I spent part of July 29 enjoying the annual Art on the Mall at the University of Toledo. It was a fun-filled afternoon. Thousands of people came to the picturesque Centennial Mall to enjoy an array of art; paintings, photographs, jewelry, textiles, and the like.

The artists came from near and far and provided a mosaic of artistic expressions. Add a fair-like atmosphere with the wafting aroma of food and the sound of live music, and you had the making of a great event.

I was struck by an abstract painting that consisted of a black rectangle and a white square, on white canvass. At the risk of appearing ignorant, I asked the artist what the painting represented. He said it represented whatever I thought it represented.

Frankly, I did not think it represented anything. But there were other paintings hung close by that I understood: landscapes, portraits, and still lifes.

I enjoy paintings in which the individual parts of the picture are recognizable and I understand the artist's intent. I am neither well-versed in art history nor sophisticated enough to delve in the subterranean strata of an artist's mind to decipher what he or she has painted. To leave it to my imagination is really no answer at all. I consider it a cop-out.

I recognize some aspects of Salvador Dali's paintings. The distorted clocks in his Persistence of Memory (also called Melting Clocks) are weird but recognizable. The same is true of Pablo Picasso's cubist paintings in which you can, with much squinting, discern human forms and shapes.

But try finding a recognizable part of female anatomy in Marcel Duchamp's Nude Descending a Staircase. If you want to see a human figure in motion, take a look at Eadweard Muybridge's Woman Walking Downstairs.

About 20 years ago, CBS' 60 Minutes did a story called "Yes … But is it art?" Morley Safer, ever the inquisitive and acerbic reporter, asked a museum curator about a blank canvass. The curator said it was minimalist art. To that Mr. Safer quipped that it was really minimal, because you couldn't see anything on the white canvass.

In contrast -- an art expert would say it is not a fair comparison -- when you look at Leonardo da Vinci's Mona Lisa, you are immediately drawn to her enigmatic smile. I do not think anyone has ever confused the lovely Italian woman with a horse or a log cabin.

The pesky question raised in Mr. Safer's piece still haunts me when I look at an abstract work in which I cannot recognize features. I realize that there are knowledgeable people who have deep understanding and appreciation of such art. Behind a blank canvass or splattering of paint on a canvass, they can see the depth, texture, and substance that others cannot.

So what is art? The question has been answered in various ways, and not to everyone's satisfaction. Russian novelist Leo Tolstoy said that art is something that creates a specific emotional link between the artist and the audience, and that it affects the viewer.

If we accept his definition, then art has to appeal to a majority of people. It is no different than reading a newspaper that is written in such a way that it can be understood by the majority of readers.

I did not spend a long time contemplating the abstract painting. When the artist is unsure of what he painted and refuses to share his thoughts, there is no need to engage in a pointless conversation. There was so much more to see, appreciate, and enjoy.

I was pleased to see Rich Heard, an artist from Tennessee who makes fountains out of discarded pots, pans, and sundry other household items. He engages his visitors in conversation with homespun humor on subjects ranging from fountain pens to fly fishing.

His new piece was crafted with teapot and cups. It was a pleasure to watch the water flowing out of the sprout of a silver teapot and cascading into two cups and then into a silver bowel. It was art that did not require reading thick tomes on art appreciation.

It now sits on my kitchen counter.

Dr. S. Amjad Hussain is a retired Toledo surgeon whose column appears every other week in The Blade.

Contact him at: aghaji@bex.net

First Published August 6, 2012, 4:00 a.m.