Philosophical Dialogues, What is Art?, Hunter and Bain, Jake Jackson

Dialogues | What is Art?

Hunter and Bain wait in a cafe at the end of a wide corridor. Above them, visible through the vast domed windows looms the presence of Wolf 359, the nearest star, gazing down at the holographic art exhibition Shi Xiu had insisted the three of them should visit. An exact replica of the Museum of Modern Art, just off 6th and 53rd on old Manhattan, the exhibition was now located across the galaxy, funded by a philanthropic dictator desperate, apparently, to ameliorate his sins. The occasional exhibitions still draw large crowds for the old painted arts of earth.

The time does not matter, nor the year.


Bain, inhaling the delicate aroma of the artisan coffee: All this art stuff, what’s it for? Apart from decorating the corridors of endless hotels.

Hunter: You’re asking the wrong person.

Bain, nodded: Hmm, thought so.

Hunter: You can’t stop now!

Bain: Well I don’t understand it, nor do you, so there’s nothing more to say.

Hunter gestures towards the main gallery: Except that so many make the effort to come here and marvel at the works. Some of them must travel from the other side of the galaxy, that’s not just effort and energy consumption, but genuine passion.

Bain: Some of visitors are holograms too. I can see they’re slightly out of phase with the building. I wonder what they really see. It must be layers of light adjusted by yet more light. They must see a series of glitches.

Hunter: I suspect their technology is more advanced than that, otherwise why bother?

Bain: Well, why bother indeed, all of these images can be viewed in so many more convenient forms. Even if they wanted to see them, surely they’re already so familiar it doesn’t make sense to travel so far.

Hunter: Perhaps they appear more fresh, alive, seen at the correct size, in a gallery, being viewed on large white walls, with other people around.

Bain: But they’re holograms!

Hunter: Everyone in there, Shi Xiu included, seems to treat them as real.

Bain: Yes, as you and I rushed through the exhibition I saw her stop by the Starry Night painting. She just stared at it. Surely she’s seen enough starry nights in her travels, especially with us!

Hunter: She sees more in it than we do.

Bain: So this art thing is personal, like religion.

Hunter: Religion! That’s a collective experience surely.

Bain: Well, from the outside, but a true believer seems to have an intense personal connection with the object of their faith.

Hunter: So you equate art with personal connection?

Bain: I’ve heard Shi Xiu say that art only makes sense if you engage with the work, so your response becomes part of it. That seemed especially true of what she called the Modernists where the art was designed to evoke a response from the viewer, rather than just represent something profound in a beautiful or dramatic way.

Hunter: You sound almost interested.

Bain: I’m interested in her observation. I just don’t understand it. I don’t have a response worth evoking!

Hunter: But I’ve seen you smile at some of the paintings as you walked past them.

Bain: I suppose I like some of them, and they’re so different from each other – the Picassos with their inside out views of bodies, Dali’s melting clocks, the messy splashes of Pollock. It made me feel uncomfortable.

Hunter: So your smile was a wince. That’s still a response, in Shi Xiu’s terms.

Bain: I suppose so. And around us there were human children running about; they seemed energised by art, even the androids seemed affected. I think they must have been sent by humans because they stopped in front of every image and seemed to record the spectacle.

Hunter: Perhaps they were creating their own panoramic viewing for later consumption.

Bain: Will that be as good though?

Hunter: Why not?

Bain: Well, going back to your analogy about religion, there might be a collective element to this experience of art. The crowds seem to enjoy being part of something. If it’s taken back and made an utterly personal view in an apartment, perhaps it doesn’t have the same impact.

Hunter: So, back to your original question, art is more than a functional part of the decor.

Bain: Well, you’ve broadened it out. If any response is relevant, from pleasure to discomfort, then I concede art does something, and in any location, with or without others around you, but does it add to the sum of knowledge?

Hunter: From what I can see that’s not it’s purpose. I can’t see that any of the original artists tried to increase our knowledge.

Bain: Perhaps they tried to exorcise their own demons, or work through their agitated states of mind.

Hunter: Certainly, whatever the artists intend, they created a connection with others, so there must be something fundamental that appeals to humans in particular.

Bain: Perhaps they were making something that invoked an essential element of their own consciousness, something that teases at a vital part in the rest of us, something intimate and profound.

Hunter: And perhaps it doesn’t matter what the subject or the style is. Perhaps the very act of making and viewing art, in any form, gives some insight about humankind, to itself.

Bain nods slowly: Perhaps. As you say.

Bain’s eyes hover over the raised coffee and he sees the mirrored reflections of Wolf 359 merged into the upside down world of the people and the paintings from the gallery. All life seems reflected here, paintings and sculptures, digital works, objects, each with clusters of people and other beings gathered around, some moving swiftly, others lingering, each over different works of art. He flicks his gaze at Hunter and sees that he too is watching, just as Shi Xiu now wanders over to greet them, her face swept with an enigmatic smile.


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