Chapter 9: How Does Contingency Live in Art and Aesthetic Sense?

Suppose you stop in front of a painting at a gallery you happened to enter.

At first you only thought, “Well, it’s a nice picture.”

But as you keep looking, the brush strokes that somehow feel uncalculated, or the unexpected combination of colors, suddenly begin to tickle deep inside your heart.

“Why does this beauty that feels almost accidental resonate so strongly in my chest…?”

Or at a jazz live performance.

The musicians respond to each other’s sounds and weave in improvised phrases that were never planned.

In that moment, the entire venue is wrapped in the sensation of “something that can only be born here and now.”

Or while reading a novel, a sudden encounter or unexpected event dramatically changes the story.

An unfolding that even the author feels “I never intended to go this far.”

These “beauties that could not be fully calculated” and “unexpected resonances.”

This is precisely the form in which contingency lives within art and aesthetic sense.

Up to the previous chapters, we learned that contingency is deeply connected to our “freedom.”

But Kuki Shūzō, who thoroughly pursued thinking about the fundamental structure of this world (metaphysics), considered that contingency lives in the highest and most beautiful form not only in the logic of the mind or the severe choices of life, but also within the “beauty” and “art” that nourish our hearts.

For Kuki, art was the “miraculous practice” that shapes the fate named contingency in the safest and most beautiful way.

When we are deeply moved by a single painting or a piece of music, the “three contingencies” that Kuki discovered are all hidden there as a beautiful harmony.

For example, when painting.

The artist holds an image at first, but while the brush is running, events occur such as “a color different from what I expected appeared” or “the accidental bleeding is actually beautiful.”

This most simple “what a surprise!” (categorical contingency), which is the very encounter with the work, breathes unique life into the piece.

It is the same in music.

Playing according to a classical score is wonderful, but in jazz or traditional improvisation, “the encounter of sounds that can only be born in this very moment” becomes the core of the work.

One person’s sound happens to meet another’s and causes a chemical reaction.

That conditional just-by-chance of “if ~ then” (hypothetical contingency) — “if that sound had not been chosen in that moment…” — violently shakes the listener’s heart.

What about literature?

In a novel, a person or event the protagonist “just happens” to meet greatly changes the fate of the entire story.

Sometimes the story even moves in a direction different from the plot the author first envisioned.

The accumulation of these A-or-B fateful choices (disjunctive contingency) leaves the reader with a “lingering resonance that can only be tasted in this story.”

In modern examples: a photograph or short video that happened to catch your eye while casually scrolling on SNS somehow greatly changes the mood of that day.

When generating images with AI, random elements enter and produce beautiful compositions that a human would never have thought of.

Or a song by an artist you happened to meet while mindlessly swiping on a matching app remains in your heart as an unforgettable lifelong memory.

All of these are “the beauty of contingency” latent in art and everyday life.

This part is actually extremely important.

Art gives us a special place where we can safely savor contingency.

In real life, contingent choices sometimes come with pain, regret, or the fear of “Why did this happen to me?”

But precisely because it is on the safe canvas of painting, music, or novels, we can gently make that “what if” sensation our ally not as fear, but as supreme “beauty” or “deep emotion.”

This becomes quiet training of the heart for accepting contingency and living freely.

The aesthetic sense of “iki” that Kuki pursued as uniquely Japanese beauty is precisely this magic of contingency.

More than perfect, fully calculated correct arguments, it is because there is a little “gap,” an unpredictable “blank space” or “ma (interval)” that contingency slips in and makes our hearts skip a beat.

Have you not had such experiences?

“Thanks to casually hearing this song, my heavy feelings suddenly became lighter.”

“A painting I saw at an exhibition somehow overlapped with my current painful situation and made me cry.”

“At the last page of a novel, an almost accidental ending made my chest warm and I felt saved.”

In such moments, art seems to gently speak to us who are living hard while being wounded:

“The contingency of life is not something to be afraid of.
Even if things don’t go as planned, by savoring and accepting those unexpected shifts and chance encounters, your heart can become freer and richer.”

In the next chapter, we will finally expand this “heart that loves contingency” cultivated through art into real everyday human relationships.

Let us unravel together, from the perspective of us living in the modern age, the true meaning of the supremely romantic and deep words Kuki left: “Do not let an encounter pass by in vain.”

This is the beginning of the journey that expands the beauty of contingency tasted in art into precious “encounters with people.” Please look forward to it!

Akira

🔗 Profile: https://discipline.tokyo/profile.php
📧 Email: akira@discipline.tokyo
📮 Anonymous consultation form: https://discipline.tokyo/contact.php
🏠 Top page: https://discipline.tokyo/index.php

※ This series and related content are the crystallization of my thoughts and are protected by copyright law. Please clearly indicate the source when quoting. Unauthorized reproduction or commercial use is prohibited.