In the face of a great work of art, we so often stand mute, struck dumb. Is this a function―perhaps the first and foremost―of aesthetic experience? Or do we lack the words to say what we feel? Countering current assumptions that art is valued only according to taste or ideology, Peter de Bolla gives a voice―and vocabulary―to the wonder art can inspire. Working toward a better understanding of what it is to be profoundly moved by a work of art, he forces us to reconsider the importance of art works and the singular nature and value of our experience of them.
In many ways a "practical aesthetics," Art Matters proceeds by way of example. Through chapters attending to three works of art―Barnett Newman's painting Vir Heroicus Sublimis , pianist Glenn Gould's second recording of Bach's Goldberg Variations , and William Wordsworth's poem "We Are Seven" ―de Bolla plots a personal history of aesthetic experience that opens up the general forms of art appreciation. His book invites us to a closer encounter with art, and to a deeper appreciation and clearer expression of what such an encounter might hold.
Can't recommend this brilliant book highly enough. Wasn't entirely sure about the Glenn Gould chapter, but the ones on Barnett Newman and Wordsworth were really, really strong.
De Bolla articulates so many important ways to describe the affective experience of perceiving and experiencing a work of art. As well as the three chapters dealing with three exempla from visual and literary art, which are closely read with truly beautiful and passionate prose, this mini collection is bookended (literally) by theoretical grounding in what De Bolla means when he says “Art Matters”. The concept of mutism, that is “being struck dumb” by a work of art, is later artfully circumvented by him as he finds a vocabulary for vocalising (or at least transcribing on the page) wonder. He says his task is to “arrive at a better understanding of what it is to be profoundly moved by a work of art” and he largely, if not wholly, succeeds. I had no idea that “aesthetic” came from the Greek for “sense perception”; an artwork, for De Bolla, is simply “that which gives rise to an affective response”. Though he does often concentrate on the formal qualities of the artworks he takes as his exempla, he is more interested in how they make him feel, what they make him believe to be their internal qualities, like serenity, equanimity. De Bolla’s prose shimmers with slightly pretentious but gorgeous words from foreign languages and various discourses; words like aperçu (a brief survey or sketch/outline) and thaumatology (wonderworking/study of performing miracles) are peppered throughout. I admire his effort to sensitively qualify his expressive language, however, until he gets closer to the precise word he means. I loved his concluding remarks about the risks we take when we make the effort to open ourselves up to a text, particularly “the possibility of being changed through an aesthetic experience”. Part of what makes us reluctant to have profound encounters with art is our awareness of the depths and ways of knowing the world which they contain. The way he describes the aesthetic experience as both subjective and objective, caught between our individual encounter and the “habitation of a shared knowing” is absolutely persuasive.
De Bolla's use of rich language can be enjoyable and meaningful at times, but it is not enough to distract one from the verbose, meandering nature of the book. Interesting observations are made, but they are not made clearly or succinctly. Often they are surrounded by lengthy asides and observations about art or experience that seem unnecessary. Although, perhaps it is only my unfamiliarity with art criticism or my familiarity with analytical philosophy that leads me to dislike De Bolla's approach and language. At the very least, I did gain some valuable insights into the life of the artists discussed and was exposed to some new artworks.