Art is not what you see, but what you make others see
What is art, truly? Is it the brush on canvas, the chisel on stone, the rhythm of music, or the silence between words? Or is it something far more intimate, an invisible thread between the creator and the beholder, where feelings, meanings and ideas are transferred without needing to be explained?
Edgar Degas once said, 'Art is not what you see, but what you make others see.' It is a statement that haunts the soul of every creator and invites each viewer to step beyond mere observation into an act of connection.
To see is easy. To make someone else see, not just with their eyes but with their emotions, memories and inner world, is a rare kind of magic. When Vincent van Gogh painted The Starry Night, he did not replicate the sky as it appeared. He transmitted the turbulence of his soul, the storm of mental illness clashing with a longing for peace. The viewer doesn't just see stars; they feel isolation, longing and the fragile beauty of existence.
This is where the process of art begins, not with paint, nor stone, nor words, but in the mind. Before Michelangelo lifted a chisel, he claimed he saw the figure trapped inside the marble. He simply removed the excess. Such vision is not merely technical; it is cerebral, imaginative and deeply spiritual.
The brain of the artist works differently, it fuses logic and intuition, detail and abstraction, thought and instinct. Leonardo da Vinci didn't just create Mona Lisa; he gave us a mystery that has endured centuries, a smile that seduces every imagination that meets it.
Art is the language of the unseen. It's how Frida Kahlo expressed pain that could not be verbalised, how Picasso made sense of a fractured world, how Claude Monet captured time not as a ticking clock but as light gently dancing on water. It is how we learn to see again, not with our pupils, but with our hearts.
The imagination is not just a luxury for artists; it is the birthplace of empathy. When Gabriel García Márquez wrote about magical villages and eternal rain, he wasn't escaping reality, he was decoding it, translating human truths into metaphors that pierced the soul. Similarly, Yayoi Kusama, through her infinity rooms, does not simply present art, she pulls us inside her mind, where obsession, pattern and eternity collapse into one.
But making others see is not about control. The artist doesn't dictate interpretation; rather, they open a door. Each viewer brings their own history to the moment. A painting may whisper freedom to one and melancholy to another. In that space of ambiguity lies the true power of art: its capacity to multiply meaning, to ignite different truths in different hearts.
When Banksy paints a girl letting go of a red balloon on a crumbling wall, he's not just decorating public space. He's telling a story, of innocence, of loss, of rebellion.
Art like his cuts through noise because it speaks in silence, in irony, in metaphor. The same is true of Jean-Michel Basquiat, whose seemingly chaotic canvases are explosive conversations about race, capitalism and identity. They don't demand answers; they demand introspection.
Art is a form of communication older than language. Long before words, humans painted on cave walls trying to say, I was here. I felt this. I mattered. Today, whether through digital installations, photography, music, or performance, artists continue the same mission: not just to be seen, but to be felt.
To make others see what you see is not to replicate your vision, but to inspire theirs. The artist's mission is not to persuade but to awaken. Sometimes, they succeed in creating a single moment of revelation where time pauses, breath catches and a person says, 'Now I understand. Now I feel.'
That moment is sacred.
Art is not a product; it is an experience. It is the invisible hand reaching from one soul to another. A mirror that reflects, a window that reveals, a dream that transcends. It is a whisper across time that says: Look again. Feel again. Be more human.
Art is not what you see, it is what you make others see. And in that shared vision, we find the essence of humanity itself.
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Observer
3 days ago
- Observer
Art is not what you see, but what you make others see
What is art, truly? Is it the brush on canvas, the chisel on stone, the rhythm of music, or the silence between words? Or is it something far more intimate, an invisible thread between the creator and the beholder, where feelings, meanings and ideas are transferred without needing to be explained? Edgar Degas once said, 'Art is not what you see, but what you make others see.' It is a statement that haunts the soul of every creator and invites each viewer to step beyond mere observation into an act of connection. To see is easy. To make someone else see, not just with their eyes but with their emotions, memories and inner world, is a rare kind of magic. When Vincent van Gogh painted The Starry Night, he did not replicate the sky as it appeared. He transmitted the turbulence of his soul, the storm of mental illness clashing with a longing for peace. The viewer doesn't just see stars; they feel isolation, longing and the fragile beauty of existence. This is where the process of art begins, not with paint, nor stone, nor words, but in the mind. Before Michelangelo lifted a chisel, he claimed he saw the figure trapped inside the marble. He simply removed the excess. Such vision is not merely technical; it is cerebral, imaginative and deeply spiritual. The brain of the artist works differently, it fuses logic and intuition, detail and abstraction, thought and instinct. Leonardo da Vinci didn't just create Mona Lisa; he gave us a mystery that has endured centuries, a smile that seduces every imagination that meets it. Art is the language of the unseen. It's how Frida Kahlo expressed pain that could not be verbalised, how Picasso made sense of a fractured world, how Claude Monet captured time not as a ticking clock but as light gently dancing on water. It is how we learn to see again, not with our pupils, but with our hearts. The imagination is not just a luxury for artists; it is the birthplace of empathy. When Gabriel García Márquez wrote about magical villages and eternal rain, he wasn't escaping reality, he was decoding it, translating human truths into metaphors that pierced the soul. Similarly, Yayoi Kusama, through her infinity rooms, does not simply present art, she pulls us inside her mind, where obsession, pattern and eternity collapse into one. But making others see is not about control. The artist doesn't dictate interpretation; rather, they open a door. Each viewer brings their own history to the moment. A painting may whisper freedom to one and melancholy to another. In that space of ambiguity lies the true power of art: its capacity to multiply meaning, to ignite different truths in different hearts. When Banksy paints a girl letting go of a red balloon on a crumbling wall, he's not just decorating public space. He's telling a story, of innocence, of loss, of rebellion. Art like his cuts through noise because it speaks in silence, in irony, in metaphor. The same is true of Jean-Michel Basquiat, whose seemingly chaotic canvases are explosive conversations about race, capitalism and identity. They don't demand answers; they demand introspection. Art is a form of communication older than language. Long before words, humans painted on cave walls trying to say, I was here. I felt this. I mattered. Today, whether through digital installations, photography, music, or performance, artists continue the same mission: not just to be seen, but to be felt. To make others see what you see is not to replicate your vision, but to inspire theirs. The artist's mission is not to persuade but to awaken. Sometimes, they succeed in creating a single moment of revelation where time pauses, breath catches and a person says, 'Now I understand. Now I feel.' That moment is sacred. Art is not a product; it is an experience. It is the invisible hand reaching from one soul to another. A mirror that reflects, a window that reveals, a dream that transcends. It is a whisper across time that says: Look again. Feel again. Be more human. Art is not what you see, it is what you make others see. And in that shared vision, we find the essence of humanity itself.
Observer
16-04-2025
- Observer
Van Gogh's last painting poses a problem for an idyllic French village
Auvers-sur-Oise, a village near Paris famed as an artist's paradise, is also where Vincent van Gogh spent his final days and it has long drawn tourists to walk in the tortured painter's last footsteps. But ever since art experts identified his final work before he took his life, there has been strife in the town. Van Gogh's final painting was disputed for decades, because he didn't date his works. But in 2020 experts concluded that gnarled tree roots protruding from a hillside in Auvers are what is depicted in his 'Tree Roots,' made on the day he died. This finding may have settled one dispute, but it immediately stirred another, this one between the municipality and the owners of the property where the roots grow. The main root depicted in the painting — from a black locust tree and dubbed the 'elephant' by enthusiasts — abuts a public road. After the discovery of its historical value, the municipality claimed a section of privately owned land near the road as public domain, saying it was necessary for maintenance. Jean-François and Hélène Serlinger, the property owners, fought the village, and an appeals court recently concluded there was no basis for the municipality's claim. But the mayor of Auvers, Isabelle Mézières, has pledged to keep fighting, and she can still appeal to a higher court. After the decision, she insisted that the site should belong to the public, not private owners. 'The Roots belong to the Auversois!' she wrote on social media, referring to the citizens of the region. The continued fight over van Gogh's tree roots has cast a pall over what is usually a celebratory season in Auvers, population 7,000, where art tourism is a big business that heats up in the spring. That the village has been depicted by other notable painters, including Pierre Auguste Renoir, Paul Cezanne and Camille Pissarro, has only added to its attraction. Its popularity is such that French transit authorities run a seasonal line from Paris, dubbed the 'Impressionists' Train,' and people come from afar to see what the local tourist board calls 'the open-air museum that Auvers has become over time.' The property owners say the conflict is endangering the historic site, as the mayor has blocked them and experts from properly protecting the roots since their significance was established. In a phone interview, Jean-François Serlinger accused the municipality of using the administrative case as a pretext for 'an attempted takeover of a culturally significant site' and of simultaneously endangering the roots by 'obstructing the installation of a permanent protective structure.' The municipality and the mayor declined requests for comment. But it is perhaps fitting that these tree roots should be the subject of such a knotty dispute. Van Gogh's famous painting depicting the tangled roots shows 'the struggle of life, and a struggle with death,' Wouter van der Veen, the researcher in France who identified the roots, said in 2020. Still, the painting is bright and lively, made at the end of a productive period in van Gogh's troubled existence — after he famously cut off his ear and spent time in an asylum — and the village celebrates the Dutch painter whose work was rejected in life and embraced after his death. Van Gogh is a major attraction, including for the Serlingers. The couple moved to Auvers in 1996 because Hélène Serlinger, an artist, wanted to live where van Gogh had worked. In 2013, they bought a small additional parcel of land near their house, connected to their yard, extending their territory. Only years later did it turn out that the roots on that new property were an important part of art history. Now, the roots have their own website and nonprofit organization, run by the Serlingers, who say they want to protect the location for the public to enjoy. They have partnered with the Van Gogh Europe Foundation, which brings together key locations and museums linked to the painter under the direction of the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam. Last year, the Serlingers began opening their yard to visitors for tours. Jean-François Serlinger insists the couple did not intend to make their yard into a destination and have not profited from the tours. He noted that the main root is mostly visible to the public from the road, though the municipality has placed a 10-foot sign there highlighting the find that partially obstructs the view and 'disfigures the front of the site.' It was the enthusiasm of art experts and academics visiting them over the years that convinced the couple to open up their land to the public, he said. They now charge about $9 for a 30-minute 'walk through the landscape of van Gogh's final painting,' he added, with funds going to preservation costs. Saturday was the start of the new tourist season. But the dispute has unsettled the property owners and raised concerns about the preservation of the roots. 'It created a deep sense of insecurity around a site that calls for calm and serenity,' Jean-François Serlinger said. 'We have a feeling of insecurity with a mayor who is still in a war.' This article originally appeared in
Observer
03-03-2025
- Observer
Van Gogh Museum presents LEGO bricks version of Sunflowers
Amsterdam's Van Gogh Museum has joined forces with the Danish toy brick-maker LEGO to create a build-your-own version of Vincent Van Gogh's "Sunflowers". Standing in front of Van Gogh's 1889 masterpiece, one of the series of sunflower paintings for which the painter is most renowned, museum curator Nienke Bakker told Reuters she hoped the LEGO version would help more people to become familiar with his life and work. "The great thing is that people can actually build it themselves and build up a composition in a way that a painter builds up a composition," she said. Van Gogh Museum presents LEGO bricks version of Sunflowers Comprising 2,615 pieces and complete with adjustable petals, the LEGO "Sunflowers" is smaller than the painting that inspires it, but still takes many hours to build. It is made up of existing brick shapes and colours with the exception of a specially-created brick with Van Gogh's signature. Stijn Oom, a designer at the privately-held Danish company, said it had been a challenge to choose the right colours, but that Van Gogh's distinctive painting style, with visible, bold brush strokes, had lent itself to the LEGO three-dimensional model. "It was exciting to try and kind of mimic all of the shapes in the painting with existing LEGO elements," Oom said. Van Gogh Museum presents LEGO bricks version of Sunflowers As the new set officially went on sale on Saturday, Dutch fan Rienke Witmer, who got up at five in the morning and put on a dress with sunflower fabric, was first in line at Amsterdam's LEGO store, with her husband and two children. "I like LEGO, and I like art, so it's a good combination," Witmer told Reuters. Once she has built her version of "Sunflowers", she said she planned to give it pride of place in her home. "I'll hang it up in the room, so I can look at it every day," she said.—Reuters
