"I always have a good reason for taking something out but I never have one for putting something in. And I don't want to, because that means that the picture is being painted predigested"
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Rauschenberg turns editing into an ethic: subtraction is accountable, addition is suspect. That inversion matters because it rejects the heroic myth of the artist as a visionary who “fills” the canvas with meaning. In his hands, putting something in too easily becomes a kind of paternalism - the artist doing the viewer’s thinking in advance. “Predigested” is the giveaway: he’s allergic to art that arrives already processed, already instructing you where to look, what to feel, what to conclude.
The line reads like a studio mantra from an artist who built a career on letting the world leak into the work. His Combines, with their quilts, newspapers, and found objects, weren’t about pristine composition; they were about encounter, contingency, and the refusal of a single, sealed message. If you “put something in” with a tidy rationale, you risk closing down the work’s permeability - turning it into an illustration of your intention rather than a field where meanings collide.
The subtext is also a critique of taste: “good reasons” are often just polite alibis for control. Rauschenberg’s insistence on having reasons for removal implies discipline, not chaos. He’s not advocating blankness; he’s defending openness. The viewer has to do some chewing. The art stays alive because it doesn’t flatter us with an easy takeaway, and it doesn’t let the artist play auteur-god. In a culture that loves content engineered for frictionless consumption, “not predigested” reads like a provocation and a dare.
The line reads like a studio mantra from an artist who built a career on letting the world leak into the work. His Combines, with their quilts, newspapers, and found objects, weren’t about pristine composition; they were about encounter, contingency, and the refusal of a single, sealed message. If you “put something in” with a tidy rationale, you risk closing down the work’s permeability - turning it into an illustration of your intention rather than a field where meanings collide.
The subtext is also a critique of taste: “good reasons” are often just polite alibis for control. Rauschenberg’s insistence on having reasons for removal implies discipline, not chaos. He’s not advocating blankness; he’s defending openness. The viewer has to do some chewing. The art stays alive because it doesn’t flatter us with an easy takeaway, and it doesn’t let the artist play auteur-god. In a culture that loves content engineered for frictionless consumption, “not predigested” reads like a provocation and a dare.
Quote Details
| Topic | Art |
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