Buncha Dead Guys on Art

bu Karin Steele-Elliott

      The aim of art according to Aristode, Santayana, Veron and Wilde:
       Accorting to Aristotle, art attempts to instruct through the use of imitation. Artists use familiar items in orter to show us different ways of viewing them. The objects of imitation are "men in action." In Tragedy, men are presented as better than they actually are in life, and worse in Comedy. Poets use imitation in order to teach the viewers something about the nature of humanity, or that of the world around us. The expression is not as important as the moment when the spectator realizes, "anhh! It is he!" and learns to see the "he" in a different way, with a better understanding of who "he" is. Sanuyana states that art is something that exists to satisfy the human desire for diversionÑ the "stimulation of our senses and imaginationnÑand that truth is a factor only when it facilitates these ends. Art is the measure by which we judge the amount of spontaneous play (as opposed to art in the form of slavery) a civilization participates inÑhow happy a race is. Because art is an expression of happiness and freedom, it is intrinsically good. No other utility is necessary to give it value. Art is, in essence, play. Santayana argues that it is a "useless act" that "springs from a physiological impulse to release energy not used by work". Art is freedom, while work is servitude. The pleasure that we receive from art is regarded as a thing of quality, and we as obseners, give value to the art by perceiving its worth.
       Veron's theories contrast Aristotle's, the former feds that imitation is impossible. Artists always impose themselves on and through their works. It is, therefore, the aim of art (what he specifically calls Expressive art) to communicate a specific emotion, thought or characteristic from the artist to the beholder. Veron states, 

       As often as [the artist] is struck by any vivid impression . . . and expresses that impression by sorne outward process..in such a way as to cause its communication of spectator or auditor, so often does he create a work of art the beauty of which will be in exact proportion to the intelligence and depth of the sentiment & played, and the power shown in giving it outwart form.

      Not only, then, is the expression and comprehension of emotion the aim of art, it is the criterion on which art should be judged. Unlike Santayana, who feels that what is beautiful and of worth in art is completely independent of the art itself, and is, rather, based in the "eyes of the beholder", Veron feels that it is the artist who gives the work emotion, and, therefore, worth.
       Oscar (the elitist grouch) WIlde believes that as Art is produced, we attempt to emulate it, and pattern existence around it. Art is required in order for beauty to exist and its proper aim is to reveal itself and conceal the artist. Life and Nature adopt Art as a model, but, other than that, it is utterly useless in any moral or pragmatic sense.
 
       Art never expresses anything but itself . . . The highest art rejects the burden of the human spirit . . . She is not symbolic of any age. It is the ages that are her symbols.

      Through the character of Vivian, Wilde states, "the final revelation is that lying, the telling of beautiful untrue things, is the proper aim of Art" If Art did tell the truth, then it would have no use for us, and we no use for it. In telling the truth, art would be reduced to the average, the common-place, the ordinary. In short, Art would be realistic, and realiy is not valued by Wilde in Art (or anything else, it would seem). 
      Both Veron and Santayana assert that art is a part of civilization by which that same culture may be judgedÑby which happiness (the attainment of pleasure) may be measured. They are both inclined to disagree with Aristotle and Wilde, in that art is neither the imitation of life, nor that which life imitates. Veron asserts that the satisfaction of desires is the cause of pleasure, and the opposite is the cause of sadness or discontentment. In either event, external evidence is given in the form of emotion which indicates the reaction. Santayana also discusses pleasure at length, and contends that art functions to provide us with pleasure, and the gratification of our senses and imaginations. While Santayana includes a moral imperative in his theories, Veron attempts to clearly separate morality from aesthetic judgments. Only in cases where the art is offensive or when the ugly becomes unamusingÑis it proper to make moral judgments.
       Beauy is an integral part of art to both philosophers, but herein lies one distinguishing element between them. Veron asserts that beauty is placed in the art by the artist and is perceived by the observer. Santayana feds that beauty is given to the work by the beholder. Each of them recognizes a place for the ugly in art, however. Veron agrees with Santayana's view of the extreme, but only because an offended spectator is too inhibited to perceive the emotion that the artist is attempting to communicate. Both speak of science and the nature of aesthetics, and how the term "aesthetics" is either too restrictive or too broad. 

      Ranier Marie Rilke, the always upbeat, addresses the fears of an artist. In writing The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge, Rilke illustrated the transformation one must experience to truly become an artistÑa transition he, like Brigge, experienced while in Paris. The artist must accumulate as many memories as possible, always striving to gain experience with every type of feeling (pleasurable and painful). Not only are memories required, but 

       One must be able to forget them when they are many . . . Nor it is not yet the memories themselves. Not till they have turned to blood witbin us, to glance and gesture, nameless and no longer to be distinguished from ourselves. . . can. . . the first word of verse [arise] in their midst and [go] forth from them.

      Herein lie the fears of and the danger for the artist. In collecting this vast store of memories and in uniting himself with them, Brigge risks losing his identity among the memories. The fear is a realistic one for Brigge and any other artist or human being that opens themselves so totally to the world. In becoming hot wax and allowing the world to impress such profound pain and joy, the artist is subjected to ultimate euphoria and deepest despondency
.       Brigge describes what is happening to him, and how he persists in denying it. 

       I defend myself, although I know my heart is already hanging out and that I cannot live any longer. . . within me something is happening, that is beginning to draw me away and separate me from everything. . . If my fear were not so great, I would console myself with the fact that it is not impossible to see everything differently and yet to live. But I am afraid, I am namelessly afraid of this change. 

      In this passage, Rilke illustrates the state of Brigge at an all-time low. The only cure or solution that Brigge sees in taking action against his anxieties lies in his artÑhe will write everything down and use the fear to his advantage. "But there will come a day when my hand will be far from me, and when I bid it write it will write words I do not mean." Here, it is clear that Brigge fears that he will eventually and inevitably be unable to take this action against his fear. In writing a letter he further describes the fear that visits him, and occupies his thoughts:

          Vision stands out neyond the known and fnently, and the contour but now so consoling grows clearer as an outline of terror. .  .Now you l've gathered yourself together into yourself, see yourself ending ahead of you in your own hands. And there is scaraely any room inside of you. . . Your heart drives you out of yourself, your heart pursues you, and you stand almost outside yourself and cannot get back again. 

      These lines summarize all of Brigge's trepidations as an artist. He can feel this happening to him, and knows the possible outcomesÑthe total loss of identity, insaniy or death at his own hand. Brigge fears not only this loss of himself, but death in its many forms. He dreads seeing the no face of the Parisian people, the woman in the Notre-Dame-des-Champs. He discusses faces and disguises, and their danger for the artistÑan artist who cannot escape them fully is lelt to live as a "half thing," neither a mere character nor really existing.
       This last fear becomes very real as it manifests itself while he tries on costumes. He disguises himself and goes to the mirror to observe the transformation. In doing so, he upsets a small table. In his rage, he turns back to the mirror only to find that it has become more powerful than he. He looks to find "a strange, unbelievable and monstrous reality" that permeates his entire being. The worst soon followed, and Brigge states, "I lost all sense, I simply ceased to exist. For one second I had an indescribable, painful and futile longing for myself, then there was only he."
       Thus his worst fear is, if only temporarily, realized. Brigge's transformation is now complete. He can be satisfied that his memories and experiences are blood and made a part of him without effort, if not the knowledge that he may retrieve himself from them. He can only use them to continue to write and to create until his body becomes separated from the rest of his being.