What does it mean to “refuse to understand”—aka, why do we only enjoy listening to or looking at things that already feel familiar to us?

To many people, calling a Jackson Pollock painting “beautiful” feels absurd. Why are these messy ink splashes considered masterpieces? Why not paint something familiar, ordinary, and gracefully rendered like the old masters? Abstract painting—with its aggressive strokes and chaotic colors—feels alien. It evokes little beyond confusion, doubt, and estrangement.

Even for open-minded individuals, encountering something new always requires preparation. For instance, before trying Arabic food for the first time, we often have to mentally brace ourselves, consciously pushing aside culinary biases. Without genuine focus, it’s difficult to find meaning in unfamiliar forms. A relaxed mind tends to be more easily moved by what it already recognizes.

Classical pieces like Paul de Senneville’s Mariage d’Amour always bring us to tears, but Olivier Messiaen’s music just sounds bizarre. I’ve tried playing it for my friends—even the ones who’ve been playing piano for years—and none of them could stand it. But my teacher once explained to me the intricate rhythms Messiaen wove into his compositions. Since then, I’ve listened to his music more often, feeling oddly exhilarated, full of new associations and imagery.

The teacher also said: “You see, the simpler the music, the easier it is to digest. People can’t remember complex melodies for long. Take Black Pink, for example. The whole song boils down to one line: ‘How you like that, e è e é.’”

The refusal to understand can happen to anyone. Psychology explains it like this: “During development, humans become imprinted with certain primordial images. These images leave traces in the unconscious throughout life. Think of Lorenz’s experiments with ducklings: the first moving object they see becomes ‘mother.’” (Like that Tom & Jerry episode where the duckling mistakes Tom the cat for its mom—though Tom’s clearly just waiting to eat it.)

This imprinting process also triggers unconscious rejection of images that don’t align with those early imprints. That’s what psychologists call unconscious selective filtering.

So one reason we struggle to embrace the unfamiliar is this deep-rooted filtering mechanism.

Another reason: people fear what they don’t know. They push back against it to protect the integrity of their ego. Many who fervently defend classical art while ridiculing contemporary art (or vice versa) aren’t really defending the art itself—they’re defending their identity, which they’ve fused with it. Try telling a die-hard luxury fashion addict that “Louis Vuitton makes ugly stuff.” You’ll be hated instantly. People are even willing to die for their egos. This is nothing in comparison. That’s why I think mocking someone’s “belief system” is essentially a declaration of war—especially with those in emotionally fragile states. People who are “out of season,” for instance. Unless you truly, truly mean to help them, it’s better not to say anything at all.