Floated Ideas: Temporal Grace

We can escape the determinism of our current predicaments and achieve a state of “temporal grace” by dreaming; with our imaginations design a set of conditions that exist in the realm of future possibilities. By developing the mental dexterity required to allow  dreaming to affect our present actions, we are freed from the dictates of current or prior events and can move, even if only gradually, toward that set of circumstances by which and within which we desire our lives to be molded. In this way, one’s life becomes a conscious exercise instead of an unconscious servitude shoved into the future by the inertia of past events.

Floated Ideas: The Law of Eternal Consequences

          No one is insignificant, but is of lesser or greater consequence. The history of individuals will be forgotten, but the consequences of their lives will ripple outward into a realm of perpetual syntheses.

Floated Ideas: The Right to Pursue Unhappiness

 

          One primary natural human right is the right to pursue unhappiness. The exercise of that right begins with a kind of premeditated choice that marks a fundamental point of differentiation between human beings and other animals. The pursuit of unhappiness is a free act of the human will, requiring discipline of the body and mind, contrary to a creature’s instinct to pursue happiness.

          The pursuit of unhappiness is an absolute right because it needs no defense against anyone or thing that tries to hinder the free action. It is impossible to deprive an individual of this right, for any attempt to interfere with the choice to be unhappy validates the right.

          A life based on the long-proposed right to the pursuit of happiness, which is a reflection of the political philosophy of John Locke and incorporated into the Declaration of Independence, implies an ascending material prosperity. Accordingly, the pursuit of unhappiness implies a descending material prosperity. Descending prosperity need not equate with asceticism, but requires the acquisition of necessities through benign labor. The maxim to follow is: Maximize Simplicity and Minimize Complicity. The choice to pursue unhappiness leads to a genuine state of social justice where individuals are freed from the manipulating peddlers of consumer wants.

Floated Ideas: The Meaning of Events

          An event or series of life events lack meaning when we can't see the causal links between incidents, circumstances, and events. Life seems to be without meaning. The search for cause and effect linkage that makes up the weave of our lives requires reflection on the past. Failure to make that search eventually leaves us feeling inconsequential and impotent, whereas knowing the meaning of events creates unity and stability in our emotional response to events. The coupling of cause and effect is meaning.

Biker Babe

Biker Babe

Hold on tight girl –

we’re gonna ride through our freedom dream,

accelerate ‘till the wind sweeps back your hair in glory,

and your jeweled ears whistle.

Smile over my iron-pumped shoulder

and scream joy in my ear over the roar of the Hog.

We’re galloping the true “iron horse.”

Spray on the glitter

and primp yourself in the rear-view mirror.

Mount the bike and indulge the guys

aiming a million Nikons.

“Show ‘em what ‘cha  got Suzie!

An’ I don’t mean the tattoo!

Well, hurry- up and shoot boys,

before they evaporate.”

“Fifty bucks men for a walk

 down the BLVD with a beauty!”

On spiked heels, wearing a black spider’s web

                        you’ll make the dreamers howl.

And when the parade is done

I'll forget what I paid

for a coveted stroll down the BLVD

with a real Biker Babe.

Dennis Fredrick Evans

An Essay - Is it Art?

Is it Art?

My launch point in this essay will be the views of scientist Edward Wilson regarding the source and purpose of art in the life of humanity and the ideas of Leo Tolstoy, in his book What Is Art? By combining their views with observations I have made about the behavior of some contemporary artists and the art-buying public, I will justify the need for a foundation of standards with which to assess the aesthetic value of artwork and indicate what that foundation is.

Edward Wilson, in his book Consilience, discusses the possible origin and purpose of art in human development. In the chapter titled “The Arts and Their Interpretation” he states:

The most distinctive qualities of the human species are extremely high intelligence, language, culture, and reliance on long-term social contracts. In combination they gave early Homo sapiens a decisive edge over all competing animal species, but they also exacted a price we continue to pay, composed of the shocking recognition of the self, of the finiteness of personal existence, and of the chaos of the environment.

[…]

The dominating influence that spawned the arts was the need to impose order on the confusion caused by intelligence. […] [Homo-level intelligence] permitted flexibility of response and the creation of mental scenarios that reached to distant places and far into the future.

[…]

[…] Early humans invented [the arts] in an attempt to express and control through magic the abundance of the environment, the power of solidarity, and other forces in their lives that mattered most to survival and reproduction. The arts were the means by which these forces could be ritualized and expressed in a new, simulated reality. […] The arts still perform this primal function, and in much the same ancient way. Their quality is measured by their humanness, by the precision of their adherence to human nature. To an overwhelming degree that is what we mean when we speak of the true and beautiful in the arts. (Wilson 245, 246)

So, according to Wilson, art is made by mankind as one means to establish a degree of order in a universe perceived by human intelligence to be chaotic. An artwork gives the artist and beholder a sense of control in an otherwise uncontrollable cosmos. Wilson also ascribes beauty to art based upon the artwork’s close alignment with human nature.

Tolstoy approaches art as an interpreter of the arts, not as a scientist. He is more concerned with the activity of art than its origin. To begin the answer to his own question, “what is art?” Tolstoy gives a brief, specialized history of the philosophy of modern art. His history lesson includes a collection of definitions of “beauty” contrived by the minds of famous men and of others more obscure. The object of his lesson is to show how confusing and imprecise all these definitions are, thus rendering the idea of beauty a weak basis for arriving at an answer to his question. Near the end of his history lesson on the definition of beauty, Tolstoy says:

An objective definition of art does not exist; the existing definitions, metaphysical as well as practical, come down to one and the same subjective definition, which, strange as it is to say, is the view of art as the manifestation of beauty, and of beauty as that which pleases (without awakening lust). […] Thus, existing aesthetics as a whole consists not in something such as might be expected of an intellectual activity calling itself a science  – namely in a definition of the properties and laws of art, or of the beautiful, if it is the content of art, or in a definition of the properties of taste, if it is taste that decides the question of art and its worth, and then, on the basis of these laws, the recognition as art of those works that fit them, and the rejection of those that do not fit them – but instead it consists in first recognizing  a certain kind of work as good because it pleases us, and then constructing such a theory of art as will include all the works found pleasing by a certain circle of people. There exists an artistic canon according to which the favourite works of our circle are recognized as art,[…] and aesthetic judgments must be such as can embrace all these works. (Tolstoy 33)

However, Tolstoy does give us his particular definition of art:

To call up in oneself a feeling once experienced and, having called it up, to convey it by means of movements, lines, colours, sounds, images expressed in words, so that others experience the same feeling – in this consists the activity of art. Art is that human activity which consists in one man’s consciously conveying to others, by certain external signs, the feelings he has experienced, and in others being infected by those feelings and also experiencing them. (Tolstoy 39)

My interpretive sense tells me that Tolstoy would disagree with Wilson’s conclusions that “the dominating influence that spawned the arts was the need to impose order on the confusion caused by intelligence,” and that “the arts were the means by which these forces could be ritualized and expressed in a new, simulated reality” (Wilson  245,246). Yet, Tolstoy may have yearned for a basis to establish some sound, empirical standards to evaluate art, just to clear up the confusion that surrounds the matter. This conjecture is based on his agenda for the arts and his vision of a new art:

The art of the future – as it really will be – will not be a continuation of present-day art, but will emerge on completely different, new principles, having nothing in common with those by which our modern upper-class art is guided.

But art that conveys feelings coming from obsolete religious teachings, outlived by the people – Church art, patriotic art, sensual art, art that conveys the feelings of superstitious fear, pride, vanity, the admiration of heroes, art that arouses sensuality or an exclusive love of one’s own nation – will be regarded as bad, harmful art, and will be condemned and despised by public opinion. (151)

Public opinion? The opinion that conforms? The opinion that is the object of continual manipulation by any institution in need of funding, including the institutions of art? Tolstoy, were he to witness today’s public opinion when it comes to art, would be disappointed by the bizarre fashion in which his prophecy has been fulfilled.

In 1995, a contemporary artist was having “its” works sold for thousands of dollars apiece. The “artist” was a non-human primate, an orangutan as I recall. Films were shown of this primate joyfully daubing and smearing colorful paints onto a canvas. Aspiring artists around the world must have been appalled and momentarily disillusioned, ready to retire, while watching the spectacle.

This event raises some troubling questions about the state of the visual arts today? One obvious one is: why are some art-buyers willing to value so highly the abstract finger-paintings of a non-human creature? Do they really believe that the monkey’s art –  an orangutan is not technically a monkey, but I will call its work “monkey-art” – is intrinsically valuable and is certain to appreciate in monetary worth, especially after the “artist” dies? Or, is their enthusiasm simply animated curiosity at the sight of an ape producing a painting that resembles human art that leads to the impulse-buying of a novelty to stimulate conversation when guests visit? These questions are related to the one asked by Tolstoy – what is art? A partial answer coming out of this caper is that, for some people, whatever art is, it need not be of human origin. This conclusion would enrage Tolstoy and runs counter to Wilson’s idea about works of great art, that “their quality is measured by their humanness, by the precision of their adherence to human nature. To an overwhelming degree that is what we mean when we speak of the true and beautiful in the arts” (Wilson  246) (Italics mine).

However, the case of the successful monkey-artist, which constituted such an affront to the sensibilities of artists and connoisseurs, illustrates the illegitimacy of several sentiments that have accompanied the history of art down to the present – sentiments that Tolstoy would prefer removed. One is the smug notion that a person is made prestigious by simply acquiring the artwork of some “famous” artist. What is so prestigious about owning the work of an ape? Another notion, entertained by some artists, implies, “My work deserves to be highly valued because I created it. And the content of my work is above judgment because the value of the work resides in my name.” The Monkey-Art Caper proved that a non-person may produce works that are considered by public opinion to be not only legitimate works of art but works of great value as well – at least as valuable as the work of human artists. To the extent that the Caper dispelled those egocentric opinions of artists and art-buyers, a favor was bestowed upon those who prefer to allow a work of art to speak for itself without the fraudulent support of media hyperbole or the pretense of artists.

The acceptance of monkey-art highlights the centuries-long question, “Are there viable standards for evaluating art?” Perhaps the public has answered that question along with confirming the proposition of some contemporary art philosophers – that the history of art “narrated” since the 1400s has come to an end. Whatever art is, some in the art-buying public are saying that it need not be of human origin, as I previously observed. If it is also true that there is no longer a historical dimension to art with an accompanying “narrative,” that is, the validation of an art form by means of canonical, aesthetic standards, an end which Tolstoy predicted, then the only frontier left for any “progress” of art, if one seeks progress, is beyond the human realm – into the Art World of insects and beasts. I am not making that statement facetiously. I can easily imagine someone spending money to buy “art” created by beetles and tarantulas that have first walked through pools of paint, then onto canvases to produce fascinating patterns with their pods. What I cannot imagine is any insect acquiring the fame of Monet. These insects, of course, would not have taken the initiative in the project, and therefore an argument could be made that the artwork had some derivative humanity in it because humans would have directed the process, using the arthropods as paint application tools. But, such operations may not be too different from those of Andrè Agassi racketing paint-soaked tennis balls against a wall, or of a lovely female model driving a luxury car first through paint then onto a board, leaving behind her a painterly trail of tire treads. The public is being trained to accept these displays as “works of art” through commercial education. This leads to my question about work claiming to be art. Is it art? I believe an aesthetic education, which counters the commercial, needs to be initiated and its foundational standard would be that a work of art show undeniable evidence of human intelligence characterized by ingenuity.  

It is my opinion that art is initially valued because it is free in a specific sense and satisfies a human need. The artist works for the sole purpose of satisfying an emotional/intellectual need to create, by means of some production, a special presentation in response to the world. I have been discussing the visual arts, although what I say here applies to all the arts. An instinctive motive could be to add a sense of order to the cosmos, as Wilson thinks. The beholder’s emotional/intellectual need to visualize the world as uniquely ordered by humanity is reciprocally satisfied by assimilating the artist’s expression. There is a mystery to this special freedom of art in that any intended meaning or emotion the artist invests in the work may or may not be those the beholder perceives in the artwork, which is contrary to what Tolstoy believes should happen. The power of artistic freedom which allows for true creativity requires the artist to render his production according to his instincts and talents without regard for the audience’s possible response. Yet, the artist hopes for an appreciative response so that his feelings about the work and subject may be validated. By “appreciative response,” I mean one that demonstrates the perception of the aesthetic value of art – that is, its power to elicit human emotions, an idea that reflects Tolstoy’s view of what art does. The beholder, indeed, is either consciously or unconsciously hoping for such an internal response. This is the privilege of the audience and the purpose for looking at an artist’s work. Thus unfolds the communicative nature of art which has evolved through history across a broad spectrum of artistic styles and techniques. However, when market or other artificial values become involved in the artistic transaction, the aesthetic value of the endeavor is easily corrupted, and the gratification of our need for experiencing the “beautiful” is disrupted.

by Dennis Fredrick Evans

________________________

Works Cited

Tolstoy, Leo. What Is Art? London/New York: Penguin Books, 1995.

Wilson, Edward O. Consilience: The Unity Of Knowledge. New York: Vintage Books, 1998.

from The Book of Big Poems

strong coffee

in a

delicate cup

*****

Stars

Flavor

The

Bland

Earth

*****

Love

 ignites

the

muddy

ditch

*****

Laugh in darkness

Kiss the snowflakes

Run in jaded moss

Dodge  radium drizzle

Step on mushrooms

Play in dead leaves

*****

This Petty

flicker

of a flash

i am

must repair

with god

Dennis fredrick evans

I was sitting

on a long bench in the breezeway of a Victorian flophouse in San Francisco when a girl abruptly sat down beside me. I didn’t immediately look at her, so she bounced a little and said, “Well. What can we talk about?”

                            

     

Rain Upon Waking

Come on.       Get up.

Let’s talk about… oh…

the benefit of rain upon waking.

Let’s talk about… oh…

why there’s no peace on either side

of tossing and turning.

Let’s talk about… oh…

why at our first yawn

the pigeons flinch.

Let’s talk about… oh…

why you’re still sleeping

and I’m not fully awake.

Come on.       Get up.

Let’s melt down two worlds

into Childhood.

Dennis Fredrick Evans

                

                                              

I'll begin with a poem.

From The Balcony

If I could entertain the eye

like the glossy browns of bass-violins

revealing under staging lights

the shadows in the valley, highlights on the knoll –

or skip along a cello, reducing a symphony

into a finger-run of the cellist’s mind

and set the fingers quivering

to kindle a string’s warm tremolo –

or wave the bow above a field of violins

at idiosyncratic angles and heights,

I might transcend the harp’s delicate futility

of hoping for a solo, and be content to listen

to the chaos of the grand tuning-up.

Dennis Fredrick Evans