When was the last time a book, a film, a painting, a song and, yes, an ad profoundly, intensely moved you? Not something that made you cry or feel intense joy but deeply shook you to your core? It’s difficult these days, with all the noise and distraction, to even find a moment to be moved. But it does happen. There are still moments, rare though they might be.
For Leo Tolstoy, this was why art exists—this ability to conjure up some deep-seated passion that might have otherwise gone undiscovered, perhaps forever. As far as Tolstoy was concerned, if it couldn’t do that, it wasn’t art. It was something, surely. A pretty picture. An engrossing novel, perhaps. But for damn sure, it wasn’t art.
Not long ago, ad agency Droga5 created a short film for the auction house Christie’s. Maybe you’ve seen it. For almost the entire time, all we see are people staring at something. Gazing. Some are clearly awestruck. Some are mesmerized. Others are captivated. Entranced. By what, we don’t know, until the very end when we see da Vinci’s last painting of Christ. In just that single series of images, the expressions on those people’s faces tell me that something has gotten through to them on some deep level.
What it tells me is that, if good art is defined by deep feelings, then it follows that bad art is shallow. It doesn’t connect with me in any way. I don’t want to cry. I don’t want to feel triumph or despair. I don’t want to feel joy. I literally feel nothing.
I want creativity to move me.
I need creativity to move me.
I believe we all do.
As you might imagine, there are plenty of creatives out there who would tell you that the great Russian writer was maybe a little too full of himself.
It seems like a lifetime ago that Tom Monahan cofounded Leonard Monahan Saabye, one of the hottest advertising agencies in the United States, and took that little shop in Providence to the very top of the creative ladder.
“I believe most art simply provides the feeling of enjoyment or intrigue,” he says. “Enjoying something that’s aesthetically pleasing or intrigued by what’s happening in a story usually [means it’s] partially told by the artist and completed to varying degrees by the listener.”
Tom makes a good point.
The story begun by the creative is completed by the audience. Awe. Sadness. Contemplation. In the silence of the gallery, the resonance of a musical note or the words on a page, we share in the creative’s emotional vision. We let it roll around inside us, worm its way into the back corners of who we are and do with us what it will.
Kevin Kehoe is at the forefront of the Contemporary Art of the American West movement and a former advertising creative himself. I’m not sure Kevin would buy Tolstoy’s argument completely, but he does think art and emotion are inseparable. “All forms of art, I believe, are the highest expressions of humanness. Art is the language and collaborative work of the heart and mind. I believe art’s aim is to stimulate the senses and facilitate feelings, whatever those feelings might be.”
And then there’s art director and designer John Doyle, who says this: “I don’t think any piece of art has to evoke emotion from every person. If it can elicit that from just one person, it’s art.”
Finally, Ben Jones, former global director of Google’s Creative Works and founder of creative services company Sundogs, says: “Art provokes. It doesn’t function coldly. It’s not the mere solution to a mere problem.”
No. It isn’t.
So, here’s where I’m going to leave it—I believe human beings are shaped by our emotions. We are not Spock. We never have been. We never will be.
I believe art inspires empathy, fostering a deeper understanding of the human condition, of ourselves and of everyone around us.
I believe art can challenge us. It can push boundaries. Reimagine them.
I believe art brings a sense of awe into our lives without which we can exist but never really live.
I believe art can awaken us to injustice.
I believe art, especially advertising, can acquaint us with wonder, something we need now more than we know.
I believe art can turn us into children.
And I believe this: that art without feelings is a missed opportunity none of us can afford. ca