The theory: Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six
A Continued Description
of Art
as Manifestation
of the Truths
of the Articles
of the Existence
of Everything.
So.
The art of time is music.
Before I get too deep into explaining why we believe this and what it means to believe it, I think that you deserve to look down upon the whole of the theory, to get a sense of its scope and purpose. There is a writing strategy that suggests that a writer ought not to reveal his hand too early, but these matters are too important to let style influence presentation. If I purport to present truth, and I do, I must be wholly honest and hold nothing back.
The following assumptions underlie the theory:
1. Quality in art is absolute. Some art is better than other art.
2. These states of high and low quality are not "just a matter of opinion." People undeniably do have opinions about the quality of respective artworks, and those opinions do undeniably differ, but that is simply a reflection of the fact that some opinions are more true than others.
3. Aesthetic Relativism, though born of noble, egalitarian urges, is a mythology that denies the existence of truth, befuddles artists and thinkers, and gives birth to aesthetic nihilism.
(I have presented a more complete definition of aesthetic relativism, and a rebuttal of it, elsewhere. And for now, I don't want to get off task, so I'll leave it at that.)
The root questions that have driven and continue to drive the development of the theory are:
1. What is good art?
2. Where does art come from?
and
3. How can we make better art?
So before we get to the articles, Time, Space, Music, Light, and Agence - which constitute the exciting part of the theory, I must ask you to indulge me the following description of the path by which why reached the truth at the center of the tootsie pop.
The theory is our response to these root questions. It (the theory) has evolved over the course of the past several years, piece by piece, and the development of it was marked by as many missteps as it was marked by insights. The key to its development has been persistant adherence to dialectic. If Cohry and I can each lay certain claim to competency in any one skillset, that skillset is dialectic.
Dialectic is a term that means "communication, (between two or more people) the purpose of which is to distinguish truth from untruth." Although the descriptive meaning of the word "dialectic" is used to distinguish a specific conversation from other, non-dialectical conversations, the word in reality describes the intent of the people engaged in the communication. A dialectic conversation is one in which neither party takes ownership of any position. Rather, each party examines every position in terms of its truth value and rejects those which are untrue. A party participating in dialectic, then, if he is to feel no ownership of any position, must either:
1. Have little or no interest or association with the topic discussed, in which case he likely, but by no means necessarily, will produce little insight on the matter,
or
2. He must have and display a high capacity for objective self-criticism and a tolerance for, and even appreciation of, the honest criticism that others may voice regarding the participant's behaviors and work. Such a participant must genuinely wish to know the truth, even when - especially when - that truth indicates that his own thinking is wrong, or that his work fails.
Dialectic is distinct from "rhetoric," the purpose of which is to use language and inflection to persuade another person or persons to behave in a specific way. Often the specific behavior sought from the listener is simply "voiced agreement" or even "tacit agreement" with the rhetoritician's position. (I point this ought to clarify what I mean by "behave.")
Rhetoric very often presents itself as dialectic. In fact, only rarely does rhetoric present itself as anything but dialectic. Because the intent of a participant in a rhetorical conversation is to persuade, it is in that participant's best interest to depict his words as dialectic - interested in truth - as a listener is more likely to be persuaded by an argument not driven by any agenda.
,,,,,,,
In the first installment of the theory, posted a couple of days ago, I discussed "the art of space" - mathematics. I began my presentation of the theory in this way because I hoped to induce in you, the reader, an intuitive grasp of the connection between a given art, in that case math, and a given fundamental building block ("article"), in the case of math, space. I hope I succeeded in doing so, and that you agree, or at least withold judgement, regarding said connection.
But what are these terms I am using? What do I mean by "art," and by "fundamental building block," and by "article?"
Because the root question that we hope to answer with this theory is one regarding the relationship between truth and art, we must begin by separating art from that which is not art, and by seperating truth from that which is not truth. To do so we look at two sets of data. The first set is comprised of examples of great art.
At this point in the development of the theory, we will not presume an ability to define "art." We will, however, presume that we can accurately point to at least some examples of great art. The accuracy of our evaluation is not one that can be decisively determined. Certainly, the agreement of a majority of others is not a criteria by which the accuracy of a given evaluation can be judged, but in most instances, most individuals who are comfortable, confident and happy with themselves and the work that they do, will be in agreeance regarding great art. Regardless, the accuracy of the evaluation cannot be proved.
Any individual work within the set of "great art" is necessarily also an example of "art." ("Great art" is, of course, a subset of the latter.)
The second set of data contains examples of truth. Again, we do not presume to be able to define truth. We do, however, presume to be able to point to definitive examples of truth.
In the first set of data, then, we will find specific artworks from various media. In the second, given that we begin with the least controversial definition of truth, we will find basic mathematics equations and similar statements of fact.
If we now compare the two sets, we see that no items appear in both. It would appear, at first glance, that the two criteria - truth and aesthetic quality - not only do not intersect, but also that they may be in some sense exclusive. Certainly this appearance conforms with conventional wisdom, which holds aesthetics and empiricism to exist in distinct and even oppositional realms.
Having established these two sets, parties engaged in dialectic naturally become curious to determine what can be learned from them. Specifically, the parties seek to determine by what criteria a component of a set "gains admittance" to that set.
We begin with the set of truths, as that seems more likely - or at least conventional wisdom holds that it is more likely - to produce answers.
Why is 2+2=4 in the truth set, while 2+2=5 is not? Well, our first instinct perhaps is to say that the former is reproducable. If I take 2 things and add them to 2 things, and you take 2 things and add them to 2 things we will both come up with an answer of 4 things. The can be reproduced anywhere, by anyone. But what does that mean? I could just as easily conclude that I have 5 things. And I could repeat the experiment 1000 times and come up with 5 every time. And I might get my friend to do the same. It still wouldn't make it the truth. So an inquirer into these matters is left to say, "but the vast majority of people DO come up with 2+2=4." So is consensus, then, the criteria for truth status? Surely not. History provides us innumerable examples of consensus on the surety of a given fact that is later "proven" untrue.
The reliability of an outcome accomplished by way of a given truth, perhaps, is a quality that offers more potential as a criteria. The reason that the bridge I drive across doesn't fall down is because it was designed by someone who embraced the truth that 2+2=4, and who embraced the myriad other mathematical truths needed in practicing bridge design. Bridges designed by the 2+2=4 camp are consistently more reliable than are the bridges designed by those who believe that 2+2=5.
Indeed, such "truth" bridges are more reliable. But they are not invariably reliable. (Because they do not exist in stasis.) And even if they were, this "reliability of outcomes acheived by way of the truth in question" standard does not seem like a criteria by which a candidate can be called "true." Rather it seems like a symptom that corrolates well with certain kinds of truths.
To consider it a criteria presents a number of problems. If that is the criteria we are to use, all moral truths are excluded from our set, as are all other truths that can't be isolated into an testable outcome in an observable context. And in the stasis free world, how much predictability of outcome is required before a truth reaches the necessary threshold, and for how long? And who determines that?
Ultimately, when one tires of searching in vain for firm criteria, one is left to conclude either that
1. truth does not exist
or
2. that it does, but that there are no specific criteria by which one may determine the truth value of something.
To any who conclude that the former option is the better one, I encourage you act as though you really believe that. Drive across 2+2=5 bridges, and jump from the tops of tall buildings. After all every possible outcome of any action is equally likely to be true. Or rather, no possible outcome to any action will ever be true. So every action is equally wise, or rather no action is at all wise. One quickly sees the absurdity of the this position.
There may be who seize upon the idea that there are gradations of truth, and present this fact as some middle ground. It is of course no middle ground at all, as it acknowledges that there are indeed things that are wholy true, and things that are wholy untrue, and that these things are distinct from one another. Spectrums, after all, have two ends as well as a middle.
Thus, among those who care about such things, the second option is generally regarded as the only viable choice.
So let's temporarily accept this latter conclusion - that truth exists but that there are no criteria that one can use to definitively indentify it. and turn our attention to the other set of data.
Now when one looks at the works of great art in the other set, they seem to offer even less promise than the items in the set of truths. This issue of quality in aesthetics has been discussed ad nauseum, so let's skip to the chase here. One is left with an equivalent pair of choices as in the first example.
1. Either there is no distinction between good art and bad - merely a range of individual preferences dictated wholly by random whim,
or
2. There is a distinction but it defies definitive criteria.
When regarding truth, persons tend to find the former of the two possiblilities absurd, and to settle upon some variant of the latter. Strangely, however, when regarding aesthetics, at least in recent decades, people choose number 1. The most able-thinking, reasonable and educated people consistently choose to argue the first position. Even more strangely, very many artists themselves often assert the truth of aesthetic relativism, and go so far as to vigorously defend it.
This is typically born of a noble and pro-human worldview. It is the misguided voice of a very worthwhile dislike of hierarchy.
But ultimately, the desirable reflex against heirarchy only serves a person well when it is a response to heirarchies of people. It is not desirable when applied to heirarchies of work. The former are indeed a very bad thing. The latter can be a bad thing, but only to the extent that a person transfers the positive regard he feels for a given piece of art onto the artist who made it. It is a very natural, almost automatic, response to liking art, so this problem is common. But is a problem with the perceiver, not with the heirarchy of work (provided the hierarchy is accurate).
To dismiss accurate rankings of artworks in the name of relativism or fairness or most commonly, in the name of the equality of the people who made the works, is a mistake. It is an attack by friendly fire. By calling all art equal, a person gives undo credit to very many works made by artists who really need criticism. Only when a work is flawless, and stunning, ought an observer voice unqualified praise. If the observer notes a specific flaw, or thinks he or she does, the observer ought to voice that.
It's the artist's responsibility to desire to hear honest negative criticism.
It helps him improve faster.
And the art itself, of course is not hurt by criticism, unless the artist responds to the criticism by making ill-advised changes to the art. Granted, praise, too, does not hurt the art. And it is unlikely to prompt the artist to make any change at all, good or bad.
In either case, it is the artist, in making or in failing to make changes, who is responsible for the harm or improvement to the art. It is not the criticism or praise itself.
Nevertheless, a critic (anyone who provides criticism) ought to be careful with his words, and try to speak only truth. Human nature being what it is, artists may be swayed by the words of others to make decisions. Dishonest feedback, whether it be motivated by hating, or by friendship, or by any other issue of personal relationship, increases the likelihood that the decision being made will be a poor one.
The greatest risk - the most commonly damaging one - is praise. Relativism is for most artists a form of praise, for a few it is unfairly dismissive, and for none is it accurate. The artist in need of improvement will take solace in the reassuring, but false, equality of relativism. He may never escape the coddling clutches of it.
Very little art is perfect and when art is imperfect, the artist should understand where, how, and why. Sometimes, he might be well served to attempt to remedy the imprefection. He is always well served to know about it. Any approach that doesn't involve telling him possibly difficult truths about his work, undermines his ability to make, or to continue to make, successful art.
So this "no greatness in art" perpsective is not the egalitarian generousity that most subjectivists see it as. Rather than afford more artists the chance to be good, it only undermines every artist's attempt to be good.
There is none of the "moral imperative" that is sometimes called upon to testify on relativism's behalf. Additionally, there is absolutely no evidence to suggest that relativism is right. People defend the position in conversation and in text, but once the (almost always rhetorical) communiation ends, they behave unfailingly as though some artworks are better than others.
Few people choose to drive to work every day playing a cd of me incompetently practicing solos on the tuba for 45 minutes. I don't doubt at all that the consensus naysay of my tuba-ing is as great a one as that regarding 2+2=5
If you believe all art is equal, play a cd of my 45 minutes of labored tuba practice in your car for 6 weeks , everyday, on your commute to work and back.
The theory: Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six
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