It’s the rebellious artist who rejects form. It’s the rebellious artist who asks, “Why do we need rules?” It’s the rebellious artist who believes that boundless freedom can be the catalyst for countless avenues for creativity to flow.
What makes an image not a complex mess is what it specifically means. A white canvas remaining as such, or a splatter of paint against one can mean anything. If art can mean anything, it will risk meaning nothing. Because if art were specific, it would reflect reality. And if art reflects reality, it belongs to life’s depictions.
A person who is caught in a life crisis has lost their form, their path, as they feel lost. If they continue themselves like this, their darkness could become all-consuming. In relation to art in the abstract, this person’s direction is no longer specific. It has become abstract. They didn’t end up this way because they wanted to be free. They ended up this way because they lost where they were. What’s more is that they might justify what they’re doing that’s harming themselves in the same way that an abstract artist justifies the harm dealt to the art world because of their argument for “boundless freedom”.
For the sake of form, meaning becomes specific. In this way, it is no longer deceitful. Deceit can take on an infinite number of forms. The term “any” belongs to the words “anyone”, “anywhere”, or “anything”. A person, place, or a thing; a noun, as it were, making a lie a shapeshifting part of anyone’s life. While lies are always there, they needn’t be the identity of either the person or what someone creates. Should a professor allow their students to use any source for a research paper? Should someone look on unverified websites, those that anyone might be running, to receive medication that’s cheaper than at the pharmacy? One invites deception into both scenarios should, again, “boundless freedom” be the objective.
It’s those who stuck with the herd, followed the rules at first, before breaking off to do their own thing who have become the best artists the world’s known. It’s those who once dealt with a traumatic event who didn’t reject therapy or other proven methods for healthily coping who ended up gaining back the best parts of themselves and living with greater strength. It’s those who learned from the best before living on their own who were able to carve out their form and not end up hitting repeated brick walls through rebellion for its own sake.
If art doesn’t depict life’s meanings, then the meaning that art shows to its viewers and listeners is a deceitful kind. It can be anything, or anyone, or come from anywhere, and then there’s nothing to take from it. Is there ever something specific to appreciate from seeing a person caught in a downhill spiral because of persistent destructive lifestyles? Or is there something specific to both appreciate and gain inspiration from out of the stories of those who regained their form because they followed the same from others when they had to? Life repeating its success stories is not wholly individual. It’s a cycle of learning from what worked countless times before.
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