Art Experience (

Art Experience (Part 1)

[[Art Experience (Part 1) Source: prekshaa]]

Art—kalā—is an adroit phenomenon^(^([1])) that gives our mind the experience of some beauty or some grandeur or some profound thought through our eyes, ears, and other senses.

Experience—anubhava—is to become within our mind the sight of the object that we behold or the action that takes place in front of our eyes: by filling our inner realm with the emotion of the object before us and become one with it, almost like we are that object or that object is us. The object—lakṣya-vastu—and the subject—lakṣyakāra—get mixed up indistinguishably; this is the perfect state of Experience.

The arts are many. Our ancestors had a system of sixty-four arts. Let there be as many as one desires, but the most prominent ones are three –

1. Rūpa-citra [visual arts] – those that reach the mind through the doors of the eyes – image, sculpture, figure sketching, illustrations, painting, abhinaya, dance, and so forth.
2. Saṅgītā [music] – those that reach the mind through the doors of the ears
3. Kāvya [literature, poetry] – that which reaches the mind in the form of words and language

Mental Preparation

Experience is the coming together of the manas [mind] on one side and lakṣya-vastu [object of desire] on the other side. The essence of this statement is that a prior mental preparation is needed for such experience. The grasp of the qualties of art is proportial to the extent of education of the mind. Art experience follows saṃskāra, aesthetic refinement.^(^( [^29.2]))

The culturing and refinement of our mind—our manas-saṃskāra—is a product of the various experiences in our worldly life. Experience of the world and life-experiences are essential pre-requisites for both the creator of the art and the connoisseur of art. The creator of art observes the interesting aspects [of his art] and gives birth to the quintessence owing to the myriad experiences from his life. Similarly, it is through the lens of life-experiences that the art connoisseur realises the interesting aspects and embraces the quintessence.

Like this life-experiences, experience of the world, art creation and art experience are mutually related.

Three Stages

There are many stages and levels in art experience. The important ones among them can be identified as these three –

1. Manaḥ-prasāda [serenity of the mind]
2. Bhāvāveśa [intense emotional excitement]
3. Tātparya-cintanā [contemplation upon the essence]

Let us see in details about these three stages.

1. Rūpa-citra

1. Manaḥ-prasāda – In the visual arts, the element of mental serenity and pleasantness is seen in the common embellishments in drawings, in visual decoration. On the walls of a temple, we see a series of designs, of elephants, horses, lotuses, swans, wheels, or svastikas. The intention of these sculptures and images is to calm the mind of the viewer; to distract his mind from day-to-day worries and sorrows and to make him turn outward from inward. The women in our houses, after working in the kitchen or store-room for a long time, take a break to get out of the house, look at the view of the street for a while and then return after some time. That breaks their boredom and infuses freshness. By looking at a new scene, they get energised. This energy and pleasantness is the takeaway from the series of decorative sculptures on the temple wall. This is the first step.

2. Bhāvāveśa – Next we see the vigrahas on the walls of the inner pavilion. There is a specific meaning to each of these sculptures. For the mind to concentrate deeper, we get far more robust ingredients here. Therefore, the mind remains rooted here for a while; there is focus, stillness, absorption. Dhruva is performing tapas*! Ah, how is this small child able to concentrate with such immersion! Oh, see Mārkaṃḍeya there! What remarkable faith he had! And what do we have here? Mother Sītā! Ah, what extraordinary fortitude she had, what commitment to* tapas*! And there,* Vāmana-mūrti; he is blessing Emperor Bali in the guise of a punishment! In this manner, our mind starts imagining various episodes and is engulfed by intense emotion. In the static shapes we see our emotions moving. As we see these sculptures, the mind gets into the story behind them, and there is a flood of emotions, and that is rasa. Relishing rasa is the high gopura of art accomplishment.

3. Tātparya-cintanā – At third stage, we leave the temple and go home or elsewhere. But the images of those vigrahas stay in our mind. They evoke, instigate, and awaken different emotions inside us. The result of this sustained meditation is the completeness of relishing rasa. When relishing rasa is complete, we become one with the work of art and forget our existence. This is the pinnacle of art experience.^(^( [^29.3]))

mārge mārge jāyate sādhu saṅgaḥ
saṅge saṅge śrūyate kṛṣṇa-kīrtiḥ
kīrtau kīrtau nas-tadākāra-vṛttiḥ
vṛttau vṛttau saccidānanda-bhāsaḥ॥
[Rambhā-śuka-Saṃvāda, verse 2]
[In every path, one gets the company of the good
in every such company, one hears the glory of Kṛṣṇa
in every such praise, we become aware of
his form and being – and adopt it
in every such being and adoption,
we experience saccidānanda]

2. Saṅgītā

Even in experiencing music there are three stages as seen earlier.

1. Manaḥ-prasāda – A musical concert starts with a popular song, a varṇa (a type of musical form), a song in praise of the guru or a devotional song. That brings joy to our mind and draws our attention. Slowly our mind flows towards the sea of rāgas.

2. Bhāvāveśa – After singing the introductory songs we see the greatness of music. The singer takes a grand kṛti, or a pallavi (a lyrical line set to music), which gives ample opportunity to expand a rāga. In various parts of the composition he demonstrates the variety and beauty of the rāga. Here the aspects that are most effective are these two –

i. Dhātu, the uninterrupted flow of the melody
ii. Mātu, the blossoming of the lyric in all its clarity

By the utterance of the words of the lyric, the beauty of the melody is doubled. The mātu of a musical composition can be compared to the craftsmanship in a vigraha. The singer’s melodic tuning of the lyric is akin to the colours on the sculpture, which make its shape more pronounced, more charisma. No doubt melody without lyric generates emotion. However, it lacks specificity and clarity of the parts. This makes it difficult to identify accurately the emotion experienced. When lyric is present, the emotional response can be identified clearly as joy, romance, pity, complete surrender, or any anguish of the heart. Along with that the suggested meanings of the lyric will treat us to a variety of flavours like islands, rocks, and waterfalls in the midst of the great flow of melody. A singer builds his rāga edifice from the stones and bricks of these suggestions. His design of rāga appears sometimes like a palace, sometimes like a series of steps to climb something.

bhūsurādi samasta-jana-pūjitābja-caraṇāya।
vāsuki-takṣakādi-sarpa-svarūpa-dharaṇāya॥

When such expansive lyrics are rendered by a singer endowed with good taste and refinement, within our minds we feel like we are in the palace of a king or a big auditorium and feel elevated, forgetting ourselves.

The words may be ordinary and the meaning is well-known to us. But the effect of the rāga is extraordinary. The power that’s absent in [standalone] words is found in the great flow of syllables and letters. The dancing of the waves of the melody is owing to these letters.

The obliqueness, slides, twists and turns, gentle ripples, and intense impulses present in the singer’s voice – these varied movements stir and shake our hearts and evoke waves of emotion within us. Melody is a flow. The utterances of letters are the waves. In singing, the lyric is indeed important but the multi-dimensional effect that the melody creates taken on greater importance. In the oneness of the rāga-flow, the words and letters bring multiplicity; just as in a garland [strung together on a single thread], there is a multiplicity of flowers and leaves. This multitude evokes a variety of flavours. A rice dish is one, the grains of rice are many. When the mind is immersed in musical flow that is a blend of dhātu and mātu, the experience of rasa reaches its complete expression.

3. Tātparya-cintanā – Next comes the third stage. Now the syllables of melody are not falling on the external ears. The tānpura has gone silent. The singer is not there in front of us. But a fragment of the melody he sung is resonating in our inner ear. Wherever we go, that melody stays with us. This reverberation is the pinnacle of musical experience.^(^([4])) The music of the singer has been imprinted in our internal landscape.

Bits and pieces of lines like these –

hariye – idu sariye।
[“Hari, is this right?” – a line in Kannada]

na hi re – na hi śaṅkā।
[“There is no doubt at all” – a line in Sanskrit]

èndaro mahānubhāvulu।
[“So many great people” – a line in Telugu]

stay in our memory and cultures our mind. It destroys our ego. It purifies our behaviour and makes us humble. This elevation and purification of the heart is beauty in life.

To be concluded.

This is the first part of the twenty-fourth essay in D V Gundappa’s magnum-opus Jnapakachitrashaale – Vol. 2 – Kalopasakaru. Edited by Hari Ravikumar.

Footnotes

^(^([1])) The original has ‘kuśala karma.’ The word ‘kuśala’ means ‘good,’ ‘auspicious,’ ‘skilled,’ ‘proficient,’ etc. and ‘karma’ means ‘action.’

^(^([2])) In other words, the richness of the art experience depends on how cultured the mind is.

^(^([3])) The original has, ‘ಇದು ಕಲಾನುಭವ-ಗೋಪುರದ ಕಲಶ’ – literally, ‘This is the kalaśa of the gopura of kalānubhava.’

^(^([4])) The original has, ‘ಈ ಅನುರಣಿತವೇ ಗಾನ-ಗೋಪುರದ ಕಲಶ’ – literally, ‘This resonance is the kalaśa of the music-gopura.’

Art Experience (Part 2)

[[Art Experience (Part 2) Source: prekshaa]]

3. Kāvya

This has three stages too.

1. Manaḥ-prasāda – The nāndī-padyas in a kāvya, the description of city, country, mountains, forests, rivers, forts, palaces – these establish a context for the story; these are the embellishments and charming aspects.

2. Bhāvāveśa – The core flavour lies in the scenes of the story and in the human characters. Tyagaraja in one of his lyrical melodies narrates this story:

Mārīca appeared as a magical deer in front of Sītā, didn’t he? She was deluded into believing that it was a real animal and was attracted towards its colour and brilliance. Let us keep aside rest of the story for now. Śrīrāmacandra remembered that desire ofSītā. Once, after the killing ofRāvaṇa, when Rāma and Sītā were wandering about in a forest casually, Rāma sees a fawn. By the brilliance and tenderness of its body it appeared like the onethat Sītā had desired earlier. He shot an arrow at it assumingthat Sītā would want to possess it. Out of fear for its life, the fawn began running with its neck stretched.Upon seeing this, Sītā was overcome with compassion and requested Rāma not to harm a life. But by that time, the arrow had been shot. What could have been done? But isn’t heRāmaafter all? So he immediately shot another arrow that destroyed the first one before it could hit the animal. The life of the fawn was saved; that beautiful tender life was saved.

What an exquisite imagination this is!Tyagaraja composed it as a song and sung it. Another poet may delineate the same theme elaborately with conversation and descriptions in an entertaining manner. Yet another poet may adapt this theme to a play. Through the questions and answers of various characters or their bodily gestures, the same episode can be manifested through a visual medium. In whatever form it is presented, owing to its inherent beauty and emotionally rich content, it is kāvya. Here we will be rapt in observing Rāma’s care for his wife,Sītā’s tenderness of heart,Rāma’s ability to grasp the other’s desire, and his martial skill. This is rasa-samṛddhi [richness of aesthetic experience].

3. Tātparya-cintanā – Now the mind begins the process of manana, introspection. That is the third stage of experiencing kāvya. Which is greater –Rāma’s adherence to dharma or Sītā’s compassion? Bharata’s detachment orLakṣhmaṇa’sattitude of service? And where do we placeāñjaneya? In this manner, we think over and over again, filling our thoughts with all those characters; thus, we are absorbed by them. And even after that, we will be left with a final question – What did Rāma and others achieve ultimately? What sort of pleasures did they enjoy? What was the wealth they earned? Old age, just old age. They struggled and they left – thats all, isn’t it? Should one live for this fortune? Wasn’t it same even for the Pāṇḍavas?

ajayo’yaṃ jayākāraḥ jayākāro hy-apajayaḥ॥
[This is defeat that looks like victory]

After all, what Dharmarāja got is the authority over the final rites of his kinsmen. Is this the essence of life?

From the perspective of the individual, the lives of Yudhiṣhṭira and Rāma was difficult, fruitless, purposeless. But from the broad perspective of the world, their life was a fulfilling one. Their life has everlasting influence and worldwide appeal. Thus a life dedicated to dharma is life; a life of justice is life; a life of courteousness is life.

This is the conclusion we draw, the siddhānta we realise, when we contemplate upon the great epics. It is a siddhānta that we cannot do away with. Because of this, a kāvya becomes life-sculpting. This is the ultimate accomplishment of art experience.

Appendix

As part of an appendix, there arises a question:

I mentioned that ‘Art’ means experiencing beauty, grandeur. Are we getting the same experience from modern pieces of art getting imported in bulk from Europe and America these days?

As far as I am concerned, it is not so. May be I am blinded by traditional constraints and limitations of perspective. There are people who consider themselves disciples of Jakaṇācāri, Tyagaraja, Vālmīki et al.; if they don’t perceive beauty in a work of art, does that mean others cannot perceive beauty in it?

Then what does beauty mean?

There is no absolute measure for it. For us, being well-dressed is beauty; for others, being in the nude may be beauty. For us if the expressions of the body are subtle and suggestive, then it is beauty; if they become literal and spelt-out, it becomes intolerable. For others it is not so. If we see the magazines that come from Europe and America, it appears that those people like gaudy colours; they delight in bare hands and legs twisted and crossed in different variations. In the West, there are new sects born like the Hippies and Beatles. To people like me, their appearance and language seems ugly and extreme. Even the painters and artists there are following this extreme path.

Can every combination of various body parts and postures—or poses—be deemed beautiful?Can twisted hands and legs or dishevelled hair be called beauty?Is there beauty in twisted fingers and lips?

It’s the same in music too. There’s a genre that they called jazz.^(^([1])) Playing different kinds of instrument simultaneously, making a lot of noise. Even in that, a great deal of chaos, clutter, noice. Is this delightful?

The same may be observed in some modern poems. Comparison of completely unrelated things.^(^([2])) Even the word order is uncertain. It is difficult to understand the meaning of this.

In sum, it appears like a certain anarchary, a certain intoxication is spreading. In my understanding, the conception of beauty in true art in endowed with two characteristics –

1. Selection
2. Proportion

1. Not all things in the world are beautiful. Not all parts of a certain thing are beautiful. Here beauty means the quality that gives us a pleasant experience, in other words, that which generates happiness. We must therefore select this quality from a given thing.

2. In the various parts of a thing, in the rise and fall of a melody, in the different sections of a poem, there must be in balance; they must complement each other; they should match with one another. Nothing should be extreme.

In this manner, 1. the appropriateness—aucitya —of expression of something, 2. the complementariness—anurūpatā—in the proportion of the parts. These two are the characteristics of a work of art. These are learnt from the rules and limitations of nature’s creation and from our practice over a long period of time.

There is a fundamental philosophy behind the appropriateness of parts and of proportion. That is, the minds of the people should not get disturbed upon seeing a beautiful work or something of great significance; a sight should evoke joy, not perversion – this is the essence. A supporting pillar to this philosophy is the attitude of shyness, of modesty.^(^([3])) This trait of demureness is quite natural to human beings. We can see this even in children. The Vedas have appreciated this quality –

hrīṣca te lakṣhmīṣca patnyau।
[Dignity and Wealth are your consorts]

‘Hrī’ means shyness, bashfulness, dignity, modesty, and so forth.That is honour. That is staying away from self-praise. That is the abandonment of ego. That is the fear of erring in society.Hrī is a part of internal beauty; it is an important part of one’s greatness. This is the armour of art. Without this, a work of art becomes a source of distortion in society and becomes extremely crooked. Thus, the profession of an artist pre-supposed responsibility. Just as he needs freedom, he also requires to control. His creations should not go against the philosophy of‘hrī.’

I remember an old saying I had seen somewhere –

aṅga-pratyaṅgakānāṃ yaḥ
sannivesho yathākramam।
suśliṣṭaḥ sandhi-bandhaḥ syāt
tat saundaryam-udāhṛtam॥
[Rūpā-gosvāmi’s Ujvalanīlamaṇi 10.31]
[When all parts and joints are appropriately built
(they are fat, thin, etc. as per the part)
and such parts and joints are put together well,
that is what is called beauty!]

Concluded.

This is the second part of the twenty-fourth essay in D V Gundappa’s magnum-opus Jnapakachitrashaale – Vol. 2 – Kalopasakaru. Edited by Hari Ravikumar.

Footnotes

^(^([1])) Here, the author seems to use the term ‘jazz’ to indicate the popular music of the West; it might as well apply to rock music and other genres.

^(^([2])) What the author says in the original is that the upamāna (the reference for comparison) and upameya (the object that is compared with the reference) in a simile are chosen arbitrarily in modern poetry.

^(^([3])) The author basically refers to the natural sense of hesitation and shame that a human being has, and how in the name of modern art, boundaries of decency and morality must not be crossed.