A perspective on emptiness in art for Empty Space Art Collective
By Gracie Malin
It is empty, but not void.
It is dark, but it is not black.
It is infinite, but not indefinite.
When I was studying philosophy as an undergrad, I quickly noticed that many of the great thinkers seemed to share a particular kind of fear—especially early in their careers as “professional thinkers.” A lot of their mental energy was taken up by this vague, looming presence: something always on the horizon, formless, hard to name, and without any clear qualities. It felt like they had to confront, or at least come to terms with, this thing before they could seriously engage with any other philosophical problems. Many of them, in one way or another, ended up developing an account of how to face it, manage it, or simply live alongside it.
All ends seem to meet at this void. Perhaps it was because of the people I surrounded myself with—the conservative family rejects, the anarchists, the queer antisentimentalists, the political science majors trying to “destroy from within the system”—but I felt this pessimism towards life, meaning, or purpose because the void always looms at the end of the line. This dread, of course, comes from the events of the world around us, and I’m not looking to minimize the burden, but I suspected that the world’s crises and failures weren’t the only weights on the scale. It was something internal, individual, and inward.
As my own career progressed alongside the narratives of these thinkers, I wondered, what was it about this “thing” that really made it terrifying? What made so many thinkers, in many fields, feel the need to grapple with this “thing”? William James writes, “The question of being is the darkest in all philosophy,” not only addressing the void philosophy faces, but directly connecting the process of inquiry into that void to darkness. As a student, a scientist, and someone who generally needed definite and logic-driven results, there was no a priori solution. But once I graduated and gained some distance from academia, it was natural that I started taking on more empirical methods of discovery. What became clear was a common thread running not only through the fears of philosophers, but through the quieter existential anxieties many people carry: emptiness, isolation, and the presence of voids—spaces of negation.
The void; noun: formless, no clear qualities, unquantifiable, internal and external.
Most optimistically, some philosophers correlate the idea of nothingness, or space without objects, to the genesis of the universe: nothingness can come from something, so the void either must have some ‘substance’ to it (making it no longer a void), or the concept of a void doesn’t really exist at all. In Cartesian rationalism, very simply stated, many lean on a logical guarantor like God to fill in the gaps that we call “nothingness.” Descartes doesn’t ease his anxiety by confronting nothingness, but rather, resolves it by elimination; it is a conceptual error we have made because even space itself is something. Therefore, a void in itself is something, meaning we cannot logically conceptualize true nothingness; it doesn’t exist! Fair enough, but do we think Descartes felt the weight of the void lift when he determined this?
The void; noun: with form, exists in space, paradox.
Other thinkers suggest that, sure, there can be states of nothingness, nonconcrete-ness, and the like, but we aren’t (and maybe shouldn’t be) interested in those things because they do not cause anything: “…for from nothing to being there is no logical bridge” (William James 1911). Again I may ask, if we put no value into the void, do we rid ourselves of the feeling of it in the pits of our stomachs?
The void; noun: truth, inconsequential, negligible, sophistry.
A sort of nihilism naturally arises from either conclusion; nothing matters or has meaning; the void is just a void; emptiness. Honestly, it’s pretty compelling to leave it at that. But what could happen if we decided to address the void in a way that isn’t just acknowledging its existence, and instead actually approach it? Shouldn’t its persistence in the human psyche, related or not to philosophy, suggest that there is something to be gained from it?
Keiji Nishitani wrote in his text Religion and Nothingness that nihilism is not an ‘escape from,’ but a ‘gateway to.’ Nihilism is rooted in questioning, not the complete ignorance of; it is not an end, but rather, a beginning, a rediscovery. Nishitani saw a mirror in nothingness, not a void. Perhaps this reflection that comes from nihilism, or ‘the mirror,’ is reason enough to confront the void. But I believe that the typical reaction to a mirror for a human isn’t to discover something new, but to show us what we are familiar with.
It all depends on our approach to emptiness. For the Western mind, emptiness is seen as a lack of: a negation. But for Nishitani, emptiness is openness. It is a space where life can reveal its true nature in its many dimensions, permanencies, and existences. Art is a great place to consider emptiness, as it represents a generative grounds—a space awaiting creation. When we view the void in this way, there is a loosening of ego, certainty, and permanence which seems to only limit creativity. One no longer grasps for the things around them, forcing a creation of the means you need to survive. Having this sort of time, and devoting the time and intention to creation is so difficult, but sitting in the void, ergo, not making it into an empty canvas, is easy. In a world saturated with images, information, and explanation, choosing to act in this silence becomes a quiet act of defiance. Embracing the silence allows us to start from the beginning with no guard rails.
Absurdism is a perfect example of the impact of the lack of guard rails on an artist. However, we cannot mix up the core truths of absurdism and nihilism. While nihilism is focused on the lack of meaning and reason in the human experience, absurdism orients itself towards the desire to search for meaning despite the world being cold and confusing. Rather than wallowing in purposelessness, absurdists choose to embrace the chaos and lack of order in the world and try to make something of it. Absurdism is the product of the conflict between a seemingly meaningless world and our desire to make meaning. Typically in absurdist art, there is no basis in reality or rationality, but somehow, it seems to still have an impact on some of our deepest emotions. This impact is the meat and potatoes of existence. In fact, the father of absurdism, Albert Camus, harshly suggests that if we do not embrace the absurd and the abstract impact it has on humans, the only alternative to deciphering the conflict between meaningless life and our desire for meaning is to 1.) kill ourselves or 2.) believe in God. Yikes. Accepting nothingness doesn’t seem so bad anymore.
However, this nothingness that nihilism and absurdism addresses, in Nishitani’s belief, requires intentional and intensive attention; it is essential to face the void and acknowledge what the nothingness means and is. Unlike Camus and his belief that you are free when you accept that life is meaningless, Nishitani won’t allow you to simply change your mind about the void; you cannot skip over the step that requires you to peel back your skin and stare naked into the void.
“Only when we truly become nothing can we find the ground of all things.”
This is a call for attention, to sit with the emptiness and allow oneself to loosen the grip on reality long enough for something honest to appear. In art, emptiness is not a failure or a lack of, it is permission to act without preconception. Meaning may emerge rather than be found. The good thing about the void is that it does not exist in time, so immediate fulfillment is not required. It will exist as a void as long as you allow it to. The mirror replaces the abyss: what we encounter in nothingness is not the end of meaning, but its earliest form. Emptiness is not void.
Gracie Malin is from Southwest Missouri and lives in Brooklyn, NY. She works in publishing as an assistant editor and is interested in philosophy, natural sciences, and music.