Why My Art Invites Interpretation
One of the most rewarding aspects of creating art is seeing how others interpret it. For me, art is not about providing answers; it’s about asking questions and sparking curiosity. Each viewer brings their unique experiences, emotions, and perspectives to my work, transforming it into something deeply personal and profoundly individual. This is why I intentionally leave space for interpretation in every piece I create.
Art, at its core, is a conversation. It’s not a monologue where the artist dictates a single truth, but a dialogue where the viewer plays an equally important role. My role is to present the visual language—symbols, colors, forms, and patterns—but it is the viewer who gives those elements their final meaning. No two interpretations are ever the same, and that is what makes art so powerful.
Take, for example, my piece The Spectrum. While it’s rooted in my personal journey of self-discovery and understanding life on the Autism Spectrum, its themes extend far beyond my story. Some might see it as a critique of societal norms, while others might interpret it as a commentary on individuality or resilience. There is no single “correct” way to view the work—only the way it resonates with you.
This openness is intentional. I often use abstract and surreal elements in my art to create layers of meaning. These elements—a pair of spiraling eyes, a mushroom-like figure, or an exploding mind—are not meant to be definitive symbols. Instead, they serve as starting points, inviting viewers to explore their emotions and thoughts. What does that image remind you of? How does it make you feel? The answers are yours, not mine, to define.
I also believe that art mirrors the complexity of life. Just as life doesn’t always offer clear explanations or neat resolutions, my art often leaves room for ambiguity. In works like Electrical Blues or 12 Disciples, there are layers of emotion, symbolism, and critique. The chaotic elements might seem overwhelming at first glance, but they’re balanced by moments of harmony and introspection. This duality reflects the messy, beautiful reality of being human.
Another reason I encourage interpretation is that it allows my art to grow and evolve. As viewers bring their perspectives, they add new dimensions to the work. I’ve often been amazed by the insights people share about my pieces—insights that had never occurred to me but feel just as valid and profound. In this way, art becomes a living entity, constantly shaped and reshaped by those who engage with it.
At the same time, I don’t want my art to be entirely disconnected from my intentions. When I create a piece, it always comes from a place of deep emotion or reflection. For instance, the hand reaching out in Electrical Blues represents support and connection amidst chaos, but someone else might see it as a symbol of hope or even desperation. Both interpretations coexist, enriching the narrative rather than detracting from it.
Ultimately, the purpose of my art is not to dictate how you should feel or think but to create a space where you can reflect on your own experiences. Whether my work evokes joy, discomfort, curiosity, or introspection, what matters most is that it sparks something within you. It’s not about finding answers—it’s about embracing the questions.