The special section on art in this issue of THE WORLD & I raises anew the question of whether gigantic Campbell's soup cans, scattered objects thrown into a container, or the covering of a mountain with cellophane are truly works of art. Perhaps the endless and restless quest for novelty contributes to the often desperate experimentation in the field of art.
It is not clear that a definition can capture the concept of art, but I shall attempt to convey what art means to me. Art is a form of communication. But it is not the essential function of art to communicate literal information. Even if a work of art happens to incorporate literal information, the function of art is to stimulate attitudes and perceptions. Because the capacity of art to evoke these responses is dependent upon, but may differ with, the preconceptions of each individual, even the greatest works of art cannot be universal.
Despite the fact that the factors making for variability cannot be denied, the concept of universality still points to a truth concerning great art. Although culture and individual experience, which can change radically with time and space, are too diverse for universality, the greatest art resonates across many frames of reference, varied cultures, and diverse peoples.
The artist's skill also is a basic requisite. A sunset may be beautiful and it may invoke significant perceptions and responses. But it is not a work of art. It is the skill of the artist that makes something a "work" of art. If some would consider the objects I throw into container indistinguishable from those displays shown in a museum, the museum may not be showing a work of art. Such displays can invoke meaning and sentiment, and may demonstrate originality and insight. However, they, like the sunset, result more from natural phenomena than from an artist's skill.
When I saw Picasso's Mother and Child, from the Blue Period, the sheltering slope of the mother's shoulder projected a great feeling of love, warmth, and protection. The ability to use a few lines to convey deep sentiments is rare. Robert Flaherty's Louisiana Story is a simple documentary film that portrays the leisurely boat trip of a boy, his grandfather, and his dog through the Louisiana bayous. I did not realize how strongly it had affected me until I strolled up Broadway after the movie and became aware that I was noticing shapes and lights and shadows in new ways. Robert Flaherty's mastery of his medium had a powerful effect on this viewer.
Some suggest that great art should be thought of as art that invokes meaning and sentiment in both the sophisticated and the relatively unsophisticated. The layman can enjoy and appreciate Beethoven's Fifth Symphony, but not in the same way as can a professional musician who understands the composition in-depth. Beethoven's Fifth is also accessible to children, but its appeal to them is at a more direct level. To make a visual comparison, the comic strip Prince Valiant is brilliantly drawn, but it does not convey deep meaning or evoke sentiment. Pogo, on the other hand, was skillfully drawn but it did have deeper meanings and provoked deeper responses. Pogo is accessible to many who might not appreciate Beethoven. Both Prince Valiant and Pogo can be called art, but neither would be in the category of great art.
Jazz, rock, and blues also are art forms.
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