Art: The International Language

John Ruskin has said, "Great nations write their autobiographies in three manuscripts -- the book of their deeds, the book of their words, and the book of their art." To him, the last was the most important. And while I don't make a habit of agreeing with much that Ruskin said, we are of like mind on that point. But let's examine why.

First, we have the book of deeds. Everyone is familiar with the adage that "history is written by the victors." If that's the case, then we should rightly be suspicious of learning about a culture by their deeds. Everyone paints themselves in the most positive light possible and societies are no different. Remember that time you got dumped in high school? You cried and cried in private, but shrugged it off or made out like it was all your idea to your friends. Sort of like that.

Secondly, we have the book of words, which I take to mean literary and theatrical arts. While I find these media to be a bit more honest than official histories (satire rarely has a place among history books), there is still the problem of linguistic accessibility. If you aren't intimately familiar with the language, you can't very well read it. And if you only possess a strictly academic fluency, you're unlikely to grasp subtle witticisms, which could lead you to miss the point entirely. And don't think you can fully rely on a translated edition. By removing a text from its original language, you invariably change its meaning. Language is the vehicle of culture, so translations are really only capable of giving a picture painted in the broadest of strokes.

This brings us to the final of Ruskin's manuscripts -- the book of art. Art (good art, at least) needs no translation. You look at it and you understand what the artist is trying to tell you. Look at this painting, The Third of May, 1808 by Francisco de Goya:

What do you see? How does it make you feel? There isn't any right answer, by the way. But the point is that you don't need to be able to read Spanish to get the point Goya was trying to make. And what's better is that you don't have to rely on a translator, either. The emotional impact of the painting is just as raw regardless of your native language.

Here's another Spanish painting by El Greco:

This is El Greco's Laocoön. Even though this painting predates my previous example by almost exactly 200 years, there are similarities in style and theme. These two paintings can be considered characteristic of the Spanish style, and can therefore be assumed to say something of the character of that nation. What it says, however, is up to your interpretation.

And this is why art is such an important part of understanding how we interact with the world. You don't need anyone to tell you what a work of art means. Art is subjective -- it means something different to everyone. Art has been considered a possible path to enlightenment. In W. Somerset Maugham's novel The Razor's Edge, Larry Darrell, a wanderer seeking enlightenment says, "I wondered if art couldn't point out the way to me that religion hadn't."