A heuretes in Upstate

What it means to miss Middlesex

2011-03-31T09:52:00.003-04:00

Awake

light streams cloudy through the window early

but not too

Wife already up at work

Mother in law up even earlier

for a day too long

at work

and joy

The hardwood cool on my feet

the floor smooth from stair ledge

to bottom step

Close door opens into a room awash in morning light

First thoughts are of coffee

the pot shimmers from the light

shining in from the back window

Chip chip

chip chip chip

The high strained call

—beckon?

—warning?

of the Chipmunk staring at me on the cement wall

Morning Doves coo

the Jay shrieks

The Nuthatch upside down

and Mr. Tufted Titmouse with his pointy coiffure

all jitter and bounce from feeder

to ground

to feeder in their morning dance.

Without contractions

2011-03-23T09:57:00.002-04:00

I have tried, for a number of months now, to eliminate all contractions from my writing. This includes my dissertation, all text messages, and facebook and blog posts. I have also tried to no speak using contractions, though admittedly this was a bit tougher. My interest was peaked after seeing "True Grit" and hearing the unique, albeit almost poetic, way in which the characters spoke.

Two things arose in my thoughts. First, I should try and write, and speak, in a less contractual style. Secondly, how accurate was that style of speaking? As to the latter, here are two sites (the first links to the second) describing the use of apostrophe contractions in the English language. As the second points out

True Grit (the novel) has definitely got a lower frequency of contractions than the other two works, even though it's not in fact contraction-free; and this pattern is not a true picture of the 1870s southern or south-midland vernacular that its characters (like Mark Twain) presumably spoke.
If True Grit (the remake) has an even lower frequency of contractions, its picture of "how people talked in the period" is even less true, at least from the perspective of mere historical fact.

Despite this historical fact I still find the absence of apostrophe contractions almost liberating. I feel somewhat freed from normal (contemporary) linguistic conventions, and I enjoy the way this liberation sounds. I will try and continue to exclude contractions but the second website implicitly hints that certain contractions are certainly more common (it's/it is; that's/that is), and, for the lack of better wording, I find them linguistically more fluid as well as helpful.

PS We write the uncontracted form of "can't" as "cannot" [no space], but we do not write the uncontracted form of "won't" as "will not" and "don't" as "do not" [notice the spaces]. Why is this?

Returning to loving running

2011-03-21T14:12:00.003-04:00

This book is doing for my perception of running what Ernst Gombrich's book Art and Illusion did for my perception of pictures—both blow my mind. I need to make an extended post about this book, but for now I will have to say that how I look at running has changed. The mental cubbyhole in which I place the concept "running" has been dramatically expanded. In fact the cubbyhole as been blown to pieces and replaced with, what? A vast expanse of endless possibility.

The essential meta-question of my disserting

2011-03-18T15:50:00.006-04:00

My dissertation deals with the work of Ernst Gombrich, the industrious and widely renowned Austrian art historian (though he was undoubtedly much, much more than that!). But the essential question that I am pursuing, the snark that continually buzzes around my head, is how it is that pictures represent. That a painting shows an orange, a hillside, or a beautiful nude and that all of these things can be seen in a painting is beyond doubt. But what makes that painting a picture of an orange, a hillside, or a nude?

More generally, what makes any "naturalistic" painting or photograph a representation of its subject? (Max Black, 1972, p. 95)

It is the answer to this question that I am hunting; it is the answer to this question that is always delightfully eluding me. Perhaps, as Black concludes, the landing place we seek is not as concrete or fixed as we would like—perhaps there are no necessary conditions for a picture's depicting its subject. At the same time however, "the disqualification of some proposed condition as a necessary or sufficient criterion by no means shows that condition to be irrelevant to the application of the concept in question." (Black, 1972, p. 126)

For Black the concept of depiction is a range or cluster concept. There is no single criterion that makes it such that a picture is said to depict its subject. Black checks off four possibilities:

Causal history
The producer's intentions
The information in the picture
Resemblance or "looking like"

All of these are deficient conditions for clarifying depiction, though, as I pointed out above, this does not make them irrelevant to depiction. This may be the case, but I am wary of carrying Black's torch—after all, I am trying to defend Gombrich's position and he seems to disagree with Black. (Of course Gombrich never attempted to explicitly tackle the problem of explaining depiction. Should we therefore fault him for our failed attempts to pinpoint an established position in his writings?)

Smart Flesh. live & exquisite

2011-02-18T08:41:00.014-05:00

Went and saw them with Katrin. They played an Alt-Caberat show at the Mass MOCA. Here is a link to the review of the concert. Wish I had the setlist so that I could pine over not being able to relive the night over and over again.

A thought on a dog.

2011-01-12T20:21:00.003-05:00

It is amazing the trepidation and, dare I say it, fear that accompanied the thought of taking on responsibility for another living being. Perhaps there are those who take such a job more lightly—they enter into it on a whim, with only the immediate thought of the lovable, bounding ball of fur and tongue and tail. They might well become wonderful owners, parents, to their pet—my goal is not to dismiss their impulsiveness as reckless or inappropriate.

For myself, however, with that impulsiveness always came the fear of failure, the fear of doubt. Perhaps I held myself to too high a standard of what an owner should be; or perhaps I was just scared and unwilling, despite my vocalizations to the contrary, to commit. It does not matter now, because as I look at the living, breathing, loving being chewing up the last scraps of an edible tooth-beneficial-toy on our new carpet, I cannot imagine my life without him.

The philosophical experience

2011-01-03T19:08:00.004-05:00

I was reading through the first article ("Why is football [soccer] so fascinating") in my christmas present, Soccer and Philosophy, and I really enjoyed what Paul Hoyningen-Huene has to say about the "genuine philosophical experience." He writes that:

It works like this: you are familiar with a certain phenomenon. You know it, you've experienced it many times, you've shared your experience with others, and it's just a common thing, nothing special. Suddenly, the being-taken-for-granted of the phenomenon cracks. Suddenly, the phenomenon, at least aspects of it, becomes mysterious. That's the philosophical experience: something entirely self-evident loses this quality and becomes a puzzle, completely unexpectedly.

Question of the day

2010-12-21T09:31:00.003-05:00

What kind of picture of an apple would afford recognition of an apple?

What kind of picture of an apple would afford recognition of that apple in front of me?

I think that just about everyone who looks at these pictures can recognize each one as being of an apple. But each picture has been rendered in a different style—different styles afford different limitations for the artist, as well as what the picture can "do." Despite these caveats, recognition can occur almost immediately. What makes this possible?

My Safety Songs

2010-11-24T12:49:00.010-05:00

I decided to make a list of the songs that I always come back to, the songs that I listen as a comfort or as a fall back when I can't think of anything else—my Safety Songs.

A few caveats. First, I hope to keep this an open tab, since sometimes the things you love the most are the ones you take for granted, and in my case the ones that slip your mind the easiest. Second, there are artists that I always fall back to, so there might be some repeats.

Ok, in no particular order:

Paul Simon, "The Coast" (Live in Central Park)
The Kinks, "Strangers"
The Felice Brothers, "Frankie's Gun!"
The Low Anthem, "OMGCD"
Nina Simone, "Strange Fruit"
The Shins, "Turn On Me"
Weezer, "I am the Greatest Man in the World"
Guster, "Captain"
Thelonious Monk Quartet with John Coltrane, "Crepuscule with Nellie (Live at Carnegie Hall)"
Van Morrison, "These Are the Days"
The Dubliners, "The Wild Rover"
The Talking Heads, "(Nothing But) Flowers)"
Amos Lee, "Supply & Demand"
Tuba Skinny, "Careless Love"
Rage Against the Machine, "Ghost of Tom Joad"
Paul Simon, "That Was Your Mother"
The Shins, "Gone For Good"
Ben Harper, "When It's Good"
The Pogues & the Dubliners, "Whiskey in the Jar"
The Old 97's "Here's to the Halcyon"
The Whites, "Keep On the Sunny Side"
Jeff Buckley, "Be Your Husband" (Live at Sin-é)
Dave Matthews Band, "Proudest Monkey" (Live at Red Rocks)
Thelonious Monk Quartet with John Coltrane, "Monk's Mood" (Live at Carnegie Hall)
Alexi Murdoch, "Orange Sky"
Bright Eyes, "Land Locked Blues"
Chris Thomas King, "Come in my Kitchen"
Damien Rice, "The Professor & La Fille Danse" (Live)
Indigo Girls, "Get out the Map"
Joe Dassin, "Les Champs Elysées"
David Byrne and Brian Eno, "Life is Long"
Phish, "Wolfman's Brother"
R.E.M., "Losing My Religion"

The Runner

2010-11-21T11:41:00.003-05:00

On a flat road runs the well-train'd runner,

He is lean and sinewy with muscular legs.

He is thinly clothed, he leans forward as he runs,

With lightly closed fists and arms partially rais'd.

-Walt Whitman

Something delicious this way came

2010-11-19T10:23:00.005-05:00

If you haven't tried Absolute Brooklyn you are missing out on one of the most tasty vodkas ever. Not only is it smooth enough to drink on its own—I recommend over a few (2) ice cubes and less or equal parts water—but it also is very very good mixed—I recommend a little ginger-ale or something similar. However you attempt to partake, you won't be disappointed. (Plus, you get a little picture of Spike Lee. Neat.)

A Vegetarian's 1st Thanksgiving

2010-11-19T09:05:00.010-05:00

So this will be Katie and my first Thanksgiving as vegetarians. I have, at least over the past hand full of years, not been eating that much meat (especially red meat), so having given it up was not that difficult. The only hiccup I foresaw, in the beginning, was Thanksgiving. The meal would always consist of turkey, but even more so were the memories and traditions that came with the turkey: memories of Gan-Gan (my grandfather) carving the turkey in an apron (the only time you ever saw him in one); of all our family huddled around one table, and then two tables, and then a small kids table; of the first time I brought my wife (then girlfriend), and so on. But as Jonathan Safron Foer asks:

What is added by having a turkey on the Thanksgiving table? Maybe it tastes good, but taste isn't the reason its' there—most people don't eat very much turkey throughout the year…[more likely] the turkey is there because it is fundamental to the ritual—it is how we celebrate Thanksgiving.

But the further question is: Why? There are, I think, way too many answers to this question, so let me assume, following Safron Foer, that we don't need to eat turkey if the belief is that in doing so we will preserve our traditions; or in the belief that in not eating turkey we will somehow besmirch the memories of our loved ones.

This year, more so than many others, I an hungrily (pun) looking forward to going home to see my family for two immediate and very palpable reasons: (1) Katie desperately needs a break and two-day weekends will not cut it. She's been working non-stop since August, and getting away for even a paltry four days will be enhanced by seeing family and eating comfort food.

(2) Time.

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

Time, and life existing within it, is fickle and seems to change speeds—fast, slow, a creeping, a blinking—in such succession that it is hard to keep track of one's own life. I've seen the look in Katie's eyes, and I've heard her lament the lack of time spent with her family these last few months. Only a few months, but they have been a great Sisyphean burden, endlessly dragged to and from her school.

So, I am looking forward to a vegetarian Thanksgiving, and that will include to delicious discoveries Katie and I have made these last few months. A staple of any kitchen is good stock, but all of the vegetable stocks we have tried have been either too expensive or unpalatable. So we were very happy to stumble upon this little jem

1 tsp = 1 cube = 8oz. can. Really simply, and really tasty. Just whisk into some warm or hot water and you are on your way to a delicious stock. The other great thing we found was a vegetarian gravy mix

Now, I can understand your skepticism, but once you try it (especially with some Morning Star faux-sausage crumbles) you will become a believer. A lot of people a overly-critical of vegetarian and vegan fare (sometimes justifaibly) but if you give it a try, adjusting the herbs and spices, you'll have an equally delicious meal.

So, as the days tick off and time flows back and forth, I hope that I can appreciate what I have and try to consciously focus on those things in my life that deserve and are worthy of thanks and gratitude.

PS: here's a link to a great site vegetarian Thanksgiving site.

Up and Down Center Square in Albany, NY | MapMyRun

2010-11-18T20:43:00.000-05:00

Up and Down Center Square in Albany, NY | MapMyRun

O Me! O Life!

2010-11-17T16:18:00.004-05:00

O me! O life! of the questions of these recurring,

Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill'd with the

foolish,

Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish

than I, and who more faithless?)

Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the

struggle ever renew'd,

Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I

see around me,

Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me

intertwined,

The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these.

O me, O life?

Answer.

That you are here—that life exists and identity,

That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse

The right to…

2010-10-07T19:10:00.004-04:00

The NYTimes included a brief, albeit intriguing editorial on the right to free speech, specifically pertaining to the Supreme Court case Snyder v Phelps. The background is that
In March 2006, a week after Corporal Snyder was killed in Iraq, his funeral in Westminster, Md., became a target for Mr. Phelps, the founder and pastor of a Baptist church where most of his flock are his children, grandchildren and in-laws.
Their faith includes the belief that “God hates homosexuality and hates and punishes America for its tolerance of homosexuality, particularly in the United States military.” Over the past two decades, they have sought opportunities to trumpet these views in intrusive protests, recently including funerals of soldiers.
Seven of them went to the funeral of Corporal Snyder, who was not gay. While following rules set by a local ordinance and police about where they could protest, they carried signs that said “God Hates the USA” and “Fag troops” and “You’re going to hell.” After the funeral, the church’s Web site said Corporal Snyder’s parents “raised him for the devil.”
I remember discussing this topic, and specifically this group, with my Moral Choice's class when I adjuncted it the other year. There was, no doubt, heated debate and the defense, and rebuttal of, deep views on the subject of where the lines of free speech should be drawn. How long do we allow someone to spew speech that is antagonistic and hateful before we conclude they have overstepped their bounds?
It might be somewhat easier to conclude that someone should be allowed to say what they want as long as their words aren't meant to incite rather than attempt to layout the exact division at which someone should be muzzled. So we attempt to delineate the extremes, but leave the middle area intentionally hazy, to be dealt with when the time precipitates it.
This way of proceeding is exactly what we must do if we are to allow for freedom of speech to continue be as alive as we wish it to be. The courts job is not to spell out every possible circumstance, every possible scenario—it has to offer some, possible a lot of some—concrete perimeters, but it must allow speech to be given under free conditions of law. Even if the speech in question is "'uncommonly contemptible'", and even if there is general consensus of the contemptible nature of the speech, "it is in the interest of the nation that strong language about large issues be protected, even when it is hard to do so."
Chomsky said that "If we don't believe in freedom of expression for people we despise, we don't believe in it at all." The jist of this quote captures what the editorial was getting at: we can not, we must not, allow our disgust for the words spoken to diminish or destroy the freedom given to all. I don't hide my contempt for the fallacious ideas and malicious speech coming from Glenn Beck's mouth; but I do not quibble with his right to have the freedom to say what he does. To stifle his right would be to stifle democracy at its most pure.
(The only thing I do quibble with is this: Beck does not give us news. The claim that what he offers is "news" is repugnant. And the fact that this type of "news" is subsidized by a cable network, no less than an industry, is also repugnant. News outlets no longer give people access to the events of the world. They are now filled only with pundits, which is really not quite right: according to the historical definition of the word a pundit is someone who gives their opinion on a topic of which they are knowledgable—rarely is this criteria met. So a more apt description of these people is "ideologue".)
Mill said that "If all mankind minus one were of one opinion, mankind would be no more justified in silencing that one person than he, if he had the power, would be justified in silencing mankind." While I agree with Mill, but that does not mean that we should not establish the boundaries of the frontier of this freedom. We need not silence everyone we disagree with, but we can limit the arenas in which individuals can express themselves. We can shield certain groups of people (e.g., children) from having to endure the burden and distress of this freedom—but in writing these words, and in arguing for these limits, have I not undercut myself and drawn my side against the conclusions of the editorial? I don't believe so. A freedom to speak one's mind involves a level of responsibility and self-restraint. We allow drivers the freedom to go where they chose, to drive the car they want, to carry whom they wish—as long as they abide by certain rules and act within certain limitations and constraints, established for the safety and welfare of everyone.
Unrestrained and completely unconstrained freedom of speech can, given the right conditions, be just as harmful as a freedom that is bound and gaged by censorship. We must find a way to allow people to encounter and entertain "unpleasant facts, foreign ideas, alien philosophies and competitive values" on their own terms, because "a nation that is afraid to let its people judge the truth and falsehood in an open market is a nation that is afriad of its people." Kennedy was right to hope that the inhabitants of a nation could discern and weed out the truth from the falsehood, and I hope that we can continue to see our way through the tireless and difficult process of maintaining a healthy freedom of speech with the help of the angels of our better nature: reason and compromise.

The effects of dog-ownership

2010-09-26T11:38:00.007-04:00

I don't need to rehash the many positives of owning a dog, for there are, it can be said, too many to count. What I wish to mention, briefly, are the downsides of dog-ownership—specifically the inevitable fact that a dog will attract "the crazies."

There are lots of individuals that make up "the crazies", so I will have to limit myself to one individual, who will be used as a stand-in for the class of "drunken homeless people."

One of the joys of living in an urban environment is being able to sit on one's stoop, with one's significant other, your mutual good friend, and your canine companion. Add to the mix a delicious Malbec and crisp September air and the night should be quite lovely. But since you are enjoying the occasion with a cute, friendly, dog with "come-pet-me-and-I-will-lick-you" eyes there is the inevitable moment when even the cute, friendly, dog with "come-pet-me-and-I-will-lick-you" eyes realizes that he has attracted the wrong individual.

Case in point, our encounter with "The Junk Yard Dog", or, for brevity's sake, "JYD" (his abbreviation, not mine). Now, there is no need for me to describe what JYD looks like—the mental image you have already constructed is probably pretty accurate. All that you need to know is the progression of the conversation that ensued (which mostly consisted of JYD talking and us reluctantly nodding and muttering).

It went as follows:

[Note: the elipses are the parts that I am skipping over because they have no bearing on the plot of the narrative]

"That's a, a, a nice dog there…my best friend in the whole world, you know, well, he died…beer in the church, they don't like that, you know…smoking trees…those people who sleep with kids, I don't, you know, I can't stand them…don't want to think about it, but anyone messed with you ladies, you know, I would annihilate them…I would annihilate, them, man…he had it coming, man, I stabbed him eight times, but he had it coming, you know…what's your name? 'Deborah" What's your name? 'Sarah, with an 'h'.'…" At this point "Sarah" with an "h" (actually Katie) was staring me down with knives and, taking the hint, I proclaimed that it was Arlo's dinner time and that Sarah, Deborah (actually Alicia), Arlo and I needed to leave. To brace the trauma of our departure, I told JYD that I was very sorry for his lose, and, to seal the emotional bond placed a hand on his shoulder telling him that he should "be good" and "take care of yourself." This seemed to break his fixation with us, and, as he turned to stumble up the street I quickly followed Sarah and Deborah into the apartment and made sure that both locks were secured.

I'm not sure is there is a moral to this—even if there were I'm not sure how one could universally apply it. Perhaps what the reader should take from this is, if one decides to own a dog, especially one that is consistently gawked at and swooned over, be prepared for the entrance of "the crazies"; they are always waiting just off stage.

Aesthetic properties

2010-09-23T21:04:00.003-04:00

A = Van Gogh's The Night Cafe

B = a perfect forgery of Van Gogh's The Night Cafe

1) Do the aesthetic properties of A depend on anything more than its appearance? Should we take into account culture; artistic intentions, explicit claims or statements made by the artist; historical context?

2) Does anything beyond the visual appearance of A determine its aesthetic properties?

3) If A and B are visual identical, to the extent that even an expert on A and B cannot tell them apart, do A and B have identical aesthetic properties?

4) Do have answers to these questions? No, I do not.

The Story of Art

2010-09-23T20:50:00.003-04:00

One can't help but be taken in by the eloquence and charm in Ernst Gombrich's writing—I am thinking especially of The Story of Art and Art and Illusion. But I, in my desire to dig under the words and reveal some greater, more profound theoretical truth, feel abashed—as if I were peeking over a hedge to look at something I shouldn't. In trying to build theory up, or perhaps reveal theory I hope is already there, I can't help but feel as if I am destroying the ephemeral joy and magical spell that Gombrich casts over a reader every time he or she picks up one of these books.

A long time coming

2010-09-09T15:23:00.001-04:00

felt like i should get back into the blogging-realm, if not to decrease the information in my head. i will have to keep on this and try to add stuff more often.

Questioning our pop-culture obsession

2009-02-01T19:15:00.003-05:00

I have come to think that our culture, i.e., our society's obsession with pop culture and all of its "stars" and "icons", has gone over the edge of a cliff. We have OCD when it comes to the lives celebrities, but one can wonder what would happen if we just stopped caring; if we stopped tracking their every move; if we stopped photographing them coming out of a porto-potty; if we stopped shoving microphones around corners, through windows, into flashbulb lite faces. I don't deny that the people we see on television and in film, whose music we listen to on the radio and download on iTunes, and whose books and articles we read may live fascinating—lives that we want know more about. But does that necessitate the level of obsession we now display? I wonder what would happen if we turned a blind eye to the raucous and risky as well as to the heartfelt and caring. Perhaps it is inevitable to idolize those in the arts; those who have "more" than the rest of us; those who can perform acts of sport that few in the world could hope to achieve.

Preface

2009-02-01T19:13:00.001-05:00

a pseudo Preface to all posts before and all posts yet to come:

I know that these are only being read by 2-5 people, but that does not diminish my need to often times type out my thoughts.

An interesting moral quandary

2009-01-14T20:42:00.003-05:00

I recently heard an interesting story that allows for a discussion of the different positions of those major moral theorists Aristotle, Kant and Mill. So, I will paraphrase:

A crack-addict came upon a couple getting out of their car. He noticed their car had a nice stereo and as they were walking away tried to jimmy the door. The couple came back and the man tried to stop the addict. The addict was suffering from severe withdrawn and pulling out a knife he attacked the couple, killing them both. Breaking the window of the car he grabbed the stereo and ran. Later he was arrested and faced the possibility of 4 consecutive sentences of 25 years to life.

Now it just so happens that this same man, a few years earlier, had come upon a burning building. He heard someone yelling from inside and, without a moments hesitation he rushed in, found a man inside, and dragged the man from the building. Afterwards the rescuer was presented with the "Citizen of the Year" award for his act of heroism. His rational was that he was "a good person".

Now, what would each philosopher have to say about this man (who described himself as "a good person")?

INTERMISSION

2009-01-04T21:05:00.003-05:00

INTERMISSION

feel free to stand up

stretch your legs

partake in a beverage

(hot or cold)

and come back in, say,

another month?

Thank you

-Management

War of Writing

2008-12-07T21:41:00.002-05:00

He was a violent writer—every page, every paragraph, every sentence, every word was a battle in that great war of writing. He would often erupt in a outburst of criticism, questioning the competence of the tactics being used. Scrunching his face up, hands over his eyes or fingers running over his stubbled hair, he would renounce the entire campaign only to turn around and renew the fight, swearing before god and all creation that "i can finish this". Often a fog would descend just as the battles were starting, the weather forcing him to backtrack or even forget where he had started a few moments before. The confusion drove him to a near frenzied state of anxiety, turning from the enemy to himself he would scowl, clench his fists, scratch the ground, alternate between standing and sitting, only to witness the fog burn off in a blaze of illumination from where he knew not. By the end the battle he would stagger away utterly exhausted, barely able to stand or speak—filled with relief at the battle's finality he would sigh at the tentativeness of his survival and the certainty that he would relive the same series of events again and again. Any victory would come with the caveat that his actions, regardless of their success, would always be subject to scrutiny and uncertainty. Never could he leave the past, never could he forget what happened before, never could he let his footprints alone—for as soon as trod the ground he would turn and question the path he had just taken. Writing was but a weight that drove him towards a dark depth of nothingness, an inky blackness that could either engulf him in hopelessness and futility, or else be a rabbit hole that offered the promise of a wonderland of knowledge and understanding beyond.

An expedition

2008-12-03T21:56:00.000-05:00

I am continually hunting the elusive Snark

They told me you had been to her...

2008-12-03T21:54:00.001-05:00

They told me you had been to her,
And mentioned me to him:
She gave me a good character,
But said I could not swim.

He sent them word I had not gone
(We know it to be true):
If she should push the matter on,
What would become of you?

I gave her one, they gave him two,
You gave us three or more;
They all returned from him to you,
Though they were mine before.

If I or she should chance to be
Involved in this affair,
He trusts to you to set them free,
Exactly as we were.

My notion was that you had been
(Before she had this fit)
An obstacle that came between
Him, and ourselves, and it,

Don't let him know she liked them best,
For this must ever be
A secret, kept from all the rest,
Between yourself and me.

-Lewis Carrol

Commonbook Entry 1

2008-11-17T17:13:00.004-05:00

Cézanne said of Monet: "Monet n'est qu'un œil—mais quel œil!" The folly in this statement is that there ever existed an "innocent eye"—that we are passive recipients of sensations which are turned into perceptions by our mind. This claim is false.

"Elle (la peinture) vie se justifie que si on la considère comme une création de signes et non d'object feints." ("It (painting) is justified only if one regards it as a creation of signs and not of pretended objects.")

—Daniel-Henry Kalviweiler

This is at the very heart of what I am investigating: that images can and do function as signs pointing to their represented object(s), and that the illusion exists in the perceived representation of reality—not a confusion between the image and the object.

a continuation

2008-11-10T19:23:00.006-05:00

here are a few examples of what Wollheim might have termed the two extremes of pictorial representation (incidentally, if i understand Wollheim correctly, neither of these two extremes would be considered art).

(1) "all content and no surface" or "all subject (object) and no medium"

a. Larry Charles, Art Rules

b. Julian Beever, Rembrandt

(2) "all surface and no content" or "all medium and no subject (object)"

c. Ad Reinhardt, Abstract Painting No. 5

d. Mark Rothko, Untitled/Darkness over Light

i just don't know

2008-11-09T17:30:00.005-05:00

What are we to say about this artwork? [Is it artwork at all?] Assuming that it is, we should ask what it says about the purpose and intention of art. I understand art to be a form of communication between the artist and the beholder (viewer), and the success of that communication depends on the partnership between artist and beholder. If the content of the artwork is secret to no one but the artist, what is being communicated by the artist? Perhaps there is a meta-level of content being conveyed—the artwork appears to be conceptual, being unconcerned with the visual aesthetic features. i leave it to you.

frustration is a unwanted friend

2008-11-09T12:49:00.002-05:00

i have been looking at the same set of notes for over a hour and can't find a way out of the mental circle of doing nothing with words that mean something. it is so frustrating to know that i should be coming up with new ideas or at least writing out more of a systematic theory but its like staring through a clouded shower curtain—vague forms, unable to push forward. something needs to give, though i don't know what.

Are we there yet? Oh yeah—we're there.

2008-11-05T13:50:00.004-05:00

That i lived to see an African-American President of the United States is too extrordinary to put into words. This is truly a remarkable time, and this country has torn down the biggest (though not the last) racial barrier dividing it. This country has finally come together in a majority (not a totality) and elected to the highest office in our government a black man. How far we have come. Our actions have resonated to all corners of the world: anything is possible, you can be whatever you want to be, you can follow a dream. I want to tell my children that I watched as this country made history yet again, as we showed the resolve and determination of our beliefs, our ideals, our ability to see beyond the blinders of the past and embrace the light of change.

"Tonight we proved once more that the true strength of our nation comes not from the might of our arms or the scales of our wealth, but from the enduring power of our ideals: democracy, liberty, opportunity, and unyielding hope."

What i want to be when i grow down

2008-11-02T21:14:00.007-05:00

Any of my immediate family will know just how much i love(d) Calvin and Hobbes growing up. i have, if not all then almost all of the original books; but i would love to some day own the complete works. i want my kids to read it someday, and hopefully get the same experience of escape and freedom i got—sitting for hours reading and re-reading these stories took me away from everything hectic or immediate, immersing me in a much "calmer" "saner" "less violent" world…

um, not really, but at least you could throw water balloons at girls and get away with it. oh wait, Susie always pummeled Calvin. much like my sister, although she was a biter. OW!

(Sigh) Someday i'll grow up, and when i do i want to grow back down to a spaceman. with a tiger for a sidekick.

An economic update

2008-10-31T17:27:00.003-04:00

I cannot take credit for this, but I did feel it necessary to place it somewhere conspicuous.

I you had purchased $1000 of Delta Air Lines stock one year ago you would have $49 left. With Enron, you would have $16.50 left of the original $1000. With WorldCom you would have less than $5. However, if you had purchased $1000 worth of beer one year ago, drank the beer, then turned in the cans for the recycling REFUND you would have $214.

Based on the above, the best current investment advice is to drink and recycle. It's called the 401-Keg.

Recent studies found that Americans walk about 900 miles a year (abysmally small compared with the rest of the world). Another study found that Americans drink, on average, 22 gallons of alcohol a year. That means, on average, Americans get about 41 miles to the gallon.

the disowning of an artwork

2008-10-25T16:17:00.009-04:00

Recently i attended a philosophy colloquia, and during one of the discussion sessions the topic of the disowning artwork came up. there are so many questions that came to my mind. so perhaps the most succinct way of doing this is to go through them one by one:

why would an artist disown his or her work?

simply put artists may feel that the work did not express their vision; it was not successful in its execution; it was not emblematic of their overall project or theme; or, in their mind it sucks. i think that there are any number of reasons why an artist might disown his or her work. some are complex and some are simple, some might be selfish and some might be out of a desire to "better the world of art". this, however, is not the critical question.

what happens (to the artwork) if the artist disowns it? [also: is the word of the artist law? that is, does their disavowal thereby change the ontological status of the artwork?]

it is best to begin with the uncontroversial claim that all artwork needs an author; artwork does not simply appear, no artwork can suddenly come into existence ex nihlo without having an artist that created it. granted this, let us assume that the artist creates two artworks . Let us also assume that are prints in an edition (i am sticking with the example used by Christy MagUihdir). at some point after have been created the artist decides (for whatever reason) to disown x. so at t1 x is created; at t2 y is created; at tn x is disowned. one further assumption is that at t1 x is an artwork and at t2 y is an artwork. so at tn, when x is disowned by the artist—who might say something insightful such as, "i disown x. i do not want x to be displayed in galleries, nor viewed by anyone at any time. i severe all ties to x, and people should assume that x has no connection with me or my work"; or the artist could crassly state, "that [x] isn't mine"—what becomes of its status as an artwork? does it cease to be one? as we said before, all art needs an artist, but at tn, for all intents and purposes, x has no artist, so x cannot be an artwork. imagine instead that at t3 the artist dies; now have no artist, so should we say that are not an artwork at tn? No—just because the artist is no longer alive does not negate the status of the artwork. if it did then every "artwork" in any gallery that was made by a now deceased artist could no longer be an artwork. the above scenario misrepresents what is meant by an artwork "needing" an artist: all that is required is that, at some point in the causal chain of the creation of an artwork, an artist was involved. put simply all we need for an artwork to be an artwork is that there was an artist. if there was, then the subsequent death of the artist will not affect the status of an artwork.

but if the death of an artist does not negate the status of an artwork how can an artwork lose its "artwork" status through the artist's verbal act of "i take it back"? here two strands must be teased apart: the aesthetic and the ontological. if the artwork is an artwork it will, presumably, display certain aesthetic and non-aesthetic properties. if it displays any of the former, we (i.e., philosophers, i.e., academically trained nit-pickers) will be hard pressed to tell "Joe-six pack" (sorry couldn't resist the Sarah Palin tick) that what was a work of art is now, not. now it is; now it isn't. simple because that guy said so (and does it matter the reason?). if x has aesthetic properties, even after the artist disowns it, i want to say that x is still an artwork. the other strand is more tricky. here we must decide, or at least come to an agreement on the rules for, who has the power to convey "artworkhood" on some object. if we agree that it is the artist who can confer "artworkhood" then it would be, at least without justification, arbitrary to say that the artist does not also have the power to take away "artworkhood". once something is an artwork, and thus displays aesthetic properties—lets grant that x counts as an artwork if anything counts as an artwork—the artist saying "this is not an artwork. i don't want it shown or sold" does not negate the aesthetic properties seen in the artwork. think of what would happen if we said that x wasn't an artwork: the artist disowns x at tn, but x still displays aesthetic properties—"x is beautiful" or "x's use of Ω (e.g., line, texture, color, tone) creates a feeling of balance". in this example a non-artwork is seen as embodying distinctly aesthetic properties, and it might not seem so outlandish if x were a natural object displaying aesthetic properties (e.g., a landscape, a sunset, etc.), but here there is an object that was created specifically as an artwork (to heighten the case we might flush out the details of what kind of artwork x is, e.g., a realistic portrait of a woman sitting next to an open window) but now has been stripped of its status of artwork. nothing has changed in its appearance; we are able to see the same brushstrokes, the same use of tone, color, line and composition, the same relationship of elements. so, what has changed?

by disowning the artwork the only thing the artist has managed to do is to severe the artwork from him—the artwork is no longer "an A" (where "A" can be filled in with the artist's name, much as we do when we say, "that is a Rembrandt" or "that reminds me of a Chuck Close"). but, i want to maintain that the artwork does not lose its status as an artwork. if the artist created an artwork (i haven't discussed the conditions required for creating art, but we can grant that some such conditions exist), and it fulfills the conditions (generally accepted by critics and the public) for what counts as a piece of art, in disowning the piece of art all that the artist does is re-create the artwork into an "artist-less" artwork. we can describe it as "a former A" or "an artwork that used to be an A" or (more humorously) "the x formerly made by A". in the end the only way that an artwork could completely lose its status of art might arise from some major shift in the conventions of an era such that the characteristics displayed by x no longer fulfill the conditions for its inclusion as an artwork. perhaps this hypothetical scenario is not so far fetched though—different eras of art have surely looked with distain at previous styles that had come to be considered as vile, inartistic, inappropriate, etc. whether whole styles of art really did cease to embody any visible aesthetic properties is doubtful, and a better account is that the prejudices of individuals influenced the exclusion of certain individual works and, perhaps, whole styles.

this has lead us away from the topic at hand. can an artwork be disowned? Yes—but only if we understand the act of disowning to be a severing of an artwork with an artist. its is not possible to severe an artwork from what i have called "artworkhood" except under certain extreme conditions. of course this discussion has focused on the plastic arts to the exclusion of, for example, music, and i am unsure how my account would impact these other areas.

(for a recent example of this issue check out Edward Winkleman's blog entry about Richard Prince's decision to disown some of his earlier non-representational work)

a brief line

2008-10-23T20:10:00.002-04:00

"[…] for anything seems worth trying".

That is something that should always be remembered; simple, yet profound. Think of the outcomes that could exist if we simple "gave it a try."

I am not a philosopher

2008-10-16T17:36:00.004-04:00

i study philosophy. By which i mean i have had formal training from learned teachers in reading, understanding, assessing, criticizing, and constructing philosophical texts and arguments. i have read, and re-read books and articles, editorials and web-posts, all in the pursuit of being a philosopher. None of this, none of the hours and hours of reading and trying to understand the interweaving of arguments, the countless use of of examples, the criticism of contemporaries or the subtle (and often not so subtle) remarks cutting across dissenting theorists have made me a philosopher—it will take years of being in the world for that to happen. Perhaps in twenty or thirty years i can call myself a philosopher. but i am not a philosopher.

A moment of illusion

2008-10-13T15:56:00.008-04:00

My wife (Katie) and i visited The Clark museum in Williamstown the other day. My hope was to see a new exhibition entitled "Like breath on glass: Whistler, Inness and the art of painting softly." This we did see, and it was truly a wonderful, exciting display of soft painting. However, that was not what constitutes the occasion for this post.

As we first walked into the main gallery space I happened to catch sight of a lone trompe l'oeil painting, the last of a row of paintings hanging on the wall adjacent to where we entered. I knew that I wanted to see it, at least before we left, so the two of us continued throughout the space looking at works by Turner, Gauguin, Degas, Manet, Latrec, and others, until we were about to leave. "I just want to see one more painting on our way out," I said to Katie, "it's just around the corner up here." We sauntered around the corner, stopping to look at a few works by Corbet. Hanging directly in front of us at the end of the hall was the trompe l'oeil, and as we approached it Katie asked, "Which painting did you want to see?" There were other paintings around it, as well as some in an adjacent room, so it was unclear which one I was intending to look at. "This one, the tromp l'oeil, " I said gesturing at the painting. As she turned towards the painting I watched her reaction—I assumed that she knew what trompe l'oeil paintings were, but I wanted to see if this particular one would "get" her. For a brief moment she looked puzzled, then her face showed that the jig was up: "My gosh, I thought that was a light box or something." "Yeah?", I said. "I saw it from down the hall," she replied, moving closer to the painting to inspect it, "but I thought it was just lots of objects hanging on the wall. You know, like when they put things from the Civil War in a light box to display them. I was wondering why they would hang random things on the wall." I chuckled and nodded. She stepped farther back to get a better look at the painting, laughing the whole time as she did. I thought for a moment, watching her move around the painting, and then asked, "Well, can you get it back?" She must have known what I was talking about because she half-heartedly answer, "No. I can't. Do you think I could, though?" We started to walk back to the exit. I thought for a moment. "Maybe, but you would—" "Have to almost forget I saw it," she cut me off. I nodded again; it was more a statement then a question.

Ernst Gombrich: "When you step before any picture a second time…you are suddenly aware of making an advance which is only one of an inch compared to a mile but you have the feeling 'well, now, I begin to see something which I didn't see before.'"

Theodore M. Brown: "And you cannot necessarily go back to the old way of seeing."

Gombrich: "No, you cannot necessarily go back…[but] suddenly it becomes a little transparent…[and] You have a fresh dimension; a new meaning has been added. And you do gain such insights."

The Idiot

2008-10-11T10:38:00.005-04:00

It is interesting when something keeps resurfacing in one's life—a name, number, car, song, color, etc.—and, i have found that it behooves the individual to follow where that reoccurrence leads. Try and understand why it is that the event keeps coming back, or at least, be willing to see where it leads. i admit that in most cases the object in question is probably not some obscure reference, but in my case it could not have been further from what happened because for me the reoccuring object was Fyodor Dostoevsky's the Idiot. the times that it has popped up in my life might seem disjointed and of no significance, but i am firmly in the camp that believes such "coincidences" should not be ignored and shrugged off.

The first time i encountered the Idiot was, albeit briefly, in the Roman Polanski's "The Pianist" when the family is sitting with all the other Jewish families waiting to be taken away. I think that it was the character of Henryk that was reading it. (i actually didn't catch this time until after some of the subsequent ones.)

The next time was when my co-worker bought a copy of the book from our local Borders that was closing. He commented that the book as one of his favorite ones and that he had been quite happy to find a copy. This occurrence really brought the existence of the book to the fore of my mind. i was at least aware of it now, whereas before i was more formally aware of only two of Dostoevsky's books: Crime and Punishment, and The Brothers Karamazov.

When watching the moive "The Machinist" Trevor Reznik (Christian Bale) is reading the Idiot whilst sitting on a couch. it was, like the previous movie occurrence, subtle and my conscious mind didn't pick up on it until a few scenes later. Now, however, i was more atuned to its existence and really thought consciously about the fact that it was showing up more and more.

As i was out at the mall, i thought i'd stop in barnes & noble and take a look around, though, of course, all the time thinking i might just go buy a copy. as i rounded a corner and looked at the "b&n classics" display there, right in my center of vision was a copy of the Idiot. i told myself that i should get it, and finally see what it is about.

So, no regrets on pursuing my literary spot-lit path, although perhaps a partial apology for a mundane short story about the re-occurrences of a book in the life of an unknown philosophical barista living in the country. the book is currently not disappointing and should prove to be very enlightening. i can only hope to figure out why the Idiot kept resurfacing.

Beginnings

2008-10-10T17:32:00.000-04:00

I have decided to start this blog anew; a clear slate to record all those mental meanderings that come to me. Granted, that can be a thick forest for an original thought to emerge, but here's to hoping.