple, unadulterated connection between the viewer and the work.