Author: fiona.bartl

Sometimes inspiration doesn’t come from a museum, a theory, or an artist talk. A few weeks ago, I was walking past a Billa during my usual weekly errands. Outside, near the entrance, I saw something strange: a single celery stalk resting awkwardly on the pavement. It didn’t look like it was meant to be there. No bag. No shopping cart nearby. It was just sitting there.

For a brief moment, the scene triggered a quiet tension in my brain: the visual oddness, the randomness, the accidental arrangement. This is an everyday installations. The kind of moments that only become visible if you’re looking for them. Maybe this wasn’t a mistake at all. Maybe it was intentional. A comment on waste, on food, on placement. I had no idea. But it stuck with me. That’s how this entire experiment series started: with one stalk of celery that looked like it was trying to say something.

The First Intervention

I wanted to find out what might happen if I took that accidental composition and recreated it intentionally. I chose a space I knew would be full of movement, design, and people looking with “open” eyes: the venue of Designmonat Graz “Hornig Gelände”.

The idea was simple: I placed an untouched, raw celery stalk on an elevated surface in a central part of the space. There were exhibitions happening around it and workshops taking place. People passed by. The celery was unlabelled and unframed. And then I waited.

I came back to check on it a few times. At first, nothing happened. A few people walked past without even noticing. No one stopped. No one questioned it. And then after about 20 minutes it was gone. Just like that. My immediate instinct was to look around. Had someone taken it? Had someone seen it as a threat to cleanliness? I checked the nearest trash can. And there it was. Alone, discarded, lying sideways on top of a bunch of trash.

The Performance That Never Happened

The moment had so much quiet comedy to it. The celery so confidently placed, so stoic had been removed without a trace of hesitation. It hadn’t caused a scene. It hadn’t been documented, photographed (by someone else than me) or even acknowledged. It was simply deemed “not supposed to be there” and swiftly deleted from the scene. But to me, this was already a kind of result. In a strange way, the act of being ignored and then disposed said more than a dramatic reaction ever could. There’s something deeply poetic about a stalk of celery trying to perform trying to “be” and getting shut down before it could finish its sentence.

Art, or Just Trash?

This experiment reminded me of how contextual fragility works in art. We say “everything can be art,” but what we mean is “everything can become art if framed properly.” This celery had no frame. No title. No spotlight. It lived in a curated environment, but it was never invited in. And so it failed. Or maybe that failure was its success.

It made me ask:
Would it have survived longer if it were labeled?
Would someone have Instagrammed it if I had printed a little plaque?
How much does presentation matter when the object is this banal?

In the first semester, my blog entries were all about thinking: observing, analyzing, questioning. I explored the blurred lines of what art is or could be. Everyday installations. The role of context. Insiders vs. outsiders. The idea that art may not be about objects at all, but about perception, intention and attention.

But theory can only take you so far.

This semester, things are different. Now we’re asked to do something. To test our ideas. To fail. To get our hands dirty, literally, if necessary. These next blog entries are part of that next step.
You could say I took the idea of “experimentation” quite literally.
I went outside. I placed things. I waited. I watched.
I used a very ordinary object, a stalk of celery, and treated it as a kind of artistic tool. The goal? To observe how people respond to something utterly mundane placed in the “wrong” context or perhaps the right one, depending on how you look at it haha.

What happened wasn’t loud or dramatic. No one cried, no one clapped, no one wrote a headline. These upcoming blogposts focus on one iteration of this experiment. They describe what I did, where I did it, and how people responded (or didn’t). They also explore what these reactions might say about perception, intention, authorship, and public space.

Can context alone make something art?
Does intention matter if no one knows it?
Does silence count as feedback?
Can something become art by being thrown away?
This is the thread I’m following. And I invite you to follow along.
So here we go: celery, confusion, and the quiet comedy of public experimentation.
I hope you enjoy the journey as much as I did. Have fun reading

If someone points at a mundane object and calls it art, does it become art? This question strikes at the heart of how we define art. For some, seeing art in everyday objects is a mark of creativity. For others, it’s an absurd notion that undermines the value of traditional art forms.

Can People Who See Art in Everything Be Considered Crazy, Happy or Sad?

Imagine someone who finds meaning in every aspect of life—from the way sunlight filters through a window to the symmetry of a building’s shadow. Are they unusually attuned to the world around them, or are they projecting their own emotions onto their surroundings?

Philosophers like Friedrich Nietzsche have suggested that seeing meaning everywhere can be both a burden and a gift. It may reflect a heightened sensitivity to life, but it can also reveal an emotional need to create order or purpose where none exists.

Does Perception Alone Make Something Art?

The idea that perception itself can turn something into art is central to modern and conceptual art movements. Artists like Duchamp challenged traditional definitions by asserting that the act of selection and presentation is enough to elevate an object into the realm of art.

When interviewing people about installations, one can notice how their perceptions shape their experience. Some might see profound statements in simple arrangements, while others dismiss them entirely. This subjectivity suggests that art doesn’t exist in a vacuum; it needs a perceiver to complete the process of meaning-making.

the Act of Giving Meaning = the Core of Art

At its core, art is about giving meaning. Whether it’s the artist declaring, “This object has meaning because I say it does,” or the audience finding their own emotional connection, the creation of meaning is what transforms the mundane into the extraordinary.

But this act of meaning-making can also be divisive. For some, it’s liberating to think that anything can be art. For others, this openness feels like it erodes the skill, effort, and tradition that many associate with “real art.”

The beauty of this debate is that there’s no single answer. Art lives in the balance between perception, intention, and meaning. Whether it’s a masterpiece hanging in a gallery or a forgotten object rediscovered and reframed, the process of seeing, assigning meaning, and discussing it makes art a vital part of human experience.

Thank you for joining me on this research journey. I had a lot of fun and am looking forward to our second semester.

Have a nice semester break and see you soon. xoxo Fiona

Who decides what qualifies as art? Is it the artist, the audience, or the broader society? This question gains even more significance when we look at modern installations that challenge traditional notions of what art is supposed to be.

Example: Duchamp submitted a urinal to an art exhibition, labeling it as art simply by giving it a title and signing it. His bold act set the stage for the debates we’re still having today: does the artist’s intent alone make something art or does the audience’s reaction play an equally important role?

The Artist’s Intent vs. The Viewer’s Perception

An artist’s intent often serves as the foundation for a work of art. They imbue an object, a scene, or an installation with meaning, hoping to communicate something to their audience. But once the artwork is released into the world, it takes on a life of its own. The audience’s interpretation can diverge dramatically from what the artist originally envisioned.

Consider a hypothetical installation of scattered objects in a public square. One observer might see it as a critique of consumerism, while another might view it as an homage to chaos. These interpretations may have little to do with what the artist intended, yet they add layers of meaning to the work.

Does Misinterpretation Enrich or Detract From Art?

When audiences misinterpret an artwork, does it diminish its value? Or does the diversity of interpretations make it richer? Many argue that art is at its best when it invites multiple perspectives. In interviews with people responding to modern installations, many expressed personal and emotional connections to the work—connections that might have been far removed from the artist’s original message. Yet, these responses weren’t invalid. Instead, they demonstrate the collaborative nature of meaning-making in art.

Ultimately, no one has the final say in defining art. The tension between the artist’s intent and the viewer’s perception is what keeps art alive. Art is not a fixed entity; it’s a dynamic conversation between creation and interpretation, constantly evolving as it moves through time and culture.

Art is one of those rare subjects that invites endless interpretations, shaped by our personal experiences, education, and cultural exposure. Through the lens of outsiders—those unconnected to art and design in their daily lives—and insiders, such as art students and creatives, we see both contrasts and unexpected commonalities. This post explores the intersections, divergences, and potential bridges between these two groups, highlighting what art means in a world of varied perspectives.

Common Ground: The Universality of Emotion

Despite their differing levels of exposure and engagement with art, both outsiders and insiders agree on one core idea: art is an emotional experience.

For outsiders, art often resonates through its beauty or ability to evoke familiar feelings. Many of them associate art with skillful execution, such as a well-painted portrait or an intricate sculpture, and value the emotions these works inspire. One outsider I interviewed defined art as something that provokes thought but emphasized its accessibility—art should “make sense” to the average person.

Insiders, on the other hand, often focus on the emotional intention behind art rather than the viewer’s immediate response. For a classmate the emotional state of the artist plays a significant role in the creative process. Similarly, another student framed art as a vehicle for expressing feelings in others. While insiders embrace emotion in a broader, more abstract sense, both groups recognize that art’s power lies in its ability to connect with people on a human level.

Diverging Views: Purpose and Accessibility

Where the groups diverge most significantly is in their perception of art’s purpose and accessibility.

Outsiders tend to see art through a practical lens. For them, art often has a clear purpose: to beautify, tell a story or showcase extraordinary talent. Many value the craftsmanship and skills required to create art. To them a used coffee cup on a museum pedestal lacks meaning because it doesn’t demonstrate an exceptional skill.

Conversely, insiders celebrate art’s lack of utilitarian constraints. Art is “free” and unnecessary to justify itself economically. This perspective allows insiders to embrace works like Duchamp’s Fountain or a banana taped to a wall, seeing them as provocations that challenge our assumptions about value and meaning. For them, art exists not to conform but to question and expand boundaries.

This divergence extends to accessibility. Outsiders often feel alienated by contemporary or conceptual art, perceiving it as incomprehensible. “Normal people don’t understand this kind of art—it’s for crazy people.” Insiders, however, are more comfortable with ambiguity, viewing art as something open to interpretation rather than requiring a singular “correct” understanding.

The Role of Context: Framing Art

Another significant difference lies in how the two groups perceive context.

Outsiders often rely on traditional settings, like museums or galleries, to confer legitimacy on art. When something like the Mona Lisa is removed from its frame and placed in an unconventional context, it risks losing its meaning or “becoming something else.” This reliance on formal presentation reflects a preference for established norms that make art easier to recognize.

Insiders, in contrast, are more likely to view context as fluid. Many of my classmates argued that art doesn’t need a gallery to be valid; it can exist anywhere, from a street mural to an everyday object. “Art is whatever you call art.” This openness to context reflects a more flexible, inclusive approach, where meaning is shaped by intention rather than location.

Toward a Shared Understanding – what can we learn from each other?

While the differences between outsiders and insiders may seem significant, they are not insurmountable. In fact, these perspectives can complement and enrich one another.

Outsiders remind us of the importance of accessibility. Their preference for skill, beauty, and clarity highlights the need for art to connect with diverse audiences. Without this connection, art risks becoming insular, resonating only within small, self-referential circles.

Insiders, on the other hand, challenge us to expand our horizons. They push against traditional boundaries, encouraging us to see art in new contexts and forms. By embracing ambiguity and questioning conventions, they invite us to think more deeply about what art can be and how it functions in our lives.

Ultimately, the key to bridging these perspectives lies in dialogue and mutual respect. Artists and creatives can strive to make their work more approachable without compromising its integrity, while outsiders can cultivate curiosity and openness to unfamiliar ideas. By meeting in the middle, both groups can contribute to a richer, more inclusive art world—one that celebrates both tradition and experimentation.

Conclusion: Art as a Shared Human Endeavor

Art, at its core, is a deeply human endeavor, shaped by our shared need to express, connect, and make sense of the world. While outsiders and insiders approach art from different angles, their perspectives are not irreconcilable. Instead, they represent two sides of the same coin, each offering valuable insights into what art is and why it matters.

By embracing these differences and finding common ground, we can create a more inclusive understanding of art—one that values both its beauty and its boldness, its traditions and its transgressions. In doing so, we allow art to fulfill its ultimate purpose: to inspire, challenge, and bring us closer together.

How Artists and Designers See Art

Art, for those deeply embedded in creative fields, transcends boundaries and conventional definitions. Unlike outsiders, who often approach art with practicality or tradition in mind, artists and designers tend to view it as a fluid, ever-changing concept—one that exists in both tangible and intangible realms. Based on conversations with classmates and other creatives, this post explores how those immersed in design and artistic practices perceive art, its purpose, and its interplay with emotions and intentions.

Art as Freedom: An Open DefinitionFor many creatives, the definition of art is intentionally broad and inclusive. As one friend put it, “For me, everything is art.” This perspective reflects a core belief among artists: art resists strict categorization. Another student emphasized this further, describing art as something free, unbound by purpose or economic function. Unlike outsiders who may associate art with skill, creatives often celebrate art precisely because it doesn’t need to “earn its keep.”

An interviewee added another layer to this open definition by highlighting intention: “Art is what you make for the sake of making, with no specific purpose, but with a clear reason or idea behind it.” This focus on intent aligns with a broader view that art is not defined by its utility but by the act of creation and the thought processes that drive it.

Emotion as the Core of Creation

Emotion plays a central role in how many creatives experience and produce art. One noted that creativity often stems from emotional expression, stating, “The worse I feel, the better the art.” This sentiment underscores the cathartic nature of artistic practice, where personal struggles, joy or introspection become the foundation for meaningful work.

This emotional connection to art also shapes how creatives interpret its value. A friend described art as a way to evoke and/or process feelings, both for the creator and the audience: “Art is everything humans create to express emotions or awaken them in others.” This contrasts with the more pragmatic views of outsiders, who may prioritize art’s visual appeal or monetary worth.

Interestingly, this emotional dimension often intersects with the narratives of artists themselves. Several classmates mentioned the trope of the “tragic artist,” suggesting that those with difficult personal stories often produce the most compelling art. While this idea is not universally accepted, it reflects a recurring fascination with the vulnerability behind artistic creation.

Art and Design: Two Sides of the Same Coin

While creatives generally view art as limitless, many also recognize a distinction between art and design. One suggested that “art highlights problems that design then solves,” framing art as a precursor to functional creation. This perspective positions art as the space for exploration, questioning, and expression, while design becomes a tool for applying those insights to practical solutions.

Another student, however, argued for a more integrated view, saying, “Art and design can be the same thing.” This sentiment reflects how boundaries between the two disciplines are increasingly blurred, particularly in contemporary practices where design incorporates artistic elements, and art takes on functional forms.

Stefan Sagmeister exemplifies this duality with projects like The Happy Film, which blurs the line between art and design while addressing universal human themes. Creatives often embrace this ambiguity, seeing art and design as complementary rather than opposing forces.

Art as Interpretation: The Role of the Viewer

Creatives also tend to emphasize the subjective nature of art. Art is something “broad, open to interpretation, and reliant on the viewer’s perspective.” This aligns with contemporary theories that art exists not just in the creation but in the interaction between work and audience.

However, this openness does not mean that anything can be art without thought or intention. Many classmates stressed that art must have some foundational idea/purpose, even if that purpose is abstract or personal. This differentiates their view from the more skeptical attitudes of outsiders, who might dismiss conceptual works as “random”.

Art as an Expression of Freedom and Emotion

For those within the creative world, art is a space of freedom, emotion, and intention. It is defined not by its economic value or practical use but by its capacity to express, evoke, and question. Unlike outsiders, who may seek concrete definitions, creatives embrace art’s ambiguity and subjectivity, seeing it as both a personal and communal experience.

This perspective challenges traditional notions of what art should be, pushing the boundaries of its purpose. It also underscores the value of art as a deeply human endeavor, driven by the need to create, feel, and connect.

Outsiders, or if we can even call them outsiders, are people that are not in touch with art in their daily lifes. Most of the world’s population are outsiders, outsiders of the art bubble that me and my fellow study colleagues live in. Therefore art means something vastly different depending on who you ask. For those not deeply immersed in the art world—people without formal ties to design or creative professions—art is often seen through a lens shaped by tradition, practicality, and relatability. Outsiders offer a refreshing and grounded perspective that challenges some of the more abstract ideas cherished within artistic circles.

Art Is About Skill and Accessibility

During my interviews, a recurring theme emerged: art is widely perceived as something requiring skill—a talent that sets the artist apart from the average person. My grandfather, for instance, emphasized that art involves the ability to create something extraordinary, something that not everyone can do. He struggled to see the artistic merit in works like a banana taped to a wall, dismissing it as requiring “no skill” and therefore is no art.

This sentiment was echoed by several other participants. For many, art seems tied to exceptional talent, something not everyone can do. The idea of “everyday objects” as art—like a used coffee cup displayed in a museum—left most interviewees unconvinced. While they acknowledged that “art lies in the eye of the beholder,” they found it difficult to reconcile the notion of ordinary objects being elevated to art without an obvious display of skill. It seemed like the phrase was engraved in their brain and they quote it whenever they get in contact with art, but they do not truly believe it as their opinion was crystal clear.

The Role of Context: Where Does Art Belong?

Another recurring idea was the importance of context. Most interviewees agreed that they rather see art in curated spaces. My cousin, for instance, felt that while art can exist anywhere, the act of placing something in a museum adds a layer of legitimacy. He even acknowledged that something like the Mona Lisa as a graffiti piece on a wall could be considered art, but he felt it would lose some of its significance outside the Louvre.

This view speaks to a broader discomfort with the idea of art that exists outside traditional frameworks. While street art like Banksy’s is gaining recognition, many outsiders remain skeptical of its value compared to art in established institutions. The museum acts as a gatekeeper, separating “real art” from everyday clutter. Does that mean outsider have a harder time seeing art and therefore tend to oversee it?

The “Crazy Artist” Stereotype

Interestingly, a few participants expressed a belief that the art world is dominated by crazy individuals. My mother described a fine line between art and madness, suggesting that only crazy people see some of the more unconventional works as art. A friend of mine, agrees, for him art must not only display skill but also be visually pleasing and “nice to look at”.

This perspective highlights a gap between the general public and contemporary artists who often embrace ambiguity, abstraction, and even discomfort in their work. The idea that art should be “beautiful” or “understandable” is a hallmark of how many outsiders view the artistic experience, contrasting sharply with the avant-garde’s push to challenge norms and provoke thought.

“Das kauft ja keiner.”

Lastly, there was a recurring association between art and economics. Some participants viewed art as something that should have a practical or monetary value. “Art must make money,” one interviewee stated, reflecting a pragmatic perspective that ties art’s worth to its ability to generate income.

This view may stem from the perception that art is an elite pursuit—something disconnected from everyday life. For outsiders, the economic aspect makes art more relatable, as it connects it to the tangible world of work and value.

Picasso is an artist; an used coffee cup is not 

The outsider perspective on art offers a fascinating contrast to how those in the art world often think. For many, art is defined by skill, beauty, and practicality. Everyday objects or conceptual works struggle to find acceptance without clear intent or craftsmanship. The museum retains its role as a legitimizing force, while the “crazy artist” stereotype persists, further distancing the general public from more experimental forms of art.Ultimately, for those not embedded in art’s everyday discourse, art remains tied to tradition and relatability. Picasso is an artist; a crumpled coffee cup is not. This grounded view serves as a reminder that while art can push boundaries, it must also connect with the broader public to truly resonate.

Art is one of the most subjective topics you can discuss—people approach it with wildly different ideas of what it is, what it should be, and what it means to them personally. As someone deeply connected to the world of art, I’ve found myself wondering: how do others, especially those outside the creative field, view art? Do their interpretations overlap with ours, or do we live in entirely different worlds?

To answer these questions, I decided to conduct interviews with two distinct groups. The first group, whom I call “outsiders,” includes people who don’t engage with art or design in their daily lives—people who represent the broader public. The second group, “insiders,” consists of my classmates, fellow design students, and other creative minds immersed in the arts.

The goal of these interviews is not to find definitive answers but to explore how personal background, exposure, and context shape people’s understanding of art. By comparing these perspectives, I hope to uncover commonalities, highlight key differences, and better understand the bridges—or gaps—that exist between these two groups.

I chose interviews as my method because they allow for raw, unfiltered insight. Art is such a personal topic, and I wanted each person’s voice to come through authentically. By engaging in conversation, I could also push beyond surface-level responses, asking follow-up questions to explore their thoughts more deeply.This series of blog posts will reflect on my findings. First, I’ll share how outsiders perceive art and its place in their lives. Then, I’ll delve into the perspectives of insiders, exploring how they view art from within the creative bubble. Finally, I’ll examine the connections and disconnections between the two groups, asking whether these perspectives are truly at odds—or whether they complement one another in unexpected ways.

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder” finds its counterpart in art: perhaps art exists only through the act of being observed. This idea ties into phenomenology, a philosophical approach that emphasizes individual experience. Art, in this view, is not a static entity but a relationship—a moment of interaction between object and observer.

John Dewey, a pioneer of this relational perspective, argued that art is less about the artifact and more about the experience it generates. A sunset, a graffiti-covered wall, or even a cluttered desk can become art if it evokes a profound response. In this sense, art does not reside in objects but in moments. However, this subjectivity introduces complexity. If art is fully dependent on perception, does anything have the potential to be art? Could even the absence of an object—a blank gallery, an empty street—constitute an artistic experience? These questions have been explored by conceptual artists like Yves Klein, whose The Void exhibition in 1958 presented an empty gallery space as the artwork itself. The absence of objects demanded viewers engage with their own expectations and imaginations, suggesting that art can exist even without a tangible medium.

The Frame and Its Limits: Do Museums Still Matter?
Museums have long served as arbiters of art, offering context, preservation, and legitimacy. Yet, as contemporary art increasingly embraces everyday objects and experiences, the traditional role of museums is being questioned. Do museums remain relevant in a world where art spills into public spaces, digital platforms, and even ordinary life?

One perspective is that museums provide a critical framework for understanding art. By placing works in historical or thematic contexts, they enable deeper engagement and interpretation. Without these structures, art may risk losing its meaning or becoming purely decorative. For example, Picasso’s Guernica would lose much of its political and emotional power if displayed without context.
On the other hand, art that exists outside these structures offers a more immediate, democratic experience. Everyday installations, for instance, thrive precisely because they are unmediated. They are not curated or framed but discovered by those who take the time to notice. This immediacy can make art more accessible, bridging the gap between high art and everyday life.

Digital spaces further complicate this dynamic. Platforms like Instagram act as informal “museums,” allowing anyone to curate and share their interpretations of art.

TLDR
Everyday installations are not curated but discovered by those who take the time to notice.

Ultimately, what defines art is a question that resists a singular answer. It is shaped by an interplay of factors: the intention of the creator, the context of its presentation, and the perception of its audience. Philosophers like John Dewey emphasize that art is a process, not a product—an experience that unfolds between the work and its observer. This relational approach aligns with the view that art can be found anywhere, provided we engage with it thoughtfully.
In today’s world, the boundaries of art continue to blur. Social media, public interventions, and everyday encounters expand our understanding of what art can be. While museums and galleries remain vital spaces for reflection and preservation, they no longer hold a monopoly on artistic meaning. Instead, art thrives in its multiplicity—within and beyond frames, in curated halls and forgotten corners.
As we navigate a world filled with both traditional and unconventional expressions, the question shifts from “What is art?” to “How do we choose to see it?” Art, in its essence, challenges us to look closer, think deeper, and connect more profoundly with the world around us. Whether in a museum, on a street, or in the unnoticed poetry of everyday life, art invites us to reconsider what we value—and why.


What Makes Art, Art?
Building on the idea that everyday arrangements can be perceived as art, the philosophical and aesthetic questions surrounding what constitutes art become even more pressing. If we accept that art is no longer confined to galleries or museums, how do we determine what qualifies as art, where it begins, and what sustains its identity? This second exploration pushes deeper into these ideas, examining the role of context, interpretation, and frameworks in shaping art’s meaning and value.

Is Art Defined by Its Context?
In the first exploration, we touched on how Marcel Duchamp’s Fountain revolutionized the art world by reframing an ordinary urinal as a piece of art. But Duchamp’s provocation raises a broader question: does art inherently require a deliberate recontextualization to exist? Philosophers like Nelson Goodman argue that art is not a property of objects themselves but of the “worlds” they inhabit. In other words, the same object can be art in one setting and mundane in another, depending on the circumstances of its presentation.

Context can transform perception. For instance, a crumpled piece of paper in a trash bin is easily overlooked, but place it on a plinth in a gallery, and it invites scrutiny, even reverence. This dynamic becomes more complex in contemporary art, where artists like Banksy exploit public spaces to challenge the very notion of curated contexts. His work often thrives because it exists outside the gallery, in the rawness of urban environments, offering unmediated access to passersby.

However, there is a counterpoint to consider: is context too much of a crutch? If an object or arrangement requires a gallery or an artist’s name to be perceived as art, is it still meaningful? Everyday installations—those accidental compositions of objects in public spaces—suggest that perhaps context is less important than we think. Instead, they call on the observer to actively assign meaning, placing the power of “art-making” in the hands of the audience rather than institutions.