Western art since the Renaissance values the development of a unique way of seeing. This is something that evolves naturally over time. Awareness leads to more awareness. Spiritual connectedness in art encourages empathy and insight. By discovering the elements both essential and inherent to the subject each composition develops its own independent life and voice. Simplicity sometimes increases the strength of expression. There are associations, and consequences, with each aesthetic decision.

The ocean resonates for us on an unconscious level that is inborn and instinctive. We respond to the colour of the water and the infinite variations of mood and movement. The volume of air moving in and out of the lungs with each breath is termed the tidal volume. Maybe the movement of the water is like the breathe of the mother - some sort of womb memory. We gravitate towards the water when we are looking for calm and introspection. Perhaps the rhythm and cyclic flow of the water induces something approaching a meditative state. Maybe it’s because it shows us our relative insignificance and yet also our interconnectedness within a vast system. Whatever it is, the ocean is endlessly fascinating.

Knowledge, and building on the lessons of the past, enhances artistic development. Creative thought seems to require an awareness of, and attentiveness to, the ideas of others. This scaffold of knowledge enables the artist to define his or her own particular philosophical premise. This may give art what Kandinsky described as ‘… an awakening prophetic power.’

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Critical thought and discussion appear to be devalued in current times. Governments slash university funding. Scientists are discouraged from following pure science and funds are tied to projects with immediate commercial potential. Yet thoughts are powerful. An individual’s thoughts may prevent them from acting in their own best interests, or the interests of others. Distorted thoughts and perceptions may result from our failure to be open to the reality of what we see and experience. Art can encourage this confrontation with - and acceptance of – reality, for both the artist and the observer. Creating an artwork requires a certain oneness, or kinship, with the subject matter. The artist must be open to all possible impressions – every scent and nuance.

Extract: It was a beautiful Void. It had its own life and movement. It’s own pace and possibilities. It shimmered and glistened. It listened and felt.
‘Can you tell me what I’m doing here? How I got here?’ Frank asked. He stirred the blue with his fingertip and it rippled into life in a kaleidoscope of colour.
‘Think of it as a natural and logical consequence of your behaviour.’
‘How so?’
‘It’s not arbitrary or capricious. You brought this about yourself.’
‘So you’re saying it’s my fault then?’
‘It’s not a matter of fault. It’s more … the pressure of reality.’ His companion started to melt into the shimmering blue. ’I’m afraid I’ve got to go.’
‘When will you be back? How will I know I’m here if I’ve got no one to talk to?’ Frank shrieked. Suddenly, cleanly, bloodlessly, his limbs detached from his body. His torso suspended, his arms and legs spun gently, rhythmically. He rested on nothingness.

Setting limits or parameters within which to work enables a concentration of energies. Even within set limits the infinite variety of possible images can be overwhelming. Though the work may be intensely personal it may also resonate in a more universal way. What is essentially a two dimensional flat plane covered with colour, line, shapes and textures may become another means of communication. A line or shape may suggest motion or kinetic energy. A flat solid area of colour may be used as contrast to anchor a composition. A colour may evoke certain emotions. It forms a sort of visual vocabulary.

Ideas can be beautiful. Scientific theories can be neat and intriguing. They can inspire you with a sense of their rightness or fitness. Einstein would only follow a line of thought or a theory in which he saw some intrinsic beauty. I can see why conceptual art exists. If the idea is wonderful then the idea can be more important than the object at the end of the process. The problem lies in relying solely on an idea that is pretentious or trite. An idea needs to mean something to more than one person – the artist. Pretentious ideas combined with a lack of basic artistic skill lead to mediocrity. This in turn gives conceptual art a bad name. I think art sometimes requires that you reach a point where you no longer consciously understand what you are doing – whether in formulating an original idea or a visual image. Our mind seems capable of doing more than we realise when we let instinct rule over experience.

I can’t understand why people keep bombing cities to rubble, then wondering why those left alive don’t like them and might harbour a grudge. It’s not exactly creative problem solving. Some of the language used to describe these actions is particularly offensive - smart bombs causing collateral damage. There’s no such thing as a smart bomb – improved guidance system notwithstanding - and you can’t legitimise the deaths of innocent civilians with a bland phrase.

Cézanne noted that, “Colour is the place where our mind and the universe meet.” I think this can also be true of line, but our reaction to colour is immediate and visceral. The surface reality of the subject matter is only a beginning point. A spiritual perspective requires a deeper level of perception.

Disclaimer: In expressing these opinions I reserve the right to change my mind frequently, speak nonsense occasionally and to be often wrong.

Why you like or dislike a painting may be difficult to articulate. A particular combination of colours and shapes may be pleasing – just because it is. The creation comes before the explanation. Pictures come first and words later. As Kandinsky puts it, “… the content of painting is painting. Nothing has to be deciphered. The content, filled with happiness, speaks for itself.”