What we see, what we imagine, and what we believe is really there.

I was driving back toward Palm Springs from Joshua Tree National Monument. The drive and the scenery was incredible. It was one of those beautiful desert drives where you almost don’t want to get to where you’re going. The landscape stretches out in front of you, the sky seems endless, and there’s something about the open road that makes you feel like you can just let go for a while. Looking ahead just seeing the possibilities of the unknown.

The air was cool, the windows were open, and I had some music playing on the radio. I wasn’t thinking about the website, trying to sell a painting, or figuring out what needed to be done next. I was just driving, enjoying the scenery, listening to music, and letting my mind wander.

Then a song came on called Walking on a Dream.

I really liked the chord structure. It had a complexity to it, but I could also hear how the different elements were coming together. I was listening to the music, enjoying the sound, and thinking about the title. Walking on a Dream. There’s something about those words that immediately takes you somewhere else.

And that’s when my thoughts started wandering.

I was already thinking about the blogs I’d been working on, particularly the four-part series about true expression, the artist, the viewer, and the way we perceive art. I’d been exploring how people look at the same painting and see entirely different things. How something catches someone’s eye, how they connect with it, and how much of that experience comes from the artwork itself and how much comes from their own interpretation.

Then I started thinking about the desert.

There’s so much beauty out there. The landscape, the mountains, the changing colors, the open sky. And somewhere in those thoughts, I began thinking about a mirage.

You know how you can see something in the distance that appears to be real? It looks like something is there, but as you get closer, it changes or disappears. It’s an illusion created by the conditions around you and the way your eyes interpret what they’re seeing.

I hadn’t necessarily seen a mirage on that drive. I was simply thinking about the idea of one.

And suddenly I had another question.

Is it art, or is it an illusion?

It seemed like a natural extension of everything I’d been thinking about, but it also opened up an entirely different subject.

Sometimes we see something and immediately believe we understand what we’re looking at. Our eye catches it in a split second. We like it, we’re attracted to it, or it creates some kind of reaction.

But what exactly are we responding to?

Is it what is actually there, or is it what we think we’re seeing?

That was the beginning of another idea.

What Are We Really Seeing?

A painting is a tangible object. You can stand in front of it, examine the surface, look at the brushwork, and see the actual colors and materials.

But what happens when you see that same painting online?

You might be looking at an image only two inches across. You can’t see the actual texture, the scale, the depth, or all the details. You’re seeing a representation of something much larger.

And yet, people make decisions based on that little image.

I’ve experienced this firsthand. Over the years, I’ve sold paintings to people who initially saw nothing more than a small thumbnail on a computer screen. They connected with what they saw, imagined the painting in their home, and decided they wanted it.

In fact, one of my biggest sales came from that very experience. People were buying something they had never actually stood in front of or experienced in person.

Think about that for a moment.

What were they buying? The physical painting, certainly. But before they ever received it, they had already formed an impression of what it was going to be. They had imagined how it would look, how it might fit into their space, and how they would feel about owning it.

They were responding to an image, but also to the idea of that image.

And that’s where the illusion comes in.

The painting was real. The image was real. But the experience they imagined before seeing the actual painting was something their minds had created.

I find that fascinating.

It also makes me think about commissions. Someone might come to an artist with an idea for a painting. They have something in mind, perhaps a certain feeling, a color combination, or an image they would like to see brought to life.

But they’re not necessarily asking the artist to reproduce something exactly as they imagine it. They’re asking to see that idea through someone else’s eyes.

They’re interested in the artist’s interpretation.

So what are they buying? Something they can already picture in their mind, or something they haven’t seen yet but hope the artist can create?

There’s a certain amount of imagination involved on both sides. The person has an idea of what they want, and the artist has to interpret that idea and turn it into something tangible.

Sometimes the result is exactly what the person imagined. Sometimes it’s something different, perhaps even something better than they expected.

And sometimes what they imagined and what they actually receive aren’t quite the same thing.

Is that an illusion? Or is that simply part of the experience of creating and experiencing art?

Is It Art, or Is It an Illusion?

Then there are the examples of contemporary art that make you stop and question what you’re looking at in the first place.

Take a banana attached to a wall with masking tape. Is that art? Is it an idea? Is it a statement? Or is the viewer being caught up in something that might not be what it appears to be?

What about an invisible space presented as a work of art? Or a sculpture of a child placed next to a painting, behind a red border, where visitors initially mistake the sculpture for a real child?

You might look at something and believe you’re seeing one thing, only to discover that it’s something entirely different.

Sometimes the experience is part of the artwork. Sometimes the idea behind it is more important than the physical object. And sometimes the viewer is left wondering whether they’re looking at art, an illusion, or simply something that challenges their expectations.

Does it matter?

I don’t necessarily have an answer. But I think these examples raise an interesting question about how we determine what art is and what makes something worth looking at.

We often assume that if we can see something, we understand what we’re looking at. But that’s not always the case.

Sometimes what we think we’re seeing is only part of the story.

And perhaps that’s where the viewer becomes just as important as the artist. The artist creates something, but the viewer brings their own expectations, experiences, and imagination to it.

The two don’t always meet in the same place.

The Artist’s Interpretation

There’s another side to this idea, and it has to do with the artist’s interpretation of what they’re creating.

Consider portraiture.

When someone commissions an artist to paint their portrait, what are they really asking for? Do they want an exact reproduction of their physical appearance, every line, every imperfection, every little detail? Or do they want to see themselves through the artist’s eyes?

There’s a difference between reproducing someone’s appearance and creating an interpretation of that person.

Most people don’t necessarily want to see every flaw emphasized. They want a portrait that captures something about who they are, perhaps with a little flattering interpretation along the way.

Is that an illusion? Is it artistic license? Or is it simply the artist’s way of seeing the person?

I remember an experience in college when someone invited me to work on a portrait of him. He had put together some sketches and wanted me to draw or paint him.

It was an interesting opportunity, but I found myself having difficulty with the idea of painting what I saw while also giving him something more. I wasn’t comfortable changing what I saw to create a version of someone that I thought he might want to see.

I was young, and I wasn’t quite ready for that experience.

Looking back, I realize there was more to it than simply drawing what I saw. I was being asked to interpret someone else’s appearance and perhaps even their idea of how they wanted to be seen.

There was my perception of him, his perception of himself, and the reality of what was actually there.

How do you bring all three together?

You see caricatures that exaggerate someone’s features, yet somehow capture their personality. You see portraits that may not reproduce every detail but somehow communicate something recognizable about the person.

Is that the real person, or the artist’s interpretation?

Maybe it’s both.

And maybe that’s what makes portraiture interesting. You’re not simply looking at someone’s physical appearance. You’re looking at how another person sees them.

Music Is Another Kind of Art

I think part of what brought me to this whole subject was listening to that song on the drive.

Music is an entirely different experience from looking at a painting, but there’s a connection.

You can’t hold a chord progression in your hand. You can’t walk around a melody or examine it from different angles. Music is something you hear, but the experience it creates can be incredibly vivid.

A particular arrangement of notes can create emotion, movement, anticipation, and even images in your mind.

You might hear a song and suddenly find yourself somewhere else. It can remind you of a person, a place, a particular time in your life, or something you can’t quite put into words.

Two people can listen to the same song and have completely different experiences.

One person might hear the complexity of the music, the chord structure, and the way the instruments come together. Someone else might simply enjoy the rhythm. Another person might connect with the lyrics or the memories the song brings back.

The music hasn’t changed. The experience has.

Visual art appeals to our eyes. Music appeals to our ears. But both can take us somewhere beyond the actual object or sound.

And that’s what I was experiencing on that drive. I was listening to music, enjoying the desert scenery, thinking about the song, and somehow connecting all of it to the ideas I’d been exploring about art.

Was I simply enjoying the moment, or was my mind creating something out of all these separate experiences?

Maybe that’s how creativity works sometimes. One thought leads to another, and before you know it, you’re looking at something in an entirely different way.

The Illusion of What We Imagine

There’s also something interesting about the way we use our imagination to fill in what we don’t know.

Think about looking at a painting from a distance. You might see a shape or a form that reminds you of something familiar. As you get closer, you realize it isn’t what you thought it was.

Or you might look at an abstract painting and see something that another person doesn’t see at all.

The painting hasn’t changed. But your interpretation has.

And sometimes we may actually be playing tricks on ourselves.

Not necessarily the artist playing tricks on the viewer, but the viewer’s own mind filling in the blanks, making connections, and creating an experience that may have little to do with what the artist originally intended.

Or perhaps it’s a combination of the two.

The artist creates something. The viewer sees it through their own experiences. Somewhere between those two perspectives, something happens.

And neither person necessarily has complete control over what that experience becomes.

That’s what makes the mirage such an interesting comparison. You see something that appears to be there, and your mind interprets it. You might believe you know what you’re seeing, but you don’t necessarily have the whole picture.

Art can work that way, too.

Sometimes what you see is exactly what’s there. Sometimes it’s something you imagine. And sometimes the distinction between the two is what makes the experience interesting.

The Newest Illusion

There’s another aspect of this subject that I find particularly interesting: artificial intelligence.

AI can create incredibly convincing visual interpretations of ideas. You can describe a style, a mood, a color combination, or a particular visual direction, and it can produce something that might be quite extraordinary.

It can create the illusion of a painting, a sculpture, a photograph, or an entire environment.

And that brings us back to the question of what we’re responding to.

Is it the image itself? Is it the idea? Is it the execution? Is it the appearance of something that resembles a traditional artistic process?

And what happens when we connect with an image without knowing how it came about?

These are questions worth considering, particularly as technology continues to change the way images are created and experienced.

But I think there’s an important distinction between the experience of an image and the reality of what we’re looking at. An image can be compelling, imaginative, and visually interesting, but that doesn’t make it the same thing as a physical painting created with traditional materials.

The question of authenticity is another conversation in itself.

What interests me here is how easily we can respond to something visually before we know anything about its origins.

We see it. We react to it. We form an impression.

And sometimes that impression is enough to make us want to know more.

Is that art? Is it an illusion? Or is it the beginning of an artistic experience?

So, What Is Real?

I started this whole train of thought on a drive through the desert, listening to music and enjoying the scenery. I wasn’t trying to come up with a new theory about art. I wasn’t trying to explain anything.

One thought simply led to another.

A song called Walking on a Dream made me think about the desert. The desert made me think about mirages. Mirages made me think about perception, and perception brought me right back to art.

And somewhere along the way, I started wondering what people are really seeing when they look at a painting.

Are they seeing the painting itself? Are they seeing what they imagine it to be? Are they responding to something the artist put there, or something they brought with them?

I think about those little online thumbnails, the people who bought paintings without ever seeing them in person, and the way they imagined what they were going to receive.

I think about commissions, where someone asks an artist to interpret an idea they haven’t yet seen.

I think about portraiture, where the artist is caught between what they see and what someone else hopes to see.

I think about music, where something you can’t physically touch can create such a powerful experience.

And I think about the desert, where something can appear to be right in front of you and yet not be what you thought it was.

Maybe that’s the interesting part of all this.

We spend so much time trying to determine what’s real, what isn’t, and what something is supposed to mean. But sometimes the experience itself is just as important as the thing we’re experiencing.

A painting can be real, but what we see in it may be different from what someone else sees. A song can be nothing more than a series of notes, yet it can take us somewhere we’ve never been. And a dream can feel so real that we wake up wondering where we’ve just been.

I don’t know that there’s a definitive answer to any of this.

And perhaps I don’t need one.

I’m still going to look at a painting and wonder what someone else sees in it. I’m still going to listen to a song and let my imagination wander. And the next time I see something in the distance that looks like a mirage, I’ll probably wonder whether it’s really there or whether my mind is simply filling in the blanks.

That’s what I find interesting about art. It’s something we can see, but the experience isn’t always something we can explain.

Maybe art is an illusion. Maybe it’s something much more tangible. Maybe it’s both.

Or maybe the real question is whether we’re seeing the art, or simply seeing what we want to see.

I started this conversation with a question, and after all that driving, thinking, listening, and connecting one idea to another, I’m still left with the same question.