I recently experienced a painting that made me think about how all art, like any creative act, is a kind of performance — where the outcome matters less than the courage to begin, and to keep going, even when there’s no clear goal in sight.
Cosmos, the painting in question, was finished around 1984 by the renowned Balinese artist — Made Wianta. A monumental piece: five canvases, nearly three meters tall and over four meters wide.
At first glance, its cloud-like shapes and horizontal colored lines didn’t look like much. A strikingly large piece, certainly. But there were other pieces as big, if not bigger, in that same room.
Starting from the opposite side of the room helped me get into the zone I like to be in when visiting galleries. That quiet state where I get to experience the art in front of me with more than just my eyes. Waiting. Noticing how else I feel it.
When I finally reached Cosmos, I wasn’t looking at a painting anymore. With the canvas enveloping my whole field of view, it was as if I had been swallowed into a different world. What moments earlier had been a compilation of indistinguishable features, now towered over me.
Hundreds upon hundreds of tiny dots of paint, arranged into simple geometrical figures. No apparent logical order, yet in absolute harmony. A chaotic environment with its own rules.
It wasn’t so much the technical execution that moved me. It was Made Wianta’s sheer audacity — born from bravery, or maybe delusion — to believe he could take on such a gigantic endeavor. Daring to use the simplest of elements, and still portray meaning.
I could picture him, mustering as much energy as he could, working diligently on this piece for however long it took him, without certainty of success. Dot, after dot, after dot. Each, a fight against all the voices haunting artists into submission.
This determination alone, regardless of the results, deserves a long round of applause. And yet, here I was, witnessing the most classic of stories behind the layers of paint: a human overcoming against all odds.
We usually think of art as a finished piece on a given medium. Paint over canvas, print over paper, notes on a recorder. Rarely do we pay attention to what came before it.
As a society, we value results over processes. Processes are messy, non-linear, and hard to measure. Results — tangible, sellable, and an easy measurement of worth.
We want beautiful, loving relationships, but are not willing to do the necessary work to hold one. We want thriving, successful businesses, but are not willing to go through the effort required to build something valuable.
Fixating on results stifles creativity. It robs us from the one thing we have for certain: the joy of creation itself.
It would have been impossible for Made Wianta to obsessively plan every little detail, nor to define exactly how everything would pan out.
He had to trust his vision, and do the work until the work was done. In doing so, the object of his creation became an echo of a moment frozen in time. A testament of his will to be.
Standing in awe besides Cosmos reminded me of the importance of doing the thing. A permission to focus on the next dot rather than in the larger whole. To let art happen way before it’s finished.
