The following is a reflection on our class today (Jan. 31). When discussing the phenomenological approach, it is necessary to discard our human desire for explanation and definition and to pick up our childlike yearning to discover. Even as we have been embarking on this journey to discover what Beauty is, we have found ourselves struggling to grasp what art is, what dance is, what drama is, etc. Our trained mind desires to define and move on, yet I've found the phenomenological approach to be so freeing in that we can discover more about an object or concept by attempting to encounter it rather than defining it, putting it on the shelf and relinquishing any further thoughts we may have towards it.
It seems that in academia we long to define and categorize, which in itself is a beautiful thing, but the phenomenological approach opens us up to the availability of a deeper understanding of objects, concepts, etc. I would like to posit that this is because of our flexible definition of what a particular object or concept is. Instead of rigidly thinking of an object or concept as something that has to fit in my narrow definition, my whole being is opened up to the deeper meaning of this object or concept. Thus, we come into a richer understanding of what we are searching for.
I do not think this negates the idea of absolute truth, yet it allows us to go deeper in the revelation of what that truth is, instead of narrowing our definition to mere intellectual thought. The phenomenological approach encourages experiential learning and allows us to reawaken the childlike yearning to discover what the world holds for us. As we embrace this approach, perhaps we will learn more than we ever would have if we simply defined things and moved on.
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Adam Wade: "Art is dangerous" Reading #1
While reading Wartenberg's "The Nature of Art" chapter on Plato's view on art I found myself disagreeing wholeheartedly with Plato/Socrates' view that "Art is dangerous"
"art constitutes a challenge to philosophy, which also seeks to influence people, but by rational argument rather than emotional appeal. The arts are to be banished so that the attitudes and actions of the citizens will not be tainted by inappropriate influences"
"Art is dangerous, for its appeal to the irrational distracts us from the legitimate claims of reason."
Plato's view is centered around an idea that art distracts from philosophy, things of reason, and true knowledge, and is therefore dangerous. An artist's purpose is to spread an emotion or experience, through a medium for their own or for others' benefit. This emotion or experience, this sensation behind the oils on a canvas or within the marble of a statue is a piece of knowledge in its own right. Art is a medium of knowledge, not a distraction from it. One can gaze upon a Rembrandt and come away with a perspective previously unknown. Art does not blind us to knowledge, it opens our eyes to entirely new viewpoints.
Plato argues that art is an "imitation of an imitation", that a painting is just a copy of reality, and therefore a distraction from reality. An artist may paint a landscape, but it is not merely an imitation of what the artist sees before him, but also an imitation of the personal feeling and sensation involved in witnessing the beauty of the landscape in that moment. Art adds a different dynamic to just mere imitation. Art adds a separate reality, one not bound by logical or empirical elements. It is this separate reality that Plato fears detracts from existence, and just serves as a distraction, but I would argue this separate reality encourages life, furthers knowledge, and opens the mind as a whole.
"art constitutes a challenge to philosophy, which also seeks to influence people, but by rational argument rather than emotional appeal. The arts are to be banished so that the attitudes and actions of the citizens will not be tainted by inappropriate influences"
"Art is dangerous, for its appeal to the irrational distracts us from the legitimate claims of reason."
Plato's view is centered around an idea that art distracts from philosophy, things of reason, and true knowledge, and is therefore dangerous. An artist's purpose is to spread an emotion or experience, through a medium for their own or for others' benefit. This emotion or experience, this sensation behind the oils on a canvas or within the marble of a statue is a piece of knowledge in its own right. Art is a medium of knowledge, not a distraction from it. One can gaze upon a Rembrandt and come away with a perspective previously unknown. Art does not blind us to knowledge, it opens our eyes to entirely new viewpoints.
Plato argues that art is an "imitation of an imitation", that a painting is just a copy of reality, and therefore a distraction from reality. An artist may paint a landscape, but it is not merely an imitation of what the artist sees before him, but also an imitation of the personal feeling and sensation involved in witnessing the beauty of the landscape in that moment. Art adds a different dynamic to just mere imitation. Art adds a separate reality, one not bound by logical or empirical elements. It is this separate reality that Plato fears detracts from existence, and just serves as a distraction, but I would argue this separate reality encourages life, furthers knowledge, and opens the mind as a whole.
Emily Martin- Beauty in the Brain
I found an article I found very interesting that I wanted to share. It is amazing how our perceptions of beauty can be detected in the brain with technology advances.
The search for beauty has spurred great works of art and music, lengthy philosophical treatises and decades of dense cultural criticism. So, is beauty in the object? The eye of the beholder? Somewhere in between?
Brain on Beauty Shows the Same Pattern for Art and Music
July 7, 2011 | 
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PrintThe search for beauty has spurred great works of art and music, lengthy philosophical treatises and decades of dense cultural criticism. So, is beauty in the object? The eye of the beholder? Somewhere in between?
The time has come "for neurobiology to tackle these fundamental questions," Semir Zeki, a neurobiologist at University College London, said in a prepared statement.
Zeki and a colleague at the Wellcome Laboratory of Neurobiology decided to see if they could find common brain patterns in people from different cultures as they observed things that they described as beautiful. For the study, 10 western Europeans, four Japanese, three Chinese, two Indians and two Americans assessed 60 paintings and 60 musical compositions as being beautiful, ugly or inspiring no more than indifference. The subjects then experienced the stimuli again and were asked to make another aesthetic evaluation, during which processes researchers recorded the subjects’ brain patterns via fMRI (functional magnetic resonance imaging).
In each of the subjects’ brains, a 16-second flash of a painting or 16-second musical clip that they had rated (as somewhat to very) beautiful corresponded to an equally strong spark of activity in a tiny 15-to 17-millimeter-wide section of the medial orbitofrontal cortex. The findings were published online July 6 in PLoS ONE.
The medial orbitofrontal cortex has previously been linked to perception of beauty—as well as to pleasure, value and judgment. But this new study uncovers a more nuanced picture of individuals’ perception of beauty across different mediums. And the findings suggest that even though the definition of "art" can be anything from a decontextualized urinal to harsh soundscapes, the brain processes "beauty" independently.
"A painting by Francis Bacon, for example, may have great artistic merit but may not qualify as beautiful," Zeki said. And "to someone who finds [rock music] more rewarding and beautiful, we would expect to see greater activity in the particular brain region when listening to Van Halen than when listening to Wagner."
Beautiful music seemed to spur the brain’s center more quickly than did art, and each medium also activated its respective sensory regions (auditory and visual).
But visual art seemed to have a special effect on the brain. In addition to the medial orbitofrontal cortex, beautiful paintings also triggered the caudate nucleus, which has been linked to feelings of romantic love. This biological connection provides "an interesting neural commentary on the traditional emphasis made in world literature on the relationship between love and beauty," the researchers noted in their paper.
The parallels with previous findings about the medial orbitofrontal cortex suggest that there might be "an intimate link in the cortical processing that is linked to value, desire and beauty," the researchers wrote.
Zeki and his co-author, Tomohiro Ishizu hasten to add that compositions frequently considered beautiful might indeed share common attributes (symmetry, balance, harmony, etc.). And they don’t propose to have solved that centuries-old discussion: "what these characteristics are has been, and continues to be, a subject of debate," they wrote.
But what about the paintings and strains of music participants found ugly? Those experiences spurred action in the somatomotor cortex and the amygdala, suggesting that the brain has very different processes for different types of evaluation (positive versus negative). And art and music that subjects were indifferent to didn’t make any big splashes in the brain images.
Image of Roses in a Glass Vase by Edouard Manet courtesy of Wikimedia Commons/Robert Gordon/Andrew Forge
I find this article extremely mind-enhancing. The fact that "beauty" is able to spark something in our brains is so touching. It serves as a source of inspiration. I do not, however, believe that anything does not possess beauty in some sort of way. Something may not be appealing aesthetically, but it serves some purpose in life. And to have a purpose is beautiful.
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
David Blanton-Van der Leeuw Part 1: The Unity of Dance and Religion
In pages 14-15, Van der Leeuw introduces the notion that dancing and activities surrounding dancing are "discovered:"
"Alongside a river in Australian New Guinea an old man sits and stares into the water. A tree trunk drifts past: at certain intervals it rises to the surface and then sinks again, always with the same motion. The old man reaches for his drum and softly takes up the rhythm that he has discovered. While he beats the drum, the image of a dance takes form in his mind. So the Orokaiva-Papuas express the process among themselves. The rhythm must be discovered; then the dance arises, which imposes it on the environment, thereby drawing the environment into the movement as well."
This sort of experience is foreign to most of us today. Few take dancing seriously any more (though on this campus there is a small Ballroom dancing club who does just that). Yet, even those who do take dancing seriously see it as more of a recital of pre-existing forms than anything else. For others though, dancing is viewed as a fearful endeavor, either because of lack of experience dancing, or a general uncomfortableness with the activity. Yet this position is advantageous in the world of dancing according to this Orokaiva-Papuas account. The dance requires an element of discovery, a level of apprehension about what will happen next.
I have a good friend who is notorious for dancing in just this sort of way. Everytime he goes on the dance floor he has a different experience. Unashamed he conforms his body to the rhythm of the music in a way that most people would not dare to move. Yet, he has such a freedom, such a release in the action that one can't help but feel inspired to give themselves so willingly to the music. After asking him about it once, he described to me several legitmate spiritual experiences he has had while dancing. He described a profound sense of joy and freedom and felt a connection to God amidst all that was going on as he gave himself more and more to dancing and moving, rather that conforming to pre-existing body movements. He discovered the dance not through movements, but through complete abandon to the rhythm.
"Alongside a river in Australian New Guinea an old man sits and stares into the water. A tree trunk drifts past: at certain intervals it rises to the surface and then sinks again, always with the same motion. The old man reaches for his drum and softly takes up the rhythm that he has discovered. While he beats the drum, the image of a dance takes form in his mind. So the Orokaiva-Papuas express the process among themselves. The rhythm must be discovered; then the dance arises, which imposes it on the environment, thereby drawing the environment into the movement as well."
This sort of experience is foreign to most of us today. Few take dancing seriously any more (though on this campus there is a small Ballroom dancing club who does just that). Yet, even those who do take dancing seriously see it as more of a recital of pre-existing forms than anything else. For others though, dancing is viewed as a fearful endeavor, either because of lack of experience dancing, or a general uncomfortableness with the activity. Yet this position is advantageous in the world of dancing according to this Orokaiva-Papuas account. The dance requires an element of discovery, a level of apprehension about what will happen next.
I have a good friend who is notorious for dancing in just this sort of way. Everytime he goes on the dance floor he has a different experience. Unashamed he conforms his body to the rhythm of the music in a way that most people would not dare to move. Yet, he has such a freedom, such a release in the action that one can't help but feel inspired to give themselves so willingly to the music. After asking him about it once, he described to me several legitmate spiritual experiences he has had while dancing. He described a profound sense of joy and freedom and felt a connection to God amidst all that was going on as he gave himself more and more to dancing and moving, rather that conforming to pre-existing body movements. He discovered the dance not through movements, but through complete abandon to the rhythm.
Stu Rose - Why "beauty" anyway?
The Soul Has a Need for Beauty
Rev. Lilli Nye
Feb. 20, 2005
A few years ago, an interesting Neanderthal artifact was excavated from a cave in Slovenia: a small bone flute, made from a bear femur, hollowed out, with four holes bored into it in straight alignment. This little flute could be as much as 80,000 years old, perhaps the oldest known surviving musical instrument.
We know that our long-extinct Neanderthal cousins with their protruding brows and stocky limbs were moved to paint those luminous and graceful images of animals and spirits on their cave walls, and now we know that they expressed themselves in some sort of music.
- Did the flute imitate the sound of the wind?
- The sounds of birdcalls?
- Or did it give expression to their longings, fears, and joys and the spiritual wonderings of their ancient souls?
In exploring our own human need and fascination with beauty, why start with animals or with our ancient predecessors?
Because they suggest that our need to experience and create beauty is encoded into us at a primordial level. It is part of our nature because it seems to be encoded in nature itself. We are instinctively drawn to what is beautiful. We instinctively want to express ourselves through our own acts of beauty and creativity.
Could it be that beauty and creativity are
actually intentions of the universe itself?
Physicist Brian Swimme, claims …
“Allurement. is possibly one of the fundamental
forces in the universe. Allurement, attraction,
operates at every level of the cosmos.”
To emphasize the importance of this idea, Swimme proposes a mental experiment. He writes …
“Bring to mind all the allurements filling the universe, of whatever complexity or order: the allurement we call gravitation, that of electromagnetic interactions, chemical attractors, allurements in the biological, organic and human worlds. Here’s the question:
“If we could snap our fingers and make these allurements.
which we can’t see or taste or hear anyway,
disappear from the universe,
what would happen?
“To begin with, the galaxies would break apart. Stars of the Milky Way would fly off in all directions, since they would no longer hold each other in galactic embrace. Individual stars would disperse, their atoms no longer attracting each other, thus releasing core pressure and shutting down fusion reactions. The stars would go dark. The Earth would break apart as well, the minerals and chemical compounds dissolving, mountains evaporating like huge dark clouds under the dimming sun.
“But even if the physical world retained its shape, the human world would disintegrate just the same.
“No one would go to work in the morning.
“Why should they?
“There would be no attraction for work, no matter what it was.
“Activity would cease.
“Did scientists once find the universe interesting, staying up nights to reflect on its mysteries?
“No longer.
“Did lovers chase each other in the night, abandoning all for the adventure of romance?
“Never again.
“All interest, enchantment, fascination, mystery, and wonder would fall away, and with their absence all human groups would lose their binding energy. Galaxies, human families, atoms, ecosystems, all disintegrating immediately as the allurement pervading the universe is shut off. Nothing left. No community of any sort. Just nothing.”
This is a dramatic case for the necessity of attraction!
An aside, as I read Swimme’s ideas of allurement, was that the Sufi mystics, hundreds of years earlier, gave a sacred word to this same idea. The Sufis call it Ishk, the primary force of attraction in the universe. It is a virtually identical concept, but Sufis believe that the attraction that holds the stars together and the attraction that draws the human heart and soul toward all that it loves are of the same essential impulse: Ishk. Primordial Love. Divine Longing. Allurement.
Swimme further explores the implications of this idea of allurement. All these forms of attraction and desire result in the creation of new forms of being, and the creation of new communities at all levels. This vast universal creative work manifests itself in beauty. He says …
“This primal dynamism awakens communities of atoms, galaxies, stars, families, nations, persons, ecosystems, oceans, and stellar systems. We awaken to fascination and we strive to fascinate. We work to enchant others. We work to ignite life, to evoke presence, to enhance the unfolding of being. Through fascination we bring forth what might not otherwise exist. But this is exactly what love does. Love is the activity of evoking being, of enhancing life.”
Love is our response to what we experience as beautiful, and is also what propels us to generate new forms of beauty. The soul’s need for beauty is about being in touch with our essential nature and our essential call to life. The soul needs beauty because through the experience of it the soul becomes aware of its own existence. Our deep selves are awakened by feeling. We are able to touch something of the vastness of our being, the vastness of the universal community in which we reside.
Thomas Berry calls this “our response to the cosmic liturgy” …
“[We] humans become religious by joining the religion of the universe. [This is what] gives us a sense of awe. Apart from that our souls shrivel and our imagination would be dulled. The greatest and deepest tragedy in losing the splendor of the outer world is that we will always have an inner demand for it.
“We are genetically coded to exist in a world of beauty. Take it away, yet our genetic coding remains oriented to it. We will have desires that can never be satisfied. Our integral spiritual development cannot take place.”
A few years ago I attended a presentation on her work by Michelle Bentley, a minister who worked for a time as a chaplain with young men in prison. It included a slide show showing the urban neighborhoods, housing projects, and schools in which these individuals had grown up, and which constituted their world.
Their environments’ decay, ugliness, and barrenness was crushing!
She juxtaposed these images with the lush green grounds of prep schools and suburban affluence. By going back and forth between these two sets of images, her presentation vividly raised the question of how environments impact the folks living in them. Through the images we saw another dimension of the gap between privilege and deprivation.
Young people need access to places of natural or cultural beauty which can give them peace or can awaken their sense of wonder, soulfulness, and creativity. As theologian Henry Nelson Wieman said …
“Beauty awakens in us a yearning for the highest. Take the world of beauty away, but the inner instinct remains oriented to it. Environments that relentlessly assault or deprive the senses also starve the soul.”
And so, the human need for beauty presents a moral demand on us, as much as the human need for food presents a moral demand on us. In the words of Robert McAfee Brown …
“Concern for beauty leads us firmly into
the midst of all that is going on in our world.
“Where beauty is apparent, we are to enjoy it.
Where there is beauty hidden, we are to unveil it.
Where there is beauty defaced, we are to restore it.
And where there is no beauty at all, we are to create it.”
If we cherish what is beautiful in life, if our souls and senses need to be nourished by beauty in order to feel deeply alive, then we are showing ourselves to be most human.
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