In the Middle

By Teong Eng Tan

The French philosopher Gilles Deleuze remarked in his book Negotiations that ‘things and thoughts advance or grow out from the middle, and that’s where you have to get to work, that’s where everything unfolds’. This prompts the question, How does an artist get to work in the middle of a process that is continuously becoming? The thesis is an unfolding narrative of the author’s attempt to experientially answer the question by way of an art practice, leading to an examination of the issue of freedom—freedom from attachments and freedom to create new possibilities for all. The thesis offers a view that art practice, exploring ways to break free from the bondage of the mind, moments of freedom from oneself, is spiritual practice, is life practice.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Apr 30, 2016
• ISBN: 9781514494837

Teong Eng Tan

Teong studied Graphic Design in South Australian School of Art, University of South Australia. He then joined Macquarie University, New South Wales in 1975. From 1975-99 he completed his BA in philosophy while working as Chief Designer, Centre for Advancement of Teaching and later at the university’s Centre for Flexible Learning. He retired from Macquarie University in 1999. He then spent four vital years in the Advanced Creative Fine Arts programme at Sydney Gallery School, Meadowbank TAFE, New South Wales. Between 2006 and 2012 he completed his MVA (Master of Visual Arts) and PhD at Sydney College of the Arts, University of Sydney, New South Wales. He is now a full-time painter.

Book preview

Copyright © 2016 by Teong Eng Tan. 739976

ISBN:   EBook   978-1-5144-9483-7

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Rev. date: 04/29/2016

Xlibris

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

CONTENTS

ABSTRACT

PREFACE

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Introduction In The Middle

The Spiritual

PART I BECOMING … MIDDLE … MEANWHILE

Chapter 1 Where Is Art?

Art As Imitation

Art As Expression

Art As Significant Form

An Institutional Definition Of Work Of Art

Where Is Art?

Convergent And Divergent Problems

Chapter 2 Becoming And Indeterminacy

The Wing Of Certainty

The Wing Of Uncertainty

Becoming

Collaboration

Related Sources

Becoming Or ‘Passaging’

Chapter 3 Why Art?

The Art Quest

A Narrative

Assumptions For Testing

A Self-Interview

PART II PROCESS … EXPERIENCE … PRACTICE

Chapter 4 From The Other Side

Lines And Boundaries

Inner Creative Process

Listening, Thinking, And Responding With Others

Subjective And Inter-Subjective Experiences

Chapter 5 Practising Kosmos…In The Middle… Cosmos

Metaphor

Travelling Companions

Being Process

The Anarchist

Structure

Working Principle

Daily Encounters Studios • Methods • Paintings

In Conversation With …

Daily Encounters

CONCLUSION

Still The Middle

Know Thyself

Decision-Action

Freedom From Oneself

Logical Systems

Two Traditions

How Did I Get Here?

Action Painting

Awake

Process

A View Offered

Next

APPENDICES

ILLUSTRATIONS/PAINTINGS

Figure 1. Part of the visual journey between 2005 and 2007.

Figure 2. Quality Track.

Figure 3. Disattachment: adapted from the notion of the term offered by Cafh.

Holon 5 - Layer 7 150 x 200 cm, oil on canvas

MVA Paintings

Clusters # 1–4 August 2005 to January 2006 Oil on canvas 90 x 396 cm

Journey, Trips and Clusters

Cluster #9 2006 Oil on canvas 162 x 200 cm

Cluster #1 August 2005 Oil on canvas 70 x 120 cm

Horizon Series

Collaboration and Dialogue

‘Private Space Gallery’ (2007)

Recently (2011)

Cloud and Holon Series

The rock and sand garden at Ryoan-ji, Kyoto

Sands of Ryoanji #1 2013 150 x 200 cm Oil on acrylic on canvas

Conversation in White (2009) 75 x 85 cm Oil on canvas

Becoming 2011 185 x 175 cm Oil on canvas

To those engaging in an endlessly indeterminate

love affair called ‘art’.

ABSTRACT

This thesis begins by exploring the notion of ‘becoming’ in relation to two claims: (a) that art is located in zones of indetermination¹ and (b) that to make art, one has to work from the middle where everything unfolds.² The question asked is, how does an artist get to work in the middle of a process that is continuously becoming? In exploring an answer, attention is given to the complex relationships between opposing tendencies an artist has to constantly deal with: engaging with his/her own art making as well as within a collective called the artworld and, by extension, the world.

The intention is to look again at the non-public side, the not -visible side, of the creative process—; the side that has to do with the artist’s own experience as s/he makes or views a work of art. Part of the investigation, therefore, entails an artist’s self-experiencing or self-exploratory passage into the silent world of art. It addresses the nature of what constitutes a self-reflexive and self-regenerative art practice. In my case, the whole thesis is driven along by three distinct and interdependent creative encounters: (a) the text, (b) the studio, and (c) the actual work-in-progress: the artist, me.

The thesis offers a view: that the whole creative enterprise, or the process of creating, is about being free. It is practising to be free from oneself – to free oneself from attachments to things and thoughts. That is, it is a practice based not on religious or intellectual dogma, but on possibilities,³ the core value of any spiritual practice. In this context, it is hoped that the word ‘spiritual’ or ‘spirituality’ no longer needs to remain a branded persona non grata in current art practice or art discourse – and so, we no longer need to muffle humanity’s vital breath, its essential being and very soul.⁴

PREFACE

When painting a painting, you can be so intensely engaged in the work that you actually lose yourself in the process. This intimacy is immediately cut off when the painting is done. The painter instantly becomes an outsider— the painter is now a viewer. Like any other viewer s/he can view the painting retrospectively. But, unlike any other viewer, s/he is the origin of the work, and has some memory of how the process was experienced. S/he is, therefore, the only one who can talk and write about it as well as from the tacit experience.

So it is with an exploratory piece of writing, such as In The Middle, that comes through the direct experience of the writer; it is the process of writing encountered along the way. At the time of writing, the emerging writing, itself, exists only at the intersection or threshold of the writer’s ongoing experience. To write at the edge of possibilities and to try and analyse, control, and predict what is being written is counterproductive to the creative intent of the writer. That is, while the writer is intimately encountering ‘fragments’ of thought and building them into ‘something’ that communicates, the writer does not yet know what has been communicated until it is possible to see it written.

Now that the writing of In The Middle is done, several observations can be made. This preface hopes to provide other readers with a brief foreground to the way it has been written. There are several features of the writing that the reader will find unusual for a PhD thesis. It is unconventional in the following ways:

First, being in a creative environment, the artist-writer takes the view that ‘thesis’ need not or should not be limited to just an analytical piece of writing or report. The academic paradigm for a written thesis can often act as barriers to creativity. Others may disagree. However, in this practice-based PhD, the writing or ‘thesis’ (normal usage of the term) forms only one part of the total experiential processes—that is, the empirical, the rational, the non-rational (mystical or spiritual), including the inseparable studio practice and the actual work-in-progress, the artist-writer himself. The ‘thesis’ (taken in this broad sense) is, therefore, integral to the unfolding events of the whole process. The three interdependent parts progressively feed into each other, unpredictably giving rise to an eclectic, non-linear, more organic, and rhizomatic structure to the work. It is a thesis embedded in an unfolding narrative.

Second, to create is to stay and move along at the threshold between the known (individual and collective history) and the emergence of the yet unknown. The artist-writer must be actively exploring, painting, and writing, at the intersection between her/his subconscious or unconscious and the viewer’s or the reader’s response or reaction. Her/his inner voice is normally left out in a conventional thesis. It is now given space to be heard. It is not a personal affair but an individual affair that when shared could be significant. Hence, the writing is largely narrative in character and written in the first person.

Third, in addition to the voice of the narrator, other voices also play a significant role in this thesis. Collaboration and interaction with others have been an ongoing process. Their voices have enriched the creative process from their different perspectives of engagement. Everyone can speak for and about an artist’s process, but no one except the artist can speak directly from her/his process or tacit experience. In view of this, there is a preference for direct quotes in writing the thesis rather than paraphrasing what others say. Each one can speak for herself/himself.

Fourth, like Gilles Deleuze in Negotiations (1995), it is by exploring what it is like to work from the middle, where everything unfolds, the artist’s creative engagement points to non-attachment to things and thoughts. It is a practice without beliefs. Art practice when practised as moments without thinking is ‘freedom from oneself’, the ultimate value of any spiritual practice or life practice. It is a meditation similar in attitude to a Zen practice.

Fifth, in terms of the studio work, following a new set of rules for each series of painting frees the painter to choose not to choose, to just paint according to the rules (like one size brush on black canvas and within an hour) and see what happens. In my case, this cultivation of freedom from choice in painting has contributed to the cultivation of habit replacements. This is painting hopefully, intuitively. Anything can happen; often disasters or, on rare occasions, apparently well-ordered works arrived. Intuition is a quality that is felt but is not explained. Intuition comes to you. There is no way to rationally plan it.

Sixth, to be in the middle space and to maintain the momentum to create requires the artist-writer…

to constantly be aware of possibilities

moving along the track of becoming, to keep on unfolding

devising ways to practise replacing habits of thinking and doing

collaborating, seriously playful, dialogues, and listening

practising ‘suspension’ and maintaining awareness

catching moments of encounter rather than interpretation

to be free from ‘self’ as a spiritual practice

silence …

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to thank Emeritus Professor Richard Dunn and Dr Eril Baily. As supervisors of my project, they have accompanied me all the way. I am deeply grateful for their unfailing availability, sense of humour, capacity to listen patiently, and their timely and incisive comments on the business of my art making and writing. I would also like to thank members of Dunn’s Colloquium: Adrian McDonald, Manya Ginori, Katrina Simon, Peter Barnes, Meredith Lynch, Chrissie Lanssen, Ruby Davies, Giles Ryder, Marian Mackern, and Ainslie Murray. Their contributions to the regular dialogue made a difference to my own practice. I am also indebted to the many staff and students of Sydney College of the Arts and Cafh Foundation Australia for being part of my process.

My special gratitude and thanks to the following colleagues and friends who have collaborated with me along the way: Corinne Brittain, Kerry MacAulay, Tanya Richards, Jeanne Weiler, Debora Farber, Elke Wohlfahrt, Bridget O’Brien, Helen Goritsas, Sepideh Farzam, and Loretta Picone.

To my son Shan-Ree, who kept faith with me, and my wife, Moi, who looked after the ‘artist-in-residence’ for so many years––thank you!

Time and time again

The still point is still

And still moving

Never becomes

Only becoming … each moment

Captured and disappearing

And still becoming

8th Voice.300.jpg

INTRODUCTION

IN THE MIDDLE

Creativity is our birthright. … The creative process, like the spiritual journey, is intuitive, nonlinear, and experiential. It points us toward our essential nature, which is a reflection of the boundless creativity of the universe.

John Daido Loori⁵

What strikes me is the fact that, in our society, art has become something related only to objects and not to individuals or to life. That art is something which is specialized or done by experts who are artists. But couldn’t everyone’s life become a work of art? Why should the lamp or the house be an art object but not our life?

Michel Foucault⁶

What’s envisaged is nothing less than the liberation of the artist from himself, of art from the particular artwork, of art from history, of spirit from matter, of the mind from its perceptual and intellectual limitations.

Susan Sontag⁷

Art practice is like a test flight. From my last stopover,⁸ in my case, as a painter, it is another test flight exploring the process of creating and to understand and know something further from the experience. In the thesis, it addresses the nature of what constitutes a self-reflexive and self-regenerative art practice where the artist remains only a means within the process and offers a view of the experience.

It explores ‘becoming’ in relation to two claims: first, by Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari that art itself lives on these zones of indetermination⁹ and, second, by Gilles Deleuze that, Things and thoughts advance or grow out from the middle, and that’s where you have to get to work, that’s where everything unfolds. ¹⁰

The question: How does an artist get to work in the middle of a process that is continuously becoming?

In exploring this question, attention is given to the complex relationships between what appears to be fields of opposing tendencies an artist has to deal with constantly—first, as an individual engaging with his own art making and, second, within a collective called the artworld¹¹ and, by extension, the world. Being-in-the-world, then, has to do with the artist’s relationships with his/her internal and external worlds.¹² For my purpose, I will revisit the experiential side of the creative process. The intention is to look again at the non-public side, the not visible side, of the creative process; that is, the side that has to do with the artist’s own experience as he makes, or views a work of art. Part of this investigation, therefore, entails an artist’s self-experiencing of his exploratory passage into the silent world of art. My own experience in painting confirms that Harold Rosenberg is quite right when he says:

Whoever undertakes to create soon finds himself engaged in creating himself. Self-transformation and the transformation of others have constituted the radical interest of our century, whether in painting, psychiatry or political action.¹³

In this sense, the research is driven along by three distinct and interdependent creative encounters: (a) the text, (b) the studio, and (c) the actual work-in-progress, the artist himself, me.

The text begins with one word—art. In the studio, the painting begins with one mark. The word: what can be said is said. The mark: what can be painted is painted. What cannot be said and what cannot be painted is the silence that is felt in the first instance by me, the one who is in the middle between the word and the mark. This silence, this ‘gap’ between sensations and thoughts and between thoughts and thoughts, is my exploratory entrance into the presence or affect of art, experienced as an unutterable sensation during and after the process of painting a painting. This is art as a process experienced as distinct from the aesthetic nature of the physical work of art or the artifact, or the public event or performance.¹⁴ How this ‘gap’, this journey of impermanence as art, is encountered, discussed, or inter-subjectively shared with others is part of what I wish to explore.

As I have foreshadowed, I am conscious of the advice given by Ludwig Wittgenstein, that What we cannot speak about we must pass over in silence¹⁵ – advice I must ignore, at least, for the time being, – and from Henry David Thoreau, who said something similar, My life has been the poem I would have writ, But I could not both live and utter it.¹⁶ There is a touch of Zen in what they say. As Alan Watts points out, Zen is above all an experience, nonverbal in character, which is simply inaccessible to the purely literary and scholarly approach.¹⁷ At the same time, Watts also warns us not "to become ‘cagey’ and uncommunicative on the principle that

Those who know do not speak;

Those who speak do not know."¹⁸

Taking this attitude to the extreme is simply, in the words of John Daido Loori, to devalue words or imagine that by remaining mute we arrive at enlightenment.¹⁹

While the menu is not the meal, we often need the menu to tell us something about what it is we are about to eat. Artists need to say something if collaboration and sharing of lives lived is to happen. It is also for this purpose that the voices of other artists form a significant part in the text when it comes to the experiential side of the creative process. As the thesis develops, so there is a parallel evolution in both my writing and my paintings. That is, they feed into each other progressively and there is no telling where either one will lead the other or where one begins and the other leaves off. The artist, working from the middle, experiences this process as a silent witness as well as an active agent generating the emergence of both, the writing and the painting.

The idea of beginning with a single element in a learning process is suggested by Harold Rosenberg. In the context of art education, he says that if you begin by explaining "a single contemporary painting (and the more apparently empty the better), and if you continue describing it you will find yourself