Saturday used to be the highlight of the week. A day for simple pleasures, a break from routine – maybe a long walk, a drive, or just a visit to the park. But this past Saturday felt different, heavy. Finishing a project, an afghan in this case, brought an unexpected wave of sadness. It’s strange how completing something can sometimes leave you feeling empty, a bit lost, like you’re missing the process itself.
Yesterday, seeking a change of scenery, I ventured out for a walk. Now, my house and my Cat Pants – well, walking pants, technically – are covered in ticks. Perhaps a silly consequence for seeking solace outdoors. It’s a reminder that even simple escapes can come with unexpected irritations, much like the creative process itself.
To distract myself, I found myself hatewatching abstract artists on YouTube. Initially, I hoped to glean some wisdom on color theory. Turns out, Adobe Color has been far more helpful on that front. But what truly captivated me, and slightly annoyed me, about these artists was their process, or lack thereof in my perception.
One recurring frustration was watching artists take perfectly good, even beautiful, abstract paintings and then seemingly ruin them by adding unnecessary layers. It’s a subjective judgment, of course. Aesthetic disagreements are valid. However, what was missing was articulation. Why keep going? Where is the intention? Without that explanation, it felt like watching someone wander aimlessly in the dark, hoping to stumble upon something interesting by accident.
Then, I stumbled upon a video of a woman working on two decidedly ugly olive green abstract pieces. They were so unattractive they were almost mesmerizing. Yet, as she spoke through her process, explaining her decisions to add more green (even when my instinct screamed “no!”), something shifted. I started to understand her vision, what she found pleasing. It wasn’t about my taste; it was about her intention. Suddenly, it wasn’t hatewatching anymore. It was just watching an artist’s process, even if the outcome wasn’t to my liking. I still didn’t personally appreciate the paintings, but I respected her vision and trusted her process.
This experience highlighted a crucial point: intention. My other pet peeve with many abstract artists online is the apparent conflation of “abstract” with “unintentional.” It’s as if meaning is a failure. But I believe intention is key, even in abstract art. You don’t need to be aiming for profound statements about the human condition. “I’m doing this because it’s fun,” or “because I like the way this color blends with that texture,” is perfectly valid. There needs to be a reason, a driving force, a personal connection. It’s frustrating to watch art that seems to happen purely by chance, devoid of any discernible intention from the creator. Just like choosing to put on cat pants – or any pants for that matter – there should be a reason, even if it’s simply for comfort, for a bit of whimsy, or to avoid ticks on a walk. Intention, even in the seemingly absurd, brings clarity and meaning, in art and in life.
