Non Finito
Follow Me
Non Finito Description
Japanese poet Fujiwara Teika (1162–1241) created Non Finito (an artist’s technique, meaning “unfinished”) in his poems. He explained that “the poet who has begun a thought must be able to end it so masterfully that a rich space of suggestions unfolds in the imagination of his audience.” George Loewenstein, professor of economics and psychology at Carnegie Mellon University, calls this gap of information a “situational determinate.” It creates curiosity. The mind is hard-wired to fill in the blanks, or missing information.
Neuroscientists believe this ability evolved early on as a survival mechanism. By computing and rendering representations of continuous surfaces and contours, early humans could “see” an entire predator half obscured by trees or tall grasses. The brain fills in the missing pieces.
The missing information and subtle suggestions in this series are there intentionally to have the viewer become part of my expression by participating and filling in the blanks. I offer half the story to the viewer, whose hard-wiring and curiosity make them an active participant in their viewing.
Dr. Jeffrey M. Schwartz of the UCLA School of Medicine will tell you that the human brain is a “pattern-making, pattern-recognizing, pattern-locking machine.” Think of the early civilizations that looked at the stars and saw a Big Dipper, a Hunter, and a Lion in the constellations. Philosopher Edmund Burke (1729–1797) wrote of the ability of a rough and indeterminate sketch to stimulate the imagination “beyond the best finishing.”[1] Post-impressionist painter Paul Cézanne (1839–1906) believed that thinking and imagining were the keys to truly seeing[2]. He thought through each stroke of his brush, carefully leaving out what he wishes the viewer’s imagination to finish.
My “Non Finito” paintings include even less information than Cézanne’s. They suggest a “horizon line” and the viewer does the rest. And yet many layers of patterns, color variations and a contrasting section near the middle, are offered for the viewer’s pattern-making machine to latch onto. As subtle as these different patterns may be, they combine to make or draw on different memories and perceptions. The colors are pleasing. The horizon line is familiar. The mind becomes curious and wants to search for familiar patterns and create a narrative. What is familiar depends on the viewer’s own makeup, experiences, and personality. One may see a lake and its reflections, another, the surface of the sun. It’s like looking at clouds and seeing animals and faces. The viewer can’t help but see them.
My paintings are like these clouds, with patterns that develop through the process of layering and subtracting colors. The viewer may not find any recognizable patterns, but through the process of the search one can fall into a meditative state through concentration, much like one relaxes when gazing upward at the clouds drifting by. As is the case with meditation, dopamine is released by the brain, giving the viewer a sense of relaxation and pleasure. In addition, the “filling in” is hedonistically satisfying, and delivers both a feel-good rush, making you want more (information), and a sense of accomplishment—if not joy—when a pattern is realized.
It is my hope that viewers will come back to a painting time and again to see something new with each visit, to be transported to a meditative place and offered a sense of peace and relaxation.
*Much of this information was taken from the research and findings of Matthew E. May in his book In Pursuit of Elegance: Why the Best Ideas Have Something Missing, as well as from The Art Instinct: Beauty, Pleasure, and Human Evolution by Denis Dutton. Dutton offers the criteria that art must have: gives direct pleasure; exhibits skill and virtuosity; novelty and creativity; ability to evoke criticism; special focus; expressive individuality; emotional saturation; intellectually challenging; and imaginative experience.
[1] In Pursuit of Elegance.
[2] In Pursuit of Elegance.