There’s a lot written about how an artist should know when to stop working on his artworks and there are horrible examples of overdone pieces in art history. Yet what critics often forget is that art is rarely a rational, controlled experience.
Art is play.
I know many will disagree, especially those who are trained to value art with money. They always inject a certain seriousness in the concept, overestimate artistic effort and overemphasize the technique or the scarcity of the materials.
And then there are others who have been taught that art is a dramatic reflection of reality, a form of cathartic confession squeezed out of a mental struggle, unhappiness, loss and pain.
Those concepts are all related to artistic expression but they aren’t fundamental. In fact, they are often a distraction, especially when they are “curated” in the artist’s mind by outside pressure – critics, prejudices, expectations of the public.
Behind the curtain of all those distractions, art is, and will remain, a play. And even the most cerebral artistic effort will contain a grain of this charmingly childish joie de vivre, tucked in like a nucleus that makes ideas stick and pile up around it.
This is a result of me playing.