The art experience unfolds as an exchange between the spectator and the artist, mediated through the artwork—an extension of the artist’s self. The spectator’s emotive openness serves as the mental space where discovery, valuation, and potential appreciation take shape. But this openness is not passive; it is almost a leap of faith, a silent pact made with the artwork before it has proven itself worthy, worthy of becoming an object of possession. Here, the mystic art experience stands in between of these two phenomena: the emotive openness as a prerequisite to the appreciation of a piece of art, the art experience itself, and the fruit of this art experience – the object of possession.
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But how can the emotive openness bring us into the art experience space – this mental space where the magic takes place? In this essay, we will explore the idea that emotive openness fosters a form of emotional open-mindedness—one that allows the spectator to engage with a work of art at face value, first through sensory perception and then through intellectual reflection, creating a feedback loop. The experience of watching a movie in a theater will serve as our guiding thread throughout this essay.
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Emotive openness is not just a state of mind; it is first and foremost a physical engagement with the art object. This is why, as many argue (and I wholeheartedly believe), a film celebrated as a work of art is best experienced in a theater. The act of going to the theater creates a ritual—an intentional step that carves out a mental space of focus, calm, and an almost sacred quietness. This environment fosters true engagement with the artwork. Sitting in a chair, eliminating distractions, and surrendering to the film become acts of commitment, a kind of mindfulness that allows the piece of art to unfold as it was meant to. In this undisturbed space, we grant the film our full attention, allowing it to guide us through a journey, a story, an experience.
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What makes the art experience in the theatre so unique is the size of the screen: the visual field is almost fully saturated by the piece of art, the only thing I can hear is the movie itself (if we consider that we watch the movie in the good conditions). The hearing and the seeing, senses that help us navigating in our outside worlds, are the ones that are fully engaged without any external distraction. This full sensorial engagement brings up a first person point of view to the fictional universe of the movie – a first person point of view as a spectator or even as an active participant of the action. The Nickel Boys movie pushes the first-person point of view in the discovery of the film to its paroxysm: the spectator sees the movie through the eyes of the main character, Elwood. This perspective creates in the spectator a deep sense of immersion - they experience the pain and profound unfairness of the situation Elwood is a victim of. The spectator feels his pain as if it were their own. The power of such a sensorial experience lies in the “as if”—the pure sensorial experience makes our senses (and, in a way, ourselves) believe in this universe, leading to complete immersion in the work of art.
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The mechanism at the core of the As if experience—as I conceptualize it—stems from sensory perception, followed by critical thinking, which integrates and contextualizes sensory input within a coherent framework where this external information belongs. When one perceives an object, it is initially experienced as a shape, a set of colors, and from a certain angle. It is only in a second step that the object is interpreted as something familiar, potentially functional, and belonging to the space in which it is found. From this understanding—shaped by critical thinking, memory, and curiosity—we view the object within this comprehensible framework, allowing us to engage with it accordingly. This process of sensation, perception, and interpretation forms a feedback loop: I perceive, I understand, I perceive from a new angle, leading to deeper engagement with the object and so on. It can be summarized in the following scheme:
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The need of the feedback loop process comes from what I call the “face value understanding of the world” and the need of its interpretation. The face value understanding of the world corresponds to the sensorial perception of the world which is quite primitive and reacts to the outside world from an instinctive point of view. For example, if someone sees a close picture of a lion opening its maw towards their direction, in an infinitesimal timeframe, our senses – and therefore our emotional response – take this as “face value” and reacts with a sense of stress. This is only through the process of interpretation – understanding that this is only the representation of a lion and not a lion in my physical surrounding as a direct threat – that one can calm down. The feedback loop process readjusts our face value understanding of the world – the most primitive one, the one that we inherited from our ancestors the hunter/gatheres – using our knowledge and critical thinking to contextualize the information and adjust the emotional response accordingly.
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In the context of the movie experience, the feedback loop is subtly altered. Rather than engaging in a pragmatic interpretation that distances the spectator from the film by framing it as mere fiction, our perception follows a different path. Within the realm of emotive openness—and almost by definition of this state—our sensory engagement with the movie does not prompt critical thinking about its fictional nature but rather about understanding the logic of its universe. It is as if the face-value sensorial perception of reality extends into our interpretation, allowing us to take the movie at face value. Even though we remain aware of its fictional essence, this awareness does not dictate the rhythm of our immersion. Instead, the unfolding plot is embraced as immediate and self-contained, deepening the immersive experience.
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Returning to my experience with Anora, what I perceived as being the artifice of its construction provoked a sense of frustration within me—one that disrupted my emotive openness. Rather than surrendering to the flow of the narrative, I found myself caught in a constant state of questioning. The film’s overt fictionality created a sense of distance, erecting a barrier between my consciousness and the possibility of genuine emotional attachment to the story. Therefore, the absence of emotive openness prevented the as if experience, which would have enabled me, as the spectator, to embrace the fictional universe of the work of art.
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The as if experience appears to be a powerful mechanism for connecting with a piece of art from an intellectual and emotional standpoint. It serves as a catalyst for empathy toward the object of art, allowing the self to bridge with any external emotion. The example of the wonderful masterpiece I’m Still Here is, for me, the quintessential demonstration of the power of the as if experience. This movie depicts dictatorship in Brazil in the 1980s, with a focus on political disappearances that caused profound social tragedies. Its power lies in the genuine proximity the spectator feels to this bourgeois family—a beautiful family that could be ours, despite social and cultural differences—as if we were part of it. From the introduction to their authentic life in Rio, the father suddenly disappears. From this moment on, the movie becomes a story of profound resilience, with a deep sense of dignity—standing as the most powerful weapon against dictatorship and the tragedy it caused. The movie’s deeply moving plot affected me intensely, even before I knew its biographical nature. And this is where the power of the as if experience lies. Despite the film’s fictional character, I was profoundly moved, and upon discovering at the end that it was based on a true story, its impact deepened. This stands in contrast to the mere news experience, which presents a list of facts and statistics that one can process with detachment, whereas the deeply moving story of this family, conveyed through the medium of empathy, results from the as if experience.
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All in all, emotive openness stands as the gateway to an emotionally open-mindedness, allowing the self to consider the face value of a piece of art through the As if experience. The As if experience—the one that alters our sensation-perception feedback loop—enables the spectator to enter the artistic microcosm of a piece of art, leading to a potential emotional connection. This emotional connection begins with empathy: as if it were true, as if I were part of the story—I feel emotionally attached to and involved in it. From there, it expands to encompass the full spectrum of emotions. The as if stands as the cornerstone of the emotional gateway to a piece of art, and understanding how one can become fully immersed in an artistic experience through this mechanism will be the next point of focus.