Is drawing a language? Part four

The very idea of thinking of drawing as a language is problematic. We have long been accustomed to believing that the things that we take as being central to being a human being must also be central to the understanding of everything else. It has been argued by many that language is what makes human beings special and that the way that animals communicate is biological, or inborn. Human language it is further argued is symbolic, using a set number of sounds (phonemes) and characters, which allows ideas to be recorded and preserved. Animal communication it is argued is not symbolic, so it cannot preserve ideas of the past. Is that it then? 

This definition presumes that language is to do with phonemes and alphabets and that it is the use of symbols that singles humans out as being different. But what if a nest was a language event? Tailorbirds get their name from the way their nest is constructed. The edges of a large leaf are pierced and sewn together with plant fibre or spider's web to make a cradle in which the actual grass nest is built. Male weaver birds weave nests and use them as a form of display to lure prospective females, their efforts being both a protection for eggs and young chicks, as well as being part of a sex ritual. So we are happy about the fact that birds make things that operate as both protection and as sexual display, but we don't recognise their activities as including a language? So how do they communicate? Is not the nest structure something that is complex and robust enough to preserve an idea long enough for others of its species to consider its shape and construction in order to made decisions about future life paths?

A tailor bird builds a nest

An act of communication is the transferring of information from one thing to another thing. Every communication involves (at least) a sender, a message and a recipient, or a starting point, a movement between and an end point.  Communication includes the medium used to communicate and the location of the communication. So lets think about bees. 

The Roman poet Virgil had this to say about them, "Some, too, the wardship of the gates befalls, who watch in turn for showers and cloudy skies." An interesting piece of communication on Virgil's part because he is telling us that he has in some way been communicating with bees and that they in turn have been communicating with atmospheric conditions. The bees need to know when it is about to rain because they risk injury if they are caught flying in a rainstorm. Their navigation senses rely heavily on the sun and a rainstorm would in effect make it impossible for them to find their way around. 

Diagram of a bee's waggle dance

So there is a causal link between an inanimate thing, (atmospheric conditions) an insect, other insects and a human being. We know that bees communicate partly through the medium of dance and one way to think of that is as a living, moving diagram, a sort of mime or body language as us humans would translate it. In order to fly you need excellent sensitivity to changes in temperature, air pressure and wind direction, all attributes that could also be used to predict the imminent approach of rain.

I have been trying to learn more about Indian aesthetics and the more I research into the history of what is a very complex and fascinating aesthetic system, I become more and more aware of its roots in human body language, especially dance and eating. At the centre of Indian aesthetics is 'rasa', one understanding of which is the enjoyment of flavours that arise from selected ingredients and their preparation. The 'Natya Shastra of Bharata' is a complex drama and dance manual written about 2,000 years ago and it includes 108 codified units of movement,  including hand movements or 'mudras' which in turn have been preserved by being carved into sculptures now to be found in ancient temples. These hand movements could be read as a living diagram. 

Chin or Vitarka Mudra

The thumb touches the index finger, the meeting of the powerful grasping thumb with the sensitive index finger is meant to evoke mindfulness. 

Abhaya Mudra

The open hand, palm presented upright and frontally to others, is a gesture of fearlessness of reassurance and safety, a gesture which dispels fear.

Namaskara Mudra

The pressing of both palms together, a sign of joining and togetherness communicates reverence or a polite form of greeting.

Bhumisparsha Mudra

All the fingers of the right hand extend downwards to touch the ground. This gesture communicates grounded enlightenment. Originally in Buddhist traditions the earth pressing mudra is often found accompanied by the left hand held flat in the lap in the dhyana mudra of meditation. 

So going back to my original question, 'is drawing a language' I suppose I was really asking a another question, are all forms of communication languages? Is any effect by one thing on another a type of communication? Perhaps its simply a matter of focus. As communication includes the medium used to communicate with and the location of the communication, if we focus on this, we get very quickly to Marshall McLuhan's concept of 'the medium is the message'. He proposed that a communication medium itself, not the messages it carries, should be the primary focus of study. In the case of hand gestures the medium is located in the human body, so we would need to return to a close observation as to how the body moves and how we begin to develop meaning from an observation of the body in movement. This I suppose also suggests that a question such as 'is drawing a language?' is really redundant and that what is much more interesting is how is communication made between any two things and what sort of communication is it? 

The secretion of fungal volatile organic compounds (VOCs) are used by fungi as a mechanism to protect themselves from enemies or to manipulate their surroundings.  They can operate as a means of communication, but these chemical signals are also able to specifically manipulate the recipient. VOCs can reprogram the root architecture of symbiotic partner plants or increase plant growth, they can also enhance plant resistance against pathogens by activating phytohormone dependent signalling pathways. In this instance it is quite clear that the communication process is also shaping and changing the recipient of the communication. A fungi is changing and manipulating the life of a plant. Chemical change is central to how I work as a human being, and a lot of the chemicals I put into my body are derived from the plants that I eat. So I could argue that my drawings, which are the result of my own predilections, which in turn are chemically led and are in turn heavily influenced by the food that I have been eating and that this in turn has been shaped by a fungal volatile organic compound, are also the result of chemical changes within a complex electro-chemical organism. If my drawings are the result of chemical changes that are the product of this chain of consequences, it could be argued that it is the mushroom that draws. 

Beatrix Potter: A snail and its young

This image of a giant snail creature communicating with a man about the relative sizes of fish they had in their respective imaginations caught, is a result of a chemical memory, one that has carried within it an image for some time of the drawing by Beatrix Potter further above. For whatever reason I had to get it out of my system by redrawing it, but Potter would not have had me in mind as the recipient of her 'message' when she drew this image and would herself have been more effected by an encounter at one time or another with a snail. You as someone looking at both images have already begun to manufacture a chemical memory of the experience and you may or may not pass it on. The image below was part of my own chemical chain response to a process not unlike Chinese whispers.  

See also:

 

The pioneer plaque

Invisible worlds

Drawing and communication theory

Is drawing a language part one

Is drawing a language part two

Is drawing a language part three

Drawing and object oriented ontology 

References

McLuhan, M (1964, 2001) Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man London: Routledge

Schwartz, S. L.  (2004) Rasa: Performing the divine in India Columbia University Press

Werner, S., Polle, A. & Brinkmann, N. Below ground communication: impacts of volatile organic compounds (VOCs) from soil fungi on other soil-inhabiting organisms. Appl Microbiol Biotechnol 100, 8651–8665 (2016). https://doi.org/10.1007/s00253-016-7792-1

Sanskrit Indian aesthetics

The dismemberment of the demon Kalanemi: Manaku

In my recent post on drawing plants I introduced the six Chinese principles of brush drawing. I must admit that I have not posted enough on the power of other cultures to help us address the limited viewpoints that we westerners tend to have when it comes to thinking about art practice. I shall therefore over the next few months put up a range of posts designed to introduce you to alternative cultural aesthetics. 

If you want to think more about 'viewer response' aesthetic theories probably the best cultural milieu to explore is that of the Indian sub continent. Indian art is best approached via the ancient aesthetic theory of ‘rasa’. In Sanskrit this literally means ‘juice’, ‘extract of a fruit’ or ‘essence’ and refers to the finest qualities of taste. This goes back millions of years to the evolution of our senses as ways to detect what is good or bad for us. The colour, taste and smell of food, can usually tell us whether or not it is safe to eat it. It is therefore logical that an aesthetic theory would begin with an understanding of qualities linked to the testing of food. The term ‘rasa’refers to the ‘essence’ and emotional qualities that have been built into a work of art by its maker as well as to the response the contemplation or perception of the artwork evokes in the viewer or sahṛdaya. The viewer response is as important as the maker’s intent, which makes this approach a useful critique in relation to western aesthetics that are post ‘death of the author’ or too obsessed with formalism and the internal dynamics of the art world. In rasa theory the maker has a state of mind (bhavas) and it is this that is shaping what is coming into form. Because the theory began at a time when the pre-eminent art forms were performative, (dance, drama, poetry etc.) an emphasis was always put on how the audience was receiving the art form. The artwork or performer only serves as a means for the viewer to experience the different rasas. Rasas elicit emotional states and these states are always associated with stories, which is why in Indian visual art narrative modes predominate.  

Hiranyaksha delivers a mighty blow, wounding Varaha: Manaku

The nine types of rasa: 

First and most important is ‘Shringaram’ a quality of love, attractiveness and erotic feelings. The deity that rules this area is Vishnu. The colour association is normally green, but as the erotic levels rise it becomes blue/black. It is interesting at this point to compare this with the most important of the six Chinese principles. 

The first and most important principle of Chinese brush drawing was ‘spirit resonance’ or vitality. ‘The life energy of the maker should be transmitted from the artist into the work. The very heartbeat of the artist should exist in the rhythm of the marks that go to make up the work. There should be a total transmission of life force from the living being of the maker into the material structure of what is made. Love it could be argued is at the core of an idea about life energy, without it there is no procreation. 

Following ‘Shringaram’ but in no particular order are:

‘Hasyam’: Laughter, mirth, comedy, the comic. Deity: Ganesha. Colour: white.

‘Raudram’: Fury, anger, warlike feelings. Deity: Rudra and Kali. Colour: red. Hence ‘Raudra, which translates as ‘dire’ or ‘Ugra’ which translates as fierce, violent, or furious and is associated with symbolism used to express fear, violence and destruction.  Typical elements include adornment with skulls and bones, weapons, and wide, circular eyes.  

‘Kāruṇyam’: Compassion, tragedy, touching or moving. Deity: Yama. Colour: dove-coloured (grey-white).

‘Bībhatasam’: Disgust, aversion, abhorrent, shocking or odious. Deity: Shiva. Colour: blue

‘Bhayānakam’: Horror, terror, fear, the terrible. Deity: Kali Colour: black

‘Vīram’: Bold, fearless, stout hearted a heroic sensibility. Deity: Indra. Colour: wheatish brown (yellow, ochre)

‘Adbhutam’: Wonder, amazement, wonderful, wondrous. Deity: Brahma. Colour: yellow

The 9th rasa is ‘Śāntam’: Peace, tranquillity or a quiescent mood. Deity: Vishnu. Colour: perpetual white (silvery, the colour of the moon and of jasmine)

The 9th Shanta-rasa is simultaneously seen as an equal member of the rasas, but also as distinct, since it represents the clearest form of aesthetic bliss and has been described as “as-good-as but never-equal-to the bliss of Self-realization experienced by yogis”.

Hence ‘Shanta’ which translates as peaceful and Saumya’ which translates as gentle, benign, and kind. the symbolism is used to express joy, love, compassion, kindness, knowledge, harmony and peace often using flowers to carry the message. 

Because Indian aesthetics covers many areas that we have no specific names for in English, this area of understanding can feel very alien. However if you think about an aesthetic derived initially from something more akin to theatre or the performing arts, you can see how the communication of various emotions might be central to a particular type of understanding of art practice. The ‘blending’ of emotions could be seen as a type of recipe for life. It does require the taking on board of several new words and as I have discussed before, words can tend to fix meanings in ways that images don’t. For instance, the production of the aesthetic form or ‘rasa’ arises from bhavas (becoming, birth, production, origin but also emotional tendencies), a concept that blends the making or coming into being of something with the emotional proclivities of the maker, this fusion isanalogous to the production of tastes (juices) associated with both various foods and their flavourings (condiments, curries and spices). I have often thought of the close relationship between cooking and making art, and the idea of ‘taste’ in food and aesthetic preference is linked in English, but not in such a formal way. 

There are more Sanskrit words that carry associated meanings. 'Vibhavas' means karana or cause. It is concerned with what caused the emotional communication; the ‘alambana’, the personal or human object and associated emotional substratum, or the ‘uddipana’, the excitants. The maker (alambana) will produce the work and as it is made the maker will transmit into it a certain emotional content. The art object 'uddipana' is what will excite the viewer or audience and this is followed by the ‘anubhava’ or effects in the audience following the rise of the emotion produced by experiencing the artwork. 

I find this interesting because I was always taught that as an artist I did not need to feel an emotion I was trying to portray. I could convey anger for instance without having to be angry. However I have had many arguments as to whether this is actually the case and several of my artist friends have spoken to me about the need to channel their emotions into their work. 

Compare the emotional registers of Indian aesthetics with the six Chinese principles of brush drawing in the post on drawing plants. Both in their own way ask us to focus on how we are making an aesthetic communication. My various blog posts are also asking the same question, but western aesthetics no longer have such clear rules. I have in previous posts looked at underlying mathematical order in aesthetics and at certain points historically western aesthetics did touch on what were known as ‘canons’ (For instance the Greek sculptor Polykleitos made a sculpture as a demonstration of his "Kanon" which operated as a "measure" or "rule" for the harmonious proportions of the human body) but all these reference points are now gone. 

Nb

When searching for more in-depth articles to research in relation to this subject these Indian aesthetic terms are taken from the Shilpa Shastraan, an umbrella term for various Hindu treatises and manuals on the arts and crafts, which outline Hindu iconography, design principles and rules, composition, the ideal proportions for human sculptures, as well as the principles and rules of architecture.

See also:

The Indian art world of the late 18th century can in many ways be compared with our own time. There was much stylistic innovation and hybridisation of art forms and it was the ‘rasa’ tradition of aesthetics that allowed this to happen. Visual art, poetry, music and dance began to cross-fertilise each other’s art forms. The artist Manaku, whose work is used to illustrate this post, lived during this time and this article on his life and times is a useful reminder of how little we know of art of this period. 

The poet Ghanand wrote the following line when he reflected on the difficult times he lived in, ‘Ujarin basey hai hamaari ankhiyan dekho.’ In English it becomes, ‘Watch the wasteland reflected in my eyes’. I have thought several times that this could make a very good title for my next exhibition. 

An earlier post on mathematics and rightness.

I first came across Sanskrit aesthetics in Marina Warner's wonderful book, 'No Go the Bogyman', her introduction is on p7 of the year 2000 Vintage publication. 

See also:

Colour within Indian aesthetics
Japanese aesthetics
Drawing plants (Find the 6 principles of Chinese brush drawing in the second half of this post)

Indian aesthetics part two

Drawing elephants
Nalini Malani