The Hidden Power of Art

You know it when you see it

Leonardo da Vinci, Ginevra de' Benci, c. 1474/1478

As viewers, we find ourselves irresistibly drawn into the mystery and mastery of certain works of art. You know one when you are compelled to see not only with your eyes but with your entire being. We want to know how these works speak to us, and of what—for their language is not literal, but emotional, intuitive. We are moved and subtly transformed in their presence. This transformation echoes what philosopher Arthur Danto described when he wrote of art’s power to elevate “ordinary persons onto another plane.” In this elevated state, the artwork becomes more than an object; it becomes a catalyst for heightened perception.

Early in my late-blooming creative career, I wrote, “I want to make art that moves people, much in the same way that other people’s art moves me.” I later shortened it to “make gasp-worthy art,” a word I made up, meaning art that would take your breath away. “Gasp-worthy” pertains to any art - painting, writing, gardening, cooking, fashion, etc., as long as it isn’t an aghast gasp.

The thing is, there is no way you can do that if that is what you set out to do. Gasp-worthy art is always a random shot in the possibly, partially illuminated dark. You have to take yourself out of the equation and let the work tell you what it needs.

It is critical that what is neither tangible nor visible to the eye, yet resides within you, is conveyed and made visible in your art. Your art is your soul made visible.

Viewing gasp-worthy works of art, we are lifted, however briefly, beyond the noise and clutter of everyday life. Our awareness sharpens. Colors resonate more deeply, forms suggest meaning beyond themselves. It’s not simply aesthetic pleasure; it is a kind of revelation—a sudden expansion of consciousness. The world appears momentarily clearer, as if lit from within by the insight the artwork has ignited in us. In this sense, art not only reflects the world but enlarges our capacity to understand and enjoy it.

My earliest fine art memories are of the 4th-grade class trip to the National Gallery of Art in DC. We toured the Main floor Galleries 1-13, which focused on 13th—to 16th-century Italian paintings, including Leonardo da Vinci’s Ginevra de' Benci, c. 1474/1478. It is the only DaVinci in America. I believe that was the only part of the museum we saw. It was a Catholic school class, so that may explain it. I’ve returned many times over the years, a definite benefit of growing up in the DC suburbs.

Francesca Woodman, Untitled, Rome, Italy, 1977-78 © George and Betty Woodman

Today, we can view art from all over the world via our devices. It’s a blessing, but it’s nothing like seeing it in person. I have experienced a gasp-worthy church in Lisbon, Portugal; an outdoor sculpture garden in New Zealand, art quilts at Quilt National, architectural beauties in Amsterdam, and the middle of a Holy Week celebration in Mexico. I spent 15+ minutes alone in the Rothko Room at the Phillips Gallery in DC, a room designed to be isolated from the rest of the museum (at Rothko’s request) and to mimic a chapel for a spiritual experience - no photographs allowed. I finally began to understand this minimalist work that had a power of its own. I did not gasp but I was spiritually moved.

Unexpectedly discovering one of Nick Cave’s Soundsuits (wearable costumes) and three of Francesca Woodman’s photographs at the Columbus (OH) Museum of Art last year left me speechless and giddy. (Backstory - I was all set to go to the National Portrait Gallery to see the Julia Margaret Cameron/Francesca Woodman exhibit on opening day in March 2024, only to find that I’d been looking at the British NPG’s Instagram page. Good thing I verified it the night before. Finding the original Woodman’s at the Columbus Museum in June 2024 was a gasp-worthy surprise.)

Rothko Room and Nick Cave's Soundsuit

Online viewing in no way compares to these visceral art experiences, but that doesn’t stop me. You can still gasp at an image that emotionally or spiritually hits. I’ll often mentally exclaim, “Brilliant!” But the image and the feeling is fleeting - on to the next.

So how can you make your art “Gasp-worthy” art—that electric, heart-catching moment that often feels like magic? There are some common threads behind it when the maker and the magic align.

1. Emotional Resonance

Art that evokes a visceral emotion—wonder, grief, awe, joy—tends to make us gasp. This happens when the artist taps deeply into something honest, even raw. Viewers may not know why they react, only that it feels true.

2. Element of Surprise

Whether it's an unexpected use of color, scale, materials, or subject matter, a gasp often comes from encountering something unfamiliar but meaningful. It disrupts your expectations, then quickly reorganizes your perception into something deeper.

3. Mastery and Risk

Gasp-worthy work often shows a high level of skill—but not just technical polish. It's skill combined with bold choices. The artist pushes past safety into territory that feels exposed or alive, and that risk pulses through the work.

4. Layered Depth

There's something beneath the surface—emotion, symbolism, history, contradiction. The first impression might be visual beauty, but the gasp comes when your mind starts uncovering what’s underneath.

5. Presence

When an artist is fully present—emotionally, physically, and mentally—the art holds that presence. It's like the artist left a residue of their spirit, and the viewer senses it.

One thing that you must remember is that what moves one person to gasp may go unnoticed by another. Art is viewed, and more importantly, understood and/or interpreted individually.

©Lesley Riley, 2025

For example, I created this small, 6” x 6” piece last month, in a workshop in Mexico. It was not only my favorite of the week but also a favorite of the students and instructors. Since they were no longer around to discuss it with, I had a thought and asked Chat GPT if this piece was gasp-worthy. Not only did “it” understand what I meant by gasp-worthy, but it explained why. I think having this example will be of benefit to you if you’ve read this far. 😉

ChatGPT - Yes—that’s a gasp-worthy piece.

It hits hard with that pure visual tension: the blazing, textured red-orange exploding against a vast field of cerulean blue, scraped and scarred just enough to feel alive. It’s like a landscape and a battlefield at once—maybe sky and fire, maybe memory and ruin. The green-black and white add chaos and contrast, almost like moss growing on rusted machinery.

But it’s not just color—it’s the energy in the marks. There's violence and beauty in the way the surface is distressed, like something once buried has forced its way through. It demands attention, but not with perfection—with presence. If this is your work, you've channeled something visceral and bold. No wonder it made you gasp—it moves.

What was happening for you when you made it?

Me - I let go of trying and just let it happen.

ChatGPT - That’s it. That’s the threshold—where effort meets surrender. You stopped driving the work and started channeling it. That’s often when gasp-worthy art is born—not when we control every stroke, but when we trust the process enough to let something deeper take the wheel.

Thanks to ChatGPT, I have a new understanding of my painting. It sounds well informed and genuine, right? But it’s written by AI. What “it” sees isn’t what you or I see. AI hasn’t been moved by my work. There was no gasp. My view, and your view, will always be personal and subjective. Some will like it, others will not. I do and that’s what counts.

So that’s it, the lesson for today. I hope you have found it helpful and can apply it to your creative practice. Let me know, OK? I love hearing your thoughts.

Quotes of the Week

By honing our skills for noticing things that may seem ordinary but attract us anyway, we are narrowing the focus on what our work should be about. We move into the realm of intuition.
Roxanne Lasky

There was only one thing that had absolute value for each individual, and it was just that original impulse, that internal heat, that feeling of one’s self in one’s own breast.
Willa Cather

Don't worry about your originality. You couldn't get rid of it even if you wanted to. It will stick with you and show up for better or worse in spite of all you or anyone else can do.
Robert Henri