There is no artist who sets out to create work that no one engages with or cares about. While, for some, public attention may not be the primary motivation for making art, this does not mean that such attention is unnecessary. Art must, in some way, be received by society; this is the condition of its survival. At the centre of any society are people. We must be received by an audience. This does not mean that everyone needs to be our audience, but it is essential to be able to see our work from the perspective of the public. We create from outside the centre of the public, yet we must evaluate our work through its gaze.
Whenever I think about public perception, I recall my work Existence and Temporality. It was my first exhibition, an interactive installation. The mode of interaction was too complex. Visitors focused not on the intention of the work, but on trying to figure out how to interact with it. They would either give up or succeed, feel a brief sense of achievement, and move on. What seemed intuitive and meaningful from the perspective of the maker was, for the audience, no more than a button to press. I had never tested the work from the audience’s perspective—I had not even considered the need to do so. Everyone I had discussed the work with had a basic understanding of sound art.
The kind of work I aspire to create is one that holds the audience in place—work in front of which people linger. I want viewers to spend time with the piece, to examine it closely and think about it in depth. However, standing in front of a work and thinking deeply about it is neither easy nor natural. In an exhibition filled with multiple works, dedicating a long time to a single piece is a significant investment. The goal is not to make something that can be thought about, but something that makes people think. The work must speak in a way that allows thought to flow naturally.
A work that is “difficult” is not difficult simply because of its complexity; rather, it is difficult because it interrupts the flow of thought. It is like a dam blocking a river. For thought to continue, the audience must break that barrier themselves. A work I consider engaging facilitates this flow. As the flow continues, different aspects of the work gradually reveal themselves. Without realising it, the audience may spend twenty or thirty minutes with the piece. Instead of offering a clear answer, the work invites viewers to consider what it means within their own frame of reference. Through the work, their thinking flows into their own narratives.
The word “persuade,” as used in the title, does not imply forcing the audience into my way of thinking. Rather, it refers to the moment when the flow of the work is acknowledged and accepted by them. A persuasive—or persuading—work is one that is not difficult to enter, yet possesses an inexhaustible depth; a work that allows thought to move.
Most audiences do not know what I do, nor are they particularly interested in it at first. Many are unfamiliar even with the concept of installation art, and when I describe my work as sound art, the common response is simply: “What is that?” One cannot expect understanding or generosity from the audience. They are, by default, unfamiliar and uncompromising—not in a negative sense, but as a basic condition. The first step, then, is to make them want to know. We must generate curiosity. The task is to transform indifference and unfamiliarity into a desire for understanding, and a willingness to engage. This is perhaps the most difficult and most important step. After that, the work must sustain the flow of thought—it must carry forward the attention it has managed to capture.
The work should not be altered by the audience. However, it must be made with an awareness of their perspective. One must learn to dismantle one’s own work through the eyes of the unfamiliar.