In order to further our understanding of art, it is important to examine the mediums which we use to express ourselves. Divorcing art from the vessel in which it is imparted is nigh impossible, and so to truly understand, the art we must understand the medium. Many classic mediums appeal directly to our senses, whether it be visual (paintings, sculpture, etc.) or auditory (music). Some might argue that food or perfume making are arts on this basis, although I would be inclined to disagree, just because I think our sense of smell and taste are not fine enough to make art in those categories particularly meaningful, although I am well aware that many chefs might consider me a fool. However, one medium stands out as unique: the written word.
The written word is not a direct appeal to any senses, although we use our sight to process it (although not necessarily, see braille). Still, it can be used to describe visual effects, sounds, tastes, etc., which in the hands of a skilled writer, can be nearly as effective as being actually presented with those sensory inputs. The real advantage of writing however, comes when it speaks directly to emotions our thoughts in a way that other mediums simply cannot. By simply writing the word “love,” I can conjure a whole idea that would take a great deal of effort to relay visually, and even more to do audibly. This makes writing unique, and gives it its own special issues and difficulties.
The issues arise from the origins of writing. As far as classical art mediums go, it's relatively new on the scene, with only about 6,000 years since its inception, as opposed to cave painting, which is about 32,000 years, and music, which is possibly 40,000 years old (a bone flute was found dating to then). It is no coincidence however that the much of the first written art is actually oral story-telling written down. Writing is inextricably linked with speaking, and it is this relationship that must be explored to truly understand the medium.
It is possible to argue that the written word is not a different medium than the spoken word, and indeed the boundary is neatly straddled by poetry, which in some cases is clearly made to be read aloud (here I usually think of Poe's “The Bells,” which is a tour de force of auditory effects) while some is much more obviously meant to be read on a page. (here I think of “When Lilacs Last in the Doorway Bloomed,” whose complicated and cerebral associations are nigh impossible to follow while listening to it, although I'm sure some would disagree.) Indeed, to anyone who suffered through Shakespeare in high school and hated it due to the inaccessibility of it written down, I strongly recommend going to a play of it, and watch what were unintelligible phrases come alive when spoken by an actor. (Plays in general are a fascinating medium, and one that on which I'm afraid I'm woefully undereducated .) It is also interesting to note that, with the use of onomatopoeias, nothing exists in one medium that cannot be instantly transferred to the other, except possibly laughter, which I have never seen convincingly written down. However, I think that the two mediums must be treated differently, for two reasons; first and foremost, intonation is so critical to any sort of spoken word, and it's a dimension that the written word is completely lacking. Consider the phrase “Where do you think you are going?” Now imagine that spoken playfully by a man to his lover as she rises from their bed. Now imagine it spoken by a store employee as a shoplifter tries to slip out. The words are spoken in completely different, divergent fashions, and yet they are written in exactly the same. This to me is proof that the two mediums must be treated separately, because the spoken word is much more information dense than the written form. The written word is also different in that it can be reread, which also totally changes the experience. Ideas can be presented in written form, that are frankly, much more complex than could ever be spoken, because you as a reader can go back and figure out the argument.
However, the main issue surrounding using the written word as a medium, the main obstacle to surmount, stems from its origins in the spoken word. The problem is that neither were created as mediums for art at all. Both were made to communicate ideas quickly and efficiently (like “Look! A lion!”) , but not necessarily fully. If we go back to our example of love, the issue is brought into clarity. While writing the word “love” does convey the idea, it's flat and emotionless, as well as pointedly non-specific as to the nature of that love (platonic, maternal, romantic, etc.), while even the simplest sketch meant to convey love would have to recreate the emotion in a much more meaningful way. In case you think this is only true for words that have no visual or auditory counterpart, think on the word “face,” where even the simplest drawing will impart more information than the word itself. Context and connotation thus becomes everything in writing.
Since we are using love as an example let's examine Elizabeth Barrett Browning's famous poem as a case study of the medium and how it communicates:
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the end of being and ideal grace.
I love to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right;
I love thee purely as they turn from praise.
I love thee with a passion put to use
In my old griefs and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, -- I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!-- and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
One of the all time great love poems, and one mostly devoid of visual or auditory imagery, so perfect for our uses. I think it important to note that the first line has become so trite and overused that it is laughable, mainly because it lacks all of the context provided by the following lines. In the poem, she links her love to the pursuit of good, her own religiosity, and the both the infirmity of old age and innocence of childhood, all while keeping it pointedly humble. It's this linking of ideas that gives the written word its strength, and you would be hard pressed to find any other piece of art in a different medium with so many ideas cohabiting, especially so explicitly, and in such a brief work. As already mentioned too, it purposefully keeps any sort of sensory imagery out of it, maintaining a straight emotional argument unfettered by the senses. This is what makes writing so unique; its ability to appeal to the mind without directly. Thus the direct representation inherent in writing is both its weakness and its strength. However, this poem neatly makes the transition to the spoken word, and it's interesting to note that the punctuation here seems specifically designed to facilitate the process, thus negating the point that the two mediums are separate (as I said, poetry can be troublesome that way). Still I think it unlikely that a listener would catch all of Browning's layering in a listening, thus hearkening back to writing's advantage of being re-readable.
One last thing must be mentioned when discussing the written word, and it is such a complicated idea that it most certainly requires its own post. Nearly every novel and many poems have a plot, or at the very least some sort of framing story, and this narrative instinct helps give the written word its unique flavor. Sure, paintings and music might have a story to them, but it's mostly just hinted at and secondary, not critical to its existence the way it is in writing. Indeed, it is difficult to imagine a written work longer than ten pages without a character of some sort. (Some people might argue that philosophy is art, to whom I say hogwash.) The story, however, is for all intents and purposes its own medium, and ought to be discussed separately.
