This morning (Sunday, March 1st) I watched This Week With George Stephanopoulos. During the Round Table segment, George Will, a well known political conservative, used an undocumented statistic to describe the size of President Obama’s proposed budget. He said in order to spend 1.7 trillion dollars you would have to spend “one million dollars per hour, three hundred and sixty-five days per year, for two hundred years.” Although I almost always disagree with him, I have also always respected George Will as a thoughtful person, but this blatant abuse of a descriptive statistic is beneath him. In fact, budget money does not get spent one million dollars at a time, so this description completely distorts the view of the President's proposed budget. It is grand-standing reminiscent of Republican congresspersons bleating over the stimulus package and likening it to wrapping the equator x number of times with dollar bills joined end-to-end. Redikulus! Let’s shove that boggart back into his trunk!
What the conservative pundits on cable TV seem slow to recognize is that “the people” are more savvy than we were in the 1940s and early 1950s. The reason, until now, that Congress has been able to quietly vote itself 50% pay increases (as they did in 1989) in spite of public outcry, is because, until now, their actions have been opaque to the masses. When sitting down to hand-write a letter to a congressional representative after the fact was the only recourse the public had, and 50% of that public is only functionally literate, getting away with unethical practice was easy and became, through habituation, the way of doing business in Washington. (if the link on functional literacy does not work, just Google "functionally illiterate Americans" without the quote marks. That should produce over 300,000 hits, but simply browsing the first 20 or so should bring home the immense current reality of this problem.)
President Obama was able to run a successful political campaign that was identified by the slogan “Change We Can Believe In” because that change is already in place – he had only to use it.
I am a member of the generation who witnessed the birth of Citizen Band (CB) radios. It was a phenomenon that spanned several news cycles: the American people were talking – actually talking – to strangers on the Interstate highways and rural byways of our nation. At the time, this was headline news!
Today, I think a large percentage of Americans take the use of the Internet for granted because they grew up with it. I have not seen anyone in mass media exclaiming over the power of the Internet, but that does not mean that power does not exist. The “change we can believe in” is the people, and we can make our voices heard. The danger to us is in our own cynicism bred by the inequities of the past, inequities that appear to still be in place in the present. I think our (we the people’s) failure to recognize that the power base in this country is actually shifting to the people, may become a self-fulfilling prophesy in our failure to realize the potency of “the change” we are.
Let the debate begin among our family and friends about whether or not “power to the people” is a viable reality in the 21st Century, because we are the “new” way that business may be conducted in Washington. It may all hinge on the 2010 elections.
To quote an old friend, "we have met the enemy, and he is us."
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
A RESPONSE TO ED DAMON'S QUESTION RE: CONFORMING TO THE PRESET "RULES" OF ART
I am responding to Ed Damon’s comment, which I have changed to a question format by inserting the word, [Does] Conforming to the preset "rules" of art allow an artist to develop their own techniques.
I have never taken a formal class for visual artists (for example, a class to learn how to paint, or sculpt), but I think it is conventional for aspiring artists to copy the work of the Masters while they are in the apprenticeship phase of their training. I do not think of this practice as “conforming to the present ‘rules’ of art.” Just as, when learning to play piano, a student learns to play the work of the Masters (Mozart, Beethoven, etc.) because you cannot learn to “play” without “playing” something, so too the painter paints Cézanne, Matisse, etc., because one cannot learn to “paint” without “painting” something. In this process, I imagine the artist learns the relationship of brush to canvas much like the pianist learns the relation of hand to keys. When the keyboard is so well known it becomes a tool (the thing with which the work is done), then the artist is ready to develop individual style.
When I was learning to type in high school, I could not have thought about the style of my writing. I was so consumed with learning the hand-to-keyboard coordination required by the “qwerty” system of key placement on a typewriter, there was no room left for artistic pursuit. It took several years before the typewriter keyboard (and by extension, my computer keyboard) became so second nature to me that I could use it as a tool to write creatively. I think the same is true for pianists, painters, and other members of the visual and/or performing arts. You must first master the tools of the craft before it is possible to advance to considerations of individual style in your art.
QUESTION: When I looked up the meaning of "aesthetics" at dictionary.com, I got several hits but they were all more or less equivalent: aesthetics is that branch of philosophy which studies the nature of "beauty." After the discussion in class today (Wed 2/25), I substituted "study of the nature of beauty" for "aesthetic" in Clive Bell's essay and it doesn't make sense. What do you think Clive Bell meant by the word "aesthetic" ?
I have never taken a formal class for visual artists (for example, a class to learn how to paint, or sculpt), but I think it is conventional for aspiring artists to copy the work of the Masters while they are in the apprenticeship phase of their training. I do not think of this practice as “conforming to the present ‘rules’ of art.” Just as, when learning to play piano, a student learns to play the work of the Masters (Mozart, Beethoven, etc.) because you cannot learn to “play” without “playing” something, so too the painter paints Cézanne, Matisse, etc., because one cannot learn to “paint” without “painting” something. In this process, I imagine the artist learns the relationship of brush to canvas much like the pianist learns the relation of hand to keys. When the keyboard is so well known it becomes a tool (the thing with which the work is done), then the artist is ready to develop individual style.
When I was learning to type in high school, I could not have thought about the style of my writing. I was so consumed with learning the hand-to-keyboard coordination required by the “qwerty” system of key placement on a typewriter, there was no room left for artistic pursuit. It took several years before the typewriter keyboard (and by extension, my computer keyboard) became so second nature to me that I could use it as a tool to write creatively. I think the same is true for pianists, painters, and other members of the visual and/or performing arts. You must first master the tools of the craft before it is possible to advance to considerations of individual style in your art.
QUESTION: When I looked up the meaning of "aesthetics" at dictionary.com, I got several hits but they were all more or less equivalent: aesthetics is that branch of philosophy which studies the nature of "beauty." After the discussion in class today (Wed 2/25), I substituted "study of the nature of beauty" for "aesthetic" in Clive Bell's essay and it doesn't make sense. What do you think Clive Bell meant by the word "aesthetic" ?
Monday, February 23, 2009
RECONSIDERING FREUD
For me, the discussions in class on Freud’s theory of art have been stimulating to the point of overload. It has been an interesting process attempting to tease out objective consideration from personal bias (leaving me with the notion that it may be humanly impossible to do so).
Until now, Freud has represented the classic “Catch 22” paradox for me: it doesn’t matter what you choose, your choice is controlled by your past which is filled with sexual repression. I realize that is a grossly oversimplified (and somewhat biased) POV, but there you have it. That’s what I’ve held as my personal opinion about Freud’s theory of psychoanalysis, and I’ve long believed he is categorically wrong. By extension, his theory on art must be wrong too, right? Wrong!
I began to temper my POV on Freud (however unwillingly), and considered that he may have started out in the right direction, but later became so consumed with sexual repression and shame, it tainted most, if not all, of his general theories. For certain, I can find no argument against the position that “imaginative creation, like day-dreaming, is a continuation of and substitute for the play of childhood.” (Wartenberg, p. 115)
My own creative writing bears witness to this POV: nothing I currently “do” in my life is more fun-filled and care-free in its motivation and intent. However, I do not find the writing process playful, in the sense that children play without inhibition or judgment. When I am first getting the story on paper, using some version of the “free writing” method, that phase of the creative process is, for me, fairly free of inhibition and judgment. But then, in the repetitious rewrites (which is also creative writing as opposed to editing), as the story is honed, refining my choice and order of words, putting the final touches on the pictures the words paint, my conscious decisions to include this, delete that, reword this idea, color this passage with a different shade of meaning – all of this part of the creative process is replete with inhibition and judgment, and no doubt influenced by the myriad experiences and resolutions of conflict in my life up to the day of writing, exposing the core of “me” to my reader, if the reader has the sensitivity to recognize it (and not all of them will). Here, I do not believe that creative writing is a continuation of nor is it a substitute for childhood play (I think “birthing” is a more appropriate metaphor). But, in fairness, I must also point out that I do not think Freud was referring to this part of the writing process in his statement quoted above. “Imaginative creation” sounds to me closer to the “free writing” method, the first laying down of the story, the initial development of characters, the early outlines of plot (in deference to Aristotle who insisted on a beginning, a middle, and an end). In these activities, I agree, Freud seems to have nailed the essence of the art (at least, insofar as writing is considered art).
The social implications of this aspect of Freud’s POV on art, as outlined by Professor Johnson in class, are important not only to recognize, but also to motivate a demand for and the implementation of change. I grew up in the generation of “The Organization Man,” when IBM was setting the bar (in the mid-1950s) for what success would look like in the United States. Workaholics are the by-product of that business plan, and I think it is significant that my Word spell-checker recognizes “workaholic” as a valid English word. For more diverse reasons than IBM’s influence on American society, I never learned to play as an adult; in fact, I stopped playing long before my 18th birthday. I have had to teach myself (to the extent that it is possible) to be playful, and to give myself permission to “do” something based solely on the fact that doing it is enjoyable. So I can appreciate, on a very personal level, how critical it is to expose the fallacies in the workaholic’s POV.
It was no coincidence (IMO) that a de-emphasis of the arts paralleled an emphasis of the sciences during the years of the Cold War. The influence of that choice plagues our educational system to this day. So it was no surprise that the first thing to be attacked in the President’s Recovery and Stimulus Plan was money to be spent on education. But, I digress ...
Getting back to Freud, on p. 112, Freud states “happy people never make phantasies, only unsatisfied ones. Unsatisfied wishes are the driving power behind phantasies; every separate phantasy contains the fulfillment of a wish, and improves on unsatisfactory reality.” This statement seems to be in conflict with the idea that imaginative creation (phantasy) is a continuation of childhood play. By extension, we must either conclude that all artists are unhappy people, or that one of these two statements is false.
QUESTION: Do you think art is an expression of an unfulfilled wish in an attempt by the artist to improve on an unsatisfactory reality?
Until now, Freud has represented the classic “Catch 22” paradox for me: it doesn’t matter what you choose, your choice is controlled by your past which is filled with sexual repression. I realize that is a grossly oversimplified (and somewhat biased) POV, but there you have it. That’s what I’ve held as my personal opinion about Freud’s theory of psychoanalysis, and I’ve long believed he is categorically wrong. By extension, his theory on art must be wrong too, right? Wrong!
I began to temper my POV on Freud (however unwillingly), and considered that he may have started out in the right direction, but later became so consumed with sexual repression and shame, it tainted most, if not all, of his general theories. For certain, I can find no argument against the position that “imaginative creation, like day-dreaming, is a continuation of and substitute for the play of childhood.” (Wartenberg, p. 115)
My own creative writing bears witness to this POV: nothing I currently “do” in my life is more fun-filled and care-free in its motivation and intent. However, I do not find the writing process playful, in the sense that children play without inhibition or judgment. When I am first getting the story on paper, using some version of the “free writing” method, that phase of the creative process is, for me, fairly free of inhibition and judgment. But then, in the repetitious rewrites (which is also creative writing as opposed to editing), as the story is honed, refining my choice and order of words, putting the final touches on the pictures the words paint, my conscious decisions to include this, delete that, reword this idea, color this passage with a different shade of meaning – all of this part of the creative process is replete with inhibition and judgment, and no doubt influenced by the myriad experiences and resolutions of conflict in my life up to the day of writing, exposing the core of “me” to my reader, if the reader has the sensitivity to recognize it (and not all of them will). Here, I do not believe that creative writing is a continuation of nor is it a substitute for childhood play (I think “birthing” is a more appropriate metaphor). But, in fairness, I must also point out that I do not think Freud was referring to this part of the writing process in his statement quoted above. “Imaginative creation” sounds to me closer to the “free writing” method, the first laying down of the story, the initial development of characters, the early outlines of plot (in deference to Aristotle who insisted on a beginning, a middle, and an end). In these activities, I agree, Freud seems to have nailed the essence of the art (at least, insofar as writing is considered art).
The social implications of this aspect of Freud’s POV on art, as outlined by Professor Johnson in class, are important not only to recognize, but also to motivate a demand for and the implementation of change. I grew up in the generation of “The Organization Man,” when IBM was setting the bar (in the mid-1950s) for what success would look like in the United States. Workaholics are the by-product of that business plan, and I think it is significant that my Word spell-checker recognizes “workaholic” as a valid English word. For more diverse reasons than IBM’s influence on American society, I never learned to play as an adult; in fact, I stopped playing long before my 18th birthday. I have had to teach myself (to the extent that it is possible) to be playful, and to give myself permission to “do” something based solely on the fact that doing it is enjoyable. So I can appreciate, on a very personal level, how critical it is to expose the fallacies in the workaholic’s POV.
It was no coincidence (IMO) that a de-emphasis of the arts paralleled an emphasis of the sciences during the years of the Cold War. The influence of that choice plagues our educational system to this day. So it was no surprise that the first thing to be attacked in the President’s Recovery and Stimulus Plan was money to be spent on education. But, I digress ...
Getting back to Freud, on p. 112, Freud states “happy people never make phantasies, only unsatisfied ones. Unsatisfied wishes are the driving power behind phantasies; every separate phantasy contains the fulfillment of a wish, and improves on unsatisfactory reality.” This statement seems to be in conflict with the idea that imaginative creation (phantasy) is a continuation of childhood play. By extension, we must either conclude that all artists are unhappy people, or that one of these two statements is false.
QUESTION: Do you think art is an expression of an unfulfilled wish in an attempt by the artist to improve on an unsatisfactory reality?
Thursday, February 5, 2009
THE EFFECT ON TOLSTOY OF A CHILDHOOD INTERRUPTED
Even though Tolstoy was born into rural aristocracy in 19th Century Russia, he lost his mother at the age of 18 months and his father died when he was 9 years old. The loss of one parent (no less, two) interrupts a childhood, and the effects of such a loss are far reaching and life shaping. Fortunately for Tolstoy, a distant relative, Tatyana Yergolskaya, provided loving care for him and his siblings. In his diaries he writes: “... this influence consisted first in that ever since childhood she taught me the spiritual delight of love. She taught me this, but not in words: by her whole being she filled me with love. I saw, I felt how she enjoyed loving, and I understood the joy of love." (cited in Lavrin, Janko. Tolstoy: An Approach New York: Russell & Russell, 1946, p. 2).
Lavrin also observes that Tolstoy was obsessed with thoughts of death (not uncommon in children who lose a parent(s) at an early age). Lavrin writes: “the idea that death was preying upon [Tolstoy] all the time overcame him so powerfully that he refused to understand how people had failed hitherto to enjoy each passing moment, before everything was snatched away by death.” (Ibid, p. 4)
This combination: the loss of his parents at an early age; the unavoidable question of death intruding upon his life when the psyche is not yet mature enough to contend with it; and the counter balance provided by the unconditional love of a surrogate adult caregiver, all of this must have had a profound effect on Tolstoy’s world view, which would surely be reflected in his attitudes about art.
QUESTION: Does early childhood tragedy contribute to the making of a great artist?
Lavrin also observes that Tolstoy was obsessed with thoughts of death (not uncommon in children who lose a parent(s) at an early age). Lavrin writes: “the idea that death was preying upon [Tolstoy] all the time overcame him so powerfully that he refused to understand how people had failed hitherto to enjoy each passing moment, before everything was snatched away by death.” (Ibid, p. 4)
This combination: the loss of his parents at an early age; the unavoidable question of death intruding upon his life when the psyche is not yet mature enough to contend with it; and the counter balance provided by the unconditional love of a surrogate adult caregiver, all of this must have had a profound effect on Tolstoy’s world view, which would surely be reflected in his attitudes about art.
QUESTION: Does early childhood tragedy contribute to the making of a great artist?
RESPONSE TO JASON’S QUESTION
Jason asked: "And also there is the view that some people hold that science and art are almost opposites, why is that?"
I like this question because it asks me to look at "science" in a different way, even though I may think I already know what science is, and even if I do not change my mind about what I think science is after I have looked at it differently. I think it is a worthwhile mental exercise to seriously consider if something about which I have long held an opinion, might actually be something else, or might be considered from a new and different perspective. So .... here goes.
Can science actually "be" art? My first instinct is to look at the method of "doing" art vs. the method of "doing" science. Both require critical thinking and creative perspective. A scientist who is designing an experiment has to think critically about the parameters of the population under scrutiny and what creative means may be at hand to measure those parameters to disprove (or prove) a hypothesis.
An artist who is designing a "product of art" (for lack of a better term) must also think critically about the whole of his or her subject, deciding what aspects of the whole universe will be framed in the outcome of the creative endeavor; and certainly, creative thinking is applied to use of the art medium in which the final product will be expressed, whether that be paint, marble, word, or music.
So it appears, thus far, that science and art are on a par with one another. But there are more pages to the book than method alone. I think we must also consider standardization, validation, and purpose.
In science, there are standard procedures, for example, the procedures for a double-blind, control group study of a randomly selected sample of the population under study. There are precise rules which must be strictly followed to avoid invalidation of the experiment results. Is there a similar precision demanded of art?
Any artist with a chisel in hand can tell you how lack of precision can reduce a work of art to a pile of rubble in a heartbeat; any musician will surely agree there is precision in the construction of music, whether the intended outcome is harmony or dissonance, and a painter’s brush strokes, though appearing to be carefree, are in fact the result of precise elements of style and technique developed over time by the artist. So as far as standardization is concerned, art and science are still on a par with each other.
A scientist’s results are under constant peer scrutiny and validation. Replication is the hallmark of good science. Science depends on the ability of experimenters to replicate a scientist’s experiment and produce the same or similar results, thereby validating the conclusions of the original experiment.
In the art world, such replication is called forgery and often results in unpleasant repercussion. Fortunately, there is another kind of art replication that is more amiable. It is said that imitation is the highest form of flattery. Therefore, art students begin to develop their own talent and style by copying the masters. This could be seen as a counterpart to scientific replication, and art and science are still on par.
But I think the last criteria to be considered will part the waters between science and art, and that is purpose. The purpose of science is clear and undisputed: science attempts to disprove an hypothesis. The statistical outcome of the scientist’s inquiry is measured in probability of chance. A scientist will create a hypothetical situation and then set about to prove that the hypothesis is false. If the statistical measurement of the experiment’s results show a 0.05 or less probability that the results occurred due to chance, the hypothesis is considered to be true, despite all the efforts by the experimenter to prove otherwise. (I know, it’s a convoluted approach to finding truth, but there you have it.)
Whatever theories are put forth about the purpose of art, I do not think any of them come close to the purpose of science. I agree that there are “artistic” aspects to the elements of science, but I do not think that makes science an art. In fact, it may be just the opposite.
I recently added a quote to my blog page by the poet, Piet Hein: “There is one art, no more no less, to do all things with artlessness.” I think Hein meant to approach all things as a child would, guileless, as if you were doing it for the first time. So my questions is: How can “artlessness” be a valuable trait for either scientist or artist?
I like this question because it asks me to look at "science" in a different way, even though I may think I already know what science is, and even if I do not change my mind about what I think science is after I have looked at it differently. I think it is a worthwhile mental exercise to seriously consider if something about which I have long held an opinion, might actually be something else, or might be considered from a new and different perspective. So .... here goes.
Can science actually "be" art? My first instinct is to look at the method of "doing" art vs. the method of "doing" science. Both require critical thinking and creative perspective. A scientist who is designing an experiment has to think critically about the parameters of the population under scrutiny and what creative means may be at hand to measure those parameters to disprove (or prove) a hypothesis.
An artist who is designing a "product of art" (for lack of a better term) must also think critically about the whole of his or her subject, deciding what aspects of the whole universe will be framed in the outcome of the creative endeavor; and certainly, creative thinking is applied to use of the art medium in which the final product will be expressed, whether that be paint, marble, word, or music.
So it appears, thus far, that science and art are on a par with one another. But there are more pages to the book than method alone. I think we must also consider standardization, validation, and purpose.
In science, there are standard procedures, for example, the procedures for a double-blind, control group study of a randomly selected sample of the population under study. There are precise rules which must be strictly followed to avoid invalidation of the experiment results. Is there a similar precision demanded of art?
Any artist with a chisel in hand can tell you how lack of precision can reduce a work of art to a pile of rubble in a heartbeat; any musician will surely agree there is precision in the construction of music, whether the intended outcome is harmony or dissonance, and a painter’s brush strokes, though appearing to be carefree, are in fact the result of precise elements of style and technique developed over time by the artist. So as far as standardization is concerned, art and science are still on a par with each other.
A scientist’s results are under constant peer scrutiny and validation. Replication is the hallmark of good science. Science depends on the ability of experimenters to replicate a scientist’s experiment and produce the same or similar results, thereby validating the conclusions of the original experiment.
In the art world, such replication is called forgery and often results in unpleasant repercussion. Fortunately, there is another kind of art replication that is more amiable. It is said that imitation is the highest form of flattery. Therefore, art students begin to develop their own talent and style by copying the masters. This could be seen as a counterpart to scientific replication, and art and science are still on par.
But I think the last criteria to be considered will part the waters between science and art, and that is purpose. The purpose of science is clear and undisputed: science attempts to disprove an hypothesis. The statistical outcome of the scientist’s inquiry is measured in probability of chance. A scientist will create a hypothetical situation and then set about to prove that the hypothesis is false. If the statistical measurement of the experiment’s results show a 0.05 or less probability that the results occurred due to chance, the hypothesis is considered to be true, despite all the efforts by the experimenter to prove otherwise. (I know, it’s a convoluted approach to finding truth, but there you have it.)
Whatever theories are put forth about the purpose of art, I do not think any of them come close to the purpose of science. I agree that there are “artistic” aspects to the elements of science, but I do not think that makes science an art. In fact, it may be just the opposite.
I recently added a quote to my blog page by the poet, Piet Hein: “There is one art, no more no less, to do all things with artlessness.” I think Hein meant to approach all things as a child would, guileless, as if you were doing it for the first time. So my questions is: How can “artlessness” be a valuable trait for either scientist or artist?
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
A RESPONSE TO JASON’S QUESTION
Jason asked: “What criterion makes a work of contemporary art good? Is it artist intention as discussed in class for being what makes art in general valid? And lastly, could it be that contemporary art has a different mission than the mission of art altogether? As the latter was an idea purposed in the introduction to Wartenberg’s book The Nature of Art.”
Jason, I find your observations astute and I resonate strongly with your reaction to the “Stag With Lightning In Its Glare” exhibit. Some of us “traditionalists” share your apparent confusion about contemporary art.
But while I read your post, I could not suppress a rising image in my mind of Professor Henry Higgins “sculpting” Eliza Dolittle (in My Fair Lady), not in an intended effort toward artistic creativity (although he ended up doing that in spite of himself), but simply because he could, and for no other apparent reason. I think every corpus of significant human endeavor, regardless of its shape or size, will always have those extremists who hang out about 2 standard deviations from the norm, and whose sole purpose for breathing is to find out how far they can push some artificial limit or boundary, simply because it’s there and they think they have the ability to stretch it.
In information technologies there are the hackers who truly think it is funny to break anything built by Microsoft, or any other target large enough to capture their attention. In The Sixties (which, in my opinion, did not begin until 1968) a whole subculture of Americans made it their mission in life (at least for a decade or so) to break down every artificial barrier of something they identified as The Establishment. Without the economic surplus created by the very Establishment they opposed, they would not have had the freedom to rebel as they did. In today’s economy, I think you will not find that kind of free-spirited rebellion. When people are consumed with locating the source of their next meal, there is not much energy left for eccentricities.
When I look at the paintings of Grandma Moses (on display in Bennington VT) I am hard pressed to see the genius there. That doesn’t mean she was not a genius; it only means I don’t see it. So when I view Grandma Moses, I don’t have an “art” experience, just as you and your friend did not have such an experience when presented with deer dung scattered across the floor. In my opinion, just because it’s in a museum doesn’t make it “art.” There can be no question that some contemporary art pushes the boundaries of human sensibilities. Perhaps it is supposed to do that, because until you find the ends, you cannot know where the middle is. And for most of us, about 97% or so, the middle is our comfort zone. I would not be too concerned about failing to understand or appreciate the fringes. The reason they are there is to delineate the middle, and in my experience, the middle way is where ecstasy resides.
Jason, I find your observations astute and I resonate strongly with your reaction to the “Stag With Lightning In Its Glare” exhibit. Some of us “traditionalists” share your apparent confusion about contemporary art.
But while I read your post, I could not suppress a rising image in my mind of Professor Henry Higgins “sculpting” Eliza Dolittle (in My Fair Lady), not in an intended effort toward artistic creativity (although he ended up doing that in spite of himself), but simply because he could, and for no other apparent reason. I think every corpus of significant human endeavor, regardless of its shape or size, will always have those extremists who hang out about 2 standard deviations from the norm, and whose sole purpose for breathing is to find out how far they can push some artificial limit or boundary, simply because it’s there and they think they have the ability to stretch it.
In information technologies there are the hackers who truly think it is funny to break anything built by Microsoft, or any other target large enough to capture their attention. In The Sixties (which, in my opinion, did not begin until 1968) a whole subculture of Americans made it their mission in life (at least for a decade or so) to break down every artificial barrier of something they identified as The Establishment. Without the economic surplus created by the very Establishment they opposed, they would not have had the freedom to rebel as they did. In today’s economy, I think you will not find that kind of free-spirited rebellion. When people are consumed with locating the source of their next meal, there is not much energy left for eccentricities.
When I look at the paintings of Grandma Moses (on display in Bennington VT) I am hard pressed to see the genius there. That doesn’t mean she was not a genius; it only means I don’t see it. So when I view Grandma Moses, I don’t have an “art” experience, just as you and your friend did not have such an experience when presented with deer dung scattered across the floor. In my opinion, just because it’s in a museum doesn’t make it “art.” There can be no question that some contemporary art pushes the boundaries of human sensibilities. Perhaps it is supposed to do that, because until you find the ends, you cannot know where the middle is. And for most of us, about 97% or so, the middle is our comfort zone. I would not be too concerned about failing to understand or appreciate the fringes. The reason they are there is to delineate the middle, and in my experience, the middle way is where ecstasy resides.
THE QUESTION OF LITERACY IN ANCIENT GREECE
In his book A Preface to Plato, Eric Havelock argues that Plato’s so called “attack” on poets in The Republic is justified within the context of the Grecian experience 500 years BCE. Plato wrote his dialogues during a time when writing had only recently been introduced to Grecian society and therefore was reserved for the elite few. The populace at large was not only illiterate, but also an evolved oral-based society. As I understand Havelock’s argument, this meant that the poets (and the epics written by them) served a dual function: on the one hand, they were entertainment for the masses, but they also served as a repository for much needed information in order to maintain continuity within the society. In today’s world, Homer would be a walking Encarta encyclopedia in iambic pentameter!
It may be difficult for us, born as we were into a literate society, to comprehend such a massive ability to memorize, but in pre-literate society one had to memorize – there was no paper, no computer, no CD or DVD to relieve the human brain from that arduous task. I recently saw a PBS special on “The Story of India” which showed a family of Brahmin priests teaching their young sons (I would guess 4 to 5-year olds) the ancient prayers which cannot be written down because they are not words, and the sounds have no meaning. Recent studies of these ritual prayers found they have rules and structure, but no conceptual meaning. The closest thing they resemble is bird song! What a moving experience to be able to glimpse hundreds of years into our past and see a living example of a pre-literate society. Only Brahmin priests may learn these prayers and they have been orally preserved, generation to generation, for more than 2500 years! It was humbling to realize what a small part of the human story our American culture is.
So, in Plato’s world, where the masses depended on Homer and other poets to pass down the information that would maintain social continuity generation to generation, it seems natural for Plato to be concerned that, as time when on, these epics would be transcribed and solidified in writing. Plato knew that Homer was not an “expert” in all the various things he spoke of in his epics, and there was the danger that the people would accept as “truth” Homer’s version of say, for example, the order and methods of loading or unloading a ship. I think the “danger” of poets was not their oral recitation, since that had gone on for ages, but rather the codification of those recitations which then made it unnecessary for a person to use reason to reach a sought after truth.
This is really a “Readers’ Digest” version of Havelock’s argument (for a much better presentation, read the book! It is well worth the effort, in my opinion.) but it has nevertheless lead me to consider the idea of literacy or the lack of it, and what impact if any that would have on the political (that is to say, the wielding of power on the) events of the day, which, after all, is (I think) the underlying concern in Plato’s Republic.
I also found an interesting site on the internet at http://social.jrank.org/pages/939/How-Educated-Are-We-Functional-Literacy-Educational-Attainment.html and I was shocked to learn a full fifty percent of our citizens in the United States of America are only functionally literate.
Functional literacy is defined as “basic literacy for everyday life: the level of skill in reading and writing that a person needs to cope with everyday adult life.” After visiting this website, I began to think about how much politicians give lip service to education but rarely do anything about it (contrasted with the devotion Socrates and Plato exhibited for the need of quality education). So I ask: how does it serve the political power base for half the country to be functionally literate? How would our government respond to supporting the Foundation for the Arts, for example (an issue currently being attacked by the Republican base in Washington) if a full 90% of our population were critical thinkers? It would be an interesting Census test to determine what percentage of our population is capable of critical thinking, because the other 50% who are not functionally literate are not automatically counted as fully literate. Some percentage of that remaining 50% are illiterate! The implications of these statistics are staggering to me. Does anyone else share my trepidation?
It may be difficult for us, born as we were into a literate society, to comprehend such a massive ability to memorize, but in pre-literate society one had to memorize – there was no paper, no computer, no CD or DVD to relieve the human brain from that arduous task. I recently saw a PBS special on “The Story of India” which showed a family of Brahmin priests teaching their young sons (I would guess 4 to 5-year olds) the ancient prayers which cannot be written down because they are not words, and the sounds have no meaning. Recent studies of these ritual prayers found they have rules and structure, but no conceptual meaning. The closest thing they resemble is bird song! What a moving experience to be able to glimpse hundreds of years into our past and see a living example of a pre-literate society. Only Brahmin priests may learn these prayers and they have been orally preserved, generation to generation, for more than 2500 years! It was humbling to realize what a small part of the human story our American culture is.
So, in Plato’s world, where the masses depended on Homer and other poets to pass down the information that would maintain social continuity generation to generation, it seems natural for Plato to be concerned that, as time when on, these epics would be transcribed and solidified in writing. Plato knew that Homer was not an “expert” in all the various things he spoke of in his epics, and there was the danger that the people would accept as “truth” Homer’s version of say, for example, the order and methods of loading or unloading a ship. I think the “danger” of poets was not their oral recitation, since that had gone on for ages, but rather the codification of those recitations which then made it unnecessary for a person to use reason to reach a sought after truth.
This is really a “Readers’ Digest” version of Havelock’s argument (for a much better presentation, read the book! It is well worth the effort, in my opinion.) but it has nevertheless lead me to consider the idea of literacy or the lack of it, and what impact if any that would have on the political (that is to say, the wielding of power on the) events of the day, which, after all, is (I think) the underlying concern in Plato’s Republic.
I also found an interesting site on the internet at http://social.jrank.org/pages/939/How-Educated-Are-We-Functional-Literacy-Educational-Attainment.html and I was shocked to learn a full fifty percent of our citizens in the United States of America are only functionally literate.
Functional literacy is defined as “basic literacy for everyday life: the level of skill in reading and writing that a person needs to cope with everyday adult life.” After visiting this website, I began to think about how much politicians give lip service to education but rarely do anything about it (contrasted with the devotion Socrates and Plato exhibited for the need of quality education). So I ask: how does it serve the political power base for half the country to be functionally literate? How would our government respond to supporting the Foundation for the Arts, for example (an issue currently being attacked by the Republican base in Washington) if a full 90% of our population were critical thinkers? It would be an interesting Census test to determine what percentage of our population is capable of critical thinking, because the other 50% who are not functionally literate are not automatically counted as fully literate. Some percentage of that remaining 50% are illiterate! The implications of these statistics are staggering to me. Does anyone else share my trepidation?
Monday, January 26, 2009
MONET vs. UPSIDE-DOWN TREES at MassMOCA
Ed Damon asked: “Would those in Monet’s day consider this [the upside-down hanging tree exhibit] art? Or would they pass it off as a poor excuse for a work of art?”
I have not seen this exhibit, but I read some local reviews when the exhibit was first hung at MassMOCA and I’ve seen pictures of the trees.
I think it is rather creative to sculpt with living media, as opposed to marble, clay, wood, ice, etc. I wonder if there are biological-activists out there somewhere who would consider this exhibit to be “abusive” to the living trees. And it is somewhat amusing to find an artist in the position of having her art “talk back” as the trees overcame the force of gravity and turned their leaf-faces toward their source for photosynthesis. The curious child in me wonders if the trees would behave similarly in a room which only allowed moonlight, as well as a room where no natural light entered, but the biological-activist in me says either of these scenarios would surely be abusive.
In my opinion, in today’s art world, this living sculpture is an artistic expression (or was it a scientific experiment? I can’t remember for sure). Nevertheless, the sculptor who uses marble does not create the marble, so the fact that this artist did not create the trees does not in itself disqualify the exhibit from being considered “art.”
As for Monet? I think he would scratch his head in utter befuddlement.
However, the idea of sculpting with living media is appealing. Can anyone think of other “living” media that might be used in artistic expression? If you have ever attended an official Flower Show, you will immediately see where I’m going with this question. Do some flower arrangements meet the subjective and/or objective criteria to be considered “art?” I’ve seen some things done with decorative cabbages that would blow your mind away. The creative expression was commendable … but was it art? I don’t know … I’ve seen some outstanding creative ingenuity and expression in television commercials, but I don’t think anyone would call it art.
We refer to “the art of” about several things that are not in themselves “art.” For example, the art of surgery; the art of culinary delights; the art of playing golf? Surely there are many endeavors which require an artistic sensibility, a refined sense of control in the use of applicable tools of the trade, a creative application of all that is known about the endeavor – but none of this culminates in a “work of art” – or at least, not yet. As we humans have evolved along our genetic unfolding, we seem to expand not only our knowledge, but also our application of that knowledge within any given social structure. There may come a day when decorative cabbages are as acceptable as paint, chalk, ink pens, felt tip markers, and charcoal pencils as tools for the creation of art. After all, in the history (and herstory) of homo sapiens on Earth, we are the only valid authors. It’s our story and we can make it up however we choose.
I have not seen this exhibit, but I read some local reviews when the exhibit was first hung at MassMOCA and I’ve seen pictures of the trees.
I think it is rather creative to sculpt with living media, as opposed to marble, clay, wood, ice, etc. I wonder if there are biological-activists out there somewhere who would consider this exhibit to be “abusive” to the living trees. And it is somewhat amusing to find an artist in the position of having her art “talk back” as the trees overcame the force of gravity and turned their leaf-faces toward their source for photosynthesis. The curious child in me wonders if the trees would behave similarly in a room which only allowed moonlight, as well as a room where no natural light entered, but the biological-activist in me says either of these scenarios would surely be abusive.
In my opinion, in today’s art world, this living sculpture is an artistic expression (or was it a scientific experiment? I can’t remember for sure). Nevertheless, the sculptor who uses marble does not create the marble, so the fact that this artist did not create the trees does not in itself disqualify the exhibit from being considered “art.”
As for Monet? I think he would scratch his head in utter befuddlement.
However, the idea of sculpting with living media is appealing. Can anyone think of other “living” media that might be used in artistic expression? If you have ever attended an official Flower Show, you will immediately see where I’m going with this question. Do some flower arrangements meet the subjective and/or objective criteria to be considered “art?” I’ve seen some things done with decorative cabbages that would blow your mind away. The creative expression was commendable … but was it art? I don’t know … I’ve seen some outstanding creative ingenuity and expression in television commercials, but I don’t think anyone would call it art.
We refer to “the art of” about several things that are not in themselves “art.” For example, the art of surgery; the art of culinary delights; the art of playing golf? Surely there are many endeavors which require an artistic sensibility, a refined sense of control in the use of applicable tools of the trade, a creative application of all that is known about the endeavor – but none of this culminates in a “work of art” – or at least, not yet. As we humans have evolved along our genetic unfolding, we seem to expand not only our knowledge, but also our application of that knowledge within any given social structure. There may come a day when decorative cabbages are as acceptable as paint, chalk, ink pens, felt tip markers, and charcoal pencils as tools for the creation of art. After all, in the history (and herstory) of homo sapiens on Earth, we are the only valid authors. It’s our story and we can make it up however we choose.
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