Visual Art as an Instrument of Deep Communication: A Link Between Emotion and Expression

Edna Tuaira Anibal "

Edna Tuaira Anibal Student of the Bachelor's Degree in Marketing and Public Relations at the School of Communication and Arts at Eduardo Mondlane and Delso Khosa University Throughout the history of humanity, art has played a central role not only as a form of aesthetic expression, but also as a powerful tool of communication. Within the multiple languages that make up the artistic world, visual art stands out as one of the most intense and visceral ways of conveying messages, feelings and concerns. Visual art communicates with silent eloquence, building bridges between cultures, eras and identities. It is in this sense that it becomes pertinent to reflect on the role of visual art as a language and means of communication. It is not just a matter of observing a painting or a sculpture as a mere decorative object, but of understanding it as a symbolic enunciation, as a visual discourse full of meaning. Communication, as a science and practice, seeks effective ways of sharing information. Visual art, in turn, delves into the depths of human feeling and offers narratives that transcend words, touching areas that discursive rationality often does not reach. Two names stand out in this panorama: the American Jean-Michel Basquiat and the Mozambican Malangatana Ngwenya. Both used visual art as a cry, a denunciation and a bridge to the other. Basquiat, with his raw, urban paintings, full of signs and symbols, showed the wounds of racism, inequality and marginalization in an America that pretended to be post-racial. Malangatana, in turn, made his work an extension of the Mozambican soul. His paintings, dense and vibrant, reveal not only colonial violence, but also the hope of a people in reconstruction, celebrating African identity with an almost mystical visual force. Malangatana Ngwenya’s position strongly resonates with my view of visual art as an act of communication. I agree with him because I understand that art cannot be separated from the reality in which it is embedded. Malangatana painted the pain, oppression and beauty of Mozambique, in a gesture that, for me, represents the noblest form of communication that arises from the body, from memory and from the collective. His art is not just his: it belongs to all of us. He painted what words silenced. He gave colour to what silence suffocated. Visual art, therefore, does not only communicate ideas. It communicates states of mind. A painting can make us cry, smile or revolt. And why? Because it speaks to us, even without making sounds. The color palette is its vocabulary. The shapes and lines are its sentences. The texture is its intonation. The arrangement in space is its grammar. Just as in verbal communication there are meanings, connotations and contexts, in visual art there are also codes that we need to decipher. And this deciphering is not watertight, because each person reads the work in the light of their experiences, their pains, their feelings. Thus, visual art is also a dialogical act of communication. In a world saturated with artificial discourses and manufactured images, visual art maintains a rare purity: it communicates without marketing, without filters, without algorithms. It still manages to surprise, disturb and displace. In the field of communication, where there is so much talk about strategy, effectiveness and persuasion, looking at visual art is to remember that communicating is, above all, creating connections. It is touching the other. And in this sense, visual art is perhaps one of the most human and genuine forms of communication. It is also important to understand how visual art fits into social and political dynamics. Jean-Michel Basquiat used words in his paintings, combining graphics and painting, to denounce systemic violence, alienation and the historical erasure of the black population. His work was clearly a visual manifesto. And even if not everyone understood each symbol, the raw power of the images provoked. As with communication processes, the reception of the message depends on the recipient's repertoire, but emotion is universal. Malangatana did the same, but in a different grammar: the Mozambican one. His art reveals the pain of war, but also the poetry of reunion. His paintings are visual narratives that do not require captions, as they speak directly to the heart. When we look at one of his works, we feel the weight of the colonial past, the strength of resistance and the joy of freedom. It is memory transformed into image. And, as we well know in communication, collective memory is largely constructed by symbols. Malangatana was, therefore, an excellent symbolic communicator. In my view, the visual arts offer something that no advertising campaign or political discourse can offer with such authenticity: raw emotion. They touch on the unnamable. In anguish, in love, in fear, in hope. In the pain that cannot be explained, but that can be painted. As a student of Marketing and Public Relations, I see art as a communication tool that needs to be explored further. After all, what is communication if not the constant attempt to build bridges between individuals and communities? We cannot continue to think of communication as merely technical mediation or the transmission of formatted messages. We need to reintegrate art into communication processes. We need to allow painting, sculpture, drawing and other visual arts to be present in campaigns, social actions and public debates. We need to restore communication to its sensitive dimension. And to do this, we need to listen to what artists tell us with their brushes. Jean-Michel Basquiat died young, but his work continues to scream from the walls of museums. It screams against racism, against the silence imposed on the marginalized. Malangatana is also no longer with us, but his paintings continue to tell us that Mozambique is not just landscape and exoticism; it is also struggle, memory and dreams. Both taught us that art is voice. That visual art is not mere ornament, but a political act, a communicative gesture, a bridge between worlds. It is at this intersection between communication and art that I feel most alive. Because I know that each work carries an intention, even when it is unconscious, I know that each drawn line, each stain of color, each figure on a canvas is a call for dialogue. And perhaps this is the noblest role of communication: to listen to the calls of the invisible. To give form to what has not yet been said. To allow each individual to find their own language. For me, visual art is this first language. Primordial. Eternal. When a child draws a house with a chimney, he is communicating his idea of home. When a prisoner draws a bird, he is communicating his desire for freedom; when an artist paints chaos, he is verbalizing what many feel but cannot name. This is the power of visual art: it translates the unspeakable. It gives body to silence. And, in an increasingly noisy world, perhaps we should learn to listen more to images. In conclusion, visual art is communication. It is emotion. It is politics. It is memory. It is language. And, above all, it is a space of freedom. Like Malangatana, I believe that the artist is also a communicator, someone who reveals the world to others from another perspective. A perspective that is not taught in communication manuals, but that is learned with the soul. And if it is true that communication is necessary, then it is urgent that we let plastic art communicate for us as well.

2025/12/3