When a reader encounters ambiguity in a text, there is a tendency to dismiss it as a mistake or lack of foresight. One assumes an idea or plot point was not addressed because it was not important.
The reader must instead do the more difficult, yet more fulfilling, task: sit
down and take the time to fully understand the implications of the author not explaining that point. Sometimes an unanswered question or unfinished sentence can be much more profound than a painstakingly explained idea.
I am reminded of a story that ran on NPR a few days ago entitled, You Gonna Finish That? What We Can Learn From Artworks In Progress. The piece reminds us that artists can, and will, express themselves through the absence of paint, pencil mark, or color, leaving their audience to ponder upon the glimmering essence of the piece, stripped of all frivolity.
In this way, the artist seems to say, "This is as far as I'm willing to take you, you'll have to find your way from here." The viewer feels abandoned, shortchanged, or perhaps even conned at first, but soon they see that the piece is, in fact, finished. It says all it was meant to say; it reveals what the artist felt, and for that reason, it is finished in every way that matters.
The artist used this ambiguity in the same way a writer might, in order to force the viewer into filling in the blanks and understanding the piece in their own way.
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