Abstract art is poetry. Poetry is rhythm. Poetry is metaphor. Poetry is lyrical.
Its meaning envelops its words like a subtle perfume, restoring their purity and freeing them of the range of associations that we attach to them.
Some believe that the success of abstract art lies in its ability to put on as many meanings as there are eyes to look upon it. That in the fusion of the image and what the image seems to evoke, a personalized work of art emerges, different every time. This method is expansive. It does not stimulate the imagination toward the new, but results in a constant re-jumbling of the familiar. Like a kaleidoscope of memories turning. This method clutters the intention of the artist with unnecessary, unrelated things.
On the contrary, the success of abstract art – like poetry – lies not in arriving at different meanings via the same symbol, but arriving at the same meaning via many different symbols, so that – implausible as it sounds – we can look at it and see the same thing. That is a rare experience. It requires a reductive and intuitive method, simplifying things down rather than cluttering with details that obscure. It bridges the gap between individuals, languages and cultures. It can be understood around the world. A universal language.