Helvétius and the philosophy of happiness.--The player's illusion.--The beyond.--The question of free will.--The insurrection of the vertebrates.--The pessimism of Leopardi.--The colors of life.--The art of seeing.--The rivers of France.--The fall of days.--Insinuations.--Footprints on the sand.

Written over the course of two months in early 2008, Art as "Night" is a series of essays in part inspired by a January 2007 visit to the Velázquez exhibition at the National Gallery of Art, London, with subsequent forays into related themes and art-historical judgments for and against theories of meta-painting. Art as "Night" proposes a type of a-historical dark knowledge crossing painting since Velázquez, but reaching back to the Renaissance, especially Titian and Caravaggio. As a form (...) of formalism, this "night" is also closely allied with forms of intellection that come to reside in art as pure visual agency or material knowledge while invoking moral agency, a function of art more or less bracketed in modern art for ethical and/or political agency. Not a theory of meta-painting, Art as "Night" restores coordinates arguably lost in painting since the separation of natural and moral philosophy in the Baroque era. It is with Velázquez that we see a turning point, an emphasis on the specific resources of painting as a form of speculative intellect, while it is with contemporary works by Gerhard Richter and Anselm Kiefer that we see the return of the same after the collapse of modernism, and after subsequent postmodern maneuvers to make art discursive yet without the austerities of the formal means present in Art as Art. Art as "Night" argues for a nondiscursive form of intellection fully embodied in the work of art – and, foremost, painting. A synoptic and intentionally elusive and allusive survey of painting, through the collapse of the art market in late 2007, Art as "Night" suggests by way of this critique of an elective "night" crossing painting that the art world is an endlessly deferred version of pleroma , a fully synthetic world given to an exploration and appropriation of the given through classical mimesis and epistemology and its complete incorporation and transfiguration in a theory of knowledge and art as pure speculative agency. In effect, Art as "Night" is an incarnational theory of art as absolute knowledge. (shrink)

이 글은 본 논문은 18세기말경에 활동한 독일의 초기 낭만주의자인 노발리스와 19세기의 독일철학자 프리드리히 니체의 작품에 공통적으로 내재된 ‘밤’의 분위기와 그 상징적 의미에 대한 비교연구이다. 두 사람의 활동기간이 길게는 거의 1세기 가까이 차이가 남에도 불구하고, 그들의 문체와 사상에는 다양한 유사성이 발견된다. 그들은 예술의 중요성을 강조하고, 자신들의 작품을 통해 예술과 사상의 결합을 시도하였다. 노발리스가 철학적 예술가였다면, 니체는 예술적 철학자였다. 경계를 넘어서려는 이들의 시도는 독일적인 사유의 지평을 확대하였음은 물론이고, 예술가적 창조의 전형을 보여주었다. ‘밤’은 예술적 직관이 가장 왕성하게 작용하도록 하는 상상과 꿈의 시간이다. 노발리스에게 (...) 신성한 ‘밤’은 모든 시공간의 구분이 사라지고 태초의 시간으로 되돌아가는 순간이며, 니체에게 깊은 ‘밤’인 자정은 위대한 정오로도 통하는 ‘영원회귀’의 시간이기도 하다. 이러한 신비주의적 시간인 ‘밤’의 관점에서 볼 때 낭만주의자로서의 니체의 모습이 드러난다. 디오니소스적 시간인 ‘밤’은 어둡지만, 인간의 상상력을 최대한 자극시키는 가장 창조인 시간이기 때문이다. (shrink)

In the beginning was the night. All light, shapes, language, and subjective consciousness, as well as the world and art depicting them, emerged from this formless chaos. In fantasy, we seek to return to this original darkness. Particularly in literature, visual representations, and film, the night resiliently resurfaces from the margins of the knowable, acting as a stage and state of mind in which exceptional perceptions, discoveries, and decisions play out. Elisabeth Bronfen investigates the nocturnal spaces in which (...) extraordinary events unfold, and casts a critical eye into the darkness that enables the irrational exploration of desire, transformation, ecstasy, transgression, spiritual illumination, and moral choice. She begins with an analysis of classical myths depicting the creation of the world and then moves through night scenes in Shakespeare and Milton, Gothic novels and novellas, Hegel's romantic philosophy, and Freud's psychoanalysis. Bronfen also demonstrates how modern works of literature and film, particularly film noir, can convey that piece of night the modern subject carries within. From Mozart's "Queen of the Night" to Virginia Woolf 's oscillation between day and night, life and death, and chaos and aesthetic form, Bronfen renders something visible, conceivable, and comprehensible from the dark realms of the unknown. (shrink)

In the beginning was the night. All light, shapes, language, and subjective consciousness, as well as the world and art depicting them, emerged from this formless chaos. In fantasy, we seek to return to this original darkness. Particularly in literature, visual representations, and film, the night resiliently resurfaces from the margins of the knowable, acting as a stage and state of mind in which exceptional perceptions, discoveries, and decisions play out. Elisabeth Bronfen investigates the nocturnal spaces in which (...) extraordinary events unfold, and casts a critical eye into the darkness that enables the irrational exploration of desire, transformation, ecstasy, transgression, spiritual illumination, and moral choice. She begins with an analysis of classical myths depicting the creation of the world and then moves through night scenes in Shakespeare and Milton, Gothic novels and novellas, Hegel's romantic philosophy, and Freud's psychoanalysis. Bronfen also demonstrates how modern works of literature and film, particularly film noir, can convey that piece of night the modern subject carries within. From Mozart's "Queen of the Night" to Virginia Woolf 's oscillation between day and night, life and death, and chaos and aesthetic form, Bronfen renders something visible, conceivable, and comprehensible from the dark realms of the unknown. (shrink)

This article analyses the representational stakes of queer of colour performance, by taking the case study of the Cocoa Butter Club: queer of colour cabaret night in London. Within a British landscape that has silenced queer subjectivities of colour at the intersection of race, gender and sexuality, I explore the potential of QPOC performance to redress historical erasure. To enact their presence, I argue that the Cocoa Butter Club’s performers showcase their collective disidentification from the scripts pre-assigned to their (...) bodies within the European imagination. By doing so, they disrupt hegemonic representations of queerness and racialised otherness, making room for a multitude of queer of colour becomings kept otherwise invisible from public view. Such disidentifications unleash ‘ghosts’ into the public space, spectres of elided subjectivities and unresolved coloniality within a city that likes to think of itself as a post-racial LGBT haven. Drawing on ethnographic material and interviews with performers, I analyse what happens when such queer of colour hauntings reach the audience’s gaze. I consider their unsettling effects in relation to the white gaze, as well as their empowering function in relation to desiring QPOC subjects, seeking reflections of themselves in spectatorship. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:American Journal of Philology 122.1 (2001) 87-106 [Access article in PDF] Homo Fandi Dulcissimus: The Role of Favorinus in the Attic Nights of Aulus Gellius Stephen M. Beall ONE OF THE INDIRECT BENEFITS of reading the Attic Nights of Aulus Gellius is that he offers us a glimpse of the "smart set" of Antonine Rome. Many chapters are cast as anecdotes featuring Gellius' mentors and acquaintances, among whom he (...) counted such illustrious figures as Herodes Atticus, Marcus Fronto, and the grammarian known as Domitius "the Insane." But the "star" of the work is clearly Favorinus of Arles, a flamboyant orator who described his life in three paradoxes: he was a native of Gaul who spoke Greek, a eunuch who was accused of adultery, 1 and a citizen who quarreled with an emperor and lived (Philostratus, VS 489). To Gellius, he was "Favorinus noster," and the twenty-seven anecdotes involving him indicate that the two were on fairly intimate terms. 2We are left to wonder, however, how someone as eccentric as Favorinus should have become the special friend and mentor of a "fairly conservative, practically minded Roman" such as Gellius. 3 Perhaps, following Polemo, we can attribute the attraction to Favorinus' skill in the black arts. 4 It is more likely, however, that he possessed qualities that could be adapted to Gellius' intellectual program but which have not been fully elucidated by scholarship. 5 These can best be expounded, I believe, as three additional paradoxes: Favorinus was a polymath who passed for a philosopher, a philhellene who studied Roman culture, and [End Page 87] a Greek "Asianist" with ties to Latin archaism. All three paradoxes, as we shall see, relate to thematic issues in the Attic Nights and may help us to account for the paradoxical nature of the work as a whole. 1. Favorinus: The Miscellaneous Philosopher Favorinus' professional status was open to question even in antiquity. Philostratus describes him as a "philosopher" who "was called a sophist" by dint of his charm as a speaker (VS 489). The Suda puts the case less charitably, saying that "he was full of philosophy, but more devoted to rhetoric" (Phi 4). Lucian's Demonax found him too effeminate in style and appearance to wear the mantle (Demonax 12-13). When Favorinus claimed a philosopher's exemption from public service, the emperor Hadrian was prepared to rule against him (Philostratus, VS 490). Favorinus averted this disaster by accepting the priesthood in question, claiming that he had been advised to do so in a dream.The question of Favorinus' calling is further complicated by the mixed character of his published work, little of which survives. 6 He wrote treatises on philosophical skepticism, including the celebrated Pyrrhonian Tropes (Phil. VS 491; cf. Gellius, 11.5.5). 7 He did not, however, restrict himself to writing of a technical kind. He also produced two miscellanies, the Memorabilia and Omnigena Historia, which seem to have combined philosophical anecdotes with other sorts of trivia, including etymologies and wonder tales. 8 His oratorical remains likewise indicate a versatile and playful intellect. Two speeches preserved in the corpus of Dio Chrysostom (37, 64), and a third on a recently discovered papyrus, are notable for their witty use of stock themes and exempla. He declaimed on "absurd" themes, such as the virtues of Thersites and the advantages of the quartan fever (Gellius, NA 17.12). Indeed, he was so adept at sophistic role-playing that Gellius could not tell when he was speaking in earnest (14.1.2). Philostratus reports that he drew crowds with a highly musical style of speaking, at times almost like singing, which won applause even from people who could not understand Greek (VS 491).In the anecdotes of the Attic Nights, we find a similarly ambiguous [End Page 88] characterization. Although Gellius regularly honors his mentor with the epithet philosophus, 9 he praises him chiefly for the "sweetness of his diction," which, he says, held him captive for entire days (16.3.1; cf. 14.1.32). Elsewhere he lauds him... (shrink)

This text aims to describe an experience, maybe an experience of the thought as a spiritual act. This writing is both the testimony of a restless night and the arrival of a sudden intuition…of many other nights and many other intuitions. It is about the incessant questions connected to the nature of the art. It is about the interrogations that call into question the experience of the art. The main question, at the end, is always the same: when we (...) refer to an aesthetic experience, what are we really talking about? And what kind of relation takes place when we are dealing with a work of art? Finally, how can we determine the categories of “quality” and “quantity” with regard to an experience that, albeit enigmatic, we can still define as an aesthetic one? (shrink)

From Emily Litella to Grumpy Old Man, from Joe Blow to Drunk Uncle, Saturday Night Live has long employed guest characters as “citizen journalists” on its famous Weekend Update segment. These characters have provided a comic take on everyday issues impacting the life of citizens in the public sphere. Two of the first philosophers who take up the modern problems of participatory democracy in the public sphere are John Dewey (1859–1952) and Walter Lippmann (1889–1974). “Weekend Update” provides us with (...) a foundation to understand what Dewey and Lippmann argued about news, democracy, and the formation of public opinion. Dewey's creative response to the problems of the public in democracy was not to rely on experts, but to rely on the arts and artists to help communicate important issues in the public sphere and foster more public participation. (shrink)

The remarks that critics make about works of art are various in character. Some of them are strictly interpretative—for instance, The Lord of the Rings may be claimed to be an allegorical representation of the Gospel Story; the slow movement of a symphony may be said to express a period of calm after a revolution; a painting may be said to depict the horrors of war. Some may be biographical—that the play was written in 1654, that the poem was written (...) while the poet was in love, that the sculpture was commissioned by the Canada Council. Some may be autobiographical—that the 7th has always been one's favourite Beethoven symphony, that one identifies with Joe in Room at the Top, that Medea was the first tragedy one saw performed in the original Greek. Some are ‘descriptive’ in the philosopher's sense, ‘matters of fact’—that the narrator is a senior civil servant, that the painting is all in pastel colours, that the conductor has not played all the repetitions. Some invoke formal structural principles—that the doors are in classical proportions, that the work's catastrophe is deferred to the finale, that the poem is in iambic pentameters. Some are concerned with the exposition of technique—that the spaciousness is suggested by the use of open fifths, that speed is portrayed by making the moving object sharper than anything else in the picture, that the effect of a sculpture is achieved by the use of metallurgically distinct materials. I wish to concentrate on a type of remark found frequently in art criticism, which defies reduction to any of the kinds mentioned above. The following are typical instances:That picture will not, at the first glance, deceive as a piece of actual sunlight; but this is because there is more in it than the sunlight, because under the glazing veil of vaulted fire which lights the vessel on her last path, there is a blue deep, desolate hollow of darkness, out of which you can hear the voice of the night wind, and the dull boom of the disturbed sea; because the cold deadly shadows of twilight are gathering through every sunbeam, and moment by moment as you look, you will fancy some new film and faintness of the night has risen over the vastness of the departing form. (shrink)

Upon its release in 1968, George Romero's Night of the Living Dead was attacked by many critics as an exploitative low budget film of questionable moral value. I argue in this paper that Night of the Living Dead is indeed nihilistic, but in a deeper philosophical sense than the critics had in mind.

“In evil as in art there was illumination.”Evil has been an enchanting subject with writers since time immemorial. For the Romans and Greeks, miasma or moral contamination in society was an anathema. They therefore ardently contested evil in their social life and literary works as an unnatural pollutant in an otherwise unblemished creation of the Almighty. Their vision of society was exclusive of evil and hence Oedipus and Medea were banished from their respective states for posing a threat to the (...) moral purity of the people. In the ancient past, the boundaries between evil and good were as clear as between night and day, and it was possible to differentiate one from the other. Hence, the writers personified and.. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Thou Art Translated! The Pull of Flesh and MeaningKarmen MacKendrickIn A Midsummer Night’s Dream, William Shakespeare offers us a particularly comic instance of translation. In the first scene of the third act, the mischievous fairy Puck has set into motion all manner of havoc, including the substitution of a donkey’s head for the ordinary head of poor Nick Bottom, a weaver who had been innocently engaged in rehearsing (...) a play that he and other “rustics” intended to perform for visiting royalty. Bottom is, understandably, a little cranky and confused about this buffoonish substitution—he had offered to play the far nobler part of a lion (Shakespeare 2004, Act 1, scene 2, 68–70)—and he does not react happily to the responses that it generates among other members of his company. The first to see him is the tinker Tom Snout, who declares, “O Bottom, thou art changed! what do I see on thee?” (Act 3, scene 1, 114). And Snout is followed by Peter Quince, a carpenter and the author of the ill-fated play that had been in rehearsals, who will give us our relevant line, as he exclaims in surprise, “Bless thee, Bottom! bless thee! thou art translated” (Act 3, scene 1, 118).Indeed he is. Bottom, when he declares the events a dream, proposes that Quince shall write a ballad of this transformation (Act 4, scene 1, 224–26).1 This ballad might be seen as a further translation, of the sort Umberto Eco calls “intersemiotic”—a translation across forms, rather like that of interpretive dance, which is sort of famous for translating badly. What is not quite clear, though, is how layered this translation may already be just in Nick Bottom’s appearance. The use of “ass” for buttocks—that is, for the bottom—is first attested only in 1860,2 more than two and a half centuries after A Midsummer [End Page 36] Night’s Dream was written (sometime in the 1590s). But there is some speculation that the pun may already have been current, even if cutting-edge, when Shakespeare translated Bottom to ass, and certainly such a pun would not have been out of character for the author—after all, we also find a snout among the would-be actors, and Shakespearean brilliance is hardly incompatible with crude punning. The translation of the flesh is in this instance also a translation of the word, not just in parallel but somehow of one another, and the visible head of the indignant ass betrays the indignity of the rustic weaver sporting the name of Bottom.We don’t so often think of bodies being translated, but before turning to more abstract considerations here, let me offer one further instance, one a little closer to the main current of my own research. The translation of relics (that is, of pieces or close possessions of saints) is their movement from one location—specifically, from one church congregation—to another. This sounds markedly unexciting, I grant, but that’s only if you don’t know that throughout the Middle Ages the relics were sometimes said to have translated themselves, moved of their own volition. This was held to demonstrate the desire of the relevant saints for the newly privileged location—which means their desire to patronize and to bless the new church or congregation. This happened especially often when those of us with less devotion would more likely say that the relics had been stolen by members of their new communities.In the translation of relics, an original—a whole, unified original in the form of an intact body—is the very source of meaning. The relic matters because it belonged to the body of a saint, and each fragment is held to contain, somehow, the wholeness of saintly power and sancitity (for more detail on this very complex subject, see MacKendrick 2008, 102–31). But as a rule, that original is impossible to find; the meaningful pieces are only ever fragments. (In fact, studies of older relics often show that they are not even fragments of humans.) Now the relic means what it is translated to mean: the saint’s blessing upon... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Gary Shapiro THE OWL OF MINERVA AND THE COLORS OF THE NIGHT Hegel is known to many readers mainly for a few striking figurative passages which he himself excluded from the central structures of his major texts as extrinsic remarks. His mature system justifies this exclusion by claiming that philosophy operates in the realm of the pure concept, having surpassed the sensuous narrative images of art and religion. (...) Nevertheless, the very forcefulness of the passages themselves indicates that the mature Hegel may never have peacefully aufgehoben the young man who believed in 1796 that philosophy, in order to resume its original role as educator of mankind, must become aesthetic, mythological, and poetic. (I am assuming that Hegel either wrote "the earliest system-program of German idealism" or endorsed its principles.) A reading of the famous elegiac passage in the "Preface" to the Philosophy of Right suggests not only problems of meaning, but of philosophical rhetoric: One more word about giving instruction as to what the world ought to be. Philosophy in any case always comes on the scene too late to give it. As the thought of the world, it appears only when actuality is already there cut and dried after its process of formation has been completed. The teaching of the concept, which is also history's inescapable lesson, is that it is only when actuality is mature that the ideal first appears over against the real and that the ideal apprehends this same real world in its substance and builds it up for itself into the shape of an intellectual realm. When philosophy paints its gray in gray, then has a shape of life grown old. By philosophy's gray in gray it cannot be rejuvenated but only understood. The owl of Minerva spreads its wings only with the falling of the dusk.1 The first focus of attention here is usually on the mood of philosophical resignation in which completion of a rational development leaves no room for action or advice. Theory must necessarily give up any Utopian 276 Gary Shapiro277 or activist pretentions it may have harbored once it sees that it can only describe what has been. Despite the fact that Hegelian actuality (Wirklichkeit) is the result of a rational and dialectical process, ascetic renunciation of any relation to action puts Hegel in the strange company of nineteenth century positivists and empiricists; it also establishes a tone fundamentally different from classical European political philosophy of thinkers like Machiavelli, Hobbes, and Rousseau, a tone which Marx, provoked by Hegel, was to revive. The statement can also be read on a scale much larger than the political, in which it suggests a resigned acceptance of the completion of Western philosophy and civilization. Hegel is notorious for his view that spirit (Geist), the fundamental reality, has completed itself through the self-knowledge which it attains in his system of philosophy. That he sometimes speaks of his enterprise as a Wissen or Wissenschaft (knowledge, science, or wisdom) suggests how far he has come from the Socratic conception of philosophy as always characterized by a lack of that which it loves. It would be intriguing to explore these themes. Such exploration would involve a more thorough knowledge of what Hegel understands by end, completion, and fulfillment when he speaks of political life and the higher forms of spirit—art, religion, and philosophy. We might even be led by such an inquiry into Hegel's meaning to see his claims as historically and philosophically plausible and to reconsider our own resistance to believing that we live in a deepening twilight. What I wish to do, however, is to call attention to the manner in which Hegel speaks of Minerva's owl and to juxtapose both the manner and the substance of his thought about the twilight of philosophy and civilization with some of Hölderlin's dichterisch and Heidegger's denkerisch meditations on similar themes. For if Hegel has announced the coming of the night, Hölderlin and Heidegger have sought to make the night their very own territory and to comprehend it from within. If Hegel has rather gingerly allowed himself to lapse into that famous figurative discourse of the... (shrink)

Let us imagine that a man loses his keys one night and starts looking for them under the light of a street lamp. When people join him to help him search, they ask where it was that he thinks he might have let them fall; with a frustrated look on his face, he then points into the dark distance and says, by way of explanation, “I am looking under the lamppost because this is where the light is!” This story, (...) introduced by Janice Ross, provides us with a metaphorical description of an ongoing situation in arts education advocacy1: Certainly, I can only look for the arts in education where there is something about them that can be seen. Yet there may be aspects of them concealed beyond the reach of the vision.. (shrink)

When Blanchot sketches the obscure space of the other night, he describes it primarily in terms of sound. The vocation of the other night, the domain of inspiration, which is approached because it promises to enable artistic works but ultimately puts them at the utmost risk, turns out to be one’s own “eternally reverberating echo.” In my article, I want to trace how such nocturnal sounds are articulated in works of art across different media, especially by staging breath. (...) Echoing Blanchot, these works indicate how hearing the night and hearing breath, the sound of physical inspiration, coincides with hearing what constitutes the respective work’s medial and material bases. In Virginia Woolf’s novels Jacob’s Room and The Waves, an impersonal, neutral narrative voice resounds in a “murmur of air,” “tremulous with breathing,” spreading darkness across space and time. The visitors’ exploration of Kimsooja’s installation To Breathe: Bottari ends in a completely dark anechoic chamber where visitors start hearing their own breath. By creating this uncanny moment of hearing one’s own respiration as an external and disembodied sound, the spatial installation points to what essentially determines it: the bodily movements of the participants. “Nightmarket,” a track by Burial, is a labyrinthine soundscape consisting mainly of muffled whispering, rustling, crackling and audible breath. Through the acoustic proximity of the recorded breath and the vinyl crackles, the track evokes its own medial constitution and history: it displays traces of the organic basis of voice as well as the analogue medium in the digital. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Participation and Immersion in Walton and CalvinoM. Carleton SimpsonThe novel begins in a railway station, a locomotive huffs, steam from a piston covers the opening of the chapter, a cloud of smoke hides part of the first paragraph... The pages of the book are clouded like the windows of an old train, the cloud of smoke rests on the sentences.1Part of Kendall Walton's theory of psychological participation, explicated in (...) Mimesis as Make-Believe, is that representations that display or draw attention to their fictionality discourage participation; part of our enjoyment of representational art is our psychological participation with the representation. The activity of participating comprises the game world, while the material representation comprises the work world. We play games of make-believe with representations, much as children play games with toys or other props. For Walton, the fullest psychological participation arises from the fullest immersion in the game world. Immersion means ignoring or being unaware of the materiality of the work world, attending only to the fictional reality of the work world. It is to "look past" the painted surface, or to become engrossed in the novel's narrative.To the extent that we consider the material of the work, we are distracted from participating in the game prescribed by the work: we do either the one or the other. So, Walton claims "One obvious way in which works sometimes discourage participation is by prominently declaring or displaying their fictionality, betraying their own pretense" (p. 275).2 For example, "The conspicuous brush strokes of Van Gogh's Starry Night call attention to themselves and to their record of the process by which paint was applied to the canvas, possibly intruding on the viewer's participation in his game... One can ignore the brush [End Page 321] strokes enough to lose oneself in the fictional world" (p. 277). In response to prodding by Patrick Maynard, Walton tempers this position: "Prominent brush strokes, as in many of Vincent van Gogh's paintings, can have an inhibiting effect, especially if the observer isn't used to such. Then they not only constitute a plain indication that what one is seeing is a mere painted canvas, but force this fact on the viewer's attention" (italics added).3Ernst Gombrich endorsed this position in Art and Illusion, attributing it to Kenneth Clark.4 Gombrich tells of Clark attempting to see both the brush strokes and the representation, and his failure to "observe what went on when the brush strokes and dabs of pigment on the canvas transformed themselves into a vision of transfigured reality as he stepped back" (p. 6). Walton intends his theory of psychological participation to be widely applicable to the representational arts; he argues that what holds for visual representations holds also for verbal representations. When reading a novel our ability to participate in the story is diminished to the extent the novel draws attention to its fictionality. We either immerse ourselves in the fictional world of the novel or attend to the historical production or materiality of the novel.Attending is contained in Walton's notion of appreciation. Appreciation without participation results when some representations "positively discourage participation, especially the psychological participation that would constitute the experience of being caught up in the story" (p. 274). Works like these employ a variety of strategies, "deliberately 'distancing' the appreciator from the fictional world... For if one does not imagine a proposition, it is unlikely to be fictional that one knows or believes it; and if one imagines it with minimal vivacity, one is unlikely to have the experience of fictionally being concerned or upset or relieved or frightened or overjoyed by the fact that it is true" (p. 274). Just as children imagine themselves to be participants in games of make-believe, more mature imaginings require us to imagine we are participants, not simply observers. Reflexive imagining is central to Walton's theory, and is a point he extensively develops.I argue against this disjunction of activities. My thesis is that participation need not arise from immersion at the expense of awareness. I am also critical of Walton's distinction between appreciation and participation—they are... (shrink)

The arts were created from an appeal to freedom. There can be no general aesthetic that defines how that freedom must express itself. Movies offer a seductive example. Of all the major arts, cinema is the only one that was invented during the lifetime of some who are now living. From this perspective, Earle argues that filmmakers were far more inventive in their early days than now, when commercial film has settled into a realist routine with occasional and timid forays (...) into the personal and imaginative. Earle suggests that unsympathetic readers should look again at the possible sources of film poetry, sources that have almost dried up in the flood of boredom experienced nightly in theaters throughout the world. Surrealism in Film is largely a manifesto against realism; it ends in a clash of sensibilities. The book encourages new exploration of absolute poetry. The intention of these essays is to destroy the absolute authority of the realist sensibility. Within that sensibility is everything thought necessary to "sense": narrative plot, recognizable and nameable passions, continuity and integration within the film, a gist or moral for the whole affair, social commentary, and psychoanalytic depth-meanings. Earle argues for a self-critique that should be performed if movies are not to remain encapsulated within its own delusions. (shrink)

Angels are the ultimate stranger. They come from another world and have a special place in the art of the Russian Jewish painter Marc Chagall (1887-1985). In My Life (1923) the young Chagall recalls one memorable night in Saint-Petersburg. Drifting into sleep in the corner of a room (all he could afford) he suddenly saw the ceiling open and a winged being, surrounded by light and blue air, hovered above him before disappearing through the ceiling again.

Our likes and dislikes--our senses and sensibilities--did not fall ready-made from the sky, argues internationally acclaimed author John D. Barrow. We know we enjoy a beautiful painting or a passionate symphony, but what we don't necessarily understand is that these experiences conjure up latent instincts laid down and perpetuated over millions of years. Now, in The Artful Universe, Barrow explores the close ties between our aesthetic appreciation and the basic nature of the Universe, challenging the commonly held view that our (...) sense of beauty is entirely free and unfettered. Barrow argues that the laws of the Universe, its environments and its astronomical appearance, have imprinted themselves upon our thoughts and actions in subtle and unexpected ways. Why do we like certain types of art or music? What games and puzzles do we find challenging? Why do so many myths and legends have common elements? Who created the cornucopia of constellations in the night sky? And why? In this eclectic and entertaining survey, Barrow answers these questions and more as he explains how the landscape of the Universe has influenced the development of philosophy and mythology, and how millions of years of evolutionary history have fashioned our attraction to certain patterns of sound and color. Barrow casts the story of human creativity and thought in a fascinating light, considering such diverse topics as our instinct for language, the origins and uses of color in Nature, why we divide time into intervals as we do, the sources of our appreciation of landscape painting, and whether computer-generated fractal art is really art. Barrow reconsiders the question of whether intelligent extraterrestrial life exists, showing that the benefits (and even the likelihood) that might follow from the discovery of life on other worlds could be very different from what we might have been led to expect. Remarkably, we find that some of the properties of the Universe that are essential for the existence of any form of life play a key role in determining psychological and religious responses to the Cosmos. Drawing on a wide variety of examples, from the theological questions raised by St. Augustine and C.S. Lewis to the relationship between the pure math of Pythagoras and the music of the Beatles, The Artful Universe covers new ground and enters a wide-ranging debate about the meaning and significance of the links between art and science. It will change our view of the creation of art and the way we see the world in which we live. (shrink)

_The Arcades Project_, the monumental unfinished work of cultural criticism by Walter Benjamin, is the German philosopher’s effort to comprehend urban modernity through the 19th-century Parisian shopping arcade. _The Arcades: Contemporary Art and Walter Benjamin_ combines artworks with archival materials and poetic interventions to form an original, multifaceted response to this collagelike cultural text. Jens Hoffmann astutely pairs works by thirty-six well-known and emerging artists, including Lee Friedlander, Andreas Gursky, Pierre Huyghe, and Cindy Sherman, with the thirty-six “Convolutes,” or themes, (...) in Benjamin’s text. Bound into the main volume is a graphic novelette, from the imagination of Vito Manolo Roma, of Benjamin’s dream the night before he committed suicide while fleeing the Nazis. Scholarly essays by Hoffmann and Caroline A. Jones, texts selected by the poet Kenneth Goldsmith, reproductions of Benjamin’s handwritten notes, and a list of the main Paris arcades discussed by him round out this extraordinary publication. (shrink)

This paper addresses the apparent difficulty experienced by philosophers in applying the methodology of art criticism to the aesthetics of nature and uses the idea of 'narrative' to explore it. A short poem is chosen which recounts the 'narrative' of a simple natural process – the passage of day into night – and this is followed by a simplified critique illustrating how the poem invites questions relating to style, technique, subject, etc., leading to the query whether the art form (...) (poem) can be dispensed with and the subject (nature) be left to tell its own story, using the 'language' of symbolism. The interface between art and science is reviewed particularly in the light of the ideas of John Dewey and what has happened since. The 'symbolism of environmental opportunity' is proposed as the key to crossing the arts/science boundary, and the question is raised whether the distinctiveness of nature is of paramount importance in this context. Various grounds for scepticism are examined, e.g. the danger of drawing inferences about human interaction with nature from the behaviour of other species. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Time and History in Alois Riegl's Theory of PerceptionMichael GubserIn an early essay, the Austrian art historian Alois Riegl (1858–1905), a pioneer of the modern discipline of art history, linked the creation of the zodiac images in calendar art to the designation of constellations in the heavens.1 Ancient calendar artists observed the motion of stars across the night sky and attempted to map them into recognizable patterns representing (...) specific temporal periods. Their efforts inscribed the cyclical temporality of the heavens into the images of the ancient calendar. This inherent temporality came to characterize all art forms in Riegl's work; his choice of calendar art as his earliest research topic heralded a career-long interest in the connection between temporality and artistic form. Art objects, he believed, were temporal as well as spatial. Just as the light from constellations reflected a deep history, artworks illuminated the passage of time by visually re-presenting the perceptual world of past eras.Riegl's work has garnered attention in recent decades among art historians and non–art historians alike. This interest is due in part to the renewed concern for disciplinary origins that art history, like other fields, has experienced in the wake of poststructuralist critiques. Scholars outside of art history have taken note of his work because of its broad scope and relevance for the study of historiography and perception; Riegl's work provides models for linking the analysis of specific artworks with a history of perception, exploring the relationship between monuments and memory, and analyzing the nature of visual modernity. Interest in Riegl also stems from his acknowledged impact on such preeminent philosophers and historical theorists as Erwin Panofsky, Paul Feyerabend, Gilles Deleuze, Fèlix Guattari, and above all Walter [End Page 451] Benjamin.2 Figures as varied as Georg Lukács, Karl Mannheim, Walter Gropius, and Mikhail Bakhtin have cited his work favorably.3 Riegl is perhaps best known for his attempts to dismantle the hierarchy of high and low art, his attack on the preeminence of classical aesthetic ideals, and his effort to construct a universal history of style. The combination of these commitments led him to consider European and non-European craft genres that fell outside conventional definitions of art. In books such as Problems of Style, Late Roman Art Industry, and The Group Portraiture of Holland, Riegl examined the high arts, decorative arts, and manufactured artifacts alike, gleaning insights into the structure of an era's perception from close descriptive analyses of its artwork.4 In Problems of Style, Riegl traced the development of ancient vegetal decorative motifs toward their fulfillment in the naturalized tendrils and acanthus leaves of Greek ornament. A single, universal development encompassed seemingly distinct motivic forms, and creative innovation was driven by an inner formal logic. Similarly, Late Roman Art Industry, the [End Page 452] epoch-making work that Walter Benjamin described as a revolution in art historical method,5 traced the gradual development of space as an object of artistic concern in the late Roman Empire. In this volume, Riegl explored his controversial notion of the Kunstwollen, or artistic will, which asserted art's autonomy on the basis of a formal creative volition internal to artworks.6 Finally, The Group Portraiture of Holland documented the emergence and decline of a "typically Hollandish painting" emphasizing space and attention.7Riegl scholars have frequently attempted to situate his art history within a variety of philosophical traditions, an effort complicated by Riegl's limited citation of sources. Several scholars have linked Riegl's historical vision with the embattled tradition of Hegelian philosophy. Riegl's teleology; his stress on the unified, internal, and purposive development of art; his notion of art as mind overcoming material; and even his emphasis on the role of the viewer in art all have a distinctly Hegelian resonance. Wolfgang Kemp fits Riegl squarely within a late-nineteenth-century Hegelian revival,8 Michael Podro incorporates him within a Hegelian critical tradition of art history that spanned the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries,9 and Michael Ann Holly posits a clear trajectory, linking Kant and Hegel with Riegl and Panofsky.10Others, however, just as firmly reject this... (shrink)

To the person unfamiliar with the wide variety of street art, the term “street artist” conjures a young man furtively sneaking around a decaying city block at night, spray paint in hand, defacing concrete structures, ears pricked for police sirens. The possibility of the ethical criticism of street art on such a conception seems hardly worth the time. This has to be an easy question. Street art is vandalism; vandalism is causing the intentional damage or destruction of someone else’s (...) property; causing destruction or damage is wrong. The only remaining question is which of two coarse-grained models of ethical criticism we choose. The ethicist model holds that a work of art that exhibits ethically bad properties is a work that is thereby aesthetically flawed. That is, the work is flawed as a work of art just because of its ethical flaws. Bad ethics make art worse than it otherwise would have been, although it may be aesthetically successful otherwise. The autonomist model, by contrast, holds that the ethical properties of a work of art have no bearing at all on its aesthetic success. One might suppose, therefore, that on either model, a criticism of street art would be relatively easy to undertake. In defacing public property, some street art exhibits and endorses ethically bad attitudes. On the ethicist model, such a work is thereby pro tanto aesthetically flawed because in the process of creating such works, they violate ethical norms concerning the use of public spaces; on the autonomous model, any ethical criticism of the aesthetics of street art would need to be set aside entirely in favor of criticism that focused purely on the aesthetic properties of street art. I will argue in this paper that neither the ethicist nor the autonomist model adequately captures the moral landscape of street art. Street art may indeed be criticized productively on aesthetic grounds for the destruction it does to public spaces, but the existing models of ethical criticism overlook the complex ethical landscape of street art that results from its use of public spaces. In the interplay of various forms of street art we can see the emergence of an ethical criticism of art that is accomplished by the material properties of related artwork, and consists in the creation of a dialogue over the proper use of contested public spaces. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:A Decade of Teaching Classics in a Massachusetts Prison CHARLES ROWAN BEYE From 1972 until 1982, I volunteered as a teacher in a degree-granting program of liberal arts at the college level in Norfolk State Prison, a medium security prison in Walpole, Massachusetts. Medium security means that the men were not confined to their cells except when there were routine security checks, such as taking attendance which occurred several (...) times a day, or at night when there was a lights-out policy, or whenever the surveillance system of the prison went on alarm. Other than that, the men could work in various shops, or in the prison garden, or, among other things, they could take classes. The men who were incarcerated at Norfolk had been determined not to pose too great a threat to the other inmates, nor to be liable to try to break out in escape attempts that would damage others; the more intractable men were in the maximum security prison down the road, confined to their cells. There had always been shop classes or other kinds of instruction which would train the men into skilled manual labor. I taught in a program that was radically different. It was the dream of an extraordinary woman named Elizabeth Barker who was an old fashioned lefty, a woman of the old money Brahmin class of Boston society, who like so many of her kind had no money any longer, the only indication of her social status being a marbles-in-the-mouth accent, an indifference to money, clothing styles, social distinction, and an arrogance that made her assume that the rest of the world hung on her every word. She was the soul of kindness and generosity, one of the few persons I have met who deserved the accolade of a “true Christian,” although she was insisarion 26.3 winter 2019 tent upon proclaiming her militant atheism. She was also a tremendous bore. I once had the misfortune to drive her back from the prison to Boston. Talking incessantly, in a kind of monotone, relentlessly insisting upon a position that I had agreed with when we started the drive, it was all I could do after a half hour to keep from reaching over, opening the door, and pushing her out. But, God love her, she performed a miracle at Norfolk. Mrs. Barker subscribed to a belief that I soon adopted once I started teaching in her program which was that all people, apart from outright psychopaths, are redeemable, that a teaching relationship offers compassion, instruction, and most of all, a belief in the student, that in itself redeems the student, in this case, the prisoner, from self-hatred, lack of esteem or purpose, and general despair. Conventionally, prisons are run on a mixture of punishment and rehabilitation. At the crudest level you have the concept of solitary confinement, then there is the idea of “at hard labor” where prisoners spend their days breaking rocks under supervision, or as in England at the turn of the century, spending the entire day walking endlessly up a revolving drum with stairs. The lightest so-called punishment is simply the fact of incarceration. The theory is that if you are confined to a prison for so many months, years, the horror of this endurance makes you into a better person because you have had time to realize that you don’t want this to happen again. Relatives of a criminal’s victims are often on hand at parole board hearings because they want the sentence to go on longer, for the prisoner to “suffer more.” Rehabilitation, on the other hand, usually involves teaching skills, on the most basic level, reading and writing, then woodworking, metal work, car repair, on the theory that many males commit crimes because they have no legitimate way to earn money in our economy. Mrs. Barker saw a higher kind of rehabilitation that led into her notion of redemption. The liberal arts, art, music, literature, philosophy, science were in her mind the nourishment of the soul without which no one can truly be said to live. The idea, as you can imag2 a decade of teaching classics in... (shrink)

RESUMO O objetivo desde artigo é demonstrar como Ernst Bloch se apropria das reflexões de Freud sobre os sonhos acordados para sua filosofia. A partir de uma fenomenologia dos sonhos acordados, Bloch constrói sua hermenêutica da obra de arte de caráter utópico. Isso é possível desde a desvinculação ontológica entre sonhos noturnos e sonhos acordados. Dessa operação, pode-se concluir que os sonhos acordados na filosofia de Bloch é uma chave hermenêutica que inquire o sentido das obras de arte desde um (...) ainda-não-consciente do futuro nas obras do passado. ABSTRACT The purpose of this article is to demonstrate how Ernst Bloch appropriates Freud’s reflections on daydreams for his philosophy. From a phenomenology of daydreams, Bloch builds his hermeneutics of the utopian work of art. This is possible since the ontological separation between night dreams and daydreams. From this operation, it can be concluded that the daydreams in Bloch’s philosophy are a hermeneutic key that questions the meaning of the works of art from a not-yet-conscious of the future in the works of the past. (shrink)

My Back Is To A Life Passed. A year, maybe more, in liminal space. Waiting. For a vaccine. For better therapeutics. For a political climate to shift. All the while, the actual climate turns against us.The waters rise in the East. Fires rage in the West.My back is to a life passed. Retirement, just before the pandemic. Post-retirement and lockdown, simultaneous. A turn to a writing life—solitary, self-directed, coming at a time when my options are limited. My go-to places for (...) connection and inspiration—museums, coffeehouses, lectures, and readings—all off-limits. The natural world, my cathedral, also inaccessible. The fires rage, and the air is unbreathable.Over morning coffee, in our quiet house, the windows shut against dangerously high particulates and a darkened sky, I read an article by Julian Lucas in The New Yorker, “When a Virus Becomes a Muse.” He reviews the work of Hervé Guibert, the French writer who died from AIDS in 1991. Guibert focused on the body. His young, sexual body, with its confounding insistence. His failing body, ravaged by disease. AIDS was his muse, blasting him into a wildly creative few years, writing four books in the last three years of his life (Lucas).How will this virus, the novel coronavirus, serve as muse? The pandemic sets limits: Where can I go? Who can I see? I live within constructs and limitations imposed much like the rules of poetic form. Within those—the sonnet, the haiku—how is language wrought? How sharp, how bright, its expression? If I cannot hug you, how do I show my devotion? In my separate state, how do I live connection? I have a new expression. Mouth and nose covered, only my eyes showing, framed by glasses I need in order to see, I punctuate exchanges at the checkout counter, and with the health-check staff at the entrance to my daughter's physical therapy facility, by forcing my eyes into a warm, glad squint. I want them to beam. From people's responses—the moment of recognition, the tender mirroring, the body tilting to the side, eyes crinkled, head nodding—I can tell that the beam is working. It took time to develop this new way. I learned that I have to smile with my mouth, with my whole face, even when it can't be seen, for my feelings to show.Life, like art, requires structure, the boundaries of form. How to structure a day? It could be embodied. Filled. Wasted. Or used. My back is to a life where hours and minutes had a particular meaning. I am no longer expected at work by a certain hour, nor to put in three hours before my morning break. The collective future, where we tossed plans, goals, places we would see—again, or for the first time!—cannot be reached over the smoothed and worn stepping-stones of, say, weeks until a holiday. The broad swaths of the day become the new metric. The slow, mounting morning. A walk, or a longer one, before getting to the bulk of the day's writing. The noontime pivot, heat of the day rising, the birds quiet. Lunch, and a few chores. Essential errands. Medical appointments.The downslope of afternoon, with its nagging refrain, in the time you have left... The swirling, heated world. Greta Thunberg, 16 years old, sails from Europe to the United States to address a conference on climate change. She sails, rather than flies, so as not to add to her carbon footprint. It takes time, that voyage. She waits on deck while moving toward her future. The past recedes. The stormy Atlantic rises.Is it any clearer now that the food chain originates not in boardrooms but in hot fields, that the first essential worker drops from the back of a truck before sunup with a knife and a crate held in roughened, swollen hands?At night, sitting on the sofa, we watch television, the police procedurals that offer entertainment. Escape and relief. The day has passed. These are the rewards for getting through another day of uncertainty, managing the anxiety of risking exposure in order to get groceries and prescriptions and to bring my daughter to physical therapy. The TV detectives we favor work in teams as they interview suspects, talk to witnesses, confer with one another as they refine their theories and move photographs and bits of evidence around on the bulletin board. Our shows always tie up nicely in the end. In my life now, without the team or the interviews or the meetings that keep the detectives connected, I pretend that I am one of them, that my notebooks and plot maps and drawings and time lines are all clues to a mystery that I will solve. Despite my enervated state, I get up, I work, I look at and handle all the materials I have acquired. The day passes. Each night, a reward for getting through the day. Another day. Standing between worlds. Waiting. (shrink)

In contrast to [Susan] Sontag, who used the tools of literary criticism to evaluate sexually explicit fiction, I will use the conventions of pornography to interpret a dramatic monologue in which an expected sexual encounter fails to take place. In analyzing Rossetti’s “Jenny,” I will employ an interpretive model based on the work of [Steven] Marcus, [Susan] Griffin, and [Andrea] Dworkin. Despite different assumptions about sexuality—Marcus is a Freudian, Griffin believes in a mystical eros residing in the psyche and waiting (...) to be rediscovered, Dworkin regards heterosexuality as a construct for subjugating women and masking men’s homoerotic drive—they share several ideas applicable to “Jenny.” Although pornography features, and indeed perpetuates, various kinds of masculine power, especially the powers of money, class, and culture, it purports to be ahistorical in order to obscure its status as ideology. It depicts male sexuality as fear-laden aggression resulting in very little pleasure; thus it is not liberating on either a political or a personal basis. Pornography does not include “others.” Women are present only to be silenced, objectified, treated as screens on which a man projects his fantasies. Marcus, Griffin, and Dworkin are all concerned with what Suleiman calls “the representational or fantasmatic content” of pornography and “the political implications of that content.” The risks of emphasizing the representational—most especially, the denigration of language and style that result from Dworkin’s approach—can, as Suleiman says, be mitigated by careful attention to a particular text .In Rossetti’s poem, a young man attempts to purchase a night’s pleasure with a London prostitute named Jenny. After she thwarts his plans by falling asleep, he spends the night meditating about her beauty, speculating about her past, present, and future, and thinking about the causes of prostitution. Although Rossetti’s subject matter is consistent with the etymological definition of pornography as “writing about prostitutes,” he avoids the explicit depiction of sexual activity which has been the common element in most modern accounts of the genre. Indeed, the only physical contact between the narrator and Jenny occurs at daybreak when he places coins in her hair and gives her a parting kiss. Robin Sheets is associate professor of English at the University of Cincinnati. She has written on Thackeray, George Eliot, and other Victorian writers and is coauthor of The Woman Question: Society and Literature in Britain and American, 1837-1883. (shrink)

Music to create a universe -- Theme, Part 1: the haunting melody -- Theme, Part 2: creativity -- Theme, Part 3: Freud and Mahler -- Coda -- Interlude -- Tender is the night -- Interlude -- Ingmar Bergman's persona -- Coda: Saraband -- Music and alchemy : Beethoven -- Gallery of the soul : Munch, Kahlo, Rivera -- To the lighthouse -- The fisher king and the handless maiden -- Prelude: the Alexandria quartet -- The Alexandria quartet -- Interlude: (...) industrialization as seen by Antonioni and Lawrence -- Gustav Mahler -- Epilogue -- The end of boundaries -- Georgia O'Keeffe: the touch of desire -- Music in film : introduction to chapters 14 & 15 -- The piano -- Tim winton's the riders -- Maeterlinck, Ibsen, Strindberg -- Pelleas and Melisande -- Finale: why I wrote this book. (shrink)

This article presents a new reading of Fichte’s aesthetics that differs from a primarily functionalist interpretation of the imagination and art. It demonstrates that the “hovering” (Schweben) of the creative imagination should be viewed as the first principle of Fichte’s aesthetics, in which the latter consists of a triad of the pleasant, the beautiful and the sublime. Moreover, it argues that in the text Ueber Geist und Buchstab in der Philosophie (1795/1800) Fichte created a real and original monogram of the (...) hovering creative imagination, a monogram whose theoretical basis stems from Kant’s concept of the monogram in the 1st Critique as a “wavering sketch”. It contends that this overlooked but key artistic and practical example of a monogram opens up new perspectives for Fichtean aesthetics, further confirming that its first principle should be explicitly identified with the theory of the hovering imagination in the Grundlage der gesammten Wissenschaftslehre of 1794/95. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reflections on Beardsley's AestheticsProblems in the Philosophy of CriticismDonald Crawford (bio)Monroe Beardsley's Aesthetics was published the year I was a junior philosophy major at the University of California, Berkeley, and by the end of that academic year, I had completed semester courses in the history of ancient as well as modern philosophy, logic, ethics, and the philosophy of religion. The requirements remaining for me in philosophy in my senior (...) year were a course in either epistemology or metaphysics, plus five elective philosophy courses. I had fairly developed interests in literature, especially poetry, classical music, film, and the visual arts, so it seemed natural for me to select a course in aesthetics as one of my remaining electives. Nonetheless, I had no idea what aesthetics was. When I looked up the word in the dictionary, I found the following definition: "The branch of philosophy dealing with beauty or the beautiful, especially in the fine arts." Even today, the Berkeley philosophy course catalog entry for aesthetics simply says, as it did then, "Aesthetics: Visual arts/literature and music. Form, expression, representation, style; interpretation and evaluation."Interpretation and evaluation sounded worth pursuing. At that time I had no doubt that almost any music by Bach was better than that by Offenbach, that Van Gogh's Starry Night was in a different class than Norman Rockwell's covers for the Saturday Evening Post, or that Bergman's The Seventh Seal (1957) was a far better film than Attack of the Crab Monsters of the same year. And I was fully convinced that some poems lent themselves to more interesting and profound readings—that is, interpretations—than others and therefore were better poems. So a course that dealt with the interpretation and evaluation of the visual arts, literature, and music was enticing. The class lectures were rather dull, however, and I began to have regrets for enrolling. Besides, the required text was brand new and had several drawbacks: there were no used copies available so it was expensive ($7.50!), and its 591 pages were bound in hardback and heavy. [End Page 19]Yes, the text was Beardsley's Aesthetics, and my now well-worn copy is complete with my original revealing and indelible underlines that remind me of my naiveté. I recall being immediately struck by the book's epigraph—a quotation from David Hume: "I am uneasy to think I approve of one object, and disapprove of another; call one thing beautiful, and another deform'd; decide concerning truth and falsehood, reason and folly, without knowing upon what principles I proceed." This encouraged me to think that this book and course would teach me the principles that underlay my unreasoned critical comparative evaluations of poems, films, and other works of art. Was this false optimism? After glancing at the table of contents, I quickly turned to chapter 10, "Critical Evaluation," where I read on page 454: "The problems to which we now come have been put off as long as possible in the hope that a circumspect approach would make them more vulnerable." I wasn't quite sure what that meant ("vulnerable" to what?), but it seemed to imply that it was necessary to start at the beginning of the book.1 So I did just that. To my delight, almost immediately, on page 3, Beardsley provided his definition of "aesthetics," saying: "[A]esthetics consists of those principles that are required for clarifying and confirming critical statements. It can be thought of, then, as the philosophy of criticism, or metacriticism" (3-4; emphasis in the original). Unless by "critical statement" Beardsley meant judgments of beauty, this didn't really correspond with either Webster's definition or the course description of aesthetics. Beardsley's concept of a critical statement was much broader than that in common use today, and it reflected the attitude of the founders of the American Society for Aesthetics, who named their journal the Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism (JAAC). Beardsley said he would be "using the term 'critical statement,' very broadly, to refer to any statement about a work of art" (3) and that a critical statement "need not be a value judgment at... (shrink)

Miles Davis, supremely cool behind his shades. Billie Holiday, eyes closed and head tilted back in full cry. John Coltrane, one hand behind his neck and a finger held pensively to his lips. These iconic images have captivated jazz fans nearly as much as the music has. Jazz photographs are visual landmarks in American history, acting as both a reflection and a vital part of African American culture in a time of immense upheaval, conflict, and celebration. Charting the development of (...) jazz photography from the swing era of the 1930s to the rise of black nationalism in the ’60s, Blue Notes in Black and White is the first of its kind: a fascinating account of the partnership between two of the twentieth century’s most innovative art forms. Benjamin Cawthra introduces us to the great jazz photographers—including Gjon Mili, William Gottlieb, Herman Leonard, Francis Wolff, Roy DeCarava, and William Claxton—and their struggles, hustles, styles, and creative visions. We also meet their legendary subjects, such as Duke Ellington, sweating through a late-night jam session for the troops during World War II, and Dizzy Gillespie, stylish in beret, glasses, and goatee. Cawthra shows us the connections between the photographers, art directors, editors, and record producers who crafted a look for jazz that would sell magazines and albums. And on the other side of the lens, he explores how the musicians shaped their public images to further their own financial and political goals. This mixture of art, commerce, and racial politics resulted in a rich visual legacy that is vividly on display in Blue Notes in Black and White. Beyond illuminating the aesthetic power of these images, Cawthra ultimately shows how jazz and its imagery served a crucial function in the struggle for civil rights, making African Americans proudly, powerfully visible. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:The “Magic” of Music:Archaic Dreams in Romantic Aesthetics and an Education in AestheticsAlexandra Kertz-WelzelO, then I close my eyes to all the strife of the world—and withdraw quietly into the land of music, as into the land of belief, where all our doubts and our sufferings are lost in a resounding sea....1Music serves many different functions in human life, accompanying everyday activities such as working, shopping, or watching TV, (...) as well as creating an individual world of sounds in which to relax, to enjoy life, or just to escape into one's dreams. Tia DeNora describes this personal use of music as a technology for the self and quotes Mireille, a contract cleaner, who thinks that "everybody should listen to music. It helps you to be calm, relaxed, to see your life differently."2This desire to change minds or moods and perhaps to be personally transformed by music also motivates adolescents to listen to their music giving them a strong feeling of self-identity and helping to relieve boredom, get through difficult times, or reduce tension.3 Although this obviously everyday use of music is usually different from the life-changing strong experiences with music which Robert Panzarella4 or Alf Gabrielsson5 investigate in their research, it nevertheless shows the natural human desire to use music to transform emotions or experience life more intensively. Certainly, adolescents do have different kinds [End Page 77] of intensive and even ecstatic experiences with music; for example, while attending a rock concert with its pseudo-religious implications, or a Friday night dance party with friends, or while making music in a band. Gabrielsson quotes the description of a young woman, attending an outdoor concert of Prince:One feels so free somehow. At concerts one can dance, jump, scream and sing as much as one wants. You are like a part of it all, not just a spectator. Throughout the whole concert the audience was in total ecstasy. It was only one thing that mattered: the music! You are filled with the wonderful feeling that everything is all right, that you are living only for what is happening 'right now.' You are in a way 'intoxicated with joy."... You don't think about what you are doing. You do what you feel like, without even thinking about it.6This desire for intensive or even ecstatic experiences through music is not only an aspect of individual life, it is also an important issue in the history of music and aesthetics from ancient times. One origin of music and art can be found in the relationship of music with religion and ritual, using sound's emotional and ecstatic power to connect the world of human beings and the sacred. Music as magic and a means of ecstasy was a frequent conceptualization in ancient Egypt, as well as in Greece, in the rites of ancient Celts and early Christians, and also in non-Western religions today.7 Priests or shamans among the Australian Aborigines, Native Americans, and West-African tribes use the emotional power of music to evoke trance in their contemporary practices.Unfortunately, the aesthetics of Western European art music, especially since the eighteenth century, tends to eliminate this sensual "magic"8 of music only to replace an ecstatic way of experiencing music with a more intellectual approach. The idea of absolute music or the aesthetics of formalism attempts to establish a "pure" approach to listening without feeling, imagination, or sensuality. It is a claim to elitism which might be one reason why it is difficult for students to be affected by Western European art music, since it appears to be far away from their own world of intensive music experience. Not only the way of listening and performing Western European art music, but also the music itself may prevent students from further involvement in "classical" music and having the kind of intensive experiences their "own" music offers them. If a goal of music education is not only to involve students in art music but also to deepen and enhance their lives through aesthetic experiences, it may be reasonable to start with their musical experiences and to... (shrink)

It should come as no surprise that a music and arts festival dogged by scandal would lead to two separate documentaries that each raise ethical concerns. The 2017 demise of the Fyre Festival, a would-be luxury music event in the Bahamas targeted at millennials, inspired late-night comedians’ jokes, social media schadenfreude and so far, two documentaries detailing how things went so wrong. Both films detail the maddening twists and turns during the preparations for the Fyre Festival and make it (...) clear to viewers that it was doomed from the start. Both films also contain potential conflicts of interest that are notable, and notably absent from discussion or clarification in either film. (shrink)

Gunn told me once that he had gone on a picnic on Primrose Hill with Ted and Sylvia. What was she like? She seemed a very good mother, Thom said, recalling the picnic basket she had prepared, adding that famous people never seemed to behave characteristically when he met them. Although neither Gunn nor Plath could have known it, they would come to have something deeply personal in common. Gunn's mother was a suicide who left her body for her children (...) (in her case, two teenage sons) to find in the morning. His poem about it is called “The Gas-Poker.”Readers may ask whether we do not already know enough about Sylvia and Ted. The bite mark on his cheek where she drew blood the night they met, the cup of warm milk set out for her toddlers to find with her body in the morning. This detail—the cup of warm milk cooled to frigid temperatures during a night that was one of the coldest on record locally—is, for me, the hardest to forgive. But Clark, drawing on a vast reservoir of evidence and anecdote amassed over years, is able to construct a more nuanced impression of Plath than we have had before. There are missteps, as when Clark complains of Plath's “popular, clichéd image as the Marilyn Monroe of the literati.” No one who has ever heard the breathy voice of Monroe singing “Happy Birthday, Mr. President” and compared it to the plummy, matronly, decidedly upper-class voice Plath cultivated for the BBC can believe that any such cliché exists. Plath mythologized her own life, but Clark succeeds in weaving a tight fabric of minutiae that permits the reader to see what Plath was doing at almost any hour of any particular day. In this steady neutral light, she becomes more fully human. (shrink)

The subject of this research is, first of all, the ontological and phenomenological aspects of the prototype as a category and a kind of phenomenon in the field of art and poetic imagination. The research is carried out mainly on the material of the phenomenological-dialectical concept of A. F. Losev and the phenomenology of the poetic imagination of G. Bashlyar. The historical, philosophical and theological contexts of the concept of the prototype of Losev are revealed. The emphasis is made on (...) the ontological meaning of expression and the prototype, on the ontology of aesthetic and art. Losev's concept, as well as the "direct ontology" of the poetic image in the concept of Baschlyar, are applied to the artistic material that organically meets them. These are the texts of N. Gogol: "Sorochinskaya Fair", "The Night before Christmas", "Terrible Revenge", "Old World landowners", "Viy". The theme of the prototype as an archetype revealing the deep semantics of art has been sufficiently developed, in particular, based on the material of K. Jung's analytical psychology. The novelty of this study includes several aspects. Firstly, based on Z. Freud's approach to the close connection of the infantile-personal and the archaic in the psyche in the interpretation of this artistic material, Freud and Jung's approaches are combined, it is concluded that archaic and eroticism in the primordial element are merged into one whole, therefore it is not necessary to categorically oppose these two approaches to each other, at least when referring to archetypal material. Secondly, this study focuses on the ontological and phenomenological aspects of the prototype, which are not given enough attention in various studies. Thirdly, the study combines concepts such as phenomenological-dialectical, phenomenology of poetic imagination, intertextual analysis in relation to the subject of the prototype, which in their interaction allow us to more fully reveal the primitive element of art. All this can contribute to the creation of a holistic concept of the prototype in art and in the sphere of poetic imagination. (shrink)

ὥστε καθάπερ τοὺς ὑποκρινομένους,οὕτως ὑποληπτέον λέγειν καὶ τοὺς ἀκρατευομένους.Arist. Eth. Nic. 7.3.1147a22-4In Attic Nights 20.4, Aulus Gellius reports how his Athenian teacher, the Platonist L. Calvenus Taurus, advised one of his pupils to temper his devotion to stage actors and to turn his attention to the study of philosophy. Wishing to divert his student from associating with theatre people, Taurus assigned the daily reading of a specific chapter from Aristotle's Προβλήματα Ἐγκύκλια. He sent his student an extract from the book, (...) which Gellius quotes : ‘Why are Dionysian artists mostly worthless people?’—the problem is still extant in the Aristotelian collection of Problemata physica that came down to us. The explanation Aristotle suggested is that ‘these men are least familiar with reason and philosophy, since they devote most of their life to the necessary arts, and because they are in an intemperate state most of the time, sometimes even in difficulties, both of which conditions cause meanness ’. (shrink)

Film is the supreme medium for mythmaking. The gods and heroes of mythology are both larger than life and deeply human; they teach us about the world, and they tell us a good story. Similarly, our experience of film is both distant and intimate. Cinematic techniques--panning, tracking, zooming, and the other tools in the filmmaker's toolbox--create a world that is unlike reality and yet realistic at the same time. We are passive spectators, but we also have a personal relationship with (...) the images we are seeing. In Cinematic Mythmaking, Irving Singer explores the hidden and overt use of myth in various films and, in general, the philosophical elements of a film's meaning. Mythological themes, Singer writes, perform a crucial role in cinematic art and even philosophy itself. Singer incisively disentangles the strands of different myths in the films he discusses. He finds in Preston Sturges's The Lady Eve that Barbara Stanwyck's character is not just the biblical Eve but a liberated woman of our times; Eliza Doolittle in the filmed versions of Shaw's Pygmalion is not just a statue brought to life but instead a heroic woman who must survive her own dark night of the soul. The protagonist of William Wyler's The Heiress and Anieszka Holland's Washington Square is both suffering Dido and an awakened Amazon. Singer reads Cocteau's films--including La Belle et la Bête, Orphée, and The Testament of Orpheus--as uniquely mythological cinematic poetry. He compares Kubrickean and Homeric epics and analyzes in depth the self-referential mythmaking of Federico Fellini in many of his movies, including 8½. The aesthetic and probing inventiveness in film, Singer shows us, restores and revives for audiences in the twenty-first century myths of creation, of the questing hero, and of ideals--both secular and religious--that have had enormous significance throughout the human search for love and meaning in life. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:ArtistsJennifer and Kevin McCoy are Brooklyn-based artists who make projects about how our thoughts, experiences, and memories are structured through genre and repetition. In order to focus attention on these structures, they often reexamine classic works of science fiction or television narrative, creating sculptural objects, video projections, or live events from what they find.Their work has been exhibited at The Museum of Modern Art, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, (...) The New Museum (all in New York), and The Renaissance Society (Chicago). International exhibitions include projects at ZKM (Karlsruhe, Germany) and Kunst Werke (Berlin), and a solo exhibition at The British Film Institute (London, UK). Articles about their work have appeared in Art News, Art in America, Artforum, Flash Art, The Wire, dArt International, Spin Magazine, Feed, and The Independent. Installation view and detail images of Double Fantasy 2 (Sex) were shown in the solo exhibition "Directed Dreaming" at Postmasters, New York, March–April 2006. The Double Fantasy image was part of the exhibition "Night Sites" at the Hannover Kunstverein in Hannover Germany, November 2005. Each side of the sculpture has a model of a childhood sex fantasy for each of us. Cameras project large-scale images of it onto the wall, accompanied by a soundtrack. Click for larger view View full resolutionFigure 1.Jennifer and Kevin McCoy, Double Fantasy 2 (Sex). "Directed Dreaming," installation view. March–April 2006 at Postmasters Gallery, New York(Cover) Click for larger view View full resolutionFigure 2.Jennifer and Kevin McCoy, Double Fantasy 2 (Sex). "Directed Dreaming," installation view. March–April 2006 at Postmasters Gallery, New York(Page 2) Click for larger view View full resolutionFigure 3.Jennifer and Kevin McCoy, Double Fantasy 2 (Sex). "Directed Dreaming," detail. March–April 2006 at Postmasters Gallery, New York(Page 16) Click for larger view View full resolutionFigure 4.Jennifer and Kevin McCoy, Double Fantasy 2 (Sex). "Directed Dreaming," detail. March–April 2006 at Postmasters Gallery, New York(Page 32) Click for larger view View full resolutionFigure 5.Jennifer and Kevin McCoy, Double Fantasy 2 (Sex). "Directed Dreaming," installation view. March–April 2006 at Postmasters Gallery, New York(Page 47) Click for larger view View full resolutionFigure 6.Jennifer and Kevin McCoy, Double Fantasy 2 (Sex). "Directed Dreaming," installation view. March–April 2006 at Postmasters Gallery, New York(Page 63) Click for larger view View full resolutionFigure 7.Jennifer and Kevin McCoy, Double Fantasy 2 (Sex). "Directed Dreaming," installation view. March–April 2006 at Postmasters Gallery, New York(Page 77) Click for larger view View full resolutionFigure 8.Jennifer and Kevin McCoy, Double Fantasy 2 (Sex). "Directed Dreaming," detail. March–April 2006 at Postmasters Gallery, New York(Page 92) Click for larger view View full resolutionFigure 9.Jennifer and Kevin McCoy, Double Fantasy. "Night Sites," installation view. November 2005 at Hannover Kunstverein, Hannover, Germany(Page 107)Copyright © 2007 The Johns Hopkins University Press... (shrink)

Peter Cave once again takes the reader on a witty, engaging romp through a glorious compendium of philosophical puzzles. With the aid of tall stories, jokes, common sense, and bizarre insights, Cave tackles some of life’s most important questions and introduces the conundrums that will keep you pondering throughout the night. Illustrated with dozens of quirky cartoons, Do Llamas Fall in Love? leaves no stone unturned, covering a smorgasbord of topics including logic, ethics, art, and politics. It will provide (...) a perfect gift for anyone who puzzles about the world! (shrink)

Dragon days: introduction to the new edition -- Enter the dragon: on the vernacular of beauty 1 -- Nothing like the son: on Robert Mapplethorpe's X portfolio -- Prom night in flatland: on the gender of works of art -- After the great tsunami: on beauty and the therapeutic institution -- American beauty.

The mythical scientist in early twentieth-century America cut a lone figure, “impersonal as the chill northeast wind” and “oblivious of everything save his experiment.” He toiled through the night in his laboratory, “a place unimpressive and unmagical save for the constant-temperature bath with its tricky thermometer and electric bulbs,” as if working in the lab were a prayer that promised illumination—“alone, absorbed, [and] contemptuous of academic success and of popular classes,” he knew all about material forces, but he was (...) blind to the vital force that created all others. Accustomed to the “beautiful dullness of long labors,” he remained “illimitably ignorant” of literature, art, and music. He believed that unerring techniques in experimentation, impartial observations, and exquisitely minute calculations would bring progress—a steady march toward the truth. He chose the highest calling in the world because he was “intensely religious—so religious that he will not accept quarter-truths, because they are an insult to his faith.” He was “so devoted to Pure Science . . . that he would rather have people die by the right therapy than be cured by the wrong. Having built a shrine for humanity, he wanted to kick out of it all mere human beings.” This autocratic figure, brilliantly insane and tyrannically honest, embodied the cult of science and objectivity. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Spectres of Pessimism: A Cultural Logic of the Worst by Mark SchmittJohn StoreyMark Schmitt. Spectres of Pessimism: A Cultural Logic of the Worst. Cham: Palgrave Macmillan, 2023. 147 pp., hardcover, $44.99. ISBN 9783031253508.[End Page 256]What I have called radical utopianism was an important concept for two of the founding figures of British cultural studies, E. P. Thompson and Raymond Williams.1 In 1976, in the revised edition of William (...) Morris: Romantic to Revolutionary, Thompson introduced into English Miguel Abensour's concept of the "education of desire."2 This has had a profound impact on what has become known as utopian studies but has had hardly any influence on cultural studies. Ruth Levitas together with Thompson (from whom she borrowed the concept) have probably done more than most to make Abensour's formulation popular in critical work on utopianism.3Abensour, however, was almost certainly drawing on part of a point made by William Morris in a letter written in 1884. Morris writes of the teaching of desire and political organization as the two main components necessary to bring about radical change: "The means whereby this is brought about is first, educating people into desiring it, next organising them into claiming it."4 But he also writes of another form of education, what he called "the education of discontent."5 In "Art Under Plutocracy," a lecture given in Oxford in 1883, he explained, "It is my business here to-night and everywhere to foster your discontent … [and] to help in educating that discontent into hope, that is into the demand for the new birth of society."6 He made a similar point in a lecture given in Manchester earlier in 1883:My business herein is to spread discontent. I do not think that this is an unimportant office; for, as discontent spreads, the yearning for bettering the state of things spreads with it, and the longing of many people, when it has grown deep and strong, melts away resistance to change in a sure, steady, unaccountable manner.7The role of the education of discontent is to undermine our sense of the inevitability of the here and now, to make change conceivable and to believe that it is possible, promoting what Raymond Williams calls an "active wanting"—"Possibility, seriously considered, is … not what with luck might happen. It is what we can believe in enough to want, and then, by active wanting, make possible."8 For Morris, the production of utopian desire, as a result of the interrogation of the here and now from the perspective of an alternative social space, would, according to Thompson, "help people to find out their wants, to encourage them to want more, to challenge them to want differently, and to envisage a society of the future in which people, freed at last of necessity, might choose between different wants."9 [End Page 257]Radical utopianism allows us to dare to dream that the way things are is not inevitable—that is, a world arranged in the interest of the powerful few. It broadens our vision of the world and opens up new ways of seeing. As the familiar is defamiliarized, what we have learned to think of as immutable suddenly looks changeable and the capitalist dogma There Is No Alternative can begin to give way to the enabling slogan Another World Is Possible. It allows us to anticipate the possibility of a world in which the words of Percy Bysshe Shelley, to slightly misquote them, have a revolutionary insistence: "We are many, they are few."Radical utopianism seeks to free imagination from the limits placed on it by a society run in the interests of the powerful few and to know that these limits are historical. While we seem able to see the past as historical and the future as history waiting to happen, the present seems outside history: in a word, "natural." Radical utopianism makes the present historical. Understood in this way, it is not an attempt to produce blueprints of the perfect society. Given the historical variability of human nature, it is impossible to predict what a perfect society might be like. Instead, radical utopianism is... (shrink)

Over the last three years I have been fortunate to teach an unusual class, one that provides an academic background in ethical and social and political theory using the medium of comedy. I have taught the class at two schools, a private liberal arts college in western Pennsylvania and a public regional state university in southern Georgia. While the schools vary widely in a number of ways, there are characteristics that the students share: the school in Pennsylvania had a large (...) population of students raised in a middle class industrial context, and the school in Georgia had a majority of students from middle-to-lower class agricultural backgrounds. Because of recent collapses in the economy of the tool and dye industry in the Great Lakes region, and the ongoing concerns for development in rural and urban areas of the southeastern United States, both groups of students were in similarly dire economic and working conditions. All faced the distinct possibility that they would not do as well in life as their parents. Most of the students grew up with television and film and had a love of comedy when they arrived at college. -/- Entertainment and mass media contributed to the students' mindset and the lens through which they viewed and interpreted their lived experience. Comedic mass media in the form of television sitcoms and films were common choices for inexpensive entertainment, in their childhood, in their past, in their homes, and now in their college dorms and apartments. In asking students to connect their own history with cultural trends depicted in comedy in film and television, even through the history of television, gave the students a familiar venue to critically consider their own intellectual growth and development and that of American society as a whole. -/- Many of them were familiar with the internet, and enjoyed the internet as a source of information about celebrities as well as the history and episodes of their favorite television shows and films. Students are rediscovering and discovering television programs that their professors may have watched as children, with the availability of a wide range of comedy television programs available on cable, especially TVLand, Comedy Central and Nick-at-Night. -/- In this article I will elaborate on the value of comedy as a teaching tool for philosophers and professors. I will provide a number of examples, showing how comedy can provide fertile examples of ethical theory at work, and I will show how comedy can be used to clarify cultural norms and values. Finally, I will discuss the political activism and student empowerment involved in teaching Philosophy, Comedy and Film in southern Georgia. (shrink)

Our intention is to describe and analyse the experience gathered during the work on the project 'Presenting science is art. Popularising the results of social research at the Night of Culture festival in Lublin'. One of its aims was to provide practical knowledge about the challenges that accompany the popularisation of science, especially the outcomes of social research. The text deals with two aspects: the experience coming from popularisation activities at a mass, outdoor event such as Night of (...) Culture in Lublin, and the experience of working on the project with the invited experts. As it turned out, the project brought about many unforeseen situations and twists and turns, which revealed the flaws in our ideas concerning the popularisation of scientific knowledge. The article begins with an outline of the project – the underlying assumptions, target groups and outcomes. We then describe the difficulties we faced as a project team. We were aware of some of them from the beginning, others emerged during the work, and some only came to full light during the Night of Culture. In the last part of the article, we attempt at answering two fundamental questions – what was successful in the project and what should have been done differently? (shrink)

The title of the film by Steve Kloves (1989) refers to the dual-piano, languishing lounge act performed by two brothers. The resurgence and demise of the musical team is brought about by the addition of a sultry, female vocalist--Susie Diamond. Embedded within the story is an exploration of integrity and its augmentation by the virtues of courage and honesty. Integrity marks an individual whose self is a coherent, consistent whole. Important elements of the individual’s personality are mutually supportive rather than (...) being disparate or in conflict. The integrity scrutinized by the film is Jack’s; it involves the younger brother’s inconsistent fidelity to his considerable musical talent. Late in the story we learn that he despises performing the popular musical fare with his brother and that he really wants to be creative, playing jazz. Although Jack is shown playing piano with modulated passion at a jazz club, we infer that he does so infrequently. Jack’s older brother is not in conflict with himself because his talent is suited to playing the bland tunes that are the staple of the act. Jack’s integrity is compromised because his commitment to his art is half-hearted; he cannot make the leap of faith--in himself. He knows that he hates playing the lounge music, is moved by jazz, and has considerable ability. Jack therefore realizes, however vaguely, that he ought to give himself to the music he loves, despite the risks this would entail. The trajectory of the film-story can be viewed as Jack finally summoning the courage to honestly confront his struggle with integrity and deciding to do something about it. (shrink)