Approbation by others is never part of my intent in art. Validation
of it comes from my inner being, it tells me it's done. I love
every work when I finish, knowing It may not be forever. I feel taste
was never meant to be a science.
Some of my work that i don't like any more is liked by people that I
respect and vise versa. Yet I respect all my work,
because it was made by the being that I was, then, a probable reason
why some people keep buying my work.
I've always felt like you felt that same way.
mando
On Aug 30, 2008, at 5:29 PM, William Conger wrote:
How you you know that what you like about your design is the
implication that it will be well received by those whom you
respect...and might provoke those you don't? In other words, are
our art intentions really our own or are they collectively fostered
by others from whom we want approbation? It's fine by me if
intentions are not our own. I think artists must have intentions
to be motivated to do their work and to guide its completion but I
don't think intentions can validate or invalidate the work as art.
Thus I think intentions are necessary but not sufficient.
WC
--- On Sat, 8/30/08, armando baeza <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote:
From: armando baeza <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>
Subject: Re: "Meaning" is always in a mind, never in an object.
To: [email protected]
Cc: "armando baeza" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>
Date: Saturday, August 30, 2008, 7:19 PM
When I finally arrive at a design that I'm excited
about, my intent
is finished. What others sense, is irrelevant to me.
So where does the truth lie?
mando
On Aug 30, 2008, at 3:25 PM, William Conger wrote:
Robert Frank's photos and films are known
precisely because they
convey a raw, unadorned view of how people
unintentionally manifest
their social habits and styles. Which is to say he
achieves what he
set out to do. His disclaimers are honorific. Besides
we can never
assume that what the artist (author) says about
intentionality is
true. See The Intentional Fallacy.
WC
--- On Sat, 8/30/08, joseph berg
<[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote:
From: joseph berg <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>
Subject: Re: "Meaning" is always in a
mind, never in an object.
To: [email protected]
Date: Saturday, August 30, 2008, 5:01 PM
- My photographs are not planned or composed in
advance, and
I do not
anticipate that the onlooker will share my
viewpoint.
However, I feel that
if my photograph leaves an image on his mind,
something has
been
accomplished.
Robert Frank
On Sun, Aug 24, 2008 at 10:25 AM,
<[EMAIL PROTECTED]>
wrote:
"Meaning" is always in a mind, never
in an
object.
Whenever we look upon (or hear, or taste, or
smell, or
even palp) an
object,
the sense data each mind receives is more or
less
different from the next
mind's receipt, and each mind then
"processes" it differently.
The processing is largely a matter of
associating the
immediate sensations
with other notion already stored in memory.
That
inventory of memories,
plus the
intricacies of our associating apparatus,
result in
new notion that can be
of
wide variation from mind to mind -- variation
and
degree of "recognition".
If confronted by an elaborate mathematical
formula,
many of us can go no
further than perhaps "recognizing"
it as a
mathematical formula, while a
mathematician's mind goes bounding on to
all sorts
of new notion. When
confronted with
a scription in a foreign alphabet, many of us
may
think, "Well, it's
eastern
Asian," -- and be wrong because it turns
out to
be ancient African or
something.
What most of us have in mind when we talk of
an
object's "meaning" is
solely
in our heads, a somewhat
"recognizable"
notion. Thus when confronted with a
scription we are told is Attic Greek, we may
say with
a chortle, "It's all
Greek
to me!" Or, more seriously, "Well
it's
meaningless to me." When we say
that,
what we have in mind is the fact that our
associating
mind has not come up
with notion that we can "get a grip
on",
grasp, recognize to some degree.
And that's where our lingo begins to
mislead us.
We commence saying it's
the
scription -- or poem, or painting, or strange
sound --
that is with or
without
meaning.
If a scholarly woodsman sees elaborate
markings on a
tree, he may wonder
what
"their meaning" is. If the markings
turn out
to be the clawings of a bear,
he
may say, "Ah! So they're
meaningless."
But a second woodsman may demur:
"Oh,
no. The markings mean a lot. The only a bear
does that
is when..." And
their
