The continued exploration of the issues and the theory

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

It is time to do serious work.

A Description
of Art
as Manifestation
of the Truths
of the Articles
of the Existence
of Everything.

by eric strauss

here rendering into text
the beliefs
of cohry osborne and eric strauss


Introduction

It is time - well past time really - to lay out as many of the specifics of the theory as possible. As the theory is very involved, this is not a task to be undertaken in a single column. But it is certainly a task to be begun in one.

I will start with the concrete, and even when turning to more ephemeral matters, I will ask you, generous reader, to shoulder no conceits. Not in this column. The time to do serious work is now. So I will lay it out as plainly as I can.

My name is Eric and it is my intention to effect massive change in the world. I have long desired widespread recognition, but in recent years the shape of this desire has morphed. The transformation of my very human yearning for fame into a somewhat more noble, though of course equally human, desire to manifest significant, worldwide, trans-generational Good began about 12 years ago. It was then that I first met Cohry.

........

At the time both he and I had largely ignoble motivations. We lived together in a house in Eagle Rock. We partied and pursued women and cool, and occasionally we made art.

Six years later we each were married and living in Temple city. We each worked professional jobs. We each made good money. We eventually started making more art, and doing more drugs, or different drugs anyways, and at long last providence found us each blessedly laid off.

Cohry began recording music in earnest, and so did I. Soon it became clear that Cohry produced extremly compelling recordings, wrote genius songs, and generally kicked ass in the medium of music. Pop Goes Lethal was originally conceived of as a record label to disseminate his work. Our thinking lacked scope.

But our attention became somewhat diverted before we could implement our small ideas. We often spoke about art. We often made art, but we even more often spoke about art. Day in and day out we talked about it. For months and years on end. Specifically, we talked about when, why and how it worked, and when, why and how it didn't. We continually bumped into aesthetic relativism in our conversations.

Eventually we discarded it.

........


Part One -

How the Art of Space shows us what truth looks like.

A very long time ago Cohry noticed something important. It is something that many of us have probably noticed at some point. The best songs, the most cathcy ones, share a quality. The first time you hear such a song, you say to yourself - "I know I've heard this somewhere before." I remember saying that to myself on many occasions regarding many different great songs.

But unlike me and you and everyone else, Cohry didn't shrug that realization off. He was not content with leaving the strange commonality unexplained. Eventually, after many hours of thought and conversation, he concluded the following: "When you write a song, and you think it sounds familiar, that's a sure sign that the song is a keeper. Chances are, all your best songs will 'sound familiar' to you. And it is critical that you embrace those songs, and not kill them or distort their true identity in anyway."

This was a piece of practical advice. And it proved an invaluable rule to me and to a few other people who were paying attention when they heard it spoken aloud. But more importantly, it opened up an area of inquiry that gave birth to the thinking behind Pop Goes Lethal.

Why do these good songs sound familiar when we first hear them? The only conventional wisdom on the subject held that it is because they are familiar. They are "less different" than more complex and counter-intuitive songs. They therefore sound more familiar. Implicit in this is also a belief that they are somehow less valuable. Our society places a great deal of importance on innovation and originality. The implication of the conventional wisdom is that intuitive music is less original.

The reality is that more intuitive music is more true. Something that is true is entirely original, and entirely unique. But it is also perfectly adapted to human consciousness. So it fits. And because it fits so well, it feels familiar. In romantic stories you'll often hear the following dialogue in a scene between a man and a woman on a first or second date. "I feel like I've known you my whole life."

That dialogue reflects the natural human response to truth. We gravitate to truth. We want to hear and see and touch it. We want to read it. We want to smell it. And when we do, it feels so perfect that we can't imagine a time before the truth existed.

I read not too long ago an article (I can't recall about what subject) in a magazine in which the writer commented that it was hard to believe that 60 years ago the song White Christmas didn't exist. And it is, isn't it? It's hard to imagine that song not existing. That's because such a world has never been. White Christmas has always existed. It was just waiting to be manifested into mortal form.

Does that sound too new-agey for you? Are you inclined to dismiss such nonsense out of hand? I don't blame you at all. For most of my adult life I was exactly the same way. But I entreat you to read a little further before finalizing that assessment.

Let's say I have a triangle with two short sides and one long side. The two short sides are 4 inches and 3 inches, respectively. How long is the long side?

It's 5 inches, right? If you remember a bit of math from high school, you probably got that one. How did you figure it out? You used the Pythagorian Therom. a squared + b squared = c squared.

Who made up the pythagorian therom? Pythagoris of course. But who made up the fact that a squared + b squared = c squared? Pythagoras sure as hell didn't. That always was and always will be. No matter where you are or what you are doing, if you have a triangle, the square of one short side, plus the square of the other short side, will equal the square of the long side. Pythagoras manifested that truth into a mortal form - into an equation - but he didn't invent that truth, by any means. He discovered it.

Surely no one will dispute the above fact. The mathematical relationship between the sides of a triangle that Pythagoras describes in his therom is a relationship that was discovered, not invented.

So why is so farfetched to imagine that musical truths work the same way? Why do we have such a strong aversion to thinking of art in these terms?

Well the answer lies in the fact that mathematical truths are demonstrably true. I can use a ruler and show that the therom works every time, in every situation. Therefore, the reasoning follows, mathematical truths deserve to be afforded the special status of "discovered" rather than "created" truth. I cannot demonstrate whether this or that melody is true, therefore I have no reason to believe that it is.

The reality is that melody is just as demonstrably true as mathematics. It just isn't as measurable.

Mathematics is the art of space. It is about nothing but the relationships bewteen objects in space. At it's core, 1+1=2 is an equation that begins with the fact that two objects cannot occupy the same space at the same time. Every object, everyTHING, is a thing precisely because of this fact. This fact is the essence of "distinctness." And mathematics is the art that manifests the truths of distinct things co-existing in space in stasis.

In practice, math often is applied to the mechanical interactions of objects. Because of this, it seems like math has as much to do with time as it has to do with space. This is so because "mechanics" implies time. Mechanics implies something, anything, other than stasis. Mathematics is only true when it describes things in space in stasis. It is absolutely true then. But it isn't very useful. The truths of mathematics are much more useful when they are applied to objects existing in time as well as in space. And for our rough human purposes, the truths are sufficently powerful to be useful even though, in such a context, they are no longer really true.

Does this claim seem outrageous? Surely it cannot be true. There are many demonstrable instances of math accurately predicting outcomes later than now, right? Nope. There are only demonstrable instances of math predicting such outcomes accurately enough. Quantum mechanics is the study of the fact that once you throw time into the mix, math is no longer true. Chaos theory, and systems theory in general, are also studies of this fact. In no real system, ever, no matter what, will mathematics be able to accurately predict the future. Only in virtual systems, can math predict future outcomes.

Well what about that, then? If math can predict outcomes over time in any situation, even a virtual situation, then surely such an occurrance disproves any claim that time necessarily spoils mathematical truths, right?

No. The answer to why lies in the fact that we are using the wrong term to describe a virtual "system." A virtual system - a computer game, for example, is not a system at all. It is instead a series of static frames. Those static frames are programmed to appear in a certain order. That order is programmed to change in static, predefined ways to specific, predefined inputs, each of which is one of a specific, limited set of possible inputs. A virtual system is no more a system than a film is. It may be a film (or more accurately a huge variety of slightly different films) that no one has watched yet, but it is a film nevertheless. Likely, some of the many slightly different films that make up a virtual system will never be watched. But every frame of every film nevertheless already exists, and each frame is absolutely static.

The dominion of math over space and only space is not only not disproven by the fact that math can predict "future" outcomes of virtual systems, but said accurate predictions are, in fact, proof that the "systems" are actually static. I apologize for the circular reasoning. But my goal here, remember, is descriptive, not deductive.

So math, the art of space, is definitely not the art of time. And math, the art of space, definitely does manifest discovered turths about space. About these two facts, no reasonable person ought to object. The only matter that I have presented so far that might ring at all controversial is my use of the word art. People are unaccostomed to thinking about math as an art. Typically, it is tossed in with the sciences. And you will hear no argument from me if you say "Biology is definitely not an art." And I agree that Geology is definitely not an art. But if you'll indulge me this nomenclature for now, I think you'll increasingly find, as we continue on, that the term art, for mathematics, is the only correct one.

But what, then, is the art of time? All this talk about the art of space kind of begs that question, doesn't it?

The art of time is music.

Think on this for now, if you feel so inclined. I will explain it in full next time.

Until then,

Thanks very much for your attention,
and I promise the discussion will get more lively as we proceed.

Eric.

The theory: Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six