My Philosophy on the subjectivity of Art—the classification of art, and intentionalism.

For me, art is inherently subjective—it's a conversation between the creator and the viewer, shaped by personal taste, cultural context, and the time period in which the artwork exists. There is no fixed, universal definition of what is "good" or "bad" art because what is valued shifts over time. For instance, what might have been considered revolutionary and misunderstood when it was first created, like abstract expressionism, might now be hailed as a masterpiece. Art evolves with society’s changing ideals, and because of this fluidity, it's impossible to pin down what makes something universally "good" or "bad." Art isn’t just about technical skill or following established traditions; it’s about the emotions it evokes, the conversations it starts, and the stories it tells. Whether it’s a traditional painting, a digital illustration, or even computer code, the value of art comes from the messages, ideas, or emotions it conveys. Even what some might dismiss as “bad” art can be meaningful—it often depends on the context and the personal connection that a viewer forms with the piece. What is considered "bad" art at one moment in history could be seen as groundbreaking or transformative in another. Ultimately, the beauty of art lies in the fact that it’s open to interpretation, and its impact lies in its ability to provoke thought and emotion.

One key concept I hold dear is intentionalism, which suggests that the meaning and value of an artwork are shaped by the intentions of the artist. This philosophical standpoint argues that to truly understand and appreciate a piece of art, we must consider what the artist intended to express when they created it. The artist’s thoughts, emotions, and goals are fundamental to interpreting the work. While viewers are free to bring their own interpretations to the table, intentionalism asserts that understanding the artist’s purpose enriches our understanding of the piece. Philosophers have debated this for centuries. Immanuel Kant, for example, argued that art is not just about technical skill but also about its aesthetic experience—a shared emotional and cognitive engagement between the artist, the artwork, and the audience. Kant emphasized that the artist’s intention plays a crucial role in shaping this experience. In his Critique of Judgment, Kant suggested that a work of art has value not only through its form but through the deeper understanding of the purpose behind it. This resonates with my view that the artist’s creative process is intertwined with the message they aim to convey.

In a similar vein, Leo Tolstoy in his essay What is Art? argued that art should not only express the artist’s emotions but also communicate a moral or emotional truth that resonates with the viewer. Tolstoy believed that art’s primary function is to evoke empathy and understanding in its audience, creating a sense of shared experience. For Tolstoy, the artist's intention was essential, as art was a means of transmitting a deep and universal human truth. He argued that good art should leave the viewer feeling enlightened or moved, creating a bridge between the artist’s inner world and the world of the audience. This ties back to the idea that an artist’s intent is crucial—art isn’t just a random expression but a purposeful engagement with the world that aims to communicate something meaningful.

However, not everyone agrees with intentionalism. For example, philosophers Wimsatt and Beardsley introduced the idea of the "intentional fallacy," arguing that the artist’s intentions should not determine the value of a work of art. They believed that the artwork should be judged by the final product and its ability to stand on its own, rather than by the hidden motivations of the artist. According to this perspective, art is open to personal interpretation, and its meaning lies in the viewer’s engagement with it, not in uncovering what the artist "meant." While I understand this perspective, I still believe that considering the artist’s intention offers valuable insight into the piece and can deepen our connection with it.

In my own creative practice, I view art as a deeply personal yet communicative act. Whether I’m creating traditional paintings, digital designs, or even coding a program, I see each act of creation as a process filled with intention. For me, the purpose behind the creation is just as important as the form it takes. When I paint or design, there’s always something I want to express—whether that’s a personal emotion, an exploration of an idea, or simply a message I want to share with the world. I believe that art is more than just visual or technical—it’s a language of human experience. That’s why I believe in the importance of intentionalism in art: it’s the bridge between the creator’s inner world and the viewer’s interpretation. Of course, everyone will interpret art in their own way, but understanding the creator's intention adds a layer of depth and meaning. Art, at its core, is about communication—whether that’s through colors, shapes, or even abstract forms.

I also believe that what is considered "art" can be expansive and fluid. Philosophers like Arthur Danto have argued that art is not confined to any one medium or tradition, but is instead defined by the context and the intentions behind it. Danto famously said that anything can be art, provided it is understood within the framework of its artistic context. That’s why I believe that even something like computer code, or an architectural design, can be seen as art if the creator brings creativity, intention, and expression into the process. The boundaries of art are constantly evolving, and what matters most is the intent behind the work—the purpose of the creator to express something meaningful or to spark a conversation.

In the end, I believe that art is not a static concept—it’s a living, breathing entity that evolves with time, culture, and society. While it will always be subjective, one thing remains clear: art is about the connection it fosters between the creator, the work, and the viewer. Understanding the artist’s intention adds depth and context, but it’s also about the experience the work offers, how it speaks to us, and how it challenges or reaffirms our perspectives on the world.

Defending Intentionalism and Discussing the Intentional Fallacy:

The intentional fallacy is a concept that was introduced by literary critics W.K. Wimsatt and Monroe Beardsley in their essay The Intentional Fallacy (1946). They argued that it is a mistake to focus on the artist's intentions when interpreting a work of art. According to them, the artist's intentions are unknowable and irrelevant to the final meaning of the artwork. Instead, they argued, the value and meaning of a piece of art should be judged solely by the final product itself—how it stands on its own, how it engages the viewer, and how the viewer interacts with it. In this view, the artist’s personal thoughts, emotions, or purpose behind the work are secondary to the work’s existence in the world, and how it resonates with the audience.

While I understand the basis of the intentional fallacy, I don’t fully agree with its complete dismissal of the artist’s intentions. The complexity of human experience makes art an incredibly rich form of communication, and the creator’s purpose plays a vital role in guiding the viewer to understand the deeper layers of meaning within a piece. Art is an act of conscious creation, and for me, the artist's intentions are intrinsic to understanding the work.

Why Intentions Matter:

If we take art as a form of communication, it is reasonable to consider the intent behind that communication. When an artist creates, there is usually a purpose—whether it’s an exploration of a personal emotion, a societal message, or a purely creative exploration. The artist’s intention is what imbues the work with its depth, whether that depth is emotional, intellectual, or philosophical. For example, if an artist creates a painting with the intent to express grief, that intention shapes how the color palette, brushstrokes, and composition come together to evoke that emotion. Understanding that intention enriches the viewer's experience of the work. It provides context and helps the viewer interpret the piece more deeply.

However, I also recognize the validity of Wimsatt and Beardsley’s point: the viewer’s interpretation matters. The final product—the painting, sculpture, song, etc.—exists in the world outside of the artist’s mind. If the artist chooses not to share their intention or if their intention is unclear, the work becomes open to subjective interpretation. The viewer’s personal experiences, emotions, and perspectives will influence how they engage with the art. This is where the complexity of art comes into play. The experience of art is never the same for any two individuals because every person brings their own unique worldview and personal history to the piece. For example, a painting that was created to express joy might resonate differently with a viewer who’s recently gone through hardship—they might interpret it in a way that reflects their personal experience, even if that wasn’t the artist’s original intent.

The Personal Nature of Artistic Interpretation:

Our life experiences and perceptions shape how we interpret art. A piece that evokes happiness for one person may evoke sadness or nostalgia in another. This subjectivity is at the heart of why art is so powerful—because it allows the viewer to connect to it on a personal level. Our individual perceptions and experiences lead us to form unique interpretations. That’s why it’s entirely possible for two people to look at the same painting and come away with entirely different emotional or intellectual responses. No one can experience a work of art exactly the same way because each person’s life is a collection of unique experiences that filters how they perceive the world.

For example, if I create a piece meant to evoke feelings of love and connection, but a viewer who has experienced heartbreak sees it and feels a sense of loss instead, their interpretation is valid. Even if it’s not what I intended, it’s their experience of the artwork. Art speaks to the individual, and the emotions or ideas it stirs up are deeply personal. That’s why art is both universal and personal—it can reflect broad human themes while being interpreted differently by every individual. So while I firmly believe in intentionalism, I also accept that art can be interpreted based on the final result, especially if the artist does not disclose their intentions.

The Elephant Example:

I also want to emphasize a point I made earlier about intentionality and the difference between something created by a conscious creator versus a non-human agent. For example, an elephant might create an image by randomly applying paint to a canvas, but that process lacks the intentionality that we associate with human art. Elephants don’t have an understanding of art as a concept; they’re simply engaging in an act that could produce a visual result. This creates a clear distinction between mere process and art—the latter requires a conscious, purposeful act of creation with an intent to communicate something meaningful.

This doesn’t mean that the resulting piece from an elephant or an animal can’t be visually interesting, but it lacks the deeper complexity that comes from a conscious human artist with an understanding of their purpose behind the creation. The elephant’s art, though perhaps visually appealing, doesn’t carry the intentionality of an artist who has an understanding of the emotional or intellectual meaning they want to convey. Consciousness and intention are what separate art from random processes or patterns found in nature or created by non-human creatures.

Reconciling Both Sides:

At the same time, I do believe that art should also be judged based on its final product, especially if the artist doesn’t provide any explanation or context for their work. If an artist creates a piece and leaves it open to interpretation, the viewer is free to form their own meaning based on their personal experiences. This is a perfectly valid way to engage with art, and the piece can be judged based on how it resonates with the viewer, regardless of the artist’s original intention. The viewer’s engagement with the work is a legitimate and important part of the artistic experience.

Art, after all, is a dialogue between the artist and the audience. The artist speaks through the piece, but the viewer completes the conversation with their interpretation. If an artist chooses not to share their intention or leaves it ambiguous, the viewer is free to explore the piece in their own way. And in many cases, the work becomes even more profound when left open to interpretation, allowing the viewer to insert their own emotions, memories, and experiences into the piece.

In Conclusion:

While I strongly believe in intentionalism—the idea that the artist’s intentions shape and deepen the understanding of their work—I also recognize that the final product of art holds its own value. If the artist does not communicate their intentions, or if those intentions are unclear, it’s perfectly valid for the viewer to engage with the work based on their own perspective. The subjectivity of art is what makes it so dynamic and personal. But, in my view, the intent behind the creation of the piece should not be overlooked entirely, as it is the foundation upon which the work is built. It’s the artist’s conscious act of creation that brings depth and meaning to the final piece, and understanding that intention gives the viewer a more nuanced experience.