Once in a while, and rarely so, along comes a post that makes perfect meaning.
It is almost as if you could have said it – but didn’t. Perhaps the words didn’t come to you, perhaps the idea didn’t de-cloud itself. You know, however, what was to be expressed.
I had some time ago, talked about the ways of seeing. I had posted a picture, eliciting responses. I followed it up by my complaint, so to speak, about the problem of identifying art with the artist’s life; our incapability to see art in its own right, devoid of the artist. Not to undermine the artist, but to overwhelm an artwork with the life and times of an artist is to impose a possibly incorrect context to the artwork.
I used many references to make my point, however, I couldn’t present the background of why I felt so.
I have discovered a splendid post, by the first person to comment on Gaizabonts, this year.
It is, perhaps, the missing prologue to Ways of Seeing.