Exploring Abstraction

Exploring Abstraction as an ongoing, universal inquiry—both artistic and experiential

In works like Hilma af Klint’s Altarpiece No.1 (1907), abstraction becomes a spiritual architecture of color and form, reaching beyond the visible to explore the intangible. Exploring Abstraction is not a presentation—it is a philosophy, a way of perceiving, feeling, and thinking through art. It asks: What happens when we let go of representation? What might we discover when the familiar falls away, and only form, color, and movement remain?

Abstraction is not merely a visual style. It is a mode of experience—a fluid space where perception unfolds without the constraints of literal meaning. In this space, the artwork does not depict; it resonates. Like music without lyrics, abstraction communicates through rhythm, tone, and energy, allowing us to feel before we understand. A curve, a hue, a texture—each becomes a point of entry into emotion, memory, or intuition.

As we begin to perceive through this abstract lens—one rooted in sensation rather than recognition—our relationship with what we see begins to shift. We move from passive observation to active, embodied engagement. It is in this perceptual shift that transformation quietly begins. Not as a dramatic moment, but as a subtle realization: that abstraction is not a departure from reality, but the very source through which experience arises. The brushstroke, the hue, the space between forms—these do not point to experience; they are experience. To explore abstraction is to encounter the raw material of consciousness itself. And in doing so, something within us changes. We come into deeper contact with perception, presence, and possibility.

At its core, Exploring Abstraction is grounded in sensory engagement. A field of cobalt blue may move over us like a song or scent, evoking something beyond language. The weight of a line or the density of a surface can feel almost tactile, activating a quiet dialogue between body and image. Vision becomes embodied—no longer passive, but participatory. The artwork is not something to look at; it is something to be with.

Philosophically, this approach draws from phenomenology—the study of direct experience—and echoes Heidegger’s belief that art can disclose the nature of being. Abstraction removes the anchor of recognition, inviting us to slow down, to be fully present. As we attend to the unfolding of visual elements, we also become aware of ourselves perceiving—our own process of meaning-making revealed. The work exists, we exist, and in that shared presence, something quietly profound can occur.

This is where emotional resonance emerges. Without a fixed narrative, abstraction speaks directly to the subconscious. A surge of red might stir joy or disquiet; a field of gray might echo silence or nostalgia. The ambiguity is not a lack—it is a freedom. In this openness, we find permission to feel without explanation, to encounter ourselves in unexpected ways. Abstraction becomes a mirror, not of the external world, but of the inner one.

And so, Exploring Abstraction embraces interpretive multiplicity. There is no single truth in a line or a color. What one person sees as a landscape, another sees as pure movement; what is serene to one may be intense to another. This is not a flaw of abstraction—it is its greatest gift. The viewer becomes co-creator, their imagination completing the work. Meaning is not given—it is discovered.

Abstraction also encourages an evolving relationship with the artwork. What we see in a piece today may not be what we see tomorrow. As we change, so too does the art. A form that once felt closed may now feel open; a color once overlooked may suddenly vibrate with clarity. This transformation does not occur in the canvas but within ourselves. Abstraction reveals itself slowly, over time—always new, always becoming.

Ultimately, Exploring Abstraction invites us to dwell in the unknown. It teaches us to trust our senses, to value ambiguity, and to find richness in that which escapes definition. In a world saturated with certainty and surface, abstraction opens space—for reflection, wonder, and transformation. It reminds us that not all understanding must come through words. Sometimes, what we need is silence, texture, breath—a space where feeling leads, and form follows.

This is not an argument for abstraction, but a call to experience it. To see with more than the eyes. To feel without needing to name. To let go—and, in doing so, to discover what lies just beyond the visible.