Miklós Almási: Anti-Aesthetics - A Theory of Arts

Hartmann offers the clearest (although the simplest) overview of the ontological structure in the first chapters of his Aesthetics written about objectification. The only way that the intellectual content brought about by the artist can reach the beholder is if it takes the shape of an object. This means that the artwork receives an accomplished, closed object form both in front of its creator and its beholder. Not the process of creation, but its result, the fruit “detached” from the artist that gets named an artwork. (It is a separate question when the artist reaches the moment when she considers her work accomplished. At that moment, it is as if the artwork itself would tell her that every stroke or polishing touch might only make it worse). The moment of the artwork’s total detachment is an incomprehensible “border”. In theory and appearance, the creator might do whatever she wishes with it being her own product, however, even the artwork in process has an objective telos (meaning that even at the moment of the idea the rudiment of the artwork is aiming towards some kind of form). This quasi-objective intention of form, the construction determined by the artwork being conceived, subordinates the artist and this will tie the creator’s hand at the moment of accomplishment. (pp. 21)

Starting from the artist let us stay at our paradox: the author does not write what she has planned, the text forms itself with the help of the author and the result is going to be something different from what the artist wanted. Naturally, the original decision whether to create a sculpture or a novel belongs to the artist. However, once the artwork has been conceived, once the characters are outlined, they have already gained a sort of autonomy, they are parting from the author’s intention and find their own way. A way that the artist has to follow unless she wants to violate her own artwork. Thus, the artwork just being processed prescribes nearly imperatively what should happen to which character and even more what cannot happen to them. Her daimon described this creating duality: although the artist is the creator it still seems as if a stranger inhabiting her soul would tell her what to do and she cannot follow her own fancies, hopes, emotions regarding the career of her characters. Balzac writes in one of his letters that he was unable to sleep after that day’s work, because he “had to kill” one of his favourite characters. Why did he have to? It was him who formed his characters and seemingly he has their fate in his own hands, he might as well find a friendly solution for his favourite. However, Balzac knew that he was unable to do so, the logic of the characters, their relation towards the other characters and the novel’s world both prescribe some way for their heroes that he - as if he was obeying his daimon - must follow if he does not want corrupt the artwork. (The other Greek notion of the creative process is maieutikos, doing a midwife’s job - since the artist only helps the artwork to come into the world, but although the artwork comes from her, she has no power over it).

That is why the artwork is always superior to its creator: gives her orders, guides her hand. In other words: the artist is dependent on her own artwork. “We are the prisoners of what we created”. The artwork is a more complex construction than could be reviewed from the process of creation formed not only by the artist’s conscious work, but also the accompanying intuitive, half-conscious gestures, the impulses of the sensual conscience that is impossible to verbally articulate. These later hide in the complex form of the artwork in a way that maybe the creator herself cannot even recognise them later and cannot account for them either. This is the reason why - let alone some remarkable exceptions - artists are not capable of interpreting their own work. Although they know more about the solution of the technical problems having been raised throughout the process of creation than the official interpreters, they can only roughly review the artwork’s layers of meaning. (That is why poets always perform their poems poorly).

Finally, most of the time the nature of the philosophical-intellectual effect embracing the meaning diverges far from the artists’ interpretation. (It is a widely known fact that Chekhov believed his plays to be comedies and he even got in conflict with Stanislavski’s interpretation who perceived the work as a fusion of tiny tragedies.) Thus, it is no wonder that a good piece of artwork hides its creator - one learns hardly anything about the authors from their masterpieces.

This is an old experience of artistic practice: the novel “is being written”, the painting “is being formed”, although some part of it is born by conscious telos, most of it does so rather in a way like the novel “comes out of the typewriter” or “some yellow should be put over here” - without any discursive explainability, quasi-fortuitously. But seemingly only, since it is all necessary regarding the creative process: rejecting it would only lessen its value. So, the artist’s hand is guided by the objective construction of the artwork if the artist allows it to do so. Occasionally, the result is a surprise for her as well.

Almási Miklós: Anti-esztétika (Szekszárd, 2003, Helikon Kiadó, 21, 28-29.)

Translated by: Bass Judit and Magyary Anna