I've recently read through Bourriaud's "Relational Aesthetics" and thought I'd jot down here some thoughts. I've already put down a few things on his emphasis on the "interstice" and the relation to Marxist terminology. I've had a lot of ideas in the last few years about making art effective, how it operates in the social sphere, and its political and moral responsibility. Many of these ideas I think may have had their basis in reading of the Traditionalists. When studying Coomaraswamy's work on traditional art and aesthetics, I was struck by the idea, perhaps platonic, of art as a "tool for contemplation." Much of the religious work that he focused his commentaries on was quite literally used as a tool by a social institution for dissemination and reinforcement of ideas.
A friend of mine did a lot of work on thangka or Buddhist mandala painting and I've been able to share quite a few of my ideas with her. I'd guess that before there was such an apparatus of mass media allowing us so easily to share text, images and otherwise, the potency of an image had an entirely different import. There was no endless stream of information that each individual could bathe in, the seats of power, whether they were religious, political, whatever, had control of the types of images purveyed and their symbolic content. In my view, a lot of the process and program of modernism has done damage to our understanding of the base symbolism in much traditional art. Art's use in the church, in the temple, in the public forum was always bound with its efficacy. Even scripture, something we tend to not look at aesthetically, is an artistic document. It's literature, poetry which demonstrates a doctrine, a way of being. This is much of Bourriaud's argument.
The "interstice" is an interval, a space between things, a vacuum, a gap. Bourriaud draws attention to the contemporary artistic practice of creating interactive environments or modeling new "life possibilities" as opposed to creating dry, stagnant artifacts. Much of this development can be traced to the early 20th-century avant-garde including the work of Klee, Kandinsky, Picabia and Duchamp. But this frame for art history, while useful, is somewhat of an over-generalization. In reality works of art, as mentioned above, have always been tools for demonstrations of "life possibilities." An idea I've borrowed from Borges is the concept of a philosophical doctrine, that paragon of "nonfiction," as itself a fiction. Spinoza's Ethics is a combination of glyphs, a system of logic that demonstrates a way of being. It is difficult to distinguish it in this way from much art, from a lengthy Dostoevsky novel to a 50-cent song; each demonstrates a mode of being, a set of behaviors and actions in the world. Which some may be rigorously defended as a fool-proof logic, each effects the world in basically the same way.
I had a tremendous revelation in this vein about the work of Yoko Ono and John Lennon in the 60s. I thought quite a bit about the program of the Fluxists and Situationalists, their emphasis on the script and the happening, and the latter's emphasis on political and social import. Taking an idea from Cage that or Duchamp that your hearing or seeing is part of the artistic process, the consequences become apparent. A piece is not just a static artifact hung on a wall, it affects people's thought processes, their future behaviors and their overall outlook. Having an intense awareness of the effects of a work gives an artist tremendous power. This is why I was struck by the supreme beauty and simplicity of Lennon's 70s work. The majesty of it, to me, extends far beyond the popular art sphere and has yet to receive its rightful lauding. To promote a simple message of peace and love that is participatory and inclusive is, in my view, the highest artistic achievement. They together built a tremendous understanding of their effect on the world and applied a strong set of principles toward an admirable political and moral object.
I'll end this here, I presume, as I feel I've run out of things to say for the time being. But expect in the future more ruminations on different things I've read, astrological interpretations, and other creative ideas. I've got a lot to say it seems...
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Thursday, January 27, 2011
The Birth of @toastbeard
Who is @toastbeard the writer/poet? I've lived my entire life pretty creatively, they had me doing cover artwork for my 2nd grade yearbook, making Mardi Gras floats in the 4th grade, etc. My mother is fond of some of the pictures I did before I was in school, some experiments of a young mind involving framing and context. I had done a crayon drawing of a sabre-toothed tiger which was really just a cross section of his mouth open with one tooth and the savanna behind. I'm continually worried by the sense I get writing this blog that it is only about me. There I go again with another sentence construction pivoted about an "I" and you don't have to wait very long for the "me" and "my." But then again, if I create so many things I've got to promote them, I've got to get them out there and tell people about them, I've got to talk about myself.
In high school I dabbled in quite a few different visual arts. I did paintings, still-lifes, some sculptural work, mixed media, etc. Once we did an assignment where we found an image, broke it into composite squares, separated the squares, reproduced/represented the squares individually and then finally reassembled them for a final product. I remember people chose images of tigers, landscapes and the like. I wanted to do a map of the mid-west, the teacher at the time said it would be "too easy." I said it would be "too interesting." I convinced him, and if you follow any of my recent short-form work there is an intense focus on maps, systems, etc. I'm continually mining the implications of Korzybski's "map is not the territory" statement. In fact, I've written about things that are similar to that on here already, as Magritte's images bring up this discrepancy between signifier and signified.
But the real story of the writing and musical @toastbeard doesn't begin until after high school. In spring of 2001, the year I graduated, I began a regular blog. I'd never really kept a journal regularly before but I had a history of writing letters and doing other short writing projects. But nothing on a regular scale. The May 2001 beginning of my livejournal, in hindsight, seems a momentous occasion. But only hindsight is 20/20. I began writing there on a regular basis, perhaps weekly, etc. Over the next four or five years it began to blossom, the content got more and more fractured and stream-of-conscious, the structures became less prose and more poetic. Also in this time period I began playing the guitar and writing music. This process went for four or five years and then Katrina hit.
We were lucky where I've lived as regards the storm. I am just far enough west to have not been affected by flooding in the New Orleans area from Katrina and just far enough east to not have had terrible effects from the storm following, Rita. All of this strikes me as terribly boring at the moment but I'll trudge on... Around this time I had worked in several bands: No Good Flies was a punk/ska band whose main itinerary was basically helping us learn to play our instruments. We had a lot of fun playing a few local gigs and goofing off together, it was a great way to get acquainted with the local punk and young-person scene. Afterward some of the same friends and I had started a dance band by the name the Fashion, which soon changed names to Oh No Explosion. We did a lot of dancey material in the vein of the Rapture, Le Tigre, Blonde Redhead and the like. We even had a girl singing for us for a while and that was a lot of fun.
But as all things must, that band passed. Eventually I was in a trio with my friends Chase and Jeff called Raise High the Roof Beam! I started writing songs for this band, probably wrote around 4 or 5 and we'd play them at some house parties and possibly played a proper gig or two. But by about 2005, the other guys in the band went off to college and things dissolved. So I shortened the band name to Raise High and took a Dylan trajectory. From 2005-2007 I wrote about three dozen acoustic songs with flowery Dylan lyrics and some twee romance on the ultra-quiet side akin to Iron & Wine and Bright Eyes. I played quite a few gigs in the New Orleans area, some in Luling and some in Baton Rouge. It was a great experience because it allowed me to get a good grasp of chord theory and the structure of songs. I was a long-haired hippie who would smoke up a little and write two songs in a whirlwind. It was tremendous practice, but all things must end...
At the beginning of 2007 is when the more contemporary @toastbeard emerged. I had moved back to Bayou Gauche, where I've grown up right outside of New Orleans, and a transformation began. The spring of 2007 alone saw the birth of me as a semi-formal poet and the birth of what was to become Toast Beards. There was, of course, the requisite relationship drama and other personal strife that sometimes sparks creative outputs. I spent the spring of 2007 teaching myself formal poetics. I read through the old English texts I still had from my days in the Communication department at UNO. I read through all the poetry collections I had lying around. I would read daily from these surveys of mostly modern poetry and then right afterward go and write. These early poems are collected in this folio. The first months I wrote quite prolifically (as if I don't still do that now...), but when I look back now I feel a bit embarrassed by them. But who isn't embarrassed by their own art from years ago? It's a map of a territory that is dynamic, always amorphous and essentially infinite. The "map" is the verse trying to replicate some of the music of that life, the "territory" remains ineffable.
The next two years, as I said, saw the flowering of that poetic idea. I went through a course of work, I did early metric verse in a style of Frost or Shakespeare but less formalized. A lot of it was driven by vocal rhythm with a preponderance of imagery. I have a distaste for a lot of it because it is entirely sentimental, sometimes self-concerned, and at base desiring. In truth, I struggle with these same themes to this day and the remnants of that struggle can be found in my "self" poetic cycles and other concerns with the "nothing" and annihilation. But enough self-analysis, the folio contains all the work and the work speaks for itself.
As I already mentioned, this time period also saw the birth of Toast Beards, but under much different guises. I had been writing and singing solo style acoustic for a while and had my own repertoire of songs. Continuing my Dylan trajectory (ha!), when I moved back I ditched the acoustic format and started a legit rock-n-roll band. I became acquainted with a few local guys who were a drummer and bassist respectively and we started to just jam together. We'd play a lot of the material I already knew cover-wise, which included some Steppenwolf, Steve Miller, Pink Floyd, and a lot of other very obvious AOR stuff. There was also a focus on improvisation and blues. This band began under the name Tiny Purple Fishes (a Cream reference) and it's MySpace presence still survives.
The band remained amorphous for much of the next three or so years and transformed in many different directions. Chase, my friend from the very beginning that played bass in Raise High the Roof Beam, was away at college in Savannah but would occasionally return for holidays. On these sessions we would also jam. I had begun helping my close friend Blake to learn to play guitar. He had an electric by his house and I'd drop by a lot to hang out. He likes to tell the story that this dumb-ass dude (me) would come by and play his guitar and he had the revelation, "Well, if this dude can do that, I can." Our friendship grew and eventually he, too, became a part of the band as a second guitar player. One of the sessions with Chase was done in a day or two during a holiday. It consisted of myself on rhythm and vocals, Chase on drums, and Blake on lead guitars. We ran through as many cover tunes as I could remember and I would just give Blake the heads-up on what the key was. None of it was rehearsed, all of it was free, and I sang through a bass amplifier. You can hear those sessions here.
We recorded a plethora of albums in a lo-fi way at the garage where we had set up shop. In fact, I'm unsure as to even the amount of recorded output we got down but my guess is in excess of 5 full albums. But that doesn't mean the quality of the material was top notch, much of it was very poor. This is why, later, I collected some of the highlights and put them together as "Greatest Hits" collections. You can find those here and here. In addition to all this lo-fi creative output, Chase and I did a two day improvisational project we titled Hurricane, Bruh!, which was a conceptual experiment about the experience of a hurricane. That can be found here. In my humble opinion, this is some of the most experimental and successful work I was ever involved with. It's basically a collection, collage of different sounds. There are mash-ups of Son House, Sabbath, Lil Wayne, Lean on Me, bossa-nova, Franki Valli, old yodeling songs, and others. There is a lot of improvisational instrumental stuff going on and we used a curious cassette recorder that gave it a strange tape-aesthetic.
Perhaps now we get to something approaching the present. After all these different formulations of basically the same musical and poetic idea, I've come to a pseudo-mature stage. Toast Beards exists and has played many gigs for many crowds. We've been known to rock the pants of off the 40-year-old crowd with some of our blistering and unhinged versions of Clapton songs, old blues, and early rock-n-roll. We cut our teeth on Chuck Berry, we've done some Barrett Strong and we really do sound like Hendrix a lot of the time. We've recently put the focus on writing our own material and that is the goal for 2011, to get more of that out. You can hear some of our new output here. Whatever you do, however, don't think it's ALL we do. Because we're completely unpredictable. We've done Kanye tunes live with a full band arrangement. We've done reimagingings of Yin-Yang Twins whodat songs. We've done Kelly Clarkson. Sometimes we're a country band. Sometimes we're a noise band and sometimes we do raga. Sometimes I play drums and sometimes I play bass. Whatever you think we are (map) is not who we are (territory).
As far as poetic output goes, I do most of my things in a very short-format on Twitter @toastbeard. I've tried to start collecting cycles from my output on there as I tend to work as a serialist. Many of the ideas I have, or the themes I approach, are revisited. These may include meditations on nothing (no thing), the self, love poems to an indefinite Her, occult imagery of pyramids and other esoterica, mixtures of forgeries and mathematical metaphor in the vein of Borges, and other things I cannot think of now. I also, obviously, have a deep interest in astrology and traditional symbolism, especially as it regards religious tradition. Follow the feed and make up your own mind. Even I cannot make an adequate map for the territory that is me.
I feel a bit over-indulgent for writing this out, but I've fussed with myself enough over the last few years about self-criticism. I feel I've done enough work, enough research, and created enough product to make an effort to show it to people. In my experience, it seems that many respond to the things I've been involved with or produced well, so I feel less guilt and indulgence sharing them. But speaking about myself is something that always troubles me. I hope you've enjoyed this glimpse into my creative life, the things I've done in the past, and some of my thought processes as regards promotion, creative development and the like. You are all lovely and I do none of this for me. All of this is for you. Much love always.
In high school I dabbled in quite a few different visual arts. I did paintings, still-lifes, some sculptural work, mixed media, etc. Once we did an assignment where we found an image, broke it into composite squares, separated the squares, reproduced/represented the squares individually and then finally reassembled them for a final product. I remember people chose images of tigers, landscapes and the like. I wanted to do a map of the mid-west, the teacher at the time said it would be "too easy." I said it would be "too interesting." I convinced him, and if you follow any of my recent short-form work there is an intense focus on maps, systems, etc. I'm continually mining the implications of Korzybski's "map is not the territory" statement. In fact, I've written about things that are similar to that on here already, as Magritte's images bring up this discrepancy between signifier and signified.
But the real story of the writing and musical @toastbeard doesn't begin until after high school. In spring of 2001, the year I graduated, I began a regular blog. I'd never really kept a journal regularly before but I had a history of writing letters and doing other short writing projects. But nothing on a regular scale. The May 2001 beginning of my livejournal, in hindsight, seems a momentous occasion. But only hindsight is 20/20. I began writing there on a regular basis, perhaps weekly, etc. Over the next four or five years it began to blossom, the content got more and more fractured and stream-of-conscious, the structures became less prose and more poetic. Also in this time period I began playing the guitar and writing music. This process went for four or five years and then Katrina hit.
We were lucky where I've lived as regards the storm. I am just far enough west to have not been affected by flooding in the New Orleans area from Katrina and just far enough east to not have had terrible effects from the storm following, Rita. All of this strikes me as terribly boring at the moment but I'll trudge on... Around this time I had worked in several bands: No Good Flies was a punk/ska band whose main itinerary was basically helping us learn to play our instruments. We had a lot of fun playing a few local gigs and goofing off together, it was a great way to get acquainted with the local punk and young-person scene. Afterward some of the same friends and I had started a dance band by the name the Fashion, which soon changed names to Oh No Explosion. We did a lot of dancey material in the vein of the Rapture, Le Tigre, Blonde Redhead and the like. We even had a girl singing for us for a while and that was a lot of fun.
But as all things must, that band passed. Eventually I was in a trio with my friends Chase and Jeff called Raise High the Roof Beam! I started writing songs for this band, probably wrote around 4 or 5 and we'd play them at some house parties and possibly played a proper gig or two. But by about 2005, the other guys in the band went off to college and things dissolved. So I shortened the band name to Raise High and took a Dylan trajectory. From 2005-2007 I wrote about three dozen acoustic songs with flowery Dylan lyrics and some twee romance on the ultra-quiet side akin to Iron & Wine and Bright Eyes. I played quite a few gigs in the New Orleans area, some in Luling and some in Baton Rouge. It was a great experience because it allowed me to get a good grasp of chord theory and the structure of songs. I was a long-haired hippie who would smoke up a little and write two songs in a whirlwind. It was tremendous practice, but all things must end...
At the beginning of 2007 is when the more contemporary @toastbeard emerged. I had moved back to Bayou Gauche, where I've grown up right outside of New Orleans, and a transformation began. The spring of 2007 alone saw the birth of me as a semi-formal poet and the birth of what was to become Toast Beards. There was, of course, the requisite relationship drama and other personal strife that sometimes sparks creative outputs. I spent the spring of 2007 teaching myself formal poetics. I read through the old English texts I still had from my days in the Communication department at UNO. I read through all the poetry collections I had lying around. I would read daily from these surveys of mostly modern poetry and then right afterward go and write. These early poems are collected in this folio. The first months I wrote quite prolifically (as if I don't still do that now...), but when I look back now I feel a bit embarrassed by them. But who isn't embarrassed by their own art from years ago? It's a map of a territory that is dynamic, always amorphous and essentially infinite. The "map" is the verse trying to replicate some of the music of that life, the "territory" remains ineffable.
The next two years, as I said, saw the flowering of that poetic idea. I went through a course of work, I did early metric verse in a style of Frost or Shakespeare but less formalized. A lot of it was driven by vocal rhythm with a preponderance of imagery. I have a distaste for a lot of it because it is entirely sentimental, sometimes self-concerned, and at base desiring. In truth, I struggle with these same themes to this day and the remnants of that struggle can be found in my "self" poetic cycles and other concerns with the "nothing" and annihilation. But enough self-analysis, the folio contains all the work and the work speaks for itself.
As I already mentioned, this time period also saw the birth of Toast Beards, but under much different guises. I had been writing and singing solo style acoustic for a while and had my own repertoire of songs. Continuing my Dylan trajectory (ha!), when I moved back I ditched the acoustic format and started a legit rock-n-roll band. I became acquainted with a few local guys who were a drummer and bassist respectively and we started to just jam together. We'd play a lot of the material I already knew cover-wise, which included some Steppenwolf, Steve Miller, Pink Floyd, and a lot of other very obvious AOR stuff. There was also a focus on improvisation and blues. This band began under the name Tiny Purple Fishes (a Cream reference) and it's MySpace presence still survives.
The band remained amorphous for much of the next three or so years and transformed in many different directions. Chase, my friend from the very beginning that played bass in Raise High the Roof Beam, was away at college in Savannah but would occasionally return for holidays. On these sessions we would also jam. I had begun helping my close friend Blake to learn to play guitar. He had an electric by his house and I'd drop by a lot to hang out. He likes to tell the story that this dumb-ass dude (me) would come by and play his guitar and he had the revelation, "Well, if this dude can do that, I can." Our friendship grew and eventually he, too, became a part of the band as a second guitar player. One of the sessions with Chase was done in a day or two during a holiday. It consisted of myself on rhythm and vocals, Chase on drums, and Blake on lead guitars. We ran through as many cover tunes as I could remember and I would just give Blake the heads-up on what the key was. None of it was rehearsed, all of it was free, and I sang through a bass amplifier. You can hear those sessions here.
We recorded a plethora of albums in a lo-fi way at the garage where we had set up shop. In fact, I'm unsure as to even the amount of recorded output we got down but my guess is in excess of 5 full albums. But that doesn't mean the quality of the material was top notch, much of it was very poor. This is why, later, I collected some of the highlights and put them together as "Greatest Hits" collections. You can find those here and here. In addition to all this lo-fi creative output, Chase and I did a two day improvisational project we titled Hurricane, Bruh!, which was a conceptual experiment about the experience of a hurricane. That can be found here. In my humble opinion, this is some of the most experimental and successful work I was ever involved with. It's basically a collection, collage of different sounds. There are mash-ups of Son House, Sabbath, Lil Wayne, Lean on Me, bossa-nova, Franki Valli, old yodeling songs, and others. There is a lot of improvisational instrumental stuff going on and we used a curious cassette recorder that gave it a strange tape-aesthetic.
Perhaps now we get to something approaching the present. After all these different formulations of basically the same musical and poetic idea, I've come to a pseudo-mature stage. Toast Beards exists and has played many gigs for many crowds. We've been known to rock the pants of off the 40-year-old crowd with some of our blistering and unhinged versions of Clapton songs, old blues, and early rock-n-roll. We cut our teeth on Chuck Berry, we've done some Barrett Strong and we really do sound like Hendrix a lot of the time. We've recently put the focus on writing our own material and that is the goal for 2011, to get more of that out. You can hear some of our new output here. Whatever you do, however, don't think it's ALL we do. Because we're completely unpredictable. We've done Kanye tunes live with a full band arrangement. We've done reimagingings of Yin-Yang Twins whodat songs. We've done Kelly Clarkson. Sometimes we're a country band. Sometimes we're a noise band and sometimes we do raga. Sometimes I play drums and sometimes I play bass. Whatever you think we are (map) is not who we are (territory).
As far as poetic output goes, I do most of my things in a very short-format on Twitter @toastbeard. I've tried to start collecting cycles from my output on there as I tend to work as a serialist. Many of the ideas I have, or the themes I approach, are revisited. These may include meditations on nothing (no thing), the self, love poems to an indefinite Her, occult imagery of pyramids and other esoterica, mixtures of forgeries and mathematical metaphor in the vein of Borges, and other things I cannot think of now. I also, obviously, have a deep interest in astrology and traditional symbolism, especially as it regards religious tradition. Follow the feed and make up your own mind. Even I cannot make an adequate map for the territory that is me.
I feel a bit over-indulgent for writing this out, but I've fussed with myself enough over the last few years about self-criticism. I feel I've done enough work, enough research, and created enough product to make an effort to show it to people. In my experience, it seems that many respond to the things I've been involved with or produced well, so I feel less guilt and indulgence sharing them. But speaking about myself is something that always troubles me. I hope you've enjoyed this glimpse into my creative life, the things I've done in the past, and some of my thought processes as regards promotion, creative development and the like. You are all lovely and I do none of this for me. All of this is for you. Much love always.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
The de Lubicz Perspicuity Dilemma
Reading some Bourriaud lately, his "Relational Aesthetics." It's really good and seems to jive a lot with many of the things I've studied in my life. Trying to keep a focus on this long-form blog so please excuse my meandering. At times it is difficult for me to keep a focus or some of the word associations I make mid-sentence send me on tirades into different areas without warning. Sometimes I don't even catch myself doing it. Many times I feel like de Lubicz.
de Lubicz wrote "The Temple of Man," which is a multi-volume treatise on the architecture of the Luxor temple in Egypt. Also included are many of his theories about the intellective culture of the ancient Egyptians, their manner of encoding knowledge into their buildings, and other aspects of their language and thought. de Lubicz, according to my understanding, was at first under the influence of the Theosophists (who also influenced Guénon, another of my idols). Then he did a lot of reading of esoterica, I believe with a focus on alchemy. I read his "A Study of Numbers" at the beginning of '10 and just read through his short version of the temple. If you follow any of my thought online via Twitter (@toastbeard), you'll note the recent emphasis on architection.
But the reason I've brought up de Lubicz is a concern I have, more so recently, of knowing what I want to say and not quite being able to say it clearly. From my readings of de Lubicz I tend to get the same feeling. This is a man with a tremendous depth and breadth of knowledge of world religion, esoterica, alchemical processes, sacred geometry and symbolism. Sometimes, however, when he attempts to communicate this knowledge he gets caught in a sort of esoteric cheese-ball's game of using Capitalization and other blanket terms that render some of his meanings meaningless. I always try to put an emphasis on being clear and distinct in my writing, in my conceptions and in everything I share. I have tremendous respect, more so recently and building more and more every day, for people who can communicate simply and effectively. I think much of this is demonstrated by my sometimes-obsession with Bieber. But my interest is more on the side of "how does he get that many eyeballs? What is he doing that seems so universal?"
Now there will be quite a few of you out there quick to pounce on my Belieber-ness with some explanation of how he's just a puppet of the mass-marketed music industry apparatus or some-such. This I verily realize and if you're seriously mounting that criticism toward me then you don't have much of an understanding of where I come from or what I've been up to for the last ten years. Not that you really should. Perhaps I'll mention some of it now.
First of all, I've been writing, chiefly blogging, since around 2001. I began my first livejournal in May of that year and started out just keeping a journal. I'll spare you many of the details as I've come to believe that much of the magic of an art is what is left out, the ambiguity. I seriously began poesy there somewhere around 2006 and I've since collected much of the things I've felt were conceived formally in this folio. I'm also a practicing musician. Chances are if you are here you already know about Toast Beards. If you don't, hear us here. I have plenty ideas constantly about the import of art in the social sphere and the impact of massively popular musics. I've been, as I mentioned, reading Bourriaud's art theory lately and have been filled with a plethora of ideas.
He brings up the term "interstice" and I think this is a vestige of Marx terminology. I haven't read much Marx, hardly any really, but I do have a copy of "Capital" lying around that I will get to when the time seems appropriate. The interstice is the space between things, the space between people, the space between subject and object, the "medium" we may say between the seer and the seen. As we can see from its prefix, it is related to interval, which in music is the word for the space between pitches, not a pitch itself. Intervals are what give music its character, in India they have a term called rasa which means "flavor". Intervals have different associated and connoted ethos. Much of this we can approximate by Western conceptions of major or minor key. A major key, for example, has a "happy" intonation, seems bouncy and pleasing. This is because it is composed of a grouping (a seven-note set, heptatonic/diatonic) of intervals with close relationships. By close relationships I only mean that the ratios between the pitches are made of relatively small whole numbers.
See what I mean about digressions? It is very difficult for me to stay on topic, on point, without falling into another digression based on some whim. Apparently there are so many things I'd like to say that I get distracted by the last thing I've verbalized. This is perhaps why Twitter has become such a valuable tool for my writing process. I am able to use it as a mobile desk, a place to leave ideas I would like to revisit in the future. Also a place where I can quickly jot down ideas via telephone and then revise or reimagine them later. Still I end up in a confused jumble of jargon. Thanks to everyone who makes an attempt to sift through whatever goofy terminology I've chosen to employ on whatever day. As I mentioned before, I'm trying to keep it simple and to be clear and concise. I admire Descartes' "clearly and distinctly" too much and feel that effective art is so effective because of its simplicity and base clarity. I work daily to translate whatever knowledge I may have into terms palatable by the highest number of people. Perhaps someday in the not-so-distant future I will realize this ambition of writing understandably for a large audience. Until then I return to silence. Much love always.
de Lubicz wrote "The Temple of Man," which is a multi-volume treatise on the architecture of the Luxor temple in Egypt. Also included are many of his theories about the intellective culture of the ancient Egyptians, their manner of encoding knowledge into their buildings, and other aspects of their language and thought. de Lubicz, according to my understanding, was at first under the influence of the Theosophists (who also influenced Guénon, another of my idols). Then he did a lot of reading of esoterica, I believe with a focus on alchemy. I read his "A Study of Numbers" at the beginning of '10 and just read through his short version of the temple. If you follow any of my thought online via Twitter (@toastbeard), you'll note the recent emphasis on architection.
But the reason I've brought up de Lubicz is a concern I have, more so recently, of knowing what I want to say and not quite being able to say it clearly. From my readings of de Lubicz I tend to get the same feeling. This is a man with a tremendous depth and breadth of knowledge of world religion, esoterica, alchemical processes, sacred geometry and symbolism. Sometimes, however, when he attempts to communicate this knowledge he gets caught in a sort of esoteric cheese-ball's game of using Capitalization and other blanket terms that render some of his meanings meaningless. I always try to put an emphasis on being clear and distinct in my writing, in my conceptions and in everything I share. I have tremendous respect, more so recently and building more and more every day, for people who can communicate simply and effectively. I think much of this is demonstrated by my sometimes-obsession with Bieber. But my interest is more on the side of "how does he get that many eyeballs? What is he doing that seems so universal?"
Now there will be quite a few of you out there quick to pounce on my Belieber-ness with some explanation of how he's just a puppet of the mass-marketed music industry apparatus or some-such. This I verily realize and if you're seriously mounting that criticism toward me then you don't have much of an understanding of where I come from or what I've been up to for the last ten years. Not that you really should. Perhaps I'll mention some of it now.
First of all, I've been writing, chiefly blogging, since around 2001. I began my first livejournal in May of that year and started out just keeping a journal. I'll spare you many of the details as I've come to believe that much of the magic of an art is what is left out, the ambiguity. I seriously began poesy there somewhere around 2006 and I've since collected much of the things I've felt were conceived formally in this folio. I'm also a practicing musician. Chances are if you are here you already know about Toast Beards. If you don't, hear us here. I have plenty ideas constantly about the import of art in the social sphere and the impact of massively popular musics. I've been, as I mentioned, reading Bourriaud's art theory lately and have been filled with a plethora of ideas.
He brings up the term "interstice" and I think this is a vestige of Marx terminology. I haven't read much Marx, hardly any really, but I do have a copy of "Capital" lying around that I will get to when the time seems appropriate. The interstice is the space between things, the space between people, the space between subject and object, the "medium" we may say between the seer and the seen. As we can see from its prefix, it is related to interval, which in music is the word for the space between pitches, not a pitch itself. Intervals are what give music its character, in India they have a term called rasa which means "flavor". Intervals have different associated and connoted ethos. Much of this we can approximate by Western conceptions of major or minor key. A major key, for example, has a "happy" intonation, seems bouncy and pleasing. This is because it is composed of a grouping (a seven-note set, heptatonic/diatonic) of intervals with close relationships. By close relationships I only mean that the ratios between the pitches are made of relatively small whole numbers.
See what I mean about digressions? It is very difficult for me to stay on topic, on point, without falling into another digression based on some whim. Apparently there are so many things I'd like to say that I get distracted by the last thing I've verbalized. This is perhaps why Twitter has become such a valuable tool for my writing process. I am able to use it as a mobile desk, a place to leave ideas I would like to revisit in the future. Also a place where I can quickly jot down ideas via telephone and then revise or reimagine them later. Still I end up in a confused jumble of jargon. Thanks to everyone who makes an attempt to sift through whatever goofy terminology I've chosen to employ on whatever day. As I mentioned before, I'm trying to keep it simple and to be clear and concise. I admire Descartes' "clearly and distinctly" too much and feel that effective art is so effective because of its simplicity and base clarity. I work daily to translate whatever knowledge I may have into terms palatable by the highest number of people. Perhaps someday in the not-so-distant future I will realize this ambition of writing understandably for a large audience. Until then I return to silence. Much love always.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
A Layman's Defense of Astrology
First of all, I'm just a dude. I'm in no way trained in astrology, I haven't studied with anyone who practices professionally, and I don't profess to read charts. Secondly, what I will defend here is not the three sentence blurb near the funnies in the newspaper nor the typical ambiguous and vague interpretations you'll find on many a blog. That said, I've spent quite a few years trying my very best to figure the bases of these interpretations and attempting to demystify a lot of the garbage I've found on the Internet and elsewhere. Many of these so called soft-sciences suffer the ails of subjectivity, and that causes the proliferation of many misconceptions and outright false ideas. In the past few days there have been some articles (Your Zodiac Sign May Have Changed, New Zodiac sign dates: Don't switch your horoscope yet) that have professed a set of "new" zodiac dates. The misconceptions they've inspired are what has inspired me to write this out.
The typical view of astrology may very well be as a set of superstitions or an irrational and false hoo-ha. Many are justified in this view for a myriad of reasons. Typically a horoscope makes a few vague pronouncements that might jog the memory of the reader and seem superficially to jive with some of the recent events in their lives. The ambiguity of good horoscope writing isn't really that far off from the vagaries of good poetry or fiction writing, these things leave gaps for the individual to fill in themselves and that is a lot of the fun. However, to dismiss astrology as a nonscience and a set of practices with no basis in reality and only an interest in profit is both uninformed and irresponsible. Many of the greatest promulgators of modern astronomy and science built their ideas and systems on the discoveries of ancient astrologers. In fact, before the modern era there was scarcely a distinction to be made between the two disciplines.
Unbeknownst to many, there are a tremendous amount of systems, words, and bases of understanding that we rely upon daily that have their basis in astrological observation. In fact, our entire conception of time, the division of our days into hours, the division of our year into months, the division of our months into weeks all have a basis in astrological consideration. The word "month" shares a root with the word "moon." A very simple consideration of the very apparent moon cycle shows the correlation between the near-30-day lunar cycle and our typical month. The division of the year into 12 months is basically a division into 12 lunar periods, or 12 complete lunar cycles. The relations don't stop there. The naming of the days of our week are also derived from this astrological/astronomical consideration. Now, without the modern aids of calendars, digital clocks and the like, it is easy to see why human beings needed to depend upon something as regular as a moon cycle to make predictions about future events. This does not just mean a personal "love forecast." Before modern amenities of weather forecasting and our intensive understanding of the solar cycle, the symbology of the cycles of luminaries are all we had to orient ourselves in time.
Beyond the obvious calendric considerations involved with cycles of luminaries, there are obvious effects of celestial bodies on our planet. The sun's cycle around the zodiac is what defines our seasons and, very literally, allows the cyclic reproduction of animals and vegetation that we depend upon. The effects of the sun's cycle and its relation to the Earth's situation are what make it chilly in the northern hemisphere right now. The correlates don't stop there. The 30-day lunar cycle has quite empirical effects on the Earth. The gravitational pull of this body defines our tides, and if this isn't enough evidence for you to be convinced that a luminary has a tangible effect on life "below," then just look at the numerous plants and animals that tune themselves to the lunar cycle.
Here is the point where we make an extrapolation. While we may not individually feel the gravitational pull of the moon, there are observable changes in the environment around us that demonstrate its effects. The moon is merely one in a system of several, and many much, much larger, luminaries that have very measurable gravitational and resonant effects on our planet and everything that resides upon it. Each of the luminaries that astrology typically concerns itself with (Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, Pluto and sometimes others), goes through a cycle analogous to that of the moon. Each has a synod, or meeting, from our perspective with the Sun (we call this New Moon in the lunar cycle); each has a period of opposition (we call this Full Moon); and each goes through all the infinitesimal stages between in their cycles. At no point is the gravitational or harmonic effects of these planets "turned off" or not applied to our planet. They are ALWAYS effecting us in a dynamic way.
Much of the issue I've taken with the recent articles proclaiming a "new" set of zodiac dates is just that claim of novelty. There are many different schools of astrology, or systems used as a basis for interpreting the positions of the planets. What many fail to note is that, though most horoscopes are interpretations riddled with vagaries, these interpretations are based on the actual positions of the planets. When an astrologer pulls your natal chart and does a reading, they are looking at the scientific, astronomical position of luminaries at the moment of your birth. These facts are just as solid as the pounds and ounces the doctor records on your birth certificate and have a similar import. What astrologers do is study the positions, situations of planets in their cycles and how they relate to a certain time. When a lunar cycle reaches Full Moon, there is the popular feeling that energies are heightened, that behaviors may seem exaggerated. In fact, the words "lunatic" and "lunacy" are quite obviously derived from Luna, or moon. Astrologers apply this popular wisdom to cycles that are less practical on human terms, but are by no means less telling.
The "new" zodiacal dates these articles attempt to propose are really not new at all. Their argument is that our Western astrological systems are not aligned with the constellations themselves, but when these articles proclaim "new" dates, they are merely making a distinction between astrological systems. The basis of the Western astrological system is tropical. This means that the system we are all typically familiar with is set or calibrated according to the seasons. In this system, for example, the first degree of Aries begins the first day of spring, or the day of the vernal equinox. In the same manner summer begins on the summer solstice, or the first degree of Cancer, and so on. Over 2,000 years ago the Greeks, and then Ptolemy shortly afterward, made a conscious decision to define the signs of the zodiac (each a 30-degree section of the 360-degree circle of our orbit) based on the equinoxes. This is different from the sidereal astrological system which holds fast to the actual positions of the constellations. Because of a phenomenon termed the precession of the equinoxes, the actual position of the constellations moves one degree every 72 years. About 2,500 years ago, the constellations as we now define them were aligned exactly with the vernal points. Due to precession this alignment is no longer true and this is the source of the discrepancy between tropical and sidereal systems. This discrepancy of systems is what these articles report, not a literal "new" set of dates.
As I said in the beginning, I have no formal training in any of this. I didn't go to school for astronomy, I haven't studied with any professionals and I've rarely used even a telescope. But the reverence I have for my ancestors and the great women and men of the past forces me personally to respect their views and positions. A dismissal of years of tradition from the very people who allowed my existence via procreation seems both irresponsible and at base disrespectful. While there are many faults in the popular conception of astrology and many out there who use its discontinuity as a basis for profit, there are many aspects of our contemporary lives that find a precedent in astrological/astronomical consideration. In my view, an unfortunate repercussion of the at-heart sincere desire of the Enlightenment is a too-soon dismissal of traditional ideas. An emphasis on building your own understanding via observation and research is a great quality, but I try to be sure not to dismiss all previous ideas so easily. We each owe our existence to all previous generations in a myriad of ways, and the assumption that we, now, in the mere fraction of a lifetime we've been thus far afforded, have substantially better ideas about how to interpret the cosmos seems entirely vain. A practice of humility in the face of the other has been passed down since time immemorial. We in the modern age must remind ourselves that this humility must not only apply to the present, but extend equally into the future and the past. Thanks for listening and much love always.
The typical view of astrology may very well be as a set of superstitions or an irrational and false hoo-ha. Many are justified in this view for a myriad of reasons. Typically a horoscope makes a few vague pronouncements that might jog the memory of the reader and seem superficially to jive with some of the recent events in their lives. The ambiguity of good horoscope writing isn't really that far off from the vagaries of good poetry or fiction writing, these things leave gaps for the individual to fill in themselves and that is a lot of the fun. However, to dismiss astrology as a nonscience and a set of practices with no basis in reality and only an interest in profit is both uninformed and irresponsible. Many of the greatest promulgators of modern astronomy and science built their ideas and systems on the discoveries of ancient astrologers. In fact, before the modern era there was scarcely a distinction to be made between the two disciplines.
Unbeknownst to many, there are a tremendous amount of systems, words, and bases of understanding that we rely upon daily that have their basis in astrological observation. In fact, our entire conception of time, the division of our days into hours, the division of our year into months, the division of our months into weeks all have a basis in astrological consideration. The word "month" shares a root with the word "moon." A very simple consideration of the very apparent moon cycle shows the correlation between the near-30-day lunar cycle and our typical month. The division of the year into 12 months is basically a division into 12 lunar periods, or 12 complete lunar cycles. The relations don't stop there. The naming of the days of our week are also derived from this astrological/astronomical consideration. Now, without the modern aids of calendars, digital clocks and the like, it is easy to see why human beings needed to depend upon something as regular as a moon cycle to make predictions about future events. This does not just mean a personal "love forecast." Before modern amenities of weather forecasting and our intensive understanding of the solar cycle, the symbology of the cycles of luminaries are all we had to orient ourselves in time.
Beyond the obvious calendric considerations involved with cycles of luminaries, there are obvious effects of celestial bodies on our planet. The sun's cycle around the zodiac is what defines our seasons and, very literally, allows the cyclic reproduction of animals and vegetation that we depend upon. The effects of the sun's cycle and its relation to the Earth's situation are what make it chilly in the northern hemisphere right now. The correlates don't stop there. The 30-day lunar cycle has quite empirical effects on the Earth. The gravitational pull of this body defines our tides, and if this isn't enough evidence for you to be convinced that a luminary has a tangible effect on life "below," then just look at the numerous plants and animals that tune themselves to the lunar cycle.
Here is the point where we make an extrapolation. While we may not individually feel the gravitational pull of the moon, there are observable changes in the environment around us that demonstrate its effects. The moon is merely one in a system of several, and many much, much larger, luminaries that have very measurable gravitational and resonant effects on our planet and everything that resides upon it. Each of the luminaries that astrology typically concerns itself with (Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, Pluto and sometimes others), goes through a cycle analogous to that of the moon. Each has a synod, or meeting, from our perspective with the Sun (we call this New Moon in the lunar cycle); each has a period of opposition (we call this Full Moon); and each goes through all the infinitesimal stages between in their cycles. At no point is the gravitational or harmonic effects of these planets "turned off" or not applied to our planet. They are ALWAYS effecting us in a dynamic way.
Much of the issue I've taken with the recent articles proclaiming a "new" set of zodiac dates is just that claim of novelty. There are many different schools of astrology, or systems used as a basis for interpreting the positions of the planets. What many fail to note is that, though most horoscopes are interpretations riddled with vagaries, these interpretations are based on the actual positions of the planets. When an astrologer pulls your natal chart and does a reading, they are looking at the scientific, astronomical position of luminaries at the moment of your birth. These facts are just as solid as the pounds and ounces the doctor records on your birth certificate and have a similar import. What astrologers do is study the positions, situations of planets in their cycles and how they relate to a certain time. When a lunar cycle reaches Full Moon, there is the popular feeling that energies are heightened, that behaviors may seem exaggerated. In fact, the words "lunatic" and "lunacy" are quite obviously derived from Luna, or moon. Astrologers apply this popular wisdom to cycles that are less practical on human terms, but are by no means less telling.
The "new" zodiacal dates these articles attempt to propose are really not new at all. Their argument is that our Western astrological systems are not aligned with the constellations themselves, but when these articles proclaim "new" dates, they are merely making a distinction between astrological systems. The basis of the Western astrological system is tropical. This means that the system we are all typically familiar with is set or calibrated according to the seasons. In this system, for example, the first degree of Aries begins the first day of spring, or the day of the vernal equinox. In the same manner summer begins on the summer solstice, or the first degree of Cancer, and so on. Over 2,000 years ago the Greeks, and then Ptolemy shortly afterward, made a conscious decision to define the signs of the zodiac (each a 30-degree section of the 360-degree circle of our orbit) based on the equinoxes. This is different from the sidereal astrological system which holds fast to the actual positions of the constellations. Because of a phenomenon termed the precession of the equinoxes, the actual position of the constellations moves one degree every 72 years. About 2,500 years ago, the constellations as we now define them were aligned exactly with the vernal points. Due to precession this alignment is no longer true and this is the source of the discrepancy between tropical and sidereal systems. This discrepancy of systems is what these articles report, not a literal "new" set of dates.
As I said in the beginning, I have no formal training in any of this. I didn't go to school for astronomy, I haven't studied with any professionals and I've rarely used even a telescope. But the reverence I have for my ancestors and the great women and men of the past forces me personally to respect their views and positions. A dismissal of years of tradition from the very people who allowed my existence via procreation seems both irresponsible and at base disrespectful. While there are many faults in the popular conception of astrology and many out there who use its discontinuity as a basis for profit, there are many aspects of our contemporary lives that find a precedent in astrological/astronomical consideration. In my view, an unfortunate repercussion of the at-heart sincere desire of the Enlightenment is a too-soon dismissal of traditional ideas. An emphasis on building your own understanding via observation and research is a great quality, but I try to be sure not to dismiss all previous ideas so easily. We each owe our existence to all previous generations in a myriad of ways, and the assumption that we, now, in the mere fraction of a lifetime we've been thus far afforded, have substantially better ideas about how to interpret the cosmos seems entirely vain. A practice of humility in the face of the other has been passed down since time immemorial. We in the modern age must remind ourselves that this humility must not only apply to the present, but extend equally into the future and the past. Thanks for listening and much love always.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Majesty of confusion...
Dada and tradition, tradition and Dada, there's an obvious contradiction there. I'll justify it with my interest in the yin-yang, or the perpetual conflict between active and passive principles. Another analogue I've found is something I've picked up from the folk-psychology of astrology. But calling astrology "folk-psychology" doesn't give you an idea of the import I find in studying the motions and interactive cycles of the planets.
When reading my friend's chart reading by Katie Sweetman over at empoweringastrology.com the other day, I gleaned the importance of a "chart ruler" as regards one's ascendant. In some schools of Western astrology (I'd assume), the planetary ruler of your ascendant becomes your chart ruler. Following this line of logic, the chart ruler for my natal theme would by Pluto, or the modern ruler of the sign Scorpio.
There's a few curious bits that come up with this analysis of my chart and the title of this blog. First of all, Pluto lies in a tight conjunction with Saturn, and at a cursory glance it seems the synod between the two happened less than a degree of Saturn's movement before my birth. Now back to the duality of Dada and tradition. Saturn is typically associated with the father, with structure, discipline, tradition, norms, regularity, institution and stability. The great Capricorns of the world (MLK Jr for example) are paragons of discipline and structure. One may say Saturn is representative of rationalism, of reason.
Now on the other hand, the planet Saturn conjoins, and my chart's ruler, Pluto, is traditionally associated with much that may be in the line of irrationality. Halloween falls under the dominion of Scorpio and is a great indicator of the ethos of this period of the zodiac. Some of the issues raised by this archetype are those of secrecy, the unknown, sexuality and taboo. I feel justified in concluding from all of this that there is a strong conjunction, or mixing, of the archetypes of saturnine discipline and the plutonian "leap into the void" represented by my natal theme.
Thus we return once more to the contrast between Dada and Traditionalism. With this illuminating reprise of archetypes we've reached the core "conflict" of much of my thought. We can also find an analogue or parallelism in Nietzsche's "Birth of Tragedy." As many of you may know, this essay is an exploration of the in many ways opposed tendencies of Hellenic art. Nietzsche terms these tendencies the Apollinian and the Dionysian. If we've followed the preceeding dialectic closely we may see the point I've wished to raise here. In his analysis, the Apollinian tendency is that of rationalism, individuation and reason. This is opposed, in his analysis, to the Dionysian ideals of intoxication, unification and general irrationalism.
I find myself now confused as to the trajectory of this dialogue, but I've always felt a confusion of purpose. I guess I'll dive into some of my recent thought now that I've illumined you, the reader, as regards the title of this blog. My trip to the west coast this past weekend to visit my brother was an opportunity to connect closely with family that I haven't in a while, but also an opportunity to be exposed to different bits of reading. When I arrived, I found on my brother's bookshelf a copy of Foucault's "This Is Not A Pipe." Funnily enough, I'd made a mental note to read this as I've had a vested interest in Magritte at least as far back as a 2004 aesthetics course I took at the University of New Orleans.
I find myself now rehashing a few thoughts I had while reading a bit earlier. Dada, the great "irrational" movement of modernism, is widely noted as the precursor and progenitor of Surrealism. It is widely known that Breton, the cheif surrealist theorist, had a deep interest in the work of the Dadaists and not exclusive to Duchamp. Now typically the surrealist movement is associated with explorations of the subconscious, the dream-world, nonsense, nonsequitor and "automatic" constructions. After a reading of "This Is Not A Pipe" and an examination of the work of Magritte, however, said painter's work may not seem as flamboyantly surreal as that of say Miró or Dalí. The connection to the surrealist school, however, lies in base "irrationality" and nonsequitor.
Much of Foucault's essay discusses the dissection of signifier and signified, semblance and symbol. Magritte's principled work very consciously forces a disconnect between typical interpretations of text and images. "La trahison des images" is the most notorious example of this forged disconnect. When I think about the confusion caused by the presentation of the image of a pipe and a text reading "this is not a pipe," I'm immediately drawn to the beautiful and useful word "incommensurate." The confusion and perplexity inspired by Magritte's work forces one into a situation where there is no common measure between the image and the text. The assumed correspondence we liken to a "legend" or a simple image with caption is demolished by the guile of this composition. This is a trickery of much more import than I had first supposed years ago and is not merely a disruption or disparaging of art institutional norms.
Now we find ourselves in a similar arena to the base contradition from whence we began. Many system-devising magicians place an emphasis on a "finish" to their architection. After all, a finished system may be deployed or utilized while an unfinished (infinite) system has a more tenuous sort of utility. Magritte's work essentially reminds us of the perplexity and mystery bound in a reality of both finite and infinite elements. The confused tension, the irresolved conflict between active and passive, the continued interaction of differing elements may very well be the seat of propulsion. The majesty of Magritte's work is the light he shines on this base contradiction, the incommensurability of aspects of our experience. I'm reminded of the wise words of Rumi who embraced this perplexity in saying, and I think quite rightly, "sell your cleverness and sell all your knowledge and buy bewilderment. Cleverness is mere opinion, bewilderment is intuition. One comes to God through being bewildered."
When reading my friend's chart reading by Katie Sweetman over at empoweringastrology.com the other day, I gleaned the importance of a "chart ruler" as regards one's ascendant. In some schools of Western astrology (I'd assume), the planetary ruler of your ascendant becomes your chart ruler. Following this line of logic, the chart ruler for my natal theme would by Pluto, or the modern ruler of the sign Scorpio.
There's a few curious bits that come up with this analysis of my chart and the title of this blog. First of all, Pluto lies in a tight conjunction with Saturn, and at a cursory glance it seems the synod between the two happened less than a degree of Saturn's movement before my birth. Now back to the duality of Dada and tradition. Saturn is typically associated with the father, with structure, discipline, tradition, norms, regularity, institution and stability. The great Capricorns of the world (MLK Jr for example) are paragons of discipline and structure. One may say Saturn is representative of rationalism, of reason.
Now on the other hand, the planet Saturn conjoins, and my chart's ruler, Pluto, is traditionally associated with much that may be in the line of irrationality. Halloween falls under the dominion of Scorpio and is a great indicator of the ethos of this period of the zodiac. Some of the issues raised by this archetype are those of secrecy, the unknown, sexuality and taboo. I feel justified in concluding from all of this that there is a strong conjunction, or mixing, of the archetypes of saturnine discipline and the plutonian "leap into the void" represented by my natal theme.
Thus we return once more to the contrast between Dada and Traditionalism. With this illuminating reprise of archetypes we've reached the core "conflict" of much of my thought. We can also find an analogue or parallelism in Nietzsche's "Birth of Tragedy." As many of you may know, this essay is an exploration of the in many ways opposed tendencies of Hellenic art. Nietzsche terms these tendencies the Apollinian and the Dionysian. If we've followed the preceeding dialectic closely we may see the point I've wished to raise here. In his analysis, the Apollinian tendency is that of rationalism, individuation and reason. This is opposed, in his analysis, to the Dionysian ideals of intoxication, unification and general irrationalism.
I find myself now confused as to the trajectory of this dialogue, but I've always felt a confusion of purpose. I guess I'll dive into some of my recent thought now that I've illumined you, the reader, as regards the title of this blog. My trip to the west coast this past weekend to visit my brother was an opportunity to connect closely with family that I haven't in a while, but also an opportunity to be exposed to different bits of reading. When I arrived, I found on my brother's bookshelf a copy of Foucault's "This Is Not A Pipe." Funnily enough, I'd made a mental note to read this as I've had a vested interest in Magritte at least as far back as a 2004 aesthetics course I took at the University of New Orleans.
I find myself now rehashing a few thoughts I had while reading a bit earlier. Dada, the great "irrational" movement of modernism, is widely noted as the precursor and progenitor of Surrealism. It is widely known that Breton, the cheif surrealist theorist, had a deep interest in the work of the Dadaists and not exclusive to Duchamp. Now typically the surrealist movement is associated with explorations of the subconscious, the dream-world, nonsense, nonsequitor and "automatic" constructions. After a reading of "This Is Not A Pipe" and an examination of the work of Magritte, however, said painter's work may not seem as flamboyantly surreal as that of say Miró or Dalí. The connection to the surrealist school, however, lies in base "irrationality" and nonsequitor.
Much of Foucault's essay discusses the dissection of signifier and signified, semblance and symbol. Magritte's principled work very consciously forces a disconnect between typical interpretations of text and images. "La trahison des images" is the most notorious example of this forged disconnect. When I think about the confusion caused by the presentation of the image of a pipe and a text reading "this is not a pipe," I'm immediately drawn to the beautiful and useful word "incommensurate." The confusion and perplexity inspired by Magritte's work forces one into a situation where there is no common measure between the image and the text. The assumed correspondence we liken to a "legend" or a simple image with caption is demolished by the guile of this composition. This is a trickery of much more import than I had first supposed years ago and is not merely a disruption or disparaging of art institutional norms.
Now we find ourselves in a similar arena to the base contradition from whence we began. Many system-devising magicians place an emphasis on a "finish" to their architection. After all, a finished system may be deployed or utilized while an unfinished (infinite) system has a more tenuous sort of utility. Magritte's work essentially reminds us of the perplexity and mystery bound in a reality of both finite and infinite elements. The confused tension, the irresolved conflict between active and passive, the continued interaction of differing elements may very well be the seat of propulsion. The majesty of Magritte's work is the light he shines on this base contradiction, the incommensurability of aspects of our experience. I'm reminded of the wise words of Rumi who embraced this perplexity in saying, and I think quite rightly, "sell your cleverness and sell all your knowledge and buy bewilderment. Cleverness is mere opinion, bewilderment is intuition. One comes to God through being bewildered."
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