September 2010
It is a common observation that many people cannot endure artworks that provoke tears or sadness in general. After all, let's not forget. In Greece, when we suddenly heard classical music from a radio, we immediately thought that someone important had died. This reaction is similar to how folk songs brought to mind the horror of a coup.
Contrarily, with a dose of intentional pedagogical exaggeration, I would argue that a work of art, especially if it is significant and valuable, cannot induce sadness. Art exclusively generates joy. Otherwise, it is not art.
What people perceive as the content of art, and consequently blame for their sadness, is usually the theme. And indeed, art often deals with themes considered sorrowful because they hold the greatest interest and play the most significant role in our lives. However, the artist's role is not to recognize and proclaim life's tragic aspect, the inexplicable scandal of death, or the world's chaos. Instead, these elements are the essential motivation for trying to represent their opposites or what may lie behind them. For an artist, a bleak, dead-end reality is also the ultimate artistic impasse. Similarly, an overly rosy reality would deprive them of any reason to create. The artist's belief that life's tragic aspect has another side fuels their work, which inevitably tends toward a positive outcome. Otherwise, it would not be creation but ruins. Even when dealing with ruins, an artist portrays them as monuments.
The recipient of the work would indeed have no reason to seek engagement with a work that would break down their defenses and highlight life's dead ends and miseries. It would be better to escape into the imaginary world of commercial entertainment, which at least offers a temporary illusion of happiness. However, they seek art because it can reveal the charm and beauty beneath the world's apparent chaos and convince them that unhappiness is necessary for happiness, and ugliness for beauty.
Moreover, the joy elicited by art is also related to the creator's existence and presence behind it. It arises in the recipient's soul because there is someone who can see and depict the world in such a way.
As for the tears that almost inevitably accompany engagement with a significant work of art, they are tears of joy, signifying genuine emotion and gratitude. After all, what other way do we, as humans, have to express our emotions profoundly and substantially, both mentally and physically, if not through tears?
In art, death is always a hymn to life, and the sorrow of love in art only signifies its value for our lives. The slow part of music does not signify sadness, while the fast part seems to highlight joy. Their juxtaposition causes the emotion. The black in painting is not the abyss of our lives but the path to understanding light.
Perhaps better than anyone has defined the joy of art and creation is one of the great painters of the twentieth century, Francis Bacon, who was surprised when a critic described his works as mournful and harsh. "How is that possible," he protested, "when I am optimistic?" "And why are you optimistic?" asked his puzzled interlocutor. The great painter, who had suffered like no other in his life, disarmingly replied with a broad smile: "I am deeply optimistic about nothing."
Plato Rivellis