The Reality of the Observer
The Beauty is in the Mind of the Beholder

The difficulty with expressionism, especially abstract expressionism, is to assure that the medium is not overly labored.  The artist becomes a part of reality.  The work of art ceases to mimic reality but rather becomes an addition to it, the work of a reasoning human being, to produce an addition to what exists rather than to simply try to make a poor copy of what exists.  

The process doesn't end there.  The next part of the work takes place in the mind of the observer, whether it is a patron that has purchased or was given the work to keep or a guest of such, or a visitor to a gallery or museum and so on.  

This is perhaps the greatest function of art.  To produce an uplifting stimulus for the human mind.  As the painting is observed, it and the mind of the observer go to work, often unbeknownst to the observer him or herself.

By not trying to mimic an already observed reality in my immediate environment or in a photograph of a previous environment, I am free to view either a concept of a different reality or, some future event or occurrence or situation.  Or maybe an element of the past.

Here, we can experience the relief of a more humbled artist's work, where he or she is not exhibiting the conceit of being in total control of the observer as if to say, this is what you are to see and nothing else.  Now the life of the observer either in the privacy of his or her own collection or at the museum or gallery, or even in such new places as the internet or in art books, is subject to a world of fascinating surprises, escaping the boredom of the authoritarian control of the representationalism, where the observer can do little more than applaud the prowess of el maestro.

Spending one's day admiring a bunch of such show-offs seems to me to be, honestly, boring.  However there may be some enjoyment had by social climbers as they banter their clichés of the knowledge and techniques of the masters.  

Actually, the painstaking realist has a role to play, especially in the courts of nobility principally in times gone by.  There's always room for portraiture and the detailed landscape.  Often surrealism is also used as an excuse for the realist to try to fit in to the creative world of serious art.

As in geography, perhaps the thrill of the explorer is wasted on those ninety-five percent of the population who stay at home and in fact have never ventured farther than fifty miles of where they were born.  So it is with these realists and the audience they cater to.  They brag about wanting to see art that looks like something, but they never bother to take a minute to observe anything that doesn't cater to their closed-up, petty little life-style.

But such people, far from being individuals who can stand on their own and be a real contribution to society, spend their whole pathetic existences dwelling on illusions of superiority, in which they find solace at the expense of others and for this they are willing to weather dullness-of-mind and all it brings, including boredom.

This doesn't mean, it seems to me, that the expressionist should refrain from production of realistic works of art both as an exercise and for the enjoyment of those who cannot fathom the greater efforts of his or her exploration into new realms of art.  After all, the representationalism of the expressionist will be enhanced by the life of greater discoveries.