Getting Metaphysical With It
Art, phenomenology, and intuition. I place my writing on the altar and welcome whoever may be drawn in.
The other night I spent about 6 hours working on a puzzle and watching CJ the X videos. CJ the X is an artist and philosopher who primarily shares long-form content on Youtube, Patreon, and their website. I was first introduced to their videos when my partner and I watched their two-and-a-half hour analysis of Inside by Bo Burnham, which I loved. Although their videos work as stand-alone pieces, together they weave a world-view that’s hard to look away from.
CJ often talks about the nature of art and creation, and calls them things we are in service of. Their Subjectivity in Art video explains how art can’t be reduced to only an objective nor subjective truth, or even fully understood on that spectrum - art is an experience that can’t be fully described. To describe something is to give specificity to it, but the more specific you get with a description, the further away you get from the thing itself. Art is something that doesn’t need words, and yet we have the urge to understand it more deeply by putting words to it. This is where philosophy comes in.
One video that particularly resonated with me was his 7 Deadly Art Sins. What really struck me was his assertion that the act of not creating, as a creative, is a sin. They encourage us to make the bad thing, make the good thing and throw it away, and stop using the word “pretentious” entirely. They discuss the importance of creating the thing you are called to create, and trust that your audience will find you. In this overwhelming digital world, it’s easy to fall into metrics/analytics (which they are specifically against), as well as attempt to cater to an audience you imagine already exists. The audience forms around you, not the other way around.
CJ says the call to create has layers to it. The top layer is usually the first thing we answer when we’re asked why we create. For instance, the reason I write, practice witchcraft, and make visual art is because I want to feel connected and learn more about the world at large. I want to make things that can outlive me so that I may touch others in death. I want to find those with whom my stories resonate. There is real connection in the vulnerability it takes to create as authentically yourself, and I want to be vulnerable with you. The deeper reason we create (the reason we usually hide) tends to be more ego-centered. I really love attention. My ego wants reassurance that I am worth something, talented, and good. I need people to see and understand me so that I am validated. I want reading my work to be an an act of vulnerability for both of us. All of these motivations exist together and are interwoven.
A reason CJ pushes us to create, if we are so called to do so, is because it helps everyone be better at creating. This is proven in how we go about teaching others art techniques and methods. People don’t come up with painting or writing techniques before they happen - the techniques emerge from doing, and then we are able to describe them. The more we share of our art and methods, the better everyone becomes. It is only through experiencing art that we can find what inspires us to create.
The philosophy of experience is called phenomenology. Phenomenology explores how we gain knowledge through subjective embodied experiences. There are things we don’t have to process in our minds, or put words to, in order to know them. This feels pretty obvious when thinking about touching a hot stove or an infant knowing how to breast feed. As we get older, learn language, and develop cognitive capacity, we spend a lot more time in our heads. We are encouraged to only consider “real” that which we can describe and explain through logic. Phenomenology reminds us that there are things that are real and experienced that we don’t yet have words for.
When we learn how to describe our experiences, we gain further knowledge about our environments and ourselves. The experiences have to come first or else there would be nothing to point to when we find our language. Our bodies are taking in so many stimuli at once that our brains can’t process all of it. We wouldn’t be able to focus or function if we were intellectualizing or mentally acknowledging every cell in our body. That’s why we have an entire field dedicated to microbiology - so that we can understand what’s happening in every cell in our body. Microbiology is not for everyone, which is why we rely on the microbiologists to be the keepers of that knowledge. I may not be a microbiologist, but I would tend to trust them when they explain things in common language to me about microbiology.
The thing everyone is an expert on is their own experiences. Not being able to explain something doesn’t mean you don’t know it or it isn’t happening. When you are able to find the words for something you’ve been experiencing, a different issue arises: who will believe you? If the words you have found don’t perfectly adhere to western logic, it’s more likely you are to be dismissed as not knowing what you’re talking about. There are social layers to this as well. When minority groups explain their experiences, breaking them down into perfect logic, they are often still not believed. If those without power disprove or poke holes in the logic that people in power use, then things should change to reflect that reality, right? This is often not the case. Regardless of what they say, people who hold power don’t care about logic, they care about the experience of power. People are often gaslit into thinking they can’t know what they’re talking about unless they can explain it. People are often gaslit into thinking they can’t know what they’re explaining because the listener does not have that same experience.
Many of us grew up with the phrase having a gut feeling: when your body feels like something is about to happen, or is happening, and then it turns out to be true. This feeling doesn’t start from inside the mind nor the thoughts you’re having - it is noticed in the body first and then mentally processed. It’s called a gut feeling because it is embodied and usually emanates from around the solar plexus. There are different ways to say or conceptualize having a gut feeling, such as feeling your intuition, experiencing divine guidance, or just knowing. The more you are open to and trusting of this feeling, the more you learn from it, and the more embodied you become. The more embodied you are, the more you feel your intuition/internal knowing. This is a practice and no one is always going to get it right. I couldn’t learn how to trust my intuition until I made mistakes. This process of learning to trust your gut helps relieve you of the reactive need to explain why you’re making the decisions you make. It helps build internal confidence, empowering you to spot when people are trying to convince you that your reality is not yours.
Our experiences help us understand the world regardless of whether or not they’re put into words. It is liberating to release the need to logic everything out. Some things, like art, can just be without explanation. We find solidarity in those we have shared experiences with because there is understanding without words. Some of the people closest to me have similar or even the same adverse childhood experiences, or adult traumas, which often leads us to respond to stress in a similar way. This helps us support each other through stressful situations because we are not alone in our experiences. My embodied experience of being a trans person who has experiences poverty, assault, and witnessed unspeakable violence, means that there is a community of people who I don’t need to explain any of this to in order to be believed, seen, and loved.
I have been writing for most of my life. The first essay I ever wrote was about my grandma being my hero because she kept us from harms way by listening to a gut feeling. This inspired me as an 10-year-old because I saw the way my grandma did not question her feeling, even though there was no evidence in front of her to suggest anything was wrong. When she had a gut feeling back in 2006 to take a different route driving home, she listened. Then, we came upon a car that crashed where we would have been at the time of the accident if we had taken the usual route. There was no doubt that we would have been in the car accident if she hadn’t listened to her gut. Before I had any words to say any of this, I knew that listening to one’s intuition is an inspiring and heroic act because it saved my life.
Writing is something that is both intuitive and intellectual. I start with a sentence or a concept, see where it takes me, and then go back and edit. Thanks to my formal education, I have vocabulary, understand grammar, and use punctuation to weave it all together. I’m not thinking explicitly about how to construct sentences as I write them. I find coherence through experience and practice. When I read what I write, I learn things about myself and my environment. Writing is creation, and the interaction that follows is art. If art is an experience, then I am the first conduit through which this experience forms. Once people read and digest my art, the experience spreads. Together, it is alive through us.
The love CJ the X has for philosophy and art resonates with my own. They speak words to and affirm where I’ve come to in my creative journey. I can write and make it accessible for others to read thanks to the tools at hand. I don’t need to wait for another degree to begin sharing my work. I will follow CJ’s guidance and create because I am called to do so. I do not feel shame for needing to meet the needs of my ego because there is also a collective need for art to exist. I am creating in service to this life. My words are on the altar, I look forward to meeting the people they’re here for.
Feature Photo by Faruk Kaymak on Unsplash