There is something unsettling about being watched — even by paint. The gaze has always carried a charge: it exposes, it judges, it connects. In symbolic art, eyes are not passive decorations but living presences. They occupy the canvas like witnesses, blurring the line between seeing and being seen.
The eye, in its repetition and stylization, often becomes a statement of autonomy. It refuses invisibility. It transforms vision into resistance — not the resistance of anger, but of awareness.
The Cultural Weight of the Gaze
Throughout history, the human eye has represented knowledge and protection, but also vulnerability. Ancient amulets were designed to ward off the “evil eye,” while in religious iconography, the all-seeing gaze of divinity reminded believers of moral order.
Symbolist painters of the late 19th century reimagined this motif through psychology and mysticism. Odilon Redon’s floating eyes or Gustav Klimt’s patterned visages turned looking into an existential experience — not about sight, but about seeing through.
Modern symbolic artists continue that dialogue. In outsider and surrealist traditions, the gaze becomes personal: a statement against invisibility, gendered objectification, or emotional detachment. The eye no longer belongs to the gods — it belongs to those reclaiming the right to look back.
The Politics of Looking Back
In art, who holds the gaze has always mattered. For centuries, portraits invited viewers to observe but rarely to feel observed. Symbolic art disturbs that balance. A painted eye that stares directly — or a face fragmented into multiple gazes — reclaims power through confrontation.
The gaze, in this sense, becomes political. It challenges the expectation that art should comfort, or that the viewer should remain in control. Instead, it transforms the act of looking into dialogue — tense, intimate, and alive.
This reversal is especially striking in emotional paintings that center female or hybrid figures. The gaze is no longer submissive; it is knowing, layered, and self-aware. It refuses to apologize for intensity.
Multiplicity and Vision
When symbolic art multiplies the gaze — with several eyes, mirrored faces, or surreal repetition — it suggests more than surveillance. It evokes expanded perception. The idea of seeing differently runs through both folklore and contemporary symbolism: to have more than two eyes is to perceive more than one truth.
In many of my own compositions, this motif grows organically from emotional states rather than concepts. Eyes appear among flowers or patterns, suggesting awareness rooted in nature, not logic. They stand for inner sight — a sensitivity that doesn’t rely on reason but on intuition.
Through layering, chrome reflections, or metallic paint, the gaze can even take on material depth. It captures the surrounding light, changing expression as the viewer moves. What was once static becomes participatory.
The Emotional Charge of Observation
Psychologically, the gaze is never neutral. It triggers instinct — recognition, empathy, sometimes discomfort. In emotional artwork, that reaction becomes the point. The viewer’s unease is a form of awakening, a reminder that art is not just seen but felt through the act of seeing.
Eyes in symbolic paintings often echo emotions that resist words: alertness, grief, longing, eroticism. They reveal that to truly see is to become vulnerable — and that vulnerability itself can be powerful.
Rather than demanding understanding, these eyes ask for presence. They hold us in stillness, daring us to stay with the discomfort of recognition.
The Eye as Portal
In symbolic and surreal art, the gaze often acts as a passage — not outward, but inward. It draws attention to consciousness itself: who looks, and who is being looked at.
When we meet the painted eye, we don’t just interpret it; we participate in its act of seeing. The moment becomes circular. The artwork perceives us as much as we perceive it.
That exchange — subtle but electric — is what gives the gaze its enduring force. It’s not just ornament or motif. It’s the artwork’s pulse. A rebellion not of noise, but of presence.
In the end, the painted eye doesn’t simply stare; it reminds us that awareness, once awakened, never looks away.
