Bornedal InterpretationPRTDOfArt Introduction Conclusion Libre

8/10/2019 Bornedal InterpretationPRTDOfArt Introduction Conclusion Libre

http://slidepdf.com/reader/full/bornedal-interpretationprtdofart-introduction-conclusion-libre 1/27

Introduction

________________________________________

Classical Transparency

and Romantic Opaqueness

1) The Modern Conception of Poetry

During the eighteenth century it becomes a predominant critical

idea that the intrinsic purpose of art is to represent human nature. In

general, human nature becomes an exclusive epistemological object

and new questions arise concerning the knowledge human beings pro-

duce about themselves. Disciplines such as aesthetics, linguistics, her-

meneutics, criticism, psychology, and history proliferate as differentways to answer these questions. Increasingly, individuals are becoming

enigmas that cannot be approached directly, but who have to be inves-

tigated through the layers of knowledge organized around them, such as

their language, their history, and their poetry. They are no longer a be-

havior with certain well-classified tempers visible to any spectator; they

are profundities.

Also art becomes a ‘knowledge’ through which humans approachthemselves. In art, humans expect their nature to be reflected; that is,

they expect to recover themselves not as contingent empirical beings,

but as what they are in their transcendental and eternal humanity.

If beforehand one discussed what poetry was good for, and agreed it

had no object in the same sense as astronomy, theology, law, or history

had, but that it was entertaining and it was able to teach through exam-

ples, one begins during preromanticism and romanticism to see the con-

tours of an ideal and metaphysical object. Slowly, poetry begins to de-

velop into a knowledge about human essence, but a knowledge that can



The Interpretations of Art

2

never present itself patently, and consistently keeps secret and out of

sight that about which it assumes knowledge.Contrary to all other branches of knowledge, art becomes a discip-

line which is supposed not to express or explicate what it assumes as its

insights, as these insights allegedly are of a so ethereal nature that any

representation of them by conventional logic would invalidate them.

The poets merely indicate by their enthusiasm how these insights affect

their life and imagination, and their poetry becomes traces of this invis-

ible and inaccessible knowledge. Poetry becomes a light, emitted from

an incomprehensible source, but illuminating the world with a divine

brilliance.

2) A General Theme of the Work

The present work focuses on the transformation of the critical para-

digms of classicism and romanticism; it does so with respect to how

one discusses art and the artist, and with respect to the epistemological

changes in these discussions. Thus, the work is not simply a historical

account of the development of criticism. It examines the epistemology

of criticism, and pursues how criticism on a fundamental structural lev-

el develops and changes. As such, the approach is more structural than

historical. In comparing the two major paradigms, the different organi-

zation of knowledge about art and the artist is emphasized and the fun-damental rationale for this organization is exposed. This is represented

according to how the included texts themselves account for this situa-

tion, and not from a theoretical vantage-point exterior to the logical or-

ganization of the texts themselves.

In this ‘theoretically disinterested’ approach, the thesis is that in the

development of art-theory, art gradually is being separated from the

practical purposes and the codified language conducting the task of the

classical artist. Art becomes a sphere where ‘truth’ presumably is enun-

ciated. Poetry changes from being ‘a kind of language’ into being ‘a di-

vine kind of language’— a language with a particular and exclusive re-

lation to the truth of the human being and nature, and with the task toilluminate this relationship.

It is a general thesis that classicism and romanticism have two dif-

ferent ways of organizing knowledge and employing language. 1) If in

classicism knowledge is spread out in taxonomic and classificatory sys-

tems, for example, as the classification of literary genres or the classi-



Classical Transparency and Romantic Opaqueness

3

fication of human tempers, knowledge in romanticism becomes know-

ledge about depths and origins; about generation and production. If be-forehand knowledge was organized on the visible surface of the world,

according to a synchronic axis, knowledge now is organized according

to a diachronic axis — it hides in invisible depths of humans, in indis-

tinct principles of productivity, or in inaccessible prehistoric times of

lost origins. Along with this new principle for organization of know-

ledge is born a new time-consciousness, a sense of history as a develop-

ment from the primitive to the complex, from the depth to the surface,

from the origin to the present, from the production to the product.

Knowledge generates as a speculative insight in these blurred and opa-

que areas where the truth, the depth, the origin, and the generation are

condensed in a distant prehistoric point for the beginning of everything.2) Furthermore, language is employed with greatly different purposes.

If in classicism one uses language for the sake of communication, in

romanticism it is used for the sake of expression — preferably in order

to express something inexpressible: something belonging either to the

regions of a lost prehistory of humans, to a metaphysical divine realm,

or to the depth of the artistic self. One may term these different lan-

guage-modes respectively pragmatic and idealistic. From this point of

departure it is possible to derive other distinctions such as a fun-

damentally different perception of ‘the other,’ the presumed receiver. In

classicism, the receiver still functions as an external, actual recipient

and judge of the artistic product. The relationship is ‘communicative’because a (virtual) dialogue goes on between artist and audience. In

romanticism, where one shifts from emphasizing potential communica-

tion with the audience into emphasizing expression of the self, one los-

es this ‘pragmatic dimension’ and ‘communicative’ purpose of art. If inclassicism the receiver is external, representing a mature audience con-

sisting of individuals in principle equal to the artist, and thus capable of

reviewing the artist, the receiver in romanticism is internalized; one

does not address one’s poetry to an actual recipient. The idea of con-

forming oneself to an evaluating audience becomes intolerable. One

writes from a position within oneself, avoiding any ‘rules’ that might

guide and direct one’s writing. An essentially different writing-processseems to emerge in this shift of paradigms together with a whole new

sense of the self. If one understands the artist-audience relationship in

classicism as an ‘artisan-reviewer’ relationship, where the end for theartist is to get recognition, one may notice that with the romantic inter-

nalization of recipient, and consequently elimination of actual recipient,






5

3) The Question of Method and ‘Reading-Strategy’

As an investigation in the changing epistemological basis of criti-

cism, the present work does not and cannot — without performative self-

contradiction —suggest a solution to or a ‘truth’ about the issues dis-

cussed in art-criticism. The ‘method’ of this investigation is descriptive.

Basic Phenomenological assumptions are regarded as most sound when

investigating and describing the logic and economy of an art-theory, in

the sense that the inherent logic of the subject matter itself is investi-

gated. However, as in much self- proclaimed ‘descriptive’ theory, a

normative component is imbedded, as indicated above. Here obviouslythe justification of a pragmatic, non-idealistic approach to art consti-

tutes such a normative component — a pragmatic recognition of art as

merely a ‘language-game’ among other language-games, without spe-

cific claims to truth and without specific metaphysical privileges. In the

description of the development from Renaissance and neoclassical crit-

icism to preromantic and romantic, neoclassicism becomes the norm.

In the descriptions of critical paradigms and texts, a reading-

strategy is pursued that owes much to Derrida’s ‘Deconstruction.’ Inthe pursuit of idealistic moments in especially romantic texts, or in the

examination of critical concepts that pertain to truth, conclusions are

drawn that often seem to duplicate Derridian recognitions. Sometimesthis may be due to actual indebtedness to Derrida; often, however, scru-

tinizing material with an approach identical to Derrida’s has unavoida-

ble and necessary deconstructive effects. Although Derrida has never

been ‘applied’ in a primitive sense, and although there has been no at-

tempt to imitate the style of Deconstruction, the initial ideas of an un-

prejudiced approach to texts, of letting the text speak, of the existence

of intrinsic logics in texts that may undermine the intentionality of the

author, are essentially Derridian.

First and foremost, it is presupposed that one approaches a text

without prejudice, ‘rationally’ and ‘objectively,’ with this implying that

one does not pretend to understand its core concepts before their con-textuality are read and examined. One, for example, does not pretend to

understand critical concepts such as ‘nature,’ ‘beauty,’ ‘imitation,’ or

‘inspiration,’ as if these concepts are constituted as eternally the same,outside the context and function of the particular text in which they oc-

cur. This implies that one understands concepts not according to the




6

dictionary but according to their actual textual function. ‘Beauty’ be-

comes an enigmatic word, meaningless in itself, but something whosemeaning can be reconstructed and reconstituted. ‘Deconstruction’ be-

comes a kind of ‘reconstruction.’ In this phenomenological -

deconstructive reading-strategy one suspends, cancels out ‘life’ and

‘world’; theories are perceived as systems.

If art theories are such ‘systems,’ and a system is a group of inter -

acting elements functioning as a complex whole, one focuses in this

reading-strategy on the operative performance of these elements and on

the laws governing their functioning. Thus, one investigates the system

as object, not its object, and not what the system is about. When talking

about the art theoretical system, the interest is consequently not in the

content of the theory, but in how this theory functions as a system — that is, how it is constructed, and how its elements in turn substantiate

the whole. In this enterprise, one must be attentive to the object of the

system only as an element in the system and only insofar as the system

is constructed around a theoretical object. Admittedly, a system talks

about something, but it talks systematically, and it is this systematic

structure one examines. Whether its object is God, mind, nature, beau-

ty, understanding, inspiration, speech or writing, the object in this in-

vestigation is reduced to an anonymous ‘x.’ It is suspended or canceledout, becoming of no interest in itself, but only another element in the

system. It is something the system is a system for, something it at-

tempts to substantiate; still, the object in itself is ignored. Whether aparticular work of art is essentially beautiful or ugly is, for example,

not interesting, but the way one wants and tries to substantiate essential

beauty or ugliness is interesting.

Systems invent their own conceptual universe. They develop a cer-

tain economy and logic for this conceptual universe as their concepts

become mutually self-defining and self-determining. Within the sys-

tem, concepts lose their reference to the everyday world as they gain a

pure system-specific meaning. In a theoretical context, the word ‘beau-

ty’ has become (what shall be termed) an ‘anaseme,’ that is, a conceptwhose meaning becomes nothing but a structure of other interrelated

‘anasemes.’ This also implies that the system explaining ‘beauty’ can-not close itself by means of any definite term since terms define and,

consequently, depend on each other. There is no ‘master’ signifier, only

self-referential and recursive definitions. Thus, a simple intuitive un-

derstanding of ‘beauty,’ as something one believes (‘feels’) one knowsfrom everyday life, is lost again in the theory, whose whole purpose in




7

the first place was to clarify this vague intuitive understanding of

‘beauty.’ It seems as if the word, detached from its mundane surround-ings and exposed to the system, begins a new life in which the laws of

différance and dissemination are the rule. Here it is transposed to a new

strict, rigorous, logical, and economic language, achieving new defini-

tions that cannot ultimately be substantiated. The intuitively felt mean-

ing of the word is lost as soon as the word becomes a notion. Similarly,

also ‘nature’ becomes such an ‘anaseme.’ It is a word which, havinglost its current sense, retains only a vague resemblance to the word as

one knows it from the dictionary or from everyday speech. It is a word

condensing matters that would not necessarily and normally be asso-

ciated with this word, matters which one can infer only from scrutiniz-

ing the specific contexts in which the word occurs. For example, imitat-ing ‘nature’ is not just to imitate nature because one cannot in advance

know what this statement implies or ‘means.’ Imitating ‘nature’ is to dosomething, where one selects certain mythological themes in a certain

narrative structure according to certain social norms and ethical stan-

dards, with a certain knowledge of the classification of and methods re-

quired in different genres. The phrase ‘imitating nature’ has no obviousmeaning, although a provisional meaning may be reconstructed through

close-reading of particular texts. Again, deconstruction is reconstruc-

tion.

To summarize: an anaseme is a word which has lost its normal and

everyday meaning. Although the word sounds familiar, its new signi-ficance — its so-called ‘system-specific’ meaning— is perhaps entirely

unknown. ‘Beauty’ is not just beauty, ‘nature’ is not just nature, ‘imita-

tion’ is not just imitation, etc. A notion ‘x’ is called an anaseme when itis inscribed in a network of neighbor notions from where it specifically

receives its significance. The systems of these notions are called ‘ana-

semic systems,’ and these systems constitute the foundation for the

‘meaning’— however vague and ambiguous — of the notions in these

systems. Thus, anasemic concepts are never determined with complete

certainty insofar as they only have meaning within a system they them-

selves participate to define. In this indirect way they rely on them-

selves. Therefore, in a theoretical system, the meaning of an anaseme ismerely a system of other anasemes.

The art-criticism and art-theories represented in the following are

exclusively read as ‘anasemic systems.’




8

4) A Brief Overview of the Composition of the Work

The work is divided in three major parts: Classicism, Transition &

Preromanticism and, Romanticism. The first part deals with neoclassic-

al criticism (such as, Scalinger, Castelvetro, Sidney, Boileau, Pope,

Corneille, Dryden). The second and largest part deals with the ‘transi-

tion’ between neoclassicism and romanticism— as it describes early

reactions against neoclassicism such as Lessing’s and Johnson’s, fol-

lows the development of aesthetic theory from Addison, Hume, and

Burke to Kant, or discusses the theories of the origins of language and

poetry from Rousseau and Herder to Schiller and Frederich Schlegel.

The final part deals with German and English romanticism —

represented by Tieck & Wackenroder, F. Schlegel, Schelling, Novalis,Coleridge, and Wordsworth.

In order to examine the interrelationships between critical and poe-

tic works, three literary works conclude each part. From the classical

period: Le Cid, from the transition period: Die Leiden des Jungen

Werther, and from the romantic period: Heinrich von Ofterdingen. All

these works deal with love-relationships, about how to win and how to

lose a woman. This relationship one may view also as an analogy on

the relationship between author and ‘the other,’ especially, how to win

or lose one’s audience, or, closely related, how to cope with social andconventional codes. In Corneille, one still has to obey certain rules (in

love as in writing) before the king awards the hero royal recognition.Emotions are here subordinated conventions. A certain code of beha-

vior is everything, and the individual has to conform to the demands of

society, reluctantly perhaps, but unquestionably. In Goethe, one is no

longer obligated by rules (in love as in writing). The narrator tries to

transgress the rules of society, as he writes intimate letters to a friend in

frustration over a woman, still not convinced about choosing romantic

love above pragmatic marriage. The woman does not yet reward the

sensitivity of the poet-hero; emotions are not yet invaluable, and, to the

distress of the hero, they meet social obstacles. The woman in Novalis

has reached a conclusive stage where finally poetic sensitivity is appre-

ciated. However, this ideal stage is represented as a fairy tale and fanta-sy reality in which everything is childhood, innocence, play, song, and

enthusiasm. One does not ‘communicate,’ debate or judge any longer inthis fantasy realm; one expresses, sympathizes, feels, and sings songs.

Classicism. In this part the classificatory system of the arts is de-

scribed, together with the ideas of imitation and inspiration, the under-




9

standing of what the purpose of poetry should be, and the recommenda-

tions of how one should compose an ‘opportune’ work of art. The gen-eral tendency in neoclassicism seems clear enough, one is conservative,

restrictive, and prescriptive; one distrusts the freedom of genius and

confines the creative imagination within certain limits. Imagination is

subjected to reason; one recommends imitation and discourages expe-

riment. Instead of encouraging genius, one teaches rules; instead of try-

ing new methods, one looks back to tried methods of the past. The end

of poetry is to teach and delight. How it should do so is adjusted to the

particular kinds of poetry. Thus, epic should arouse admiration for he-

roic virtues; tragedy should arouse terror and pity, and carry out poetic

justice; comedy should correct humans’ manners through ridicule. The

different areas and objects of poetry may easily be classified in a tablebecause poetry does not represent a secret and incomprehensible truth

about the human being. Also important is the relationship between

work and audience. Theories are developed to explain what an audience

may understand and find credible, and which sentiments the work

should excite in the audience. Poetry has to be credible and probable,

because if spectators cannot believe a play, neither can they be affected

by it. The play will not move them and they will not learn from it. Al-

though human life is also in focus in the classical paradigm, it is in fo-

cus as a life of action, of virtues, vices, or manners. Life is understood

as idealized life. If artists picture life, they picture the conventional and

social norm, the acceptable and the good. Art still upholds a relation-ship to moral and legal discourses. It is not yet psychological or anthro-

pological in its general orientation. As such, poetry does not represent

an immanent knowledge about the human being. It is a reflection of the

obvious. It does not pretend to present an insight into things and their

nature, but to become an instrument for teaching and correction. One

derives one’s criticism from Aristotle and Horace. Poetry is not divine

madness; it is an art, a skill, and as such it is thought to have specific

rules which all craftsmen have to know if they are to ply their trade

properly. Artists should not trust themselves as geniuses; artists should

learn to imitate those who knew how to imitate literature, that is, the

ancients. In the seventeenth century one concentrated on matters oftechnique and hardly raised the question of the nature of poetry.

Transition & preromanticism. If the classicist tradition stressed un-

changeable norms of art, one begins in the transition to develop a his-

torical consciousness of art and to discuss the ‘nature’ of art and the ar t-

ist. If in the classical tradition artistic production was a matter of imitat-




10

ing good examples, following certain well-defined rules applied to dif-

ferent genres, one now begins to realize the changeability of genres.The novel, which is not recognized in earlier lists of genres, emerges.

One rebels against strict normative rules and against the standard ex-

amples. The second part will deal with three occurrences which may be

identified as ‘transition.’ First, it will be described how the neoclassical

paradigm collapses, and how it is replaced with another rationale and

paradigm that makes the rejection of neoclassicism possible. Although

the ancient Greeks remain an artistic ideal, one objects to the neoclas-

sical application of ancient classicism. It becomes increasingly imposs-

ible to argue consistently for the necessary implementation of the rules

of the unities and of ancient models. The paradigm changes, and the

better argument is now drawing its resources from presumed insights in‘nature’ itself— not from preapproved taxonomic systems. Neoclassic-

ism collapses ‘before’ Lessing and Johnson (or any other individualagent) as this collapse constitutes the conditions of possibility for their

better arguments against neoclassical principles. Secondly, one begins

to discuss the nature of art and the artist. Gradually a new philosophical

discipline is introduced, a cognitive meta-discipline related to the arts, a

so-called ‘aesthetics’— a discipline of how to perceive in general, and

specifically of how to perceive beauty. If art previously had to imitate

exemplary models, and could do so successfully or unsuccessfully, it

now has to be ‘beautiful.’ Kant’s philosophy becomes influential, be-

cause he is able to distinguish so-called aesthetic judgments from scien-tific and moral judgments, separating so-called ‘disinterested’ from ‘in-

terested’ judgments. Thirdly, one begins to look for new ideals to fol-

low in the past of human prehistory. One no longer returns only to the

ancient Greeks to find material to be imitated. One returns to another

simplicity, to a childhood of mankind, languages, poetry, and music.

Against a growing sense of present alienation, one evokes an idea of a

primitive beginning, an origin of civilization and its products, a hap-

pier, purer, more beautiful and sensuous beginning — a beginning which

perhaps cannot be recovered and restored, but which may be

represented and revived in the works of the poetic genius.

Romanticism. One may argue that there is no radical paradigmaticshift between so-called ‘Transition’ and ‘romanticism’ in the samesense as one can localize such a shift between neoclassicism and ro-

manticism. The change between Transition/preromanticism and roman-

ticism consists rather in a development and radicalization of certain al-

ready existent themes. Kant’s critical philosophy is, for example, rad i-




11

calized by idealist philosophers. In his Critique of Pure Reason, Kant

suggests a dualism between a phenomenal world, the world one sensesand experiences, and a noumenal world, the world-in-itself as beyond

human knowledge. Where Kant tries to maintain a certain balance be-

tween these two worlds, it is important to the idealistic philosopher to

abandon this dualism and to determine a first essential principle deter-

mining both the real and the ideal. If Kant claimed that we could not

know the world in-itself (because cognitive categories already ‘filter’our knowledge about it, making any positive and direct access impossi-

ble), the idealist pursues this argument in what seems its logical conse-

quence, namely, that if we cannot know the external world, then we

cannot even know it is there, since this world in and for itself does not

pass through our cognitive filter. Hence, the most important principlefor the idealist becomes subjectivity, a position already prepared in

Kant. All knowledge has a subjective base, both knowledge about what

we perceive and the way we perceive it. In this self-conscious subjec-

tivity, one comprises both the one who knows and the known. Sub-

jectivity becomes a principle of identity annihilating differences be-

tween exterior and interior, nature and self, world and poetry, etc. This

recognition becomes the foundation for Schelling’s speculative philos-

ophy, as well as for Coleridge’s criticism. Oppositions are meant to bereconciled in these systems, for example, the opposition between self

and nature; and on a certain level of Schelling’s system, art gets the

task of reconciling this opposition. In their divine ability of making art, poets become most like God. The concept of ‘imagination’ in Coleridgeis also such a reconciling principle, something belonging neither exclu-

sively to the subject nor to the object, but comprehended as an act of

self-conscious reflection synthesizing nature and mind. If in British

Empiricism the impressions of the world constitute a kind of ‘image-

material,’ retained by the poets, from which they produce their writing,

this conception is reversed in Coleridge’s romanticism. Now the im-

agining self generates the world, since imagination is a creative re-

source recovering the world. The human being is finally restored not

only in its relationship to nature, but also in its relationship to God, be-

cause in its role as poet-creator, it does the same as God does.




12

---------------------------------------------------------------------

---------------------------------------------------------------------




13

Conclusion

________________________________________

Summary of the Point of View

1) Neoclassicism

In early Western art-theories and systems of human knowledge,

poetry has no unique and privileged status — this uniqueness it attains at

a much later state. During the Middle Ages and neoclassicism, poets

have to defend their poetic activity against theological convictions that

poetry seduces people and misleads them in their religious quests. Poe-

try is not yet a liable and self-justifiable discourse. It is not yet estab-

lished as an extra-mundane discourse, lingering in the abstract beyond

human criticism. If poetry later becomes religion, it is from the begin-

ning a threat to religion.

From the beginning, the defenders of poetry try to determine poetry

within a classificatory system of knowledge where each discipline has

its specific object and purpose. They try to convince their critics, that

also poetry has its object, function, and purpose; that poetry has a

place. The determination of such a ‘place’ would justify poetry. First,because it would ascertain that poetry was not simply a weaker imita-

tion of well established discourses, such as history and moral philoso-

phy, but could be classified with its own distinct object. Secondly, be-

cause poetry would be restored within an order of knowledge which

was ultimately arranged by God. It would in consequence be rehabili-

tated as a trustworthy discourse.

At this point one has still difficulties in determining the validity of

the particular form of knowledge poetry conveys, difficulties which

Plato, in his refutation of poetry, had been the first to expose: poetry is

without object, it is removed from truth, and it is irrational. This Pla-




14

tonic criticism is now inherited by the Medieval and Renaissance crit-

ics, as it appears to be an established fact that where other disciplineshave an object — and as such have a place in a well-arranged epistemo-

logical order — poetry seemingly has none.

In this God-given arrangement of things, every discipline has its

corresponding object: historians would talk about what persons have

done, grammarians about the rules of speech, rhetoricians about how to

persuade people, etc. So, whereas all other disciplines seem to have an

object and thus refer to ‘nature,’ poetry, in lack of innate natural object,merely appears to create a ‘second nature.’ As the single exception,poetry is not linked to the world through a corresponding object. Poetry

is of another order. From the beginning of Western thinking it is de-

fined according to another general epistemology. Whereas the sciencesare bound to nature, poetry gives humans a glimpse of infinity, a

glimpse of what was later celebrated as ‘freedom.’ This is an undercurrent in all criticism since Plato up to today, and

it is this other order that cannot be conclusively thought in Western

criticism. It resists coming into a final form, and it remains a permanent

object for continuous interpretation. Despite the attempt to define this

radically different order, poetry is from the beginning in need of justifi-

cations.

If poetry is determined as the ‘making of a second nature,’ poets areto be compared to God, as they create from themselves without being

limited by the constraints of an actual world. By their free creativity,poets seem to imitate the creative act of God himself, poetry attains a

semi-divine status. But this determination of poetry serves both as a de-

fense and an accusation of poetry. Do poets now offend God, and

should they be condemned; or should they, on the contrary, be praised

for their imaginativeness; is poetic creativity a benevolent gift from

God to mankind?

The typical theologian accusation is that ‘poets are liars,’ they have

no object, they do not represent truth. And when the early critics defend

poetry against this accusation, their response is to admit that poetry is

not representing truth. What poets are doing is false, but because they

do not deny it is false, they are not lying. Therefore, poetry cannot becriticized as false and deceitful, because it is fiction. It has from the be-

ginning a certain immunity to criticism inscribed into its own defini-

tion.

In these defenses, poetry always has to be justified according to a

pragmatic rationale — always according to its utility. Poetry is therefore




15

determined as a teaching, an instruction, of the audience, but because

also other disciplines teach and instruct, poetry is in addition deter-mined as delightful teaching. This is how poetry surpasses its neighbor-

disciplines, history and philosophy, and how it attains its own place in

the system of knowledge. Poetry incorporates their better halves, and

amends their deficiencies. The juxtaposition can be roughly laid out as

follows: where philosophy only teaches morality, poetry also delights

by examples, and where history only ‘delights’ by examples, poetry al-

so teaches morality. Thus, when poetry teaches with delight, it does

something no other discourse does equally well. The deficiency of phi-

losophy is that it is too abstract for common man to understand, whe-

reas the deficiency of history is that historians are tied to the particular

events of things; their examples therefore have no necessary moral con-sequences. The poet rectifies these two deficiencies; on the one hand,

the poet teaches what the philosopher teaches, moral precepts — amending with this the deficiency of history; on the other hand, the

poet teaches these precepts by means of examples, where the philoso-

pher only gives descriptions — amending with this the deficiency of phi-

losophy.

Finally it is accepted that the object of poetry is to create a ‘second

nature,’ and with this to ‘imitate’ an already existing one, and do so inorder to teach and delight. But genuine poets must not simply ‘imitate’in the sense of copying nature. Because poetry should teach, because it

has moral obligations, one should not just be content with representingthe world as it is, but also as what it might be, and should be.

In neoclassical discussions on art, the audience occupies a central

position. There is no hope for poets unless they learn to understand the

audience. Before going public, the reception has to be internalized and

cultivated, and as a help the poet is recommended to seek advise among

critical friends. The poet has to exercise and cultivate their perception

of reception even before the work is composed, they have to learn to

fine-tune their ‘ear’ to hear the receivers they address. Before they

create, they must be aware of a critical and evaluating recipient. Ac-

cording to this paradigm one does not express a poem, one accommo-

dates it to fit the general decorum of the receiver.Poets do not understand themselves as unique, as in romanticism.

The poetic self is not turning its ‘ear’ inwards in order to detect tracesof its own enigma. There is a keen understanding of poetry as a lan-

guage-game, that is, as a province in a linguistic world with specific

rules and a specific economy, a province which is shared by others,




16

which is conventional, and which is not the unique possession of the

poet.This attitude is significantly different from the emphasis on self in

romanticism, where the neoclassical principle of self-restraint and self-

censure is replaced with a principle of spontaneity. Or where the idea of

seeking advise — and with this, acknowledging the existence of authori-

ties outside oneself — is replaced with an idea of Genius: the unique

subject who in own self-understanding would disqualify itself if it were

in need of outside authorities to validate its work. In romanticism one

does not fine-tune an ‘ear’ directed towards world or audience. One in-

stead fine-tunes an ‘ear’ to listen to voices within a transcendental

space in oneself, a space where poetry neither emerges from, nor di-

rects itself to, anybody or anywhere in particular. The source of poetryis lost, because nobody prior to the poets — expect perhaps an empty

and distant God — has ever retained what is expressed in their poetry.

In these rational neoclassical ideals of rendering poetry, the poets

are more than anything else recommended to avoid the exorbitant and

excessive. They are recommended to show moderation. The appeal to

moderation and reason constitutes a component in the seventeenth cen-

tury criticism, even more permeating than the rationalism of Descartes

with which this criticism is often associated.

In these appeals to moderation, one recommends the poets to ob-

serve a certain medium between two major opposites: nature and art.

Observance of this medium warrants a reliable and responsible poet;someone who understands the importance of rendering and pursuing

reasonable, sound, judicious, and just ideals in his or her poetry. The

‘medium’ is like a slash between opposites, a buffer between extremes.

It is a middle point in a logic where everything is about avoiding ex-

tremes: the poets must both avoid being too primitive and crude in their

poetry, and avoid being too artificial and pretentious.

In this act of balance, the poets are always recommended to side

with the natural, rather than with the overly artful. Nature is moderate

and modest, and the poet should behave and write accordingly. There-

fore, also in neoclassicism ‘nature’ constitutes an ideal for poetic crea-

tivity. The neoclassicists believe in ‘nature,’ and they believe their‘rules’ to be expressions of ‘nature.’

This idea of ‘nature’— understood as a prearranged cosmos, as an

intrinsic order of things — dominates the paradigm, and consequently,

also the discourses on poetry. Poetry has rules, like anything else, yet

these rules are ‘natural,’ not artificial constraints. They are not con-




17

ceived as dogmatic rules imposed on poetry by humans. They consti-

tute for example objective rules determining the different genres, asthese are established according to objects, means, and manners. The

rules have been discovered by the ancients, not devised. Therefore they

are never dogmas, and if they degenerate into doctrines, they are im-

mediately criticized.

Therefore, the rules of the unities — of time, place, and action — are

still ‘nature,’ but ‘methodized’ nature. The rules are natural laws whichnature has invented in order to confine herself, she (nature is always

feminine) shows moderation and modesty by applying these constraints

on herself. Nature does not want to be excessive and exorbitant. As

such, rules are not artificial; they are not imposed on the poetic material

mechanically.The rules of the unities of time and place are justified as necessary

because poetry is conceived as imitation of human life —as a ‘portraitof human action.’ However, the intention of portraying human action

by means of the rules of the unities, turns out to become, not imitation

of human action, but imitation of the theater itself. One imitates, qua

the ‘rules,’ the duration of the play and the theater stage on which it is

performed. One surmises that if spectators are watching a two hours

long performance, it is ideal if the duration of the performance is

represented in the duration of the action as a two hour long fictive ac-

tion (as this is impossible, one instead allows oneself a twenty-four

hour long fictive action). Thus, the rule of the unity of time imitates thelimited duration of the performance, the rule of the unity of place imi-

tates the singularity of the stage. Thus, the nature which the unities im-

itates is neither life nor human action, but theater itself. The major in-

herent problems in this interpretation of the object of imitation an-

ticipate the collapse of the neoclassical rules. When the obligation to

imitate the theater in the fictive action becomes increasingly unreason-

able and unwarranted, Johnson’s and Lessing’s later criticism of theneoclassical rules also becomes almost irrefutable. From this point on-

wards, continuing to this day, the rules of the unities are inevitably ridi-

culed as random and artificial constraints on dramatic poetry.

2) Transition and Preromanticism

If in neoclassicism, the rules of the theater were regarded as natural

laws regulating the drama, one begins during the Transition to perceive




18

rules as artificial constraints on poetry. If beforehand ‘nature’ implied

that the drama was organized according to certain ‘natural’ standards,principles, and laws, one begins to understand ‘nature’ as somethingmore chaotic and disordered. Nature is no longer the order of things

and surfaces —repeating itself as the same from work to work. If ‘na-

ture’ previously was understood as a logic repeated and applied as the

same on various material, nature is now the opposite of ‘logic.’ It is

now a ‘disorder’ in much better agreement with the things, appear-

ances, and phenomena themselves. Nature now grows in the things

themselves as an organic quality and essence of things, not as alien and

artificial man-made regulations. Gradually ‘nature’ gets another defini-

tion. ‘Nature’ is not a logical order, but an inherent disorder.

Now rules of the theater are replaced with a notion of reality. Theformer argument, that spectators, watching a play for only a few hours,

could not understand action extended to several weeks or months be-

cause that would be too demanding on their powers of imagination, this

argument is not valid any longer. Now, the play should refer to a reality

outside the theater, the reality of human life. In the plot-construction

one is suddenly permitted to include several plots, regarding the dura-

tion of action one is allowed to depict several years of a person’s life,and regarding the unity of place, the stage is now allowed to represent

several different locations in a play.

Now, obligation to honor rules and decorum is regarded as superfi-

cial and superfluous. Neoclassical rules are perceived as alienating.They alienate humans from their nature, distort the representation of

humans, and misrepresent the powers of human imagination. One con-

ceives the regulations of the stage as far less sophisticated than human

imagination itself.

The epistemological break indicating this new and different notion

of nature also manifests itself as hostility to and suspicion against ‘writ-

ing’— as a generic term for laws, rules, structures, mechanics, decorum,

etc. If formerly poets were recommended to understand ‘writing,’ poetsare increasingly recommended to understand the ‘un-written,’ that is,

the human soul, the ‘soul’ of nature, the sacred moment of divine inspi-

ration, etc. Poets become throughout the eighteenth, nineteenth, andtwentieth century inventors and name-givers of things and affairs which

have not yet found expression and articulation. This idealistic notion of

the task of the poet, appears to indicate a general tendency in modern

Western criticism up to today.




19

Beauty is now conceived as doing something to people. It affects

humans, both as beauty in the arts and as beauty in nature. And not on-ly ‘beauty’ becomes an aesthetic object. In general everything that a f-

fects human imagination, including what one now begins to discuss as

the sublime, becomes an object for aesthetic judgment. The field of crit-

icism is expanded in both depth and width. The modest enterprise of

describing the requirements for making an opportune and successful

poem, the recommendations on what a poet should observe in order to

accommodate an audience, is replaced with discussions on what in gen-

eral affects human imagination. According to this new agenda, art is

merely a corner of the beautiful. From being a well-defined language-

game, with its place and task within a linguistic world, a process begins

where art becomes an increasingly ill-defined language-game. It be-comes an ill-defined language-game where indeed it becomes blas-

phemous to define art, to impose limitations on art, or to understand it

in terms of a ‘language-game.’If art in the former sense appeared to be a medium where humans

constructed their moral principles by means of distinct and intelligible

theatrical rules, humans are now recommended to de-construct this

self-understanding again. They begin to ‘de-understand’ themselves, toundo and overthrow the understanding they had achieved of themselves

and their art. Now relaxation or renunciation of rules and decorum is

considered superior and sophisticated, and the former strictness sim-

pleminded and ingenuous.In the rendition of a work of art, one now tries to reflect ‘nature’ in

the new and modern sense. Humans are perceived as reflecting ‘nature’in this new sense. For example, by the sight of nature’s greatness h u-

mans are filled with awe and reverence, because they perceive some-

thing that apply to themselves. They perceive in nature’s greatness their

own lack of limitations. The great in nature strikes in the individual a

cord of greatness. Open horizons mirror their ‘freedom.’ Nature be-

comes an enigmatic mirror: the more difficult to read, the more eagerly

interpreted. What is true in nature, is now possibly true for humans as

well. Nature’s unpredictability and disorder reflects the unpredictable

and baffling in the individual.One has to ‘see’ nature again, that is, one has to notice its charming

disorder again. The emphasis on ‘sight’ becomes important, not as be-

forehand the emphasis on ‘understanding.’ A certain ‘ocular -centrism’determines the new aesthetics. In Addison there are two major plea-

sures, both resulting from sight: a primary pleasure — indicating the




20

pleasure of perceiving a present object, and a secondary pleasure —

indicating the imaginative activity of recollecting images derived fromformerly perceived objects. Beauty is something seen in nature, and it

is the seen that soothes and relaxes a person. Increasingly, one recupe-

rates from the constraints of life by experiencing nature, and by expe-

riencing an art reflecting nature.

In the neoclassical critics, the rules of the drama were taken for

granted, as well as the possibility of an objective taste of beauty. In a

prescriptive criticism, one excelled in advises about what artists should

do and what they should avoid in order to be recognized. The principles

of criticism were presumably identical to all societies and in all Ages.

Taste seemed objective; it would be prescribed in a ‘do this— avoid

that’-criticism. This objectivity is slowly modified during the eigh-teenth century. Taste develops into an ideality; from being a question of

code it develops into being a question of psychological state of mind — with this transformation losing its former transparency.

In Hume and Burke, and later Kant, one still tries to substantiate the

idea of a uniform and objective taste, but a doubt has invaded the

project. One is now aware of differences between cultures, countries,

historical periods, and single individuals, and producing a neoclassical

‘list’ of what is pleasant and what is offensive is out of the question.Art is no longer produced according to a universal artistic practice.

The objectivity of taste is now searched in the general psychology

of the human being. One cannot produce a list of the beautiful and theugly, but one surmises that human nature, mind, or sentiment follow

certain identical standards of judgment. Because humans retain impres-

sions in identical fashions, and because one assumes the imaginative

apparatus to be the same in all human beings, they also essentially seem

to harbor the same general standards of taste. The ‘naive’ confidence inpractical rules of composition and decorum warranting artistic taste,

yields to abstract discussions of certain constitutional psychological

conditions warranting uniformity of taste.

One knows that taste is chaotic and unpredictable, that it is as hete-

rogeneous as single individuals. But nonetheless, from this basic as-

sumption one presumes that the diversity is rather apparent than real.One ought to be able to detect and establish a stable principle of judg-

ment beneath the chaos, a principle of judgment common to mankind.

One consequently perceives differences in taste as distortions of one

veritable taste, distortions which would be corrected under ideal cir-

cumstances, or which could be eliminated by establishing an identical




21

context for the judging and tasting subjects, or through continuous

training of the subjects.When Hume tries to determine a ‘standard of taste,’ he tries to de-

termine what kind of education a person should undergo in order to

judge this standard appropriately. Judging beauty relies on how well a

person is educated in perceiving beauty — although beauty simulta-

neously is regarded as something in itself existing, something objec-

tive. Nevertheless, Hume emphasizes how humans can refine their

sense of beauty and learn to discern its pleasing qualities. Similarly in

Burke, although it is assumed that beauty is an objective quality, it is

discussed how one learns to recognize and appreciate beauty, how hu-

mans arrive at a uniform sense of beauty.

The empiricists, however, do not manage to analyze this claim touniversality. If a judgment of taste is a judgment claiming universality

(despite its apparent subjective foundation), then the judgment of taste

appears to presuppose an a priori principle, which the empiricists are

unable to determine. Beauty must have a transcendental quality. The at-

tempt to determine how to attain a sense of beauty by means of expe-

rience appears insufficient. The determination of this transcendental

principle becomes a main task for Kant.

In the aesthetic tradition, the contemplation of a beautiful object is

repeatedly understood as a kind of pleasure. However, this pleasure is

different from sensuous pleasures, it is not by any means related to de-

sire or to something ‘agreeable.’ Beauty is from the beginning an ‘in-nocent’ pleasure. In the contemplation of beauty, the mind must haveattained a state of absolute detachment from the world, a state of ‘disin-

terest.’ The judging subject must be without desire in relation to thebeautiful object. This neutrality, implying a lack of personal interest,

also makes the judgment universal. A judgment of taste is in effect only

a pleasure of the beautiful, if the pleasure can be extended to be valid

for mankind as such. Pleasure restricted only to the individual, and for

the sake of the individual only, is from the beginning an invalid plea-

sure because it is related to the ‘agreeable.’ Thus, the qualitative differ-

ence between the judgment of the agreeable and the judgment of the

beautiful consists in the interest and disinterest respectively. The quan-titative difference is derived from this distinction. Here the agreeable is

based on a private subjective feeling, whereas the beautiful is based on

a universal subjective feeling.

With these definitions of art, Kant determines art as both an extra-

mundane and extra-social activity; it is both disinterested and univer-




22

sal. Furthermore, it is without apparent purpose. Fine art is not nature,

but it has to look as if it is nature. It must be independent of rules. Itmust look as if it has been produced without purpose. Although art dif-

fers from nature by having been produced with a purpose — because it

has been produced intentionally — it conceals this purpose. The inge-

nious artist avoids dependency on precepts, principles, and rules. The

ingenious artist creates art with un-intentional intentionality. He/she

does bring rules to a work of art, but spontaneously and without know-

ing the ‘concepts’ determining these rules. Because of this lack of con-

ceptual knowledge, the genius does not devise rules or impose precepts

concerning dramatic action or decorum on the work of art. The (un-

conceptual) rules imposed on the work of art are so well concealed, that

even the artists themselves are unaware of them. They are rules nobodysenses or notices. Therefore, the ingenious artists do not simply keep

their rules invisible in their work of art, they never notice any rules

themselves, they create out of nature, they create spontaneously. Ge-

nius is ignorant about concepts and rules. Genius is inspired, and thus

unable to communicate his or her creative principles.

Since one cannot conceptualize and communicate the genuine ‘rule’for ingenious works of art, genius cannot be taught. Artistic creation

has become the opposite to imitation — the prevailing definition on ar-

tistic creation until the eighteenth century. It has now become some-

thing natural which can neither be taught nor learned.

On several different levels one appeals in one’s criticism to naturein the new sense. Already in the beginning of the eighteenth century,

one indulges in a certain nostalgic longing towards an irretrievable past

of natural norms. An irrational nostalgia infuses Western thinking at

this point; a nostalgia that continues to dominate the next two centuries.

One looks back into the past in order to find the roots for something

more original, authentic, and natural than the alienating present. One

postulates a discrepancy between an inauthentic present society — with

its spurious politeness, its synthetic beautification, and its ostentatious

language — and an authentic past of genuine and solid norms. The di-

chotomy develops into an opposition between city and countryside, or

between culture and nature.Critics are now captivated by questioning the origins of things.

They are fascinated by the idea of the first languages, the invention of

speech, of the origins of human knowledge, of poetry, music, and paint-

ing. But they are not concerned with recorded origins, with written ac-

counts of facts and events, or with the known history of man. They are




23

not interested in exemplary models to imitate in art, but in origins that

cannot be traced because they are located in a fictitious prehistorictime. They are interested in origins located in an era before humans

learned to record their activity, before the invention of writing, there-

fore an era irrecoverably lost. They can only speculate about this primi-

tive constitution of language and society, and they do so in a language

that yearns to reproduce the object it is speculating about, a language

trying to revive this object in its own style and rhetoric.

In neoclassicism one believed in ‘sources’ as exemplary models, aswhat one might call ‘writing’— established works of art. Sources or

origins were not a point zero located at the beginning of all things. Ex-

actly because neoclassical ‘sources’ were understood as writing, they

were not reduced to ‘first causes.’ They were produced, caused bysomething else. These works of art one could imitate. One still believed

in the book, in the recorded facts, and in one’s ability to copy the tech-

nique or narrative logic of one’s ancient predecessors. Now one em-

ploys a purely idealist notion of the ‘beginning.’ Beginnings sup-

posedly represent humans as they were meant to be. Understanding the

beginnings would help to criticize and correct the alienation, degenera-

tion, and corruption of present society. Thus, the origins of mankind,

languages, and society represent the truth, purity, and happiness of

people. At these beginnings societies are still uncomplicated, speech

still harmonious and sonorous, feelings still pure and innocent, humans

still passionate and sensuous, etc. These origins represent the lost buthappy childhood of mankind. Compared to the lost ideals, present life,

society, government, language, poetry, and music are degenerating.

In the paradigm emerging around the concept of ‘origin,’ the dis-

tinction between nature and culture develops. The speculation on ori-

gins establishes a paradigm, a ‘grid,’ where natural is opposed to non-

natural, and where the domain of nature distinguishes itself by being

inherently poetical. The first languages are closer to music, song, and

poetry; people speaking in these Ages, speak more melodious, with a

voice more refined. There is more ‘breath,’ more ‘air,’ more ‘life’ inthe human voice. As such, the paradigm also inaugurates an opposition

between writing and voice, and between writing and life. It is the earli-est beginning of modern Hermeneutics. A critic or a poet shall no long-

er merely read the text, learn from it, take over its example. One shall

revive it, revitalize it, animate it with the spirit of life, doing so by un-

dressing it of the dead characters disguising this living body, these orig-

inal sounds of nature. Writing becomes an unsuccessful attempt to




24

represent ‘life,’ ‘breath,’ something radically ‘other,’ something which

nevertheless is the living background, the context, or the ‘horizon’ ofwriting.

The interest in origins, the interest in nature, the interest in humans

as they were meant to be, is now an established theme, and it continues

in preromanticism and romanticism. It even continues into the twen-

tieth century. But it continues as such in new disguises, it proliferates

and fuses with new disciplines, new interests of knowledge, new

sciences. It ramifies into other recognitions, gradually modifying them

into the same epistemological root-system. It shows itself as a nostalgia

for the past, as a present sense of alienation, and as a hope for future re-

cuperation. It defines the whole preromantic and romantic poetic theory

as the distinction between classical/vital poetry and romantic/sicklypoetry, as a distinction that only makes the drive to rejoin the healthy

past the more urgent and compelling, because the impossibility of the

project only fuels perpetual speculations on how one might return — through which kinds of detours, by which strategies, or by means of

which sacrifices and forfeitures.

Already this early, one and a half century before Heidegger, man-

kind suffers from ‘forgetfulness of being.’ Humans have forgotten their

destiny and determination. But these theories contain a promise, a

promise of resurrection, recuperation, and recovery. The distinction be-

tween the happy past and the unhappy present, nature and society, orig-

inal and artifact is more than a static distinction, it is dynamic, insofaras everything in opposition to the natural is only a temporary suspen-

sion of the natural. Culture is opposed to nature, but not an-

tagonistically, because culture shall gradually lead humans back to na-

ture. Humans merely occupies an intermediary position in a rotating

system where the past is lost and the future has not yet arrived, where

they are temporarily alienated from their destiny and determination as

human beings, but where the promised ideal has yet to return. The truth

of people’s ideal past, their alienating present, and their promised f u-

ture may be expressed in this construction: mankind were in truth what

they have lost and what they in truth shall once again become.

3) Romanticism

In the romantic paradigm the task of the poet is now defined by the

desire to live in a poeticized world, and to give this poetic existence a




25

poetical representation. Poetry reflects this desire for unification and

fulfillment.In the attempts to realize this existence, the receptive and sensitive

poets strive to elevate themselves into a super-natural realm of a pure

poetical life, a construction (and a postulation) where all agony and

alienation would be absent. It is the desire of the romantic poets to at-

tain this super-natural and poetical realm where (paradoxically) all de-

sire would terminate. The desire of the romantic is therefore ultimately

a desire for non-desire. At the peak of fulfillment desire would be sus-

pended. Insofar as ‘desire’ also marks a difference between self and

other —one desires what one does not have, what is ‘other’— romantic

desire is a desire to annihilate the differences between self and ‘other,’

such as differences between the poet and the beloved, the historicalpast, the art-product, or the surrounding nature. The desire is to become

one with the All, therefore an impossible, and fundamentally narcissis-

tic, desire — a desire without actual object, a desire solely for identity,

sameness, oneness.

In this new art-ideology, where one attempts to erase the differences

between the art-product and the poeticized universe, something unique-

ly has happened to art: it has lost its borders, its frame. If in earlier crit-

icism one always discussed how to create a work of art — by discussing

its particular content and form, and with this its border and frame — one

dissolves in romanticism all borders, all frames. Now poetry, unders-

tood as a certain poetical spirituality, overflows all areas of nature andlife. Poetry is no longer kept within certain frames, it has become spirit,

something inexpressible infusing and pervading nature and man. The

actual art-product has become merely a modest derivation of this uni-

versal poetic spirituality.

Together with this development also the source of art becomes in-

comprehensible. It cannot be prescribed how one should compose a

great work of art, as one prescribed it among the neoclassical critics.

The romantic artists are in their own self-interpretations somebody dri-

ven by forces on which they have no control. They achieve their in-

sights in the work of art from sources unknown to them — sources much

more powerful than the individual artist, sources of a divine nature.Therefore, the art-product has merely derived from these sources, it is

not something one can expect to complete in the ideal sense. An ideal

and beautiful work of art is no longer something accomplishable. The

work of art can only be thought within the concept of approximation, it

can at best approximate the ideal — therefore also the romantic ac-




26

knowledgment of the fragmentary and unfinished work of art as a satis-

factory artistic expression.In this new idealistic-theological romantic art-concept, poetry is

now indistinguishable from the spiritual universe as a whole. The ori-

gin and source of poetry is removed from an ‘apparent’ mundane world

to a ‘true’ transcendental world. As the artists become mere media forthe divine informing of the world, they are only in the most primitive

empirical sense the immediate causes or origins of the work of art. And

still, qua the construction of genius, they are the prominent and chosen

transmitters of this spiritual universe understood as poetry and beauty.

Insofar as this universe is not created by the artist, but ultimately by a

divinity, this divine being becomes the final origin of art.

Compared to the paradigms of neoclassicism and preromanticism, anew interpretation of the relationship between man and art is an-

nounced. In classicism and neoclassicism one typically attempted to de-

fine what rules, skills, manners, norms, and ways of reasoning an artist

had to administer and carry out. The neoclassical work of art was

created by a ‘super -conscious’ artist, directing the work of art to a judg-

ing audience in an attempt to satisfy their taste. During the period of

Transition and preromanticism, this notion of this super-rational and

morally responsible artist became increasingly unfashionable. Now in-

genious artists would have to create naively, that is, out of some inhe-

rent necessity, and without full conscious control. They balanced be-

tween a ‘preconscious’ and ‘conscious’ creative activity. However, theartist was still the indisputable creator of the work of art, even though

preconscious moments of the creative process were accentuated. But

when — according to the romantic doctrine — the origin of the work of

art is situated outside the world and art is indistinguishable from a spiri-

tual universe in general there is no longer a discernible source of poe-

try. The artist now creates ‘unconsciously’ (spontaneously, impulsive-

ly, instinctively) — therefore without control of the creative process and

without responsibilities regarding critics or audiences.

In romanticism, the art-product no longer has a rational or pragmat-

ic purpose, such as recreating and instructing an audience. It is beyond

the audience because its sole purpose is to render and present the un-changing Truth of the absolute and infinite. The audience can per defi-

nition not judge whether this is being achieved, because only a few se-

lected and privileged artists have, qua their greater insight, access to

this universe. Consequently, the audience becomes increasingly super-




27

fluous, and becomes rather a pain and vexation to the artist. A histori-

cally unique alienation between art and audience is established.Genius becomes now the ‘archetype’ of the human being. Genius

represents the ‘eternal concept’ of man, the ‘divine essence’ of man i n-

habiting only a few human beings. Genius is no longer a result of ac-

complishment or labor, but a divine idea present in a few artists, mak-

ing them perfect examples of the species because they exemplify God’soriginal idea of man. Artists can only create to the extent that provi-

dence fills them with inspiration. With this proximity to God, poets are

becoming divine Creators themselves, creating and re-creating the

world. Thanks to the creator-poet, what is dead nature, material exte-

riority, mute feelings becomes a world ‘for -us,’ a named and compr e-

hensible world. The artists become saviors of mankind by freeing theworld from its own reticence and quiescence, giving it back the splen-

dor and spirituality which already infuses it. They give it back life,

when they in their work give it voice and words by which it can an-

nounce itself. They vitalizes and revitalizes an otherwise dead world of

objects.

As such, the poet preserves knowledge that would otherwise have

been destroyed, forgotten or ignored in a secular and mundane society.

A new concept and justification of the poet emerges. The poets appro-

priate the world by giving it names, they become the universal preserv-

ers of what otherwise would be lost. They finally become the creators

and re-creators of meaning and truth.

Date post:	02-Jun-2018
Category:	Documents
Upload:	crdewitt
View:	220 times
Download:	0 times

Bornedal InterpretationPRTDOfArt Introduction Conclusion Libre

Documents