The Creation of Forms Symbolic of Human Feelings

Philosopher Susanne Langer defines art as “The creation of forms symbolic of human feelings.” (Langer, Susanne K., Feeling and Form: A Theory of Art, (London, Scribners) 1953, pg. 40) As the definition suggests, art is not merely something abstract and private. Rather, art uses form and structure to symbolically reference “human feelings.” Art comes into being when the abstract and private moves beyond potentiality and becomes something concrete and public. Art comes into being when someone has an intention to create something. Art requires intention.

Also, art is not restricted to one form. A variety of forms and structures will contribute to the whole of art. Art will be musical, linguistic, or performative. Art will be representational, realistic, impressionist, expressive, abstract, or surreal. We can never say that this is art and that is not, because, in strictly a formal and structural sense, many words, melodies, objects, and movements will be, can be, and are considered art.

Art, according to Langer, is also symbolic. It is not denotative, but connotative. While art is concerned with that which is good, beautiful, and true, its purpose is not to define, lock down, or restrict any understanding of these. Rather, art wants to suggest, set free, and expand on these ideas. While precision may have a role to play, ultimately, art wants something more not less. Art wants abundance, not scarcity.

Langer’s definition also suggests that the feelings art is symbolic of are the ones common to humanity. There is no article present, modifying “human.” The feelings are the feelings common to us all. It does not matter, for the purpose of art, that you or I each have our own feelings. To be art, the feelings symbolized must be common to humanity. According to Langer, art is not symbolic of a singular human’s feelings, but human feelings.

This is, of course, a bit of a shell game (and highlights the symbolic nature of the form and structure of language) – human feelings are not unique to just one of us. We are not that different. However, in designating a corporate nature to the object, Langer’s definition helps us to further distinguish between art and its systems of symbolic logic.

While a piece of art you might create may arise as a result of your response to a specific person, place, or event, it becomes art when the feelings you are suggesting connect with another human. While the experience of a broken relationship with another person may provide the impetus for the creation of a work of art, the specific elements of that relationship that are reflected in the piece are not themselves the art, but provide the system of symbolic logic from which the art is created.

Given Langer’s definition, when asked, the painter should not say that the painting is about his break-up with a long-time girlfriend. I have never broken up with his longtime girlfriend, and so this subject remains an event that is singular to a person. What would constitute art in this instance is the creation of a painting which symbolically references or suggests the feeling(s) which can arise from a broken relationship, using the system of symbolic logic provided by the artist’s break-up with a longtime girlfriend. Broken relationships are common to humanity and so are the various feelings which spring from them. The painting is art because it symbolizes those feelings; the break-up merely provides the pieces and parts for the artist to do the work.

It’s not that art does not have a logic which it employs. Of course it does. For art to be effective it must, at the least, suggest a system of understanding which a recipient can reference in their engagement with the work. Art cannot be devoid of this symbolic logic. I’m not saying that it is the wisest course of action to include a system for understanding within the art. I am saying that art cannot be created without such systems. Not every piece of art will employ a system that you know or are familiar with, but it will, by its very nature, employ one because each artist is a product of a cultural context. These cultural contexts predicate the artistic “vocabulary” that an artist uses.

In some cases, the artist is mimicking her context, merely offering representations of the world she lives in – simple and straight forward. Other times she is offering an interpretation of a context using the logic allowed by the symbols she employs.

As modern psychology has shown us, often we communicate things we do not mean to communicate and the same is true for the artist. Even though the intention of the artist is to communicate X, a close observation of the ways in which she uses her symbols suggests that she is (without realizing it) trying to communicate Y. This, of course, can also work in reverse, with an interpretation saying more about the recipient of the art than the artist herself. Regardless, in both cases, even though the “art” is found in something beyond a conscious use of systems of symbolic logic, there would be no art without such systems.

To say that art is uncertain and uncontrollable is also not to say that art neglects form and structure. Form and structure are the bedrock upon which art is built. While art is certainly more than the sum of the pieces and parts that make up each work, there is no art without these pieces and parts. True, while the form and structure of art is (in some senses) “manipulated” by the systems of symbolic logic, these systems would be pointless without the them.

And so, while acknowledging these levels of dependency which make up art, it still must be said that art is something more. Art goes beyond form and structure. Art goes beyond systems of symbolic logic. So what constitutes art? No one knows for certain, but what we do know is that art goes beyond the realm of certainty and control into an uncharted place.

The Fear of Art

Most people have what I consider to be an irrational fear of art and creativity. If you were to ask someone if they were an artist, they would flatly and quickly tell you that they were not. They would inform you that, at one point, they tried to paint or draw or take a photograph or sculpt and it had turned out horribly. They would tell you about how they felt like their insides had been exposed and of how they were embarrassed when it was their turn to show off their creations. Even though no one probably actually ridiculed them, they seem to remember how they were the laughing stock of the entire place for that day. And it was because of that that they swore off art and creativity in favor of something more empowering. Rather than giving into that feeling of sensitivity and expression which they were not able to harness, they decided to go the opposite direction and engage areas which reward simple tenacity and mastery over exploration and experimentation. Rather than allowing themselves to be laid bare, they settled for pursuits which allowed them to protect themselves and destroy anything which would seek to overtake them and allow them to seem weak.

This impulse can take on several disguises. It can be the brainiac who spends his time committing an encyclopedia’s worth of knowledge to memory so that he is always armed with the latest and truest facts and figures which cannot be disputed and cannot be ignored. Mastery over his discipline guarantees him protection. He will defeat you, for you cannot dispute him.

Others retreat to physical activity. Whether it is a team sport or an individual hobby, rather than be subjected to the possibility that she could be taken advantage of because of a weakness, this athlete decides to push herself to the point where she is able to bring either her own body or someone else’s under submission.

These disguises have some things in common. Most notably and importantly, they are disguises which presume to control the world around us. In the physical realm, a body is a body. It is no more and no less than what it is, and even the most unobservant human believes that we know more about our bodies than our souls and spirits. We know how to make the body increase and decrease in mass. We know how to make it work better and how to make it suffer. Although we readily admit that we don’t know everything there is to know about our bodies, what most of us learned in health class and PE is sufficient to get us through pretty much all of our lives if we follow it: Eat right, get sufficient sleep, exercise regularly, etc. Our interactions with our bodies are scientific experiments, which we can run and re-run. Even if we are not up to snuff, we can easily figure out what to do. If someone makes fun of us for being overweight, we can lose it. We know how. If we are looked down on for being weak, we can gain strength. We know how.

It is the same with mental disciplines. We have taken Descartes to heart and have bought into the idea that simply because “I think, therefore I am.” Reason, logic, and observable fact are all that matter as we consider our way in this world. We find ourselves in a constant pursuit of the Truth, continually searching for the key to explain and make sense of it all. In other words, we are using the mental faculties we have at our disposal to gain mastery of and control over the world in which we live. We are running not physical, but mental, scientific experiments in the hopes of establishing some certainty – certainty which we hope and pray will alleviate our fears about our life and its living.

But art is not so certain. Art is not so controllable.

We might be comfortable with the use of theology to inform how we live our daily lives, but, when we’re honest, calling our daily “God reflections” theology seems to lower the standard a bit. Theology should not be such a casual affair, a project which even remotely suggests whimsy. Theology is special and revered, not to be taken lightly, and should not be able to be reduced to the everyday living of our lives. Theology is for special times, intentional times. Theology is to be holy and set apart, able to judge the rest of life with a cool objectivity and indifference.

We often find the lack of an exhaustive posture unnerving when we consider the work of theology. We like our theology to be our rule and our guide, and to suggest that it is anything other is insulting. As such, we cannot bear to attached the proper name of “Theology” to anything that has not overturned all rocks or asked all questions. We like our theology to be multiple volumes and perfected. We like it to be cross referenced and precise to a disturbing degree. Frankly, we would be more comfortable to distinguish between “works of theology” and “Theology.”

We also consider theology to be important enough to be done with the long view in mind. If we are going to spend time saying something about God shouldn’t it be something that applies to everyone everywhere? Why should we waste our time unless that is our aim. We like to think of theology as something universal, and the notion that theology is for the purposes of particular times and particular places seems to many of us to be patently absurd.

We also dislike the idea that what we are doing in these particular times and places is merely using the “stuff” of the Christian faith to interpret our experience. Yes, we appreciate that one should know the different pieces and parts well. We like the idea of an engaged relationship with the scriptures of the Old and New Testaments, but to suggest that those are just fodder for the fun game of “Figure Out How the World Works” is an insult. We do not (or should not) use theology as a tool to gain clarity – theology is what brings the clarity. We do not use theology to construct the lens through which we see the world – theology is the lens.

No, we do not like any of these ways of thinking for they change what theology is. If these ways of thinking are allowed to stand, theology becomes a creative, expansive, and expressive project rather than one which seeks to preserve the stability of the Christian sub-culture.

I want to submit that, rather than view theology as a set of boundaries which we dare not cross, we should view it as a “malleable idiom one lives within” which results in “surprise, or the possibility of the unforeseen.” (Carter, J. Kameron, “Esperanza Spalding: For My Money, 2010s Musician of the Year (And Why Theologians Need to Pay Attention)”, http://www.jkameroncarter.com/?p=787) In other words, I would like us to consider that theology is at its best when viewed as a creative, artistic pursuit open to any and all, rather than as a corpus of data to be memorized, collated and organized for the purpose of allowing some to (even if unintentionally) control others.

Theology is not law. Theology is art. To proceed otherwise removes any potency theology ever had.