Almost every cartoon I draw arouses comments like this: “I don’t understand. Explain!”
First of all, if the comment sounds like a demand, such as, “Explain yourself!”, then I don’t respond at all.
But, secondly, I often don’t explain even if people ask nicely for me to explain.
Murakami’s reasons in the above quote are part of it.
But I have another reason, and it is this:
When I explain something, it short-circuits its interpretation and maybe even its effect on people. It derails a process.
The fact that an image or any piece of art touches us deeply enough that we want to understand, for me, is a powerful process that is to be nurtured, not terminated with an explanation.
For me, images and other art forms always mean more than we think. An artwork can mean different things to the creator. And even for the observer.
Let me give a few examples from my own life and art.
Years ago we visited the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. We were strolling around the museum looking at all the incredible art. But one painting stopped me in my tracks, Merson’s “Flight to Egypt”. I stood mesmerized in front of that painting for hours. Literally. When everyone finally convinced me it was time to go, I went through the gift shop and bought a print of it. I still have it. I couldn’t fully understand the impact it was having on me at the time, and it still moves me. I think it has something to do with the universality of love, and that its good news shines everywhere, beyond borders.
Take my graphic image, “Narrow Way”. I often get asked, “What does it mean?” The image evokes something in people and they want to understand it. The image just popped into my head one day and I drew it. Without even understanding it myself. Its meaning still unfolds for me. And I have no desire and feel no urgency to fully comprehend it or explain it to anyone.
Or take my Sophia image, “Suspended”. Here, she lies in a hammock high in the tree tops, suspended between two trees. I didn’t realize until months later that one of the trees was dead and the other was alive. I did not consciously draw it that way intentionally. But, there it is! There she is, suspended between life and death. If I had tried to explain it before I realized this, I would have omitted something very essential to the drawing’s meaning and impact.
Or my cartoon this week, “In This Corner!” It received so much reaction from so many people. Many identified with it and appreciated it. But many more criticized it. I didn’t expect the response it got. But apparently, I unintentionally tapped into something very deeply emotional and essential for many people. Including myself! I did, in a TikTok video, give some background to it. But it wasn’t to explain it. It was more to provide some insight into my motivation for drawing it.
I often say, “I paint my feelings.” My newest painting I did for my mom, who just died in December, “Miss You” is a painting of my feelings. I can’t explain it. I don’t want to explain it. If it moves you, I don’t want to explain it because my explanation might dictate how you’re supposed to feel about it. And that would be wrong.
Art moves. Mine moves me first. Then hopefully it moves you.
But the freedom and joy is it moves me how I’m moved, and it moves you how you’re moved.
It’s an emotional experience only I can appreciate as I appreciate it, and an emotional experience only you can appreciate as you appreciate it.
There’s no right or wrong way to be moved by it.
Art makes us feel.
Uniquely.
And I just love that.
