Art is anything and everything constructed by man, whether theoretical or practical. Even if it is pure knowledge it has to be formulated and that process of formulation is what is known as art.
I have a pebble I picked up off a beach where a million other pebbles lay. I liked this pebble as soon as I picked it up out of the pebble-profusion. The elements had worn it into the shape of a large egg. Nature had produced a work of art! Or had it? I studied this pebble, examined it carefully, searched for flaws, felt the weight of it as I turned it in my hands, and in the process I added mind-stuff to that pebble; stuff that was never there before! In this adding of mind-stuff I transformed that pebble from an accident of Nature into a human work of Art.
We’re used to endowing art with mind-stuff; we read things into it, there is a baggage that accumulates along with the original object. What’s more we do likewise with Nature. My pebble became a kind-of crystal ball in which I saw only near-perfection and the beautiful come true.
So, Marcel Duchamp discovered the Ready-made and then the Ready-made Aided but I, Phrygianslave the Wise, am the discoverer of the Nature-made Aided © 2005 !!
And now the universe is my pebble, I am the knowing intelligence in the universal system, and god is my Nature-made Aided, i.e, my creation.
As for, ‘the beautiful;’ let us take, e.g., the phrase, ‘beautiful sunset,’ and explain to me where the, ‘the beautiful,’ is to be found in the light from a sun illuminating a planet in it’s solar system in a galaxy of a universe as it turns on its axis? (O.K. whatever turns you on!) But seriously, what we are speaking of is tantamount to the pebble: a dead, inanimate lump of matter.
Now, for a long time, the humans on the planet surface have known the truth, namely, that a, ‘sunset,’ is in fact something that has no beginning and no end, (for the sun does not stop shining while the earth does not stop turning,) and the occurrence that is perceived belongs to the realm of meteorological phenomena. Why should they then go on to term what they know to be occurrences of mere atmospheric effects as things belonging to the aesthetically beautiful?
The answer has to be man’s need for contemplation. Man seems to have an inbuilt contemplative streak, as it were. It distinguishes him from the animals. There is a painting, by Rembrandt, of a man, in a red coat, frozen in thought – I think it’s called ‘Portrait of Jan Six?’ The man is facing the spectator, (i.e., facing out of the canvas into the real world, our world,) eyes open, but somehow Rembrandt has caught him momentarily looking inward, into his soul, lost in thought. Do any of you know this painting? Is it beautiful? Is it the essence of the beautiful? Or is it nothing more than a pebble?
But then what is a pebble?