This reminds me of something Socrates said about writing:
> You know, Phaedrus, that is the strange thing about writing, which makes it truly correspond to painting. The painter’s products stand before us as though they were alive. But if you question them, they maintain a most majestic silence. It is the same with written words. They seem to talk to you as though they were intelligent, but if you ask them anything about what they say from a desire to be instructed they go on telling just the same thing forever.
Both writing and painting only tell us as much as the creator chose to record, while a conversation is a dialogue that is directly curated for a particular person. Any misunderstandings or lack of context can be ascertained by question and answer, through attentively addressing the other person in their circumstance.
It seems like async art (which is most of what we interact with) puts us entirely in the frame of the creator. It doesn't have the push and pull of the Socratic method — we're cast along wherever the creator takes us. Which is all well, but it's good reason to be discerning about the art we consume!
yes! thank you for bringing this quote, and Plato's suspicion of mimesis, into play here. i think a lot about his work as an attempt to offer an alternative to art, one that that gives more agency to the reader/viewer. it strikes me that the offering of an alternative form of interaction is really so revolutionary -- i wish I could think through all of my problems with art today more clearly, and offer something as concrete as that.
For me, the very best art commands me to work on my own art. I'm not saying this is a message intended by the artist, but it is nevertheless a message I cannot help but receive. I have never left a cathedral without the overwhelming urge to create. When I see what they built, how can I not feel a strong challenge issued by the cathedral builders to try to achieve at least 0.01% of the aesthetic grandeur they did.
This reminds me of something Socrates said about writing:
> You know, Phaedrus, that is the strange thing about writing, which makes it truly correspond to painting. The painter’s products stand before us as though they were alive. But if you question them, they maintain a most majestic silence. It is the same with written words. They seem to talk to you as though they were intelligent, but if you ask them anything about what they say from a desire to be instructed they go on telling just the same thing forever.
Both writing and painting only tell us as much as the creator chose to record, while a conversation is a dialogue that is directly curated for a particular person. Any misunderstandings or lack of context can be ascertained by question and answer, through attentively addressing the other person in their circumstance.
It seems like async art (which is most of what we interact with) puts us entirely in the frame of the creator. It doesn't have the push and pull of the Socratic method — we're cast along wherever the creator takes us. Which is all well, but it's good reason to be discerning about the art we consume!
yes! thank you for bringing this quote, and Plato's suspicion of mimesis, into play here. i think a lot about his work as an attempt to offer an alternative to art, one that that gives more agency to the reader/viewer. it strikes me that the offering of an alternative form of interaction is really so revolutionary -- i wish I could think through all of my problems with art today more clearly, and offer something as concrete as that.
thank you, thoughtful as always and a very interesting way to think about how we interact with art
Thank you, I'm glad it resonated with you!
For me, the very best art commands me to work on my own art. I'm not saying this is a message intended by the artist, but it is nevertheless a message I cannot help but receive. I have never left a cathedral without the overwhelming urge to create. When I see what they built, how can I not feel a strong challenge issued by the cathedral builders to try to achieve at least 0.01% of the aesthetic grandeur they did.