ARTICLES
THE CREATIVE CHAOS
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By TOBI ZAUSNER, Ph.D.
SPECULATIONS
ON THE CONNECTION BETWEEN
Paper presented at the Fourth Annual Conference
Published
in Nonlinear Dynamics in Human Behavior: Studies of Nonlinear Phenomena
in Life Science. Vol. 5. W. Sulis & A. Combs (Eds.). Singapore:
World Scientific, 1996.
Abstract
Chaos theory may provide models for creativity and for the personality
of the artist. A collection
of speculative hypotheses examines the connection between art and such
fundamentals of nonlinear dynamics as iteration, dissipative processes,
open systems, entropy, sensitivity to stimuli, autocatalysis, subsystems,
bifurcations, randomness, unpredictability, irreversibility, increasing
levels of organization, far-from-equilibrium conditions, strange attractors,
period doubling, intermittency and self-similar fractal organization. Nonlinear dynamics may also explain why
certain individuals suffer mental disorders while others remain intact
during a lifetime of sustained creative output. 1 Introduction
Chaos theory may provide models for creativity and for the personality
of the artist. Nonlinear
dynamics may also explain why certain individuals suffer mental disorders
while others remain intact during a lifetime of sustained creative output.
In the following collection of speculative hypotheses about the connection
between art and chaos theory, I use the word "painting" generically
for other visual arts such as drawing and sculpture because of my background
as a painter. It is possible that the analogies between
nonlinear dynamics and the visual arts may also apply to other activities
such as writing and composing music. In this paper the word "chaos"
is used in the way the word "complexity" is used by the Santa
Fe Institute scientists, to designate a state of activity that calls forth
new combinations of order. At
the Santa Fe Institute, the term "chaos" designates a highly
active state, which does not produce new or lasting organization. I call this state "disorder." 2 Dissipative Processes, Open Systems, and Entropy Nonlinear systems are characterized by dissipative processes, open systems, and entropy (Kellert, 1993; Ruelle, 1991). In nonequilibrium states entropy can give rise to order (Prigogine & Stengers, 1984). Creativity also appears to be a dissipative process, one organized by the open system of the creative person. Artists take in energy and information from their environment and discharge entropy as local examples of order which we call art. Ordering energy is creating information and as such is negentropic (Shannon 1971), making creativity a negentropic process.
Like dissipative processes, creativity is fueled by an exchange
of energy with the outside world and exists because it is open to this
exchange. If an artist were not open to outside
influences, disordered stagnation would occur. As each dissipative structure
is a separate entity, so every period of creativity is unique and every
work of art should be unique as well.
When the works of an artist resemble each other too closely, there
is a lack of creativity, and what might have been the chaos of creation
is only the linearity of repetition. 3 Iteration
Nonlinear processes are built through iteration (Stewart, 1989). Creating a work of art can also be seen
as an iterative process. The
painting in its current state reacts with the painting in its previous
state, which is in the artist’s memory.
The painting is always being compared and referred to itself and
this comparison lays the trajectory for the evolution of a work of art.
In iterative processes small changes may become amplified (Gleick, 1987). A decision to affect one part of the painting,
no matter how small, changes the painting. Becoming incorporated into the whole, it is the basis for future
iteration and affects the direction of the painting's progress. 4 Irreversibility
Chaotic processes are characterized by irreversibility (Ruelle,
1991). Creativity is also an irreversible process.
As a macro process, creativity is time bound. A painting cannot be un-painted. Even though parts of it may be obliterated
or taken out, that is still part of the process of bringing it to its
final state. Overpainting,
scraping or turpentining a work off the canvas may expunge its image but
cannot erase the past of its brushstrokes and how it looked. Obliteration can be image obscuring, but is not time reversing.
Irreversibility appears to be fundamental to the organization of
a work of art. 5 Randomness and Unpredictability
Chaotic processes have both randomness and unpredictability (Gleick,
1987). Because there is a degree of randomness
in every work of art there is no way of completely predicting its outcome. Without the random unexpected element,
art can become rote and lifeless.
If a work of art were only the result of randomness it would be
a product of disorder. Determination,
purpose and intent form the framework or attractors within which the random
occurs. Randomness increases
the irreversibility of a work of art. 6 Sensitivity to Stimuli
Chaotic systems react to stimuli that would be inconsequential
in processes approaching equilibrium.
In this sensitivity, a system produces a spontaneous adaptive organization
to its environment (Prigogine & Stengers, 1984). Extreme reaction
to stimuli is also found in creative individuals, who are known for their
sensitivity to the external world.
This reaction can be a positive or a negative adaptation. As a
positive adaptation, an artist may be struck by an idea or by the beauty
of a scene and be inspired to produce a work of art.
Another form of positive adaptation may be increased creative output
as a response to encouragement or to critical acclaim. A negative response
to an artist or the works of art can produce a negative adaptation.
Both Vincent Van Gogh (Van Gogh, 1967) and Edvard Munch (Grimes,
1994) were tormented by the negative response of their neighbors and responded
by going deeper into mental illness.
Positive critical response aided the career of Titian who went
on to become the leading painter in sixteenth century Venice (Rosand,
1978). 7 Autocatalysis
Chaotic processes are autocatalytic (Briggs & Peat, 1989). The creative process also appears to be
autocatalytic. Artists, through
their moods and emotions react with themselves either positively or negatively
to enhance or inhibit their productivity.
A balance of positive and negative feedback is necessary for the
production of a work of art. Responding positively to their own work,
as in a positive feedback loop, artists can increase their excitement
and spur their creativity. But
with unchecked positive feedback, an artist may paint without adequate
assessment of the work produced.
Responding negatively, an artist can examine the work and detect
flaws. However, if the negative feedback loop is not interrupted,
it is possible to become overly critical.
Artists can inhibit themselves and their creativity, stopping the
work. 8 Sub-Systems and Bifurcations Chaotic systems contain subsystems, which are in constant fluctuation. A single fluctuation can become strong enough to break the existing order and bifurcate the system into a new order (Prigogine & Stengers, 1984). As systems are composed of subsystems which are constantly in motion, so the artist has layers of consciousness and emotions, which like the resting chaos of brain cells, (Freeman, 1991) are ready for excitation. A painting in progress also contains sub-systems. As it is being worked on, its parts are in a constant state of adjustment demonstrating the fluctuations of nonlinear dynamics. Very often, in fact always, in my personal experience, a part or subsystem of the canvas can fluctuate in such a way that it bifurcates from the existing composition and takes the whole work of art in a new direction.
One might ask, doesn't the artist have plans for a painting? Usually, and especially in figurative
art, the artist does have a plan in the form of a drawing, smaller composition,
or just an idea. Such a plan
can be seen as the attractors within which the nonlinear dynamics of a
work of art begin to take form.
However in translating the plan to the canvas many things happen. For example, there is a scale change. Things that look good small may not work
large. Some artists compensate
for this by making a full size drawing of the composition, but even then
there are always changes to be made in the final work of art. Sometimes an adjustment is better than
the original idea, and the artist has a whole new route to take. Creativity is in fact stopped if the artist
is not open to the constant bifurcations that happen in the painting process. 9 Increasing Levels of Organization
Chaotic systems are characterized by increasing levels of organization
(Prigogine & Stengers, 1984).
In creating a work of art, disparate elements are brought together
into a synthesis creating a higher organization than that of the parts
by themselves. On the physical level of the painting,
the artist combines paints, canvas, and solvents to create a finished
work of greater complexity than its individual components. The artist's ideas, intentions, and emotions generate higher
organizations of meaning in the work of art. 10 Far-From-Equilibrium Conditions and Strange Attractors
Chaos is a far-from-equilibrium condition (Sterling, 1992) whose
turbulence is contained within the limits of the strange attractors (Ruelle,
1991). Creativity is also a far-from-equilibrium
condition. The most chaotic
part of the creative process is that of inspired activity.
Inspiration takes the artist into in a state of hyper-excitability. In this condition, innovation becomes available because the
system can move away from repetitive old patterns and establish something
new and unique. Inspiration,
with its flood of ideas, can at times, be characterized by turbulence.
The matrix of the personality acts like attractors holding the artist
within the parameters of sanity during periods of chaotic inspiration. Artists need to have a strong foundation. The non-equilibrium that produces sensitivity
and instability can also create disorder in certain individuals.
Some artists have breakthroughs while other artists have breakdowns. 11 The Period Doubling Cascade to Chaos When a system is pushed beyond stability it may exhibit period doublings which appear as bifurcations cascading into chaos (Stewart, 1989). It is possible that period doublings into chaos may provide a model for the mental instability found in some creative individuals. During inspiration the different ideas or options available to an artist can be modeled as attractor basins in a phase state. As inspiration is fueled autocatalytically by the artist's response to the excitement of creativity, the nonlinearity of the situation increases, which may be seen as a multiplication of period doublings. In a mentally healthy artist, the strange attractors of the personality may act to limit the number of period doublings to ensure a creative chaos that will produce works of art. In a mentally disordered person, the already weak attractors of the personality may not be able to limit the number of period doublings. The nervous energy of inspiration may flood the system with too much nonlinearity until the chaos achieved is not creative but disordered. An example of excessive linearity creating disorder is found in Langton's quantification of Wolfram's work with cellular automata. These computer simulations of life processes were originally found in the work of Conway (Waldrop, 1992). Wolfram (1984) described four classes of cellular automata: Class I, where every cell died after one or two moves; Class II, with static oscillation of groups of unconnected cells; Class III with groups of over-energized cells that never produced anything; and Class IV with cells that combined, produced new structures, and recombined in a complex manner. When Langton (1992) assigned parameters to Wolfram's four states, he found that Class IV was actually a state before, not after Class III, which contained the most nonlinearity. He discovered that increasing the nonlinearity of a system can push it from complexity into disorder. Again, there is a difference of semantics. What Langton has called complexity, I call a creative chaos, and what he termed chaos, I call disorder.
Huberman (Gleick, 1987) also found that too much nonlinearity caused
a system to behave erratically.
He analyzed the constant extraneous eye movements of schizophrenics
and their relatives who were unable to track the motion of a pendulum.
Another possible model for mental instability in a creative individual
may found be Abraham's (Abraham, 1989) buckling column diagram.
This phase space with two attractor basins can be seen as two aesthetic
options set before an artist. A
healthy person is capable of making a choice. One attractor basin is chosen while the other one vanishes.
An unhealthy artist with obsessive tendencies may not be able to choose
between the attractor basins. A
crippling obsession without resolution might flood the system with too
much nonlinearity. Obsessive
rumination may over-examine each possibility dissecting it into almost
infinite nuances. If this
happens it is possible that the two attractors may period double into
myriad small attractors, becoming a model of too much nonlinearity in
a system and of mental disorder in an individual. 12 Intermittency and Self-Similar Fractal Organization Chaotic processes are intermittent and exhibit a structure that is fractal and self-similar (Mandelbrot, 1983). In the mosaic of a chaotic system like the Mandelbrot set, there are islands of order, which resemble each other but are not identical. These have been called "Mandelbrots," and are connected to one another by thin filaments (Briggs & Peat, 1989). Creativity also appears to have a fractal nature. Like the Mandelbrots, periods of creativity appear to be self-similar but not identical. Works of art produced by a single artist also tend to be similar but are not identical. As the Mandelbrots appear separate but are connected to each other through a fine filament, so the periods of creativity and the works of art are connected in the threads of the painter's unconscious processes.
From a social/art historical standpoint, the Mandelbrots are analogous
to the paintings of a particular school or time, which also resemble each
other but are not exactly alike.
Here the filaments would be the social or art theoretical issues
that identify the style. The
Mandelbrots can also be seen as the intermittent periods of time when
a specific painting is being worked on.
Creativity is not a constant process.
Not only because some ideas develop over time, but also because
the flow stops. Artists sometimes take years to finish
a painting and to compensate for this often work on more than one piece
at a time. As periods of
chaos and order alternate in systems (Stewart, 1989), so do periods of
creativity and reflectivity alternate in the life of an artist. 13 Summary
Certain aspects of nonlinear dynamics appear to be relevant to
the process of creativity and to the personality of the artist. Examining analogies between nonlinear dynamics and creativity
may provide some understanding of the artist and of the process of making
art, and in doing so may strengthen the connection between science and
the arts. References Abraham, F. D., Abraham, R. H. & Shaw, C. (1989) A Visual Introduction to Dynamical Systems Theory for Psychology. Santa Cruz, Aerial Press. Briggs, J. & Peat, F. D. (1989). Turbulent Mirror. New York: Harper & Row. Gleick, J. (1987). Chaos. New York: Bantam Books. Grimes, N. (1994). "A Dauber of Nasty Pictures," Art News, Summer 1994, 29. Kellert, S. H. (1993). In the Wake of Chaos. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Langton, C. (1992). Life at the Edge of Chaos. Artificial Life II, SFI Studies in the Sciences of Complexity. Vol. X, edited by C. G. Langton, C. Taylor, J. D. Farmer, & S. Rasmussen, Reading, MA: Addison Wesley. Mandelbrot, B. B. (1983). The Fractal Geometry of Nature. San Francisco: W. H. Freeman. Prigogine, I. & Stengers, I. (1984). Order Out of Chaos. New York: Bantam Books. Rosand, D. (1978) Titian. New York: Abrams. Ruelle, D. (1991). Chance and Chaos. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Shannon, C.
& Weaver, W. (1971) The Mathematical Theory of Communication. Urbana: University of Illinois. Stewart, I. (1989). Does God Play Dice, The Mathematics of Chaos. Cambridge: Blackwell Publishers. Van Gogh, V. (1969). Dear Theo. Edited by I. Stone. New York: Penguin Books. Waldrop, M. M. (1992). Complexity. New York: Simon & Schuster. Wolfram, S.
(1984). Computer Software in Science and Mathematics, Scientific American, 9/84. By TOBI ZAUSNER, Ph.D.
Published
in:
Introduction All my life I have been an artist. Although I started to draw very early in childhood, it was only by studying psychology that I began to realize how deeply creative behavior reflects the mind. In its creation and in its appreciation, visual art is a mirror of and for the mind. It is both an exteriorization of unconscious mental processes and a stimulus for conscious reflection. Like some great iceberg floating on an inner sea, only a very small tip of creativity rests above the surface while its greater part lies hidden beneath the waves of waking consciousness. It is this vast unseen body of thought that pushes the brush strokes on the surface of the canvas, creating the surprises and “accidents” intrinsic to creativity. Accidents and surprises Even with carefully drawn figurative work such as mine, the unconscious is dominant. This produces continuous surprises. For example, it was not until I had completed Inner Calm that I realized the meaning of its imagery. In this work, the Zen monk and scholar, Soen Roshi, rises above a landscape while stopping a volcanic explosion with his hand. After its completion, I realized that the image represents Soen Roshi calming the fires of the mind during meditation. Our emotions form an inner landscape. Acknowledging their presence with detachment produces a state of inner calm. Artists, myself included, often have a positive attitude toward what emerges unpredictably during the process of painting. Sometimes the unexpected is experienced as a gift. Unplanned events that shape the course of a work of art can be of such magnitude and unconscious origin that one wonders sometimes how they manifest. For example, while working on the painting Memories, I was having great trouble painting the sky. Try as I might for hours upon hours, the clouds would not come out right. Over and over again I painted them, always with the wrong result. But I refused to stop. Finally, at about two or three in the morning, in utter disgust and exhaustion, I painted them yet again. But this time, I was so tired and angry that I could not even look at the canvas, so I painted without looking. Turning my head away, I just kept working, my arm moving across the canvas in great arcs. When I finally decided to look back at the canvas I thought I was going to see another terrible mess that I would have to remove with turpentine yet again. To my surprise, there were the clouds I had wanted to paint many hours ago. The structure that I had worked in vain for so long to capture was now on canvas. The clouds were finally in the shape and size I needed for the underpainting and ready for the many adjustments and multiple glazes of transparent paint that would bring them to completion. Unconscious skills This experience may be explained through the phenomenology of learned skills. Our lives are full of tasks that are accomplished without consciously reflecting on all the steps necessary for their completion. In learning to do something with sufficient skill, many aspects of the routine become unconscious, yet are recalled to use without conscious thought. My experience with the clouds used the motor skills of painting, which may be seen as a type of somatic knowing. It is the knowledge of skills encoded in the hand and the arm, the body skills that are the physical dance of painting. Although somatic skill and muscle memory are involved in every aspect of painting, it is unlikely that I would have had the great success of the sky had I looked away while painting a face. Faces and other carefully painted areas call for fine motor control along with visual vigilance over the more exact meeting of lines. Unconscious faces Yet faces themselves exhibit constant surprises. The face that is painted does not always look like the face that was planned. Even when depicting the same faces in two works, such as the mother and child seen in Compassionate Heart and again in Wind on the Lake, they come out differently each time. I may be more prone to this because of my way of working. I use photographs more often than live models, and then after a while don’t even use the photo but paint almost entirely from mind and memory. Often, I paint thinking I am depicting a certain face, and yet another one comes through. Sometimes I can recognize the newly painted but unplanned face as that of someone I know. Perhaps I was thinking of that person on an unconscious level and so they emerged through my hands and eyes unawares. Sometimes, if it works in the painting I leave the unplanned face on the canvas, as I did with the faces of the women in Fair Game. Other times I take it out, trying once more to depict the model of the face in my conscious mind, as I did with Quanah. Because Quanah Parker was a Comanche chief and a historical figure, it was essential to have a likeness. For some works, such as Travelogues, Winter, and Sameness, Depth of Mystery, I take the face out almost completely to impart a sense of ambiguity. Cast in shadow, they become fertile ground for the viewer’s projections. Unconscious self-portraits One of the most common faces to come through unconsciously is that of the artist’s own likeness. Leonardo da Vinci warned against this general tendency in his writings (1489-1519/1989), reminding artists to take care not to repeat their own image. We are all so familiar with our own face that it is not surprising for it to come through in art. I have also noticed that when this occurs, I and other artists do not recognize the faces as self-portraits. They exist as psychological/visual blind spots. It is as if we are so steeped in our own face, yet perhaps simultaneously so blind to it as well, that we cannot recognize it before us in our own work. There is a tendency to reproduce our own face repeatedly yet remain unaware of doing so both during the time of painting and then afterward when viewing the work of art. It is only when other people point it out to me that I suppose I have recreated my likeness, but even then I can’t always see it. Some people have said I look like the woman in Gaia, but to me she looks like a friend of mine who died many years ago. Psychologically, painting one’s own face may be a type of projection, unconsciously seeing the world through a subjective viewpoint that manifests visually in painting. There is also another reason. I believe that every work an artist creates is actually a self-portrait and as such contains an unconscious tendency to reproduce the artist’s features or experiences. Some works, like the multiple self-portraits of Rembrandt and Van Gogh, are obviously and consciously intended to be likenesses, while other works may reveal themselves as self-portraits only well after they were completed. For example, it was years after I painted Memories that I realized it depicted the time in my life when I was forced to leave my loft after an unscrupulous landlord took over the building. Formerly, I had thought the only meaning of the painting was that we all carry mental baggage that should be jettisoned. When people are attracted to Memories, as many people are, I know that at some time their life has been difficult and I always feel compassion for them. Autonomy and unpredictability in a work of art Paintings seem to have lives of their own, existing out of the artist’s control. This is most obvious when a work is complete. To me, a finished painting is like a beautiful bubble, shining and whole, sailing away. I know I created the bubble, but it is complete now, severing its ties to me almost as if it were never connected. Of course, I can remember making the painting. But the memories of its creation seem to partially fade in a mist created by the existence of a finished work. I never make a work of art that comes out as planned. There are always changes, and usually fundamental ones. Even the most carefully designed piece contains unforeseen alterations. I thought I would put other elk in Rainmaker, but I kept the composition with just one. Likewise, I thought to put in a fulcrum for the seesaw in Yin and Yang along with a landscape background, but I left these elements out in the final work. Paintings dictate to the artist what needs be done. It is what the painting requires, rather than what the artist wants. A very clear example of this occurred during my work on the Pilgrim. I had just changed the image so that the figure is walking a narrow bridge to solid ground. In the foreground I had painted a garden; his road was to end there so he could have some rest. But the painting wouldn’t let me; the composition called for the road to continue. Try as I might to keep the garden across the bottom of the canvas, it didn’t work. Finally, I gave in and painted the road. Immediately, the work looked better. It was now correct. As an exercise in conscious reflection, I recognized that it was my desire to rest that made me want him to come to a garden. But of course, my own road continues. Visual Memory Visual memory is intrinsic to the creative process. I paint what I see inwardly in the present, which is modeled on what I have seen outwardly in the past. The sky and water in The Wind Stirs the Surface of the Lake were done from memory, as were the clouds, mountains, and earth in the background of Planar Time. Artists are known to have strong visual memories. Some aid their visual memory by making sketches but others like me just look intently at whatever they want to remember. Until the conscious reflection involved in writing this article, I had not realized there were multiple components to the intensity of my focus. When I look at something I want to remember, I very carefully look at the whole first, then at each part separately, and I have the sensation that it physically goes inside me, entering my mind for storage. In addition, while looking at what I want to remember, I paint it in my mind. I do this exactly the way I would be transcribing the scene onto canvas, even deciding what colors and brushes I would use. These associations help to encode the memory for storage and facilitate both its retrieval and its expression on canvas. Digital fine art Recently, there has been a great change in my work. I used to make only paintings or drawings. These one-of-a-kind works usually took many years to complete. Now, I make giclée prints, which generally take several months to a year to finish. These prints are a form of digital fine art, originating from my paintings and drawings. First I scan a slide of a painting or drawing into the computer at 4,000 dpi (dots per inch). I then alter it considerably by changing color, tone, saturation, sharpness, details, and cropping. Sometimes I use only part of an original image as I did in Winter, which is cropped from Travelogues. Then I print the work in a limited edition with archival materials that are supposed to last hundreds of years. I like the inherent generosity of multiples, because they are available for more people to enjoy. Another positive aspect is that they can bring works back into existence that were previously lost. For example, the print of Day Journey no longer exists as a painting. It was painted over years ago, becoming an underpainting for Night Birds. Yet, because I had a slide of it, I could make a print. On the slide it was an unfinished work, so I finished it as if I were painting a canvas, but instead of paint I used the computer. Conclusion: philosophy of the work Even though I enjoy the technical aspects of creating art, it is the meaning of the images and the message of the work that is most important. My art is about possibilities depicted as actualities to inspire dreams in the viewer. Reveries made real, they show “what if” appear “as is.” Sometimes the dream comes from the person I am depicting. For example, Mermaid is a portrait of my friend Leslie, who wanted to be shown as a mermaid. Other times the work shows the possibilities of a theory, as in Travelogues. This image was inspired by Einstein’s General Theory of Relativity, which says that in certain instances time can curve and even form a loop. At the intersection of the loop, it would theoretically be possible to meet yourself at another point in time. In this, as in all my work, images balance on the line between known and unknown. Their careful rendering is reminiscent of reality, but it is my hope that their subject matter enlarges the possibilities of consciousness. References Leonardo
da Vinci. (1989). Leonardo on Painting.
M. Kemp, ed., Trans. M. Kemp & M. Walker. New Haven: Yale University
Press. (Original work written ca. 1489-1519). |