Art as Microcosm (2004)

[Roger Bissell]

Roger wrote,

Please share with me the names of your three favorite Schubert songs, particularly in regard to their emotional content, and why you like them. I will then reflect on them and provide my own analysis of that content in the terms of which you are skeptical. You can then get an idea of what I intend to joyously frolic through in American popular songs and Classical musical themes.

Roger, when you have some time, would you mind providing some material to contrast against your future analysis of Dragonfly's favorite Schubert songs? Do a Google image search for Anish Kapoor, and then share with us the names of your three favorites of Kapoor's art, particularly in regard to their emotional content, and why you like them. I will then reflect on them and provide my own analysis of that content in the terms of which Objectivists might be skeptical.

J

What is your point? Why should I waste my time (which I already did) perusing Kapoor's (or should I say: Kapoop?) sculpted dung-heaps and assorted other objects? You're joking, right?

I am engaged in a serious inquiry into the melodic, harmonic, and rhythmic means by which music conveys/expresses emotion, and I am trying to carve out a common ground on which Dragonfly and I can dialogue about it. Schubert's songs are important to Dragonfly, songs in general are important to me, and the principles I intend to apply to songs in general, I have offered to apply to the ones Dragonfly likes. He was quick to assert that Schubert's songs are great and that he loves them, but he has not been so quick to provide two or three names of Schubert songs that he thinks are the best, and why he likes them. That's fine. Everything in good time. We are operating in good faith here -- both that we share a common desire to understand and share insights, and that we have lives that demand our time and energy, leaving less for this particular part of the universe than others might wish us to spend.

As for providing "contrast material" to my Schubert analysis, that would appropriately be songs by other great classical song-writers as well as (in my opinion) great 20th century American song-writers. As well as not-so-great songs and/or songs by not-so-great song-writers. As well as opera arias and pieces from cantatas, etc. As well as non-vocal themes from musical works other than songs.

You see, there is a LOT of contrast just within the broad umbrella of melodic music, without having to jump over into another, entirely different form of art, for God knows what reason...

You were joking, right?

REB

[Dragonfly]

He was quick to assert that Schubert's songs are great and that he loves them, but he has not been so quick to provide two or three names of Schubert songs that he thinks are the best, and why he likes them.

To avoid misunderstandings: I certainly can give immediately names of great Schubert songs and also tell you why I like them (not saying they are the "best", among the more than 600 songs there are at least dozens of great masterpieces, so there is an embarras du choix, and I think things like top 10 rankings are a useless exercise). I want to answer in more detail however, and that means that I want to give some music examples. But creating and editing those is rather a lot of work, it took a week or so to make three small examples. Perhaps it'll go faster when I get more experience now in working with those programs...

[Jonathan]

What is your point? Why should I waste my time (which I already did) perusing Kapoor's (or should I say: Kapoop?) sculpted dung-heaps and assorted other objects? You're joking, right?

I am engaged in a serious inquiry into the melodic, harmonic, and rhythmic means by which music conveys/expresses emotion, and I am trying to carve out a common ground on which Dragonfly and I can dialogue about it. Schubert's songs are important to Dragonfly, songs in general are important to me, and the principles I intend to apply to songs in general, I have offered to apply to the ones Dragonfly likes. He was quick to assert that Schubert's songs are great and that he loves them, but he has not been so quick to provide two or three names of Schubert songs that he thinks are the best, and why he likes them. That's fine. Everything in good time. We are operating in good faith here -- both that we share a common desire to understand and share insights, and that we have lives that demand our time and energy, leaving less for this particular part of the universe than others might wish us to spend.

As for providing "contrast material" to my Schubert analysis, that would appropriately be songs by other great classical song-writers as well as (in my opinion) great 20th century American song-writers. As well as not-so-great songs and/or songs by not-so-great song-writers. As well as opera arias and pieces from cantatas, etc. As well as non-vocal themes from musical works other than songs.

You see, there is a LOT of contrast just within the broad umbrella of melodic music, without having to jump over into another, entirely different form of art, for God knows what reason...

You were joking, right?

REB

Why would you think that I'm joking? Not only are you engaged in an inquiry into the means by which music conveys or expresses emotion, but your essay makes it clear that you're also engaged in a similar inquiry regarding architecture.

You seem to believe that you can experience profound aesthetic depth and discern an architect's metaphysical value-judgments by viewing the abstract forms of his work. You seem to think that you can detect that one architect's work is "rationally ordered, and seamlessly joined with nature," that it "tells us that the world makes sense" and that it "seeks to command nature by obeying it," and that another architect is trying to "command nature by asserting whim." Apparently you believe that you possess the visual sensitivity to recognize meaningful content in the subtle abstract forms, colors, textures and proportions of architecture (to the point of implying in your essay that others who don't recognize such depth might benefit from your wisdom). Yet, at the same time, you can see no expression at all in the forms, colors, textures and proportions of abstract sculptures?

That's like someone claiming to hear all sorts of grand, sweeping, emotion-laden themes in a work of music which was written to accompany a coronation, but that similar compositions, which were intended to be independent of such events, are completely meaningless, empty of emotion, and are incapable of conveying anything (other than the typical Objectivist cliches that the artist is expressing the view that the universe is unknowable or that he seeks to command nature by asserting whim over it), isn't it?

You say that "if one can mentally filter out the physically utilitarian aspects of a given human creation's use, so that one can discern a microcosm conveying metaphysical value judgments, then that human creation is a re-creation of reality."

Well, then look at Kapoor's Cloud Gate as a modern Brandenburg Gate, filter out the utilitarian aspects, and discern the metaphysical value judgments. Or look at some of his other works which don't require the filtering out of utilitarian aspects. After all, if we filter out the utilitarian aspects of one of Frank Lloyd Wright's buildings, what are we left with but abstract forms? Why is it that you think you can see "a balance of forces" and "dynamic harmonies" in the forms of a utilitarian structure minus its utilitarian aspects, but you can't see such things in forms which don't require you to first filter out any utilitarian aspects? It sounds to me that your formula is "form + utility - utility = form = art, but form + nothing - nothing = form = non-art."

Would it be helpful to imagine that Frank Lloyd Wright and/or one of his favorite students created something similar to Kapoor's work? If a student under Wright's guidance had created Cloud Gate to meld with its environment, to create a microcosm into which the viewer could gaze at a view of his world reflected back at him from a different perspective so that he could experience, in a flowing, massive, liquid form, the whole of the sky and the earth at once and the feeling of living among the clouds, would it earn Wright and his student one of your cute nicknames like "Kapoop"? Or would you praise it for the glory of its expressive power, perhaps in agreement with one of Sherri Tracinski's glowing reviews which explained that it was a rational mode of joyous expression?

J

[Roger Bissell]

What is your point? Why should I waste my time (which I already did) perusing Kapoor's (or should I say: Kapoop?) sculpted dung-heaps and assorted other objects? You're joking, right?

I am engaged in a serious inquiry into the melodic, harmonic, and rhythmic means by which music conveys/expresses emotion, and I am trying to carve out a common ground on which Dragonfly and I can dialogue about it. Schubert's songs are important to Dragonfly, songs in general are important to me, and the principles I intend to apply to songs in general, I have offered to apply to the ones Dragonfly likes. He was quick to assert that Schubert's songs are great and that he loves them, but he has not been so quick to provide two or three names of Schubert songs that he thinks are the best, and why he likes them. That's fine. Everything in good time. We are operating in good faith here -- both that we share a common desire to understand and share insights, and that we have lives that demand our time and energy, leaving less for this particular part of the universe than others might wish us to spend.

As for providing "contrast material" to my Schubert analysis, that would appropriately be songs by other great classical song-writers as well as (in my opinion) great 20th century American song-writers. As well as not-so-great songs and/or songs by not-so-great song-writers. As well as opera arias and pieces from cantatas, etc. As well as non-vocal themes from musical works other than songs.

You see, there is a LOT of contrast just within the broad umbrella of melodic music, without having to jump over into another, entirely different form of art, for God knows what reason...

You were joking, right?

REB

Why would you think that I'm joking? Not only are you engaged in an inquiry into the means by which music conveys or expresses emotion, but your essay makes it clear that you're also engaged in a similar inquiry regarding architecture.

You seem to believe that you can experience profound aesthetic depth and discern an architect's metaphysical value-judgments by viewing the abstract forms of his work. You seem to think that you can detect that one architect's work is "rationally ordered, and seamlessly joined with nature," that it "tells us that the world makes sense" and that it "seeks to command nature by obeying it," and that another architect is trying to "command nature by asserting whim." Apparently you believe that you possess the visual sensitivity to recognize meaningful content in the subtle abstract forms, colors, textures and proportions of architecture (to the point of implying in your essay that others who don't recognize such depth might benefit from your wisdom). Yet, at the same time, you can see no expression at all in the forms, colors, textures and proportions of abstract sculptures?

That's like someone claiming to hear all sorts of grand, sweeping, emotion-laden themes in a work of music which was written to accompany a coronation, but that similar compositions, which were intended to be independent of such events, are completely meaningless, empty of emotion, and are incapable of conveying anything (other than the typical Objectivist cliches that the artist is expressing the view that the universe is unknowable or that he seeks to command nature by asserting whim over it), isn't it?

You say that "if one can mentally filter out the physically utilitarian aspects of a given human creation's use, so that one can discern a microcosm conveying metaphysical value judgments, then that human creation is a re-creation of reality."

Well, then look at Kapoor's Cloud Gate as a modern Brandenburg Gate, filter out the utilitarian aspects, and discern the metaphysical value judgments. Or look at some of his other works which don't require the filtering out of utilitarian aspects. After all, if we filter out the utilitarian aspects of one of Frank Lloyd Wright's buildings, what are we left with but abstract forms? Why is it that you think you can see "a balance of forces" and "dynamic harmonies" in the forms of a utilitarian structure minus its utilitarian aspects, but you can't see such things in forms which don't require you to first filter out any utilitarian aspects? It sounds to me that your formula is "form + utility - utility = form = art, but form + nothing - nothing = form = non-art."

Would it be helpful to imagine that Frank Lloyd Wright and/or one of his favorite students created something similar to Kapoor's work? If a student under Wright's guidance had created Cloud Gate to meld with its environment, to create a microcosm into which the viewer could gaze at a view of his world reflected back at him from a different perspective so that he could experience, in a flowing, massive, liquid form, the whole of the sky and the earth at once and the feeling of living among the clouds, would it earn Wright and his student one of your cute nicknames like "Kapoop"? Or would you praise it for the glory of its expressive power, perhaps in agreement with one of Sherri Tracinski's glowing reviews which explained that it was a rational mode of joyous expression?

J

Jonathan, I'm sorry, I couldn't get past the "sculptures" that looked like cow-pies. Thus, my label of "Kapoop" for their "creator."

You say that Kapoor has produced worthy abstract sculptures that present microcosms embodying significant perspective on the world? Fine, then, by my (understanding of Rand's) definition, they're art.

I have no axe to grind over Kapoor, and I have no desire to exclude him from the category of artist or his work from the category of art. I was just very startled to start out my perusal of his supposedly profound, artistic work with not-so-abstract images of cow (or some animal) dung.

Maybe they were just supposed to be "significant forms" and only accidentally or coincidentally resembled animal dung. Maybe they were deliberately constructed to resemble animal dung in order to make some kind of point, that "significant form" is everywhere, in everything. I don't know, and it really doesn't make much difference. I find them not interesting enough to ponder or comment on, as to what they might "express." To each his own.

But let me be fair to Kapoor and others like him. I have described my view of artworks as being like portholes or portals through which we see (or hear) into an imaginary world. And a given portal may allow us to see only a very small, though significance-laden portion of that world -- such as a still-life painting of a bowl of fruit on a table in a room. If an abstract painting of a bowl of fruit is art (i.e., a microcosm), then so would be an abstract sculpture of a bowl of fruit. If Rembrandt's painting of a side of beef is art, then so would be an abstract sculpture of a side of beef. And if a painting of cow dung is art, then so would be an abstract sculpture of cow dung. To deny this would be similar to the error in one of Plato's dialogues where one of the participants denied that there could be Forms of anything imperfect such as dirt.

Having said this, I still have to ask: why? Why spend time contemplating and pondering the meaning or significance expressed by a painting of a side of beef -- let alone an abstract, sculpted blob? If one's ultimate response to something is: yes, OK, it's art, but so what? then what has the artist accomplished? Is he trying to say something profound about the world?

In viewing a bowl of fruit or a landscape, one might see vibrancy and the flourishing of life (implying a world where life can be successful), or one might see decay and sickly fruits or trees (implying a world where life is not successful). And either of these views presents real facts about the world. Some things DO survive and flourish, and some things DO decay and die. But which of these perspectives is important TO YOU? Which one do you want to view and savor and ponder? That is the ~subject~ aspect of art.

Then there is the ~style~ aspect of art. Given a choice, I would rather view a stunningly rendered painting of decayed fruit than a schlocky painting of healthy fruit. However, if those are not the only choices available, I'll take what's behind Door #3, thank you!

As for my supposed formula, I think you are missing an element or two. Here's how I would express it:

(1) form presenting a microcosm embodying a significant perspective on the world = art. Therefore, form presenting a microcosm embodying a significant perspective on the world + utility - utility = form presenting a microcosm embodying a significant perspective on the world = art.

(2) Form NOT presenting a microcosm embodying a significant perspective on the world IS NOT art. Therefore, form NOT presenting a microcosm embodying a significant perspective on the world + utility - utility = form NOT presenting a microcosm embodying a significant perspective on the world IS NOT art.

If Wright's work fits (1), it's art. If it fits (2), it's not. Same for Gehry's work. Same for Kapoor's work. Simple as that, on my view. And if those things are art, they are art, quite apart from whether the perspective of the world they present is true or false.

REB

[Ellen Stuttle]

But let me be fair to Kapoor and others like him. I have described my view of artworks as being like portholes or portals through which we see (or hear) into an imaginary world. And a given portal may allow us to see only a very small, though significance-laden portion of that world -- such as a still-life painting of a bowl of fruit on a table in a room. If an abstract painting of a bowl of fruit is art (i.e., a microcosm), then so would be an abstract sculpture of a bowl of fruit. If Rembrandt's painting of a side of beef is art, then so would be an abstract sculpture of a side of beef. And if a painting of cow dung is art, then so would be an abstract sculpture of cow dung. To deny this would be similar to the error in one of Plato's dialogues where one of the participants denied that there could be Forms of anything imperfect such as dirt.

Having said this, I still have to ask: why? Why spend time contemplating and pondering the meaning or significance expressed by a painting of a side of beef -- let alone an abstract, sculpted blob? If one's ultimate response to something is: yes, OK, it's art, but so what? then what has the artist accomplished? Is he trying to say something profound about the world?

There's one of the ways in which I part company with Rand on art, her objection (and reasons for her objection) to the Rembrandt side of beef. Why does one need to "[contemplate and ponder] the meaning or significance expressed"? Where from comes any requirement that Rembrandt (or any painter) has to be trying to "say something profound about the world"? Maybe he thought the side of beef was beautiful. (Is there something inherently non-beautiful about it?) Maybe he was interested by the technical challenge (as Chopin was in writing his Etudes). Maybe both. Why is there any need for whatever he was doing being justified? The painting is an expert painting. Maybe people like to look at it to appreciate its expertise and/or because it shows them the beauty in a side of beef.

As for my supposed formula, I think you are missing an element or two. Here's how I would express it:

(1) form presenting a microcosm embodying a significant perspective on the world = art. Therefore, form presenting a microcosm embodying a significant perspective on the world + utility - utility = form presenting a microcosm embodying a significant perspective on the world = art.

(2) Form NOT presenting a microcosm embodying a significant perspective on the world IS NOT art. Therefore, form NOT presenting a microcosm embodying a significant perspective on the world + utility - utility = form NOT presenting a microcosm embodying a significant perspective on the world IS NOT art.

If Wright's work fits (1), it's art. If it fits (2), it's not. Same for Gehry's work. Same for Kapoor's work. Simple as that, on my view. And if those things are art, they are art, quite apart from whether the perspective of the world they present is true or false.

Well, if this is an attempt to provide an objective criterion, I don't see that it works. Who's to say whose perspective on the world is "a significant perspective" and whose isn't.

As to Kapoor, I only just heard of him through Jonathan's post. Jonathan sent me some links to a few of his works, but none of those looked to me like heaps of cow dung. I'd be curious to see whatever examples you found to which you're referring.

Ellen

___

[Michael Stuart Kelly]

Roger,

I have an overly-delayed analysis of your essay coming. For now, I want to say that I agree with your microcosm view or "window to microcosm" view of art. An artist essentially shows us what he finds to be important and his view is limited by not being omniscient. A microcosm is all he can show us.

As you know, I am on a cognitive/normative kick right now, I extend this categorization even to the concept of microcosm. Ellen took issue with the "say something profound about the world" approach to art, and when it is expressed like that, I agree with her. However, if it is seen as "say something about what is important in the artist's world," this takes on an entirely new perspective.

In the first case, I believe the cognitive element is stronger. I can step back and say something profound about the world, or something profound about you, or something profound about cow dung without emphasizing the normative. It can contain normative commentary, but it is in the third person so to speak. So the microcosm is a microcosm of the whole world for everybody. It is not personal.

In the second case, the microcosm is very strongly normative. As an example, the artist can say something about what is important to him in his world, how he feels about you or what went through his mind when he stepped in a pile of cow dung. It can (and must) contain cognitive elements, but it is entirely in the first person. So it is personal to the artist, not to mankind. It is only universal to the extent the artist's personal affairs and thoughts universally reflect what others experience.

I mentioned before, one of the most important functions of art that Rand dismissed is communication. You called art a "cognitive tool" in your essay, implying something akin to concept formation. Yet even you asked in your post above:

If one's ultimate response to something is: yes, OK, it's art, but so what? then what has the artist accomplished? Is he trying to say something profound about the world?

You almost always "say" something to somebody. Even when you are talking to yourself, you are somebody, but I will not force the issue in that case. On a major work basis, can you imagine Rand writing Atlas Shrugged for her own personal pleasure, as a cognitive tool only, without an audience in mind—not even an imaginary audience? I'm sorry, but I just can't see it.

She wrote it to communicate by showing. That is what artists do. That is the difference between fiction and nonfiction. Fiction communicates by showing whereas nonfiction communicates by telling. Both communicate.

I want to speculate on the side of beef issue from this third person/first person perspective. Here is Rand's statement (from "The Goal of My Writing" in The Romantic Manifesto):

The subject is not the only attribute of art, but it is the fundamental one, it is the end to which all the others are the means. In most esthetic theories, however, the end—the subject—is omitted from consideration, and only the means are regarded as esthetically relevant. Such theories set up a false dichotomy and claim that a slob portrayed by the technical means of a genius is preferable to a goddess portrayed by the technique of an amateur. I hold that both are esthetically offensive; but while the second is merely esthetic incompetence, the first is an esthetic crime.

There is no dichotomy, no necessary conflict between ends and means. The end does not justify the means—neither in ethics nor in esthetics. And neither do the means justify the end: there is no esthetic justification for the spectacle of Rembrandt's great artistic skill employed to portray a side of beef.

That particular painting may be taken as a symbol of everything I am opposed to in art and in literature. At the age of seven, I could not understand why anyone should wish to paint or to admire pictures of dead fish, garbage cans or fat peasant women with triple chins. Today, I understand the psychological causes of such esthetic phenomena—and the more I understand, the more I oppose them.

In art, and in literature, the end and the means, or the subject and the style, must be worthy of each other.

Here is where even your theory differs from hers. You would claim that the end is the microcosm Rembrandt presented, not the portrayal of a side of beef, which to her was the main "metaphysical value judgment" since it was the subject painted. And even that microcosm can be divided up. If Rembrandt's intent is to claim that a side of beef is the highest man can achieve in life (the "third person" cognitive view), then Rand's comments are on the money.

But what if it is in the first person and this is a window into his soul on a more personal basis? Not preaching how others in the world should be, but showing something important about himself, about how he thinks one must look at things? Isn't it possible that Rembrandt could be saying that he always sees the world as structured and ordered, with alignment of colors and shapes, with a special inner glow from the marvel of its very existence, and that it is important to do and feel this even when looking at something common like a side of beef?

In both views, the art work continues to be an end in itself. This is a case where the viewer will literally get out of it what he puts into it. Both elements are present. It depends on the perspective one wants to adopt.

This is one instance where I believe Rand was right and profound if her comments are restricted to a specific approach ("third person," but I am saying that in general terms and as a metaphor only), but do not apply to the entirety of a field of inquiry (other perspectives).

(btw - I looked at some images of Kapoor's works and I failed to see the inner poop shining through. I saw things like half an egg shell "Mother is a Void" and a filled condom "Featherlicious" for representational, and really smooth and rounded forms with names like "Cloud Gate" and "Blue Void" for abstract, including some more earthy shapes like mountains and rough hewn boulders. One article stated Kapoor's themes are "ritual, the ambiguity of reality, the male-female dichotomy, and sexuality." This sounds a bit like overly-inflated profundity to me, but there is definitely a core there to an approach to life, or in your terms, a core to delimiting a microcosm.)

Michael

[Jonathan]

I'll have more to add to the discussion later, but for now...

I'm guessing that these may be the pieces that Roger was referring to:

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/arts/graphics/2.../06/klein10.jpg

http://www.contemporaryindianart.com/image...sh_kapoor-1.jpg

http://www.toronto.ca/culture/images/mountain_200.jpg

http://www.museomadre.it/artisti/opere360/Kapoor.jpg

They don't look like poop to me. They're not my favorites of Kapoor's work, but they remind me somewhat of the feeling that I get from the tranquil microcosms of traditional Japanese rock gardens, like this:

http://www.terragalleria.com/images/asia/japa6260.jpeg

Wait a second! That kind of looks like poop to me now. Damn it, Roger, now all I see is poop in everything that I look at! Thanks a lot.

;-)

J

Edited February 6, 2007 by Jonathan

[Ellen Stuttle]

I continue to be rushed. I hope to say more later, but at the moment about all I have time for is this comment on the Rand quote Michael posted in post #81: YECK!

I looked at the links J. posted. The only one in which I saw some resemblance to cow pats was this one (I've seen numerous actual cow pats in my life; where there are horses, there are often cows):

http://www.museomadre.it/artisti/opere360/Kapoor.jpg

(I like the arrangement, btw, vague resemblance to cow pats in three of the shapes or not. And actually, cow pats aren't what I'd call ugly in their shape.)

Ellen

___

[Ellen Stuttle]

A few quick comments about the idea that anything an artist presents, the artist is considering "important" in the way Rand was talking about with her idea of "metaphysical value-judgments."

That's an odd usage, I think, to begin with, since she wasn't meaning "metaphysics" as a branch of philosophy; instead she was talking about a feeling of the human's relationship to the cosmos, whether the human views the cosmos as hospitable or not to human life, and other issues of what one might call "cosmic" significance pertaining to the human's situation vis-a-vis the universe.

It isn't the case that every artistic production, or even anywhere near the majority of such productions, is making a statement on the sort of issues Rand meant. Sometimes, yes. Examples are: Dante's The Divine Comedy, Milton's Paradise Lost, Goethe's Faust, Rand's Atlas Shrugged -- or an example from music, Beethoven's 9th Symphony. All these works are deliberately "saying something" about the human status. But many art works are not. I think that instead of describing what the artist does as selecting what's "important," in the sense Rand meant, the more accurate generalization is that the artist is selecting what the artist finds interesting. And there are many, many possible sources of interest, many, many reasons why an artist might find some particular visual image, musical thought, story idea "interesting."

E.g., something which happened for me the night of February 2. We got our first real snow of the season that day. I love snow -- up to a point; there is such a thing as "too much," but a nice covering of snowy white, I love the sight of. And I enjoy shoveling our drive; I do it with a shovel, taking my time about it, provided the weather isn't "too cold." It's a winter wonderland sort of thing for me.

That night the snow was damp, and was sticking to the trees, outlining branches. The clouds were breaking up, getting "high" in appearance (rather than "lowering," as they'd been earlier) and jagged. The moon was full or near-full. At one moment when I was out there shoveling (this was well past sunset, about 9:00 pm), I turned and glanced up at the moon through the branches of the pinoak near the driveway -- and gasped in pleasure at the beauty of what I saw. The moon was just framed -- from the exact angle where I was standing -- in a diamond form among the tree branches, and in turn in a jagged-edged rift in the clouds. The branches of the tree, all snow-lined, fuzzy with snow, formed a tracery -- like a really neat abstract painting -- spreading out from the central fissure framing the moon. Were I a painter, I would have painted that scene. I wished that I could paint so I could have memorialized the occasion. Why? Because I would have been saying something about cosmic significances? Not at all. Because it was so enchanting to me, because I wanted to capture it, to hold it, to have it as a record.

I think it's just this sort of impetus from which a great many paintings come.

Again, another issue, that of communication. Could I have painted that moon-through-snowy-trees moment, I wouldn't have been doing so to "communicate" anything to anyone except myself. Nor do I think that "communicating" in the sense of delivering a message is a prime purpose of art. Sometimes, yes, the artist has a particular message the artist wants to convey. But I think the primary issue is the desire to give form, for the artist's own sake, to whatever type of expression is involved. Rand herself, on that one, said that her primary goal in writing Atlas was to project the ideal man. It was something which she wanted to see projected which was first and foremost, not telling other people -- although Atlas does become didactic.

When I was a child, I used to make up stories a lot for my own amusement. Many children do this. I think it's the child's own pleasure which is the main impetus. At least it was in my case. Some of my stories -- they were better described as story/games, imaginal realms I enacted -- I never even told to anyone else.

I had several imaginal realms back then. I called them "Kingdoms." I'd gotten the name by virtue of completely misunderstanding a line I'd heard from Shakespeare's Richard III (I didn't know then where the line came from): "A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse." The line as I heard it and just wrote it is differently punctuated from the correct punctuation. I thought that what the person was saying was that he was making a "kingdom for a horse," and I grooved on that idea. Thus I started to call my imaginary realms "Kingdoms": the Lion Kingdom, the Horse Kingdom, the Doll Kingdom, the Indian [American Indian] Kingdom, the Wizard of Oz Kingdom. The latter three I played with friends; we made up stories together. The first two were private games -- and the first, which was magical, I never even told anyone about until I was years older.

I think that the sort of thing I'm describing from my childhood is probably part of the background of a lot of people who become novelists -- and that the primary joy of it isn't really to communicate, except to oneself. Instead, the primary joy is that of tracing the trails of imagination, pursuing (a phrase Susanne Langer used) "an interesting idea to think."

Just some quick comments, sketchy. But maybe of interest to some of you.

Ellen

___

[Jonathan]

Jonathan, I'm sorry, I couldn't get past the "sculptures" that looked like cow-pies. Thus, my label of "Kapoop" for their "creator."

Well, okay, but I don't see "cow pies" in any of his work.

You say that Kapoor has produced worthy abstract sculptures that present microcosms embodying significant perspective on the world? Fine, then, by my (understanding of Rand's) definition, they're art.

Great.

But let me be fair to Kapoor and others like him. I have described my view of artworks as being like portholes or portals through which we see (or hear) into an imaginary world. And a given portal may allow us to see only a very small, though significance-laden portion of that world -- such as a still-life painting of a bowl of fruit on a table in a room. If an abstract painting of a bowl of fruit is art (i.e., a microcosm), then so would be an abstract sculpture of a bowl of fruit.

And I think that an abstract expression of an action or feeling (attributes or emotions as opposed to objects) would also qualify as a microcosmic expression, whether it was accomplished through a musical composition or through arrangements of forms and colors.

If Rembrandt's painting of a side of beef is art, then so would be an abstract sculpture of a side of beef. And if a painting of cow dung is art, then so would be an abstract sculpture of cow dung. To deny this would be similar to the error in one of Plato's dialogues where one of the participants denied that there could be Forms of anything imperfect such as dirt.

Having said this, I still have to ask: why? Why spend time contemplating and pondering the meaning or significance expressed by a painting of a side of beef -- let alone an abstract, sculpted blob? If one's ultimate response to something is: yes, OK, it's art, but so what? then what has the artist accomplished? Is he trying to say something profound about the world?

In viewing a bowl of fruit or a landscape, one might see vibrancy and the flourishing of life (implying a world where life can be successful), or one might see decay and sickly fruits or trees (implying a world where life is not successful).

Decay in still lifes is sometimes used to imply the feeling of superfluous abundance -- so much wealth that some of it is going to waste. The portrayal of "sickly trees" might have nothing to do with implying "a world where life is not successful." The artist could be trying to convey a sense of, say, mystery, or some other mood, symbol or metaphor. The fact that he hasn't illustrated some ideal that you would advise him to illustrate in the manner that you'd advise him to illustrate it doesn't mean that his work means to him or to anyone else what you interpret it to mean.

And either of these views presents real facts about the world. Some things DO survive and flourish, and some things DO decay and die. But which of these perspectives is important TO YOU? Which one do you want to view and savor and ponder? That is the ~subject~ aspect of art.

An artist or viewer may want to savor and ponder the importance of the idea of mortality for any number of positive, rational, life-affirming reasons. A painting which includes death may not be about glorifying death, but about how we deal with it, or it may express the value of that which has been lost, or the importance of living life to its fullest in the time that we have. Is it your view that art should avoid confronting the inevitability of our demise and the implications it might have on the way we should live our lives? Is the idea that to ponder death in art, as one of countless important factors in human existence, is to necessarily place supreme metaphysical importance on it, and, therefore, to reveal that one has a "death-worshiping" metaphysical orientation? I hope that's not what you're saying.

Then there is the ~style~ aspect of art. Given a choice, I would rather view a stunningly rendered painting of decayed fruit than a schlocky painting of healthy fruit. However, if those are not the only choices available, I'll take what's behind Door #3, thank you!

I'd rather view what moves the artist, and I'd prefer to experience his vision and discover how I might relate to it, perhaps even unexpectedly, rather than make a list of safe, acceptable expressions and styles that I expect or demand to see.

As for my supposed formula, I think you are missing an element or two. Here's how I would express it:

(1) form presenting a microcosm embodying a significant perspective on the world = art. Therefore, form presenting a microcosm embodying a significant perspective on the world + utility - utility = form presenting a microcosm embodying a significant perspective on the world = art.

(2) Form NOT presenting a microcosm embodying a significant perspective on the world IS NOT art. Therefore, form NOT presenting a microcosm embodying a significant perspective on the world + utility - utility = form NOT presenting a microcosm embodying a significant perspective on the world IS NOT art.

As Ellen wrote, "Who's to say whose perspective on the world is 'a significant perspective' and whose isn't?"

Roger, you've mentioned elsewhere that you've read "Color For Men" in order to learn how to color-coordinate your wardrobe so that it complements your skin tones. Good for you, but I'd humbly suggest that there might be at least an outside chance that my understanding of, experience with, and sensitivity to color could possibly be at least a little more advanced than that. So whose visual/spatial/emotional-response capacity is the standard for deciding what is and is not a visual "microcosm embodying a significant perspective"? Mine, yours, Ayn Rand's? All of the above, each according to his or her context?

J

[Jonathan]

Ellen,

Awesome post, #84.

J

[Roger Bissell]

Responding partly to Michael and partly to Jonathan...

Roger,

I have an overly-delayed analysis of your essay coming. For now, I want to say that I agree with your microcosm view or "window to microcosm" view of art. An artist essentially shows us what he finds to be important and his view is limited by not being omniscient. A microcosm is all he can show us.

As you know, I am on a cognitive/normative kick right now, I extend this categorization even to the concept of microcosm. Ellen took issue with the "say something profound about the world" approach to art, and when it is expressed like that, I agree with her. However, if it is seen as "say something about what is important in the artist's world," this takes on an entirely new perspective.

In the first case, I believe the cognitive element is stronger. I can step back and say something profound about the world, or something profound about you, or something profound about cow dung without emphasizing the normative. It can contain normative commentary, but it is in the third person so to speak. So the microcosm is a microcosm of the whole world for everybody. It is not personal.

In the second case, the microcosm is very strongly normative. As an example, the artist can say something about what is important to him in his world, how he feels about you or what went through his mind when he stepped in a pile of cow dung. It can (and must) contain cognitive elements, but it is entirely in the first person. So it is personal to the artist, not to mankind. It is only universal to the extent the artist's personal affairs and thoughts universally reflect what others experience.

I mentioned before, one of the most important functions of art that Rand dismissed is communication. You called art a "cognitive tool" in your essay, implying something akin to concept formation. Yet even you asked in your post above:

If one's ultimate response to something is: yes, OK, it's art, but so what? then what has the artist accomplished? Is he trying to say something profound about the world?

You almost always "say" something to somebody. Even when you are talking to yourself, you are somebody, but I will not force the issue in that case. On a major work basis, can you imagine Rand writing Atlas Shrugged for her own personal pleasure, as a cognitive tool only, without an audience in mind—not even an imaginary audience? I'm sorry, but I just can't see it.

She wrote it to communicate by showing. That is what artists do. That is the difference between fiction and nonfiction. Fiction communicates by showing whereas nonfiction communicates by telling. Both communicate.

I want to speculate on the side of beef issue from this third person/first person perspective. Here is Rand's statement (from "The Goal of My Writing" in The Romantic Manifesto):

The subject is not the only attribute of art, but it is the fundamental one, it is the end to which all the others are the means. In most esthetic theories, however, the end—the subject—is omitted from consideration, and only the means are regarded as esthetically relevant. Such theories set up a false dichotomy and claim that a slob portrayed by the technical means of a genius is preferable to a goddess portrayed by the technique of an amateur. I hold that both are esthetically offensive; but while the second is merely esthetic incompetence, the first is an esthetic crime.

There is no dichotomy, no necessary conflict between ends and means. The end does not justify the means—neither in ethics nor in esthetics. And neither do the means justify the end: there is no esthetic justification for the spectacle of Rembrandt's great artistic skill employed to portray a side of beef.

That particular painting may be taken as a symbol of everything I am opposed to in art and in literature. At the age of seven, I could not understand why anyone should wish to paint or to admire pictures of dead fish, garbage cans or fat peasant women with triple chins. Today, I understand the psychological causes of such esthetic phenomena—and the more I understand, the more I oppose them.

In art, and in literature, the end and the means, or the subject and the style, must be worthy of each other.

Here is where even your theory differs from hers. You would claim that the end is the microcosm Rembrandt presented, not the portrayal of a side of beef, which to her was the main "metaphysical value judgment" since it was the subject painted. And even that microcosm can be divided up. If Rembrandt's intent is to claim that a side of beef is the highest man can achieve in life (the "third person" cognitive view), then Rand's comments are on the money.

But what if it is in the first person and this is a window into his soul on a more personal basis? Not preaching how others in the world should be, but showing something important about himself, about how he thinks one must look at things? Isn't it possible that Rembrandt could be saying that he always sees the world as structured and ordered, with alignment of colors and shapes, with a special inner glow from the marvel of its very existence, and that it is important to do and feel this even when looking at something common like a side of beef?

In both views, the art work continues to be an end in itself. This is a case where the viewer will literally get out of it what he puts into it. Both elements are present. It depends on the perspective one wants to adopt.

This is one instance where I believe Rand was right and profound if her comments are restricted to a specific approach ("third person," but I am saying that in general terms and as a metaphor only), but do not apply to the entirety of a field of inquiry (other perspectives).

(btw - I looked at some images of Kapoor's works and I failed to see the inner poop shining through. I saw things like half an egg shell "Mother is a Void" and a filled condom "Featherlicious" for representational, and really smooth and rounded forms with names like "Cloud Gate" and "Blue Void" for abstract, including some more earthy shapes like mountains and rough hewn boulders. One article stated Kapoor's themes are "ritual, the ambiguity of reality, the male-female dichotomy, and sexuality." This sounds a bit like overly-inflated profundity to me, but there is definitely a core there to an approach to life, or in your terms, a core to delimiting a microcosm.)

Michael

Michael, I think you are onto something interesting with your third person/first person analysis. It reminds me of Rand's distinction between (metaphysical) sense of life and "psycho-epistemological sense of life." The latter is what she says is behind our response to someone's style. It reflects a view of man's mental functioning -- rather than a view of the world and man's place in it. She did not back off of her earlier denigration of the Rembrandt painting of the side of beef, but it seems clear that, to be logically consistent, she would have had to praise Rembrandt's "psycho-epistemological sense of life." Probably the reason she didn't was either that (1) she thought the artistic obscenity (her view, not mine) of Rembrandt's talent being used to paint such a subject outweighed the impressive display of talent, or that (2) she simply didn't want to admit she needed to revise what she said earlier about Rembrandt. (Or both.)

To what extent your distinction matches or nudges into Rand's distinction is unclear. But do take a closer look at what she said about style and p-e sense of life and tell me what you think...

As for the "cow dung" sightings, I will admit that I did not enlarge the images to get a detailed look at them, so I will plead myopia or the vagueries of distant viewing. However, on the Portfolio page, without expanding the images, I think that at least ~some~ of them look like ~some~ species or other of fecal matter. But if they're not supposed to be anything in particular other than "significant form," all I can say is, they're not very significant to me!

I agree with Jonathan that portraying unhealthy or decaying things in art may be for a number of purposes, other than conveying one's view that "all is corruption" or some such negative worldview. I am most interested in art that does one of two things: (1) conveys a broad general view of life or man, or (2) conveys a distinctive view of how one should "look at" the world. The first pertains more to the subject and the nature of the world, the second more to the style and the nature of the cognitive process one has to use to grasp the work. And Rand really covers these in her respective concepts of "sense of life" and "psycho-epistemological sense of life." Or, in the idea that art embodies either metaphysical value-judgments or cognitive value-judgments or both. I concede that some of Kapoor's work offers one or both kinds of things, and is thus significant, whether or not it happens to "ring my bell."

As for "who is to say" whose art is significant...I think it's clear that while Wright and Gehry portray much different views of the world, they both have something significant to say about man's environment, and that they count as great art, whether "true" or "false." There ~is~ architecture that is just plain shoddy stuff that doesn't "add up" to anything, either "true" or "false", and it is not great art, but mediocre or bad art. But as long as you are trying to create a stylized image of man's environment, you are creating art (architecture). As long as you are trying to create a stylized image of man, or other living beings or objects from human life or nature, you are creating art (painting or sculpture). I will let the experts evaluate the visual arts, as to whether they are great, good, so-so, bad, or whatever. I merely note what message (if any) I'm getting from a particular painting or building or sculpture, and I note how well it seems to me that the artist is getting his message across, and I rank it (as good or bad art) accordingly, in my own personal, informal hierarchy. And I also note whether I agree with that message, and I evaluate the artwork as "true" or "false" (Rand might say "good" or "evil"), accordingly. But that is a separate evaluation, one more on an emotional level. It is not an aesthetic evaluation, and it is very harmful to conflate such evaluations with the first kind of evaluation. Rand herself pointed out this distinction, but I think that she was not consistent in following it (e.g., the Rembrandt example).

REB

[cjsmall]

As for "who is to say" whose art is significant...I think it's clear that while Wright and Gehry portray much different views of the world, they both have something significant to say about man's environment, and that they count as great art, whether "true" or "false." There ~is~ architecture that is just plain shoddy stuff that doesn't "add up" to anything, either "true" or "false", and it is not great art, but mediocre or bad art. But as long as you are trying to create a stylized image of man's environment, you are creating art (architecture)

Roger:

While I do not necessarily disagree with the main point of your statement above, as an architect who actually lived and studied at the Taliesin Fellowship (Wright's School) back in the '70s, I would be very curious to hear your interpretation of what Frank Ghery is actually conveying about man and/or his environment that places it in the realm of high art.

My own interpretation is that his work is the ultimate architectural expression of nihilism. I see it as nihilistic in both its manner of creation as well as in its end result. On my scale of evaluation, I have to place the nihilistic far below the "mediocre". I think it is only fair to let you know where I am coming from, but I would truly be interested in hearing your (or anyone else's) assessment of the man and his work.

Regards,

--

Jeff

[Michael Stuart Kelly]

Jeff,

I was not that familiar with Frank Gehry's work, so due to your post, I did a Google image search.

I admit that I have no affinity with most everything I saw. Some of his buildings look like he took models of skyscrapers made out of soft clay, then squashed them in different manners and used that as his final form. Other things I saw looked like he made a building in the shape of a crumpled piece of paper, a busted guitar, etc.

The kind of architecture I saw was not even portrayed in The Fountainhead as part of the work of the bad guys.

I include this kind of architecture as art, but I agree with you about it being nihilistic. I would call it nihilistic art. I fully agree that it is not mediocre. It delivers the message of whim imposed on human reality with complete competence.

However, I like his some of his work in a Disney amusement park spirit of funhouse, where bent mirrors and twisted forms give you a friendly jab in the ribs by creating optical illusions. He even did some work for Disney, but I don't think amusement-park fun was his intent in most of his work. I certainly would not want to live in an amusement park or conduct non-related business there. But for silly entertainment, it is fun.

The best image I found that captures the true spirit of Gehry is the one below. Here we can almost see him weighing in on the controversy about Ayn Rand's name with his own version of the Remington-Rand typewriter:

Michael

[Dragonfly]

I include this kind of architecture as art, but I agree with you about it being nihilistic. I would call it nihilistic art. I fully agree that it is not mediocre. It delivers the message of whim imposed on human reality with complete competence.

I think you should think twice before you put him into a box with the condemning Objectivist labels "nihilistic" and "whim". I'm not really a fan of his work, but what I see is a playful breaking with the conventional styles, turning something that is inherently static into unconventional dynamic structures. Labeling artists according to their alleged "sense of life" or "psycho-epistemology" is one of those things I detest in Objectivism. Such judgments are always highly subjective. I can for example equally well see the spirit of Rand's "tiddlywink music" in his works.

[Jonathan]

Here's a pretty safe project by Gehry which shouldn't make Objectivists scream "nihilism, nihilism!":

http://www.realestatejournal.com/propertyr...113-silver.html

Like the works by Frank Lloyd Wright that Objectivists are comfortable with, it directly mimics things from reality (like Wright mimicked a waterfall, forest, etc.), and spells things out nice and clearly.

Personally, I like some of Gehry's work and some of it I don't. That which I like, I like for the same evil reasons that I like improvisational music, such as jazz (that destructive form of mindless nihilism): it's fun, free, intuitive, sleek, sexy, spontaneous, genuine, and not rigid, conformist, unoriginal, formulaic, boring or lifeless. Oh, and of course I also like it because its goal is to destroy the world.

Roger:

While I do not necessarily disagree with the main point of your statement above, as an architect who actually lived and studied at the Taliesin Fellowship (Wright's School) back in the '70s, I would be very curious to hear your interpretation of what Frank Ghery is actually conveying about man and/or his environment that places it in the realm of high art.

My own interpretation is that his work is the ultimate architectural expression of nihilism. I see it as nihilistic in both its manner of creation as well as in its end result. On my scale of evaluation, I have to place the nihilistic far below the "mediocre". I think it is only fair to let you know where I am coming from, but I would truly be interested in hearing your (or anyone else's) assessment of the man and his work.

Wow, the Taliesin Fellowship. Will you share with us some of your architecture, Jeffery? I'd love to see it.

J

Edited February 7, 2007 by Jonathan

[Dragonfly]

Oh, and of course I also like it because its goal is to destroy the world.

[James Shay]

Oh, and of course I also like it because its goal is to destroy the world.

I don't like most of Frank Gehry's work, but I believe the Guggenheim Museum he designed in Bilbao, Spain, is a spectacular and timeless building (final judgement reserved until I visit it in person). His work does come across as nihilistic. The shapes are taken from the work of his former friend (former because of the "borrowing"?), Richard Serra, a modern sculptor who creates monstrously foreboding steel shapes, that are squarely in the nihilistic tradition of Twentieth Century art. I think Gehry's greatest contribution to architecture is the software he and his staff continue to develop and create to use for curvelinear shapes. Whatever one thinks of his structures' moods, he is a tremendous builder. To get his work built requires a truly great professional ability.

A couple of months ago the Atlantic magazine had an article on "The One Hundred Most Influential Americans". I believe Wright was the only architect to make the cut. However, there was a sidebar about four very influential architects. The writer included one fictional architect. Guess who? In a completely off-base reading of "The Fountainhead" he castigated Rand and Roark for being the foundation of the "anything goes" architecture we see today.

One of the subjects debated in modern architecture, and art in general, is the role of tradition. From our vantage point today, although perhaps not that of hundreds of years in the future, there does seem to be a great proliferation of all kinds of architectural form that is becoming harder and harder to understand and "read" for architects and the public. There are those, including me, who believe that there needs to be some kind of stronger continuuity across time in artistic disciplines than what we generally see today, although I don't believe in strongly restrictive traditions. My own reading of The Fountainhead is that the writer came down strongly on the "to hell with any tradition" side of the debate. I can very well imagine some of the comments in The Fountainhead directed at Roark also directed at Frank Gehry and other "sculpture at the expense of legibility" architects. To me, they are interchangeable. The great British architect Norman Foster creates buildings that are very modern, but still within Modernism in general. His work would stand in much better for Roark's than Gehry's, but I think Roark comes across more as a Gehry, at least with regard to any relationship at all to history.

I have practiced architecture since 1971 and painted professionally since 1998. I think some of the new sculptural shapes are beautiful as abstract sculptures, often floating above the ground like some enormous piece of modern sculpture. But, I like buildings more connected to the Earth, and buildings that aren't so intimidating and often nihilistic.

[Roger Bissell]

As for "who is to say" whose art is significant...I think it's clear that while Wright and Gehry portray much different views of the world, they both have something significant to say about man's environment, and that they count as great art, whether "true" or "false." There ~is~ architecture that is just plain shoddy stuff that doesn't "add up" to anything, either "true" or "false", and it is not great art, but mediocre or bad art. But as long as you are trying to create a stylized image of man's environment, you are creating art (architecture)

Roger:

While I do not necessarily disagree with the main point of your statement above, as an architect who actually lived and studied at the Taliesin Fellowship (Wright's School) back in the '70s, I would be very curious to hear your interpretation of what Frank Ghery is actually conveying about man and/or his environment that places it in the realm of high art.

My own interpretation is that his work is the ultimate architectural expression of nihilism. I see it as nihilistic in both its manner of creation as well as in its end result. On my scale of evaluation, I have to place the nihilistic far below the "mediocre". I think it is only fair to let you know where I am coming from, but I would truly be interested in hearing your (or anyone else's) assessment of the man and his work.

Regards,

--

Jeff

Jeff, I am not an expert or even student of architecture. In my Journal of Ayn Rand Studies essay that begins this thread (which I hope you have read!), I cited Sherri Tracinski writing in The Intellectual Activist. She compared Wright and Gehry in very detailed terms and attributed quite clear and distinct perspectives on the world to each of them. She said that Fallingwater presents the image of a world in which a certain kind of man seeks to command nature by obeying it, while Gehry’s museum, on the other hand, presents instead the image of a world in which a certain kind of man seeks to command nature by asserting whim. This is her own, Rand-flavored way of contrasting the worldviews of the two architects, as embodied in the particular buildings she analyzed. Tracinski's discussion made perfect sense to me. Thus, even if you are right in abhoring what Gehry is "saying" about the world and man, wouldn't you nonetheless also have to concede that Gehry's work is "high art," in the same way and for the same reasons that Randians concede Kant was a "monumental philosopher", though "monstrously" wrong?

Like it or not, nihilism (or "nihilism"?) is a worldview, just as skepticism is a view about the possibility of knowledge. Remember how Rand talks about the metaphysical value-judgments, and how one of the key issues they deal with is whether the world is intelligible or not? Well, of course the world IS intelligible, and the view that it is not is contradictory and false. But nonetheless "the world is unintelligible" is a real, significant view about the nature of the world (and/or man's consciousness). Similarly, thoroughly consistent nihilism is self-refuting, but when did that stop people from advocating it? Like it or not, Gehry's architecture -- even at its worst (?) -- is metaphysically significant, as well as functional, of course. If it clashes with your own worldview, well, don't go there! :-)

REB

[cjsmall]

I think some of the new sculptural shapes are beautiful as abstract sculptures, often floating above the ground like some enormous piece of modern sculpture. But, I like buildings more connected to the Earth, and buildings that aren't so intimidating and often nihilistic.

Jim hits on an important issue here: the difference between sculpture and architecture. Have you ever seen pictures of the interior of Gehry's buildings or pictures of people interacting with his buildings? Almost all photographs are distant views of the projects that focus on the overall sculptural shape. There is a good reason for this as the interiors have little or nothing to do with the exterior forms and the detailing of the couple of Gehry buildings I have visited are crude. After all, this is the man who jump-started his professional career with the remodeling of his own residence by putting chain link fence on the roof and using tar asphalt for the kitchen floor. (Is that nihilistic enough for you!) The budgets for his recent projects are much larger, but the intent remains the same. The goal is "shock and awe" as that is what gets you published, while having little regard for the physical and psychological requirements of the occupants.

Like it or not, Gehry's architecture -- even at its worst (?) -- is metaphysically significant, as well as functional, of course. If it clashes with your own worldview, well, don't go there! :-)

Roger:

If we were discussing Gehry as a sculptor then I would agree with everything the you said, evaluating his works by the standards you outline and arriving at a judgment that they are simply failures, albeit very expensive ones! (In fact, Gehry pretty much admits that he is really a sculptor here.) But as an architect I have to judge the majority of his work as not just a failure, but as actually harmful. It is harmful because by classifying it as architecture, we rob that term of everything that elevates architecture above mere enclosure; we rob it of everything that can elevate man's life. And that is why, as architecture, I judge it to be nihilistic.

I say all of this without caring whether architecture is ultimately judged to be an art or a craft. In either case it has an important purpose to play in men's lives which goes far beyond simply housing human activity, and that purpose should not be allowed to be undermined.

I could certainly say a lot more about this subject, but I do not want to hijack Roger's original thread.

Regards,

--

Jeff

[cjsmall]

Wow, the Taliesin Fellowship. Will you share with us some of your architecture, Jeffery? I'd love to see it.

Jonathan:

I don't maintain a website for my architectural work (I do have a site for my software development) and almost all of my photographs are slides. Here are a couple of shots from the remodeling of my current house. These were photographs taken for a publication highlighting my use of the inlayed etched brass in the millwork. Not much, but it's something! :-)

Regards,

--

Jeff

[Jonathan]

Have you ever seen pictures of the interior of Gehry's buildings or pictures of people interacting with his buildings? Almost all photographs are distant views of the projects that focus on the overall sculptural shape.

I've seen lots of pictures of interiors.

Also, I live fairly close to the Weisman Art Museum, and I like it better up close and personal than from a distance.

The goal is "shock and awe" as that is what gets you published, while having little regard for the physical and psychological requirements of the occupants.

Yeah, well that's what people said about Wright as well. I think that a lot of Objectivists who love Wright's architecture, had they been born and raised in pre-Wrightian days, would have had fits of hysteria over his work once it came along. They would have been competing with each other over who could screech the loudest in agreeing with the critics of Wright's time who opined that his work was ugly, monstrous, awkward, unmodeled, rude, unfinished, without grace, bizarre, etc.

And let's not pretend that Wright didn't sometimes ignore the physical and psychological requirements of the occupants of his buildings and assert the supremacy of his "whims" instead. He basically told his clients to get lost when they complained about the things that didn't fit their tastes or needs. The last time I visited Taliesin, including the campus buildings, about half of the people on the tour were quite uncomfortable walking through some of the spaces because they were designed to accommodate Wright's short height (5'7").

From what I've heard, the visitors and occupants of Gehry's work love it.

I don't maintain a website for my architectural work (I do have a site for my software development) and almost all of my photographs are slides. Here are a couple of shots from the remodeling of my current house. These were photographs taken for a publication highlighting my use of the inlayed etched brass in the millwork. Not much, but it's something! :-)

Cool! You should share more of your work. Get those slides scanned, man!

J

[cjsmall]

The goal is "shock and awe" as that is what gets you published, while having little regard for the physical and psychological requirements of the occupants.

Yeah, well that's what people said about Wright as well. I think that a lot of Objectivists who love Wright's architecture, had they been born and raised in pre-Wrightian days, would have had fits of hysteria over his work once it came along. They would have been competing with each other over who could screech the loudest in agreeing with the critics of Wright's time who opined that his work was ugly, monstrous, awkward, unmodeled, rude, unfinished, without grace, bizarre, etc.

I agree with you that most people would (and did) find Wright's work shocking upon first encounter. In 1893, William Winslow was Wright's first architectural client as an independent practitioner. (See residence here) He was forced to stop riding public transportation so as to avoid the ridicule that his neighbors extended towards him!

And let's not pretend that Wright didn't sometimes ignore the physical and psychological requirements of the occupants of his buildings and assert the supremacy of his "whims" instead. He basically told his clients to get lost when they complained about the things that didn't fit their tastes or needs. The last time I visited Taliesin, including the campus buildings, about half of the people on the tour were quite uncomfortable walking through some of the spaces because they were designed to accommodate Wright's short height (5'7").

I'm afraid that I have to completely disagree with you on this view. Yes, Wright often designed structures around the scale of the average height man of his day. And there is the well-known story of Wright affectionately yelling at Wes Peters (one of the original Taliesin apprentices who was 6'-4" or taller) "Sit down Wes! You're wrecking the scale of my architecture!" :-) But Taliesin wasn't designed for the general public, it was designed for Wright himself and he was correct in selecting his own standards of scale for that project. However, Wright did not hesitate to take the height of his clients into account and happily designed a number of houses with expanded proportions for those that were larger than himself. The idea that Wright forced clients to accept design features that would have made their lives miserable or difficult is a myth. I have books that show all of Wright's built and unbuilt projects and you might be surprised to see how many times he did unique second and third schemes for clients who were not happy with the original design. On the other hand, Wright did fight mightily for the integrity of his designs and would never agree to an arbitrary demand of a client that did not make sense and would undermine the overall result. He would gladly incorporate any suggestion if he judged it to be worthwhile. In many cases of a conflict where a client begrudgingly acquiesced to Wright's views, the clients came to see that Wright was correct, after spending some time in their structures.

In the first sentence of your quote above, you get things exactly reversed. As a professional (and a genius at that), Wright actually knew a great deal about what actually constituted the physical and psychological requirements of a heroic man and knew how to achieve those ends through his work. Most people do not come close to understanding these issues, even with regards to themselves. And lacking this understanding, clients would often argue with Wright about issues to which he was unwilling to compromise. Yes, there were disagreements, but who had an objective understanding of what was "best" and who was operating upon "whim". This is the most frustrating thing I find with this profession. Most people would not visit a doctor and presume to diagnose and prescribe treatment for themselves. They go to a doctor for his professional expertise and gladly accept it. However, in the realm of architecture, everyone is an "expert"! Each person's functional planning or aesthetic views are actually more valid than that of the lowly architect, whose skill set simply resides in generating construction documents to the clients design specifications and running the regulatory gauntlet of the various building departments and other agencies. It is the great failure of this profession that we have allowed it to be defined in these terms in the publics' mind. So please don't think I'm attacking you for your views, Jonathan. I'm simply trying to correct what I see as a serious and widely held misunderstanding that exists about the proper role that an architect can play - but rarely does. It is not the function of a true architect to simply execute the suggestions of a client. His job is not to just listen to what clients say they want, but to discover what clients actually need and then determine the best way to go about fulfilling those requirements. How successfully they do this will depend upon how well they function as part historian, psychologist, communicator, teacher, logician, engineer, artist and promoter!

From what I've heard, the visitors and occupants of Gehry's work love it.

Having said everything above, I completely understand that Wright's work is not for everyone. It is heroic, value-based and quite demanding of it's occupants in terms of maintaining a higher state of consciousness. Some clients have described the experience of living in one of Wright's houses as demanding that they become better people and I completely understand what they are saying. This type of environment would drive people of a certain psychology nuts. Maybe people who would be uncomfortable in a Wright building might respond more positively to Gehry's work. More power to them! But this does not mean that architectural evaluation is a subjective process. Both Wright's and Gehry's work embody and communicate values which can be objectively identified and analyzed. But this is a rational process that few people are willing to perform. Many humans seem to have a fear of change and experience an immediate emotional reaction when confronted by things that are different. This might be either Wright's or Gehry's work when first encountered. Other people seem to have a predilection for the new and unusual and experience a positive emotional response to that which challenges them. Neither response is necessarily wrong, but both are subjective. An objective person must go beyond these automatic reactions and discover the underlying value and meaning in the new. Only then can an objective evaluation be formulated.

Regards,

--

Jeff

[James Shay]

The goal is "shock and awe" as that is what gets you published, while having little regard for the physical and psychological requirements of the occupants.

Yeah, well that's what people said about Wright as well. I think that a lot of Objectivists who love Wright's architecture, had they been born and raised in pre-Wrightian days, would have had fits of hysteria over his work once it came along. They would have been competing with each other over who could screech the loudest in agreeing with the critics of Wright's time who opined that his work was ugly, monstrous, awkward, unmodeled, rude, unfinished, without grace, bizarre, etc.

I agree with you that most people would (and did) find Wright's work shocking upon first encounter. In 1893, William Winslow was Wright's first architectural client as an independent practitioner. (See residence here) He was forced to stop riding public transportation so as to avoid the ridicule that his neighbors extended towards him!

And let's not pretend that Wright didn't sometimes ignore the physical and psychological requirements of the occupants of his buildings and assert the supremacy of his "whims" instead. He basically told his clients to get lost when they complained about the things that didn't fit their tastes or needs. The last time I visited Taliesin, including the campus buildings, about half of the people on the tour were quite uncomfortable walking through some of the spaces because they were designed to accommodate Wright's short height (5'7").

I'm afraid that I have to completely disagree with you on this view. Yes, Wright often designed structures around the scale of the average height man of his day. And there is the well-known story of Wright affectionately yelling at Wes Peters (one of the original Taliesin apprentices who was 6'-4" or taller) "Sit down Wes! You're wrecking the scale of my architecture!" :-) But Taliesin wasn't designed for the general public, it was designed for Wright himself and he was correct in selecting his own standards of scale for that project. However, Wright did not hesitate to take the height of his clients into account and happily designed a number of houses with expanded proportions for those that were larger than himself. The idea that Wright forced clients to accept design features that would have made their lives miserable or difficult is a myth. I have books that show all of Wright's built and unbuilt projects and you might be surprised to see how many times he did unique second and third schemes for clients who were not happy with the original design. On the other hand, Wright did fight mightily for the integrity of his designs and would never agree to an arbitrary demand of a client that did not make sense and would undermine the overall result. He would gladly incorporate any suggestion if he judged it to be worthwhile. In many cases of a conflict where a client begrudgingly acquiesced to Wright's views, the clients came to see that Wright was correct, after spending some time in their structures.

In the first sentence of your quote above, you get things exactly reversed. As a professional (and a genius at that), Wright actually knew a great deal about what actually constituted the physical and psychological requirements of a heroic man and knew how to achieve those ends through his work. Most people do not come close to understanding these issues, even with regards to themselves. And lacking this understanding, clients would often argue with Wright about issues to which he was unwilling to compromise. Yes, there were disagreements, but who had an objective understanding of what was "best" and who was operating upon "whim". This is the most frustrating thing I find with this profession. Most people would not visit a doctor and presume to diagnose and prescribe treatment for themselves. They go to a doctor for his professional expertise and gladly accept it. However, in the realm of architecture, everyone is an "expert"! Each person's functional planning or aesthetic views are actually more valid than that of the lowly architect, whose skill set simply resides in generating construction documents to the clients design specifications and running the regulatory gauntlet of the various building departments and other agencies. It is the great failure of this profession that we have allowed it to be defined in these terms in the publics' mind. So please don't think I'm attacking you for your views, Jonathan. I'm simply trying to correct what I see as a serious and widely held misunderstanding that exists about the proper role that an architect can play - but rarely does. It is not the function of a true architect to simply execute the suggestions of a client. His job is not to just listen to what clients say they want, but to discover what clients actually need and then determine the best way to go about fulfilling those requirements. How successfully they do this will depend upon how well they function as part historian, psychologist, communicator, teacher, logician, engineer, artist and promoter!

From what I've heard, the visitors and occupants of Gehry's work love it.

Having said everything above, I completely understand that Wright's work is not for everyone. It is heroic, value-based and quite demanding of it's occupants in terms of maintaining a higher state of consciousness. Some clients have described the experience of living in one of Wright's houses as demanding that they become better people and I completely understand what they are saying. This type of environment would drive people of a certain psychology nuts. Maybe people who would be uncomfortable in a Wright building might respond more positively to Gehry's work. More power to them! But this does not mean that architectural evaluation is a subjective process. Both Wright's and Gehry's work embody and communicate values which can be objectively identified and analyzed. But this is a rational process that few people are willing to perform. Many humans seem to have a fear of change and experience an immediate emotional reaction when confronted by things that are different. This might be either Wright's or Gehry's work when first encountered. Other people seem to have a predilection for the new and unusual and experience a positive emotional response to that which challenges them. Neither response is necessarily wrong, but both are subjective. An objective person must go beyond these automatic reactions and discover the underlying value and meaning in the new. Only then can an objective evaluation be formulated.

Regards,

--

Jeff

I must also take strong exception to the characterization of Wright as not caring greatly about his clients. The great architect Bruce Goff, who once worked for him, has written about how accommodating Wright really was, as has Bart Prince. Also, his work was not greeted as shocking. It was generally accepted as adventurous without being strange. If you want strange at the beginning of the 20th Century you should check out Russian Constructivist work. I think Philip Johnson and the NY MOMA derailed a lot of the impact Wright could have had. He did give us the open plan and other innovations, but there is much more there. I liked the statement Roger quoted regarding how Wright worked with and through nature. There is much there for architects and other creatives to learn.

You work looks excellent, Jeff. If you would like to see mine, check out JamesShay.com. Jim

[Ellen Stuttle]

I include this kind of architecture as art, but I agree with you about it being nihilistic. I would call it nihilistic art. I fully agree that it is not mediocre. It delivers the message of whim imposed on human reality with complete competence.

I think you should think twice before you put him into a box with the condemning Objectivist labels "nihilistic" and "whim".

Likewise. I think one -- making this general not specifically addressed to Michael -- should think twice, thrice...many times, many times before putting anyone into a box with those condemning Objectivist labels.

Labeling artists according to their alleged "sense of life" or "psycho-epistemology" is one of those things I detest in Objectivism. Such judgments are always highly subjective.

Same here re the labeling, especially since the terms aren't precisifiable in meaning; they're vague, mushy terms which are so often used by Objectivists as if the Objectivists think they know exactly what they're talking about and can objectively assess and diagnose the artist's -- or anyone's, for that matter -- "sense of life" or "psycho-epistemology." In fact the judgments are highly subjective, and in regard to particular artists I've often found them laughable; e.g., the old chestnuts of Rand's describing Beethoven's "sense of life" as "malevolent" and decreeing that Rembrandt had a poor "psycho-espistemology." But I've often noticed that even Objectivists who disagree with these evaluations continue to talk as if they can confidently say what an artist's -- or anyone's -- "sense of life" and "psycho-epistemology" are. They argue that Rand was wrong in these, and other, particular cases, not that the whole procedure is wrong.

Ellen

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