But is it art?

Having finished my article on the "pre-Kantian" sublime, I have now turned to a long overdue book review. The book in question, by Jesko Reiling, is entitled Die Genese der idealen Gesellschaft: Studien zum literarischen Werk von Johann Jakob Bodmer (1698-1783). Yes, I seem not to be able to get away from Bodmer. There is not much in Reiling's treatment on the sublime in Bodmer (though he did give me a few ideas). The subject, per the subtitle, is Bodmer's "literary work," in particular the epics Bodmer began to write in the 1740s and his "political dramas." Nevertheless, there has been so little scholarship on Bodmer's literary work that Reiling spends the first half of his book filling in Bodmer's intellectual and cultural background.

As I already noticed when I began working on Bodmer's early criticism, in the 1720s, it was clear that Bodmer was interested in the improvement of "manners." He had been much affected by Joseph Addison's Spectator essays and hoped that The Discourses of the Painters, the "moral" journal he founded with Breitinger, would play a similar role in shaping the manners of the newly emerging bourgeoisie in Switzerland. And, like Addison in England, he was rather lighthearted in imparting "lessons" to his readers and in his treatment of socially backward customs and practices. As I learned when I began reading Reiling, however, Bodmer became decidedly heavy-handed in his literary works, especially in the Noah epic and in the political dramas. Critics have judged them harshly, speaking of "Tugendterror" (virtue terror) and "Totalitarismus der Sitte" (totalitarianism of manners).

In the Old Testament the story of Noah begins with his birth (Gen. 5, 28). At the age of 500 (so Gen. 5, 32) he becomes father of Shem, Ham, and Japheth. The next chapter opens with the increasing wickedness of humankind, while supplying very little detail. The Lord, regretting that he had created men, simply decided to wipe out all life on earth, sparing only Noah and his family, who had found favor with Him. Though there is very little "back story," Bodmer nevertheless provides one, as Noah, in a dream, travels over the earth with the angel Raphael and views all the evil ways of men. As contemporary readers noted, the vices on display were those of European men and women over the past several centuries. The desire to turn a profit or to make oneself better than one's neighbor existed in the antediluvian world as well. Noah and his breed, on the other hand, were perfect in every way, untouched by jealousy, envy, greed, lasciviousness.

I must admit that I have not slogged through any of these works by Bodmer. It was enough to slog through Reiling's descriptions. In Bodmer's defense, however, he was simply adhering to an earlier tradition concerning the purpose of art, namely, that it was supposed to be edifying. I wonder what Bodmer would make of the exhibition now on display at the Metropolitan Museum: "Reconfiguring an African Icon." On display are what are called "highly creative reimaginings of the iconic form of the African mask."

Two of the artists are Africans from Benin (which has a rich sculptural tradition in any case), Romuald Hazoumé (mask at top of post) and Calixte Dakpogan (at the right). Among the materials they use are discarded plastic containers, shells, computer wiring, hair brushes, and lots of metal scraps. All very inventive and delightful. They remind me of something I have posted on before, namely, Schiller's notion of "Spieltrieb." There is nothing useful, nothing to be gained even morally from these objects; they are simply playful, and play is fun. A child's game is fun, but it is not art, not made, whereas these contemporary masks are made and, as Roger Scruton writes, are "consciously intended."

Spiel

Lots of work lately, in connection with the free speech volume, plus I am also immersing myself in Herder. Very interesting point about Herder: he divided ways with Kant and Schiller -- and also with Goethe -- on the purpose of art. Kant and Schiller invoked "Spiel" (play), thereby separating the aesthetic from moral values and suggesting, perhaps, that nothing is at stake. For Herder, beauty should be in the service of improving the moral fiber of human beings. Thus, his insistence on the ideal of "kalokagathia."

I have written on "Spiel" in an earlier post, also on "Spieltrieb" ("ludic drive," according to an online dictionary) which I find manifested in certain modern works of art, say, the sculptures of Martin Puryear. (The one at the left, That Profile, is at the Getty Center in Los Angeles.) They are fun to look at, yet this pleasure would seem to have something moral or ethical about it, if only because it lifts you to a plane outside of your everyday cares and causes you to be reflective. I was struck by this on a recent outing to the High Line in Manhattan, an abandoned railroad viaduct 30 feet above the streets of Chelsea, on the West Side of Manhattan, that has been transformed into an urban playground. (More images like the top one from The New York Times. And here is a link to the map of the High Line.)

I am going out on a limb here, but these public installations are instances of "Spiel." I would include Central Park and Riverside Park in New York, which seem like "natural" refuges for us urban dwellers. One forgets the labor that has gone into creating them over the last 150 years. Nature does not plan for us to be pleased by its effects, but art does have this intentionality. "Successful" Spiel in art, however, seems difficult to achieve. The practitioner, as in the case of Puryear, must be truly accomplished. Otherwise, the result is only cute, even if clearly some effort was involved.

The Bow Bridge in Central Park (in this photo by Paul Nevin) was constructed in 1859-60 by the firm of Janes, Kirtland & Co., which received the contract for the dome of The Capitol in Washington, D.C. while work was underway on the iron bridge. It has a 142-foot balustrade and a wooden walkway and serves as a picturesque backdrop for boaters. The interlacing ornamental iron railing was designed by Calvert Vaux and Jacob Wrey Mould.

"Spieltrieb"

I've been meaning to post for days, but preparation for the paper I am to give in November in Pittsburgh, at the conference of the Goethe Society of North America, is taking precedence. Still, as I was leaving the Metropolitan Museum today, leaving by the underground entrance, I encountered these boxes and could not resist posting the pictures below.

They are the packing cartons for the Jeff Koons installation "Balloon Dog (Yellow)." I would definitely say that Jeff Koons does not take himself too seriously, though it is clear that lots of work has gone into this piece. Note that each body part -- right ear, tail, snout, neck and nose knot, and so on -- has its own carton. Afterward, I went up to the Roof Garden and took a picture of the work before it was disassembled. (The installation closes on Sunday.) And naturally I did the tourist thing and had a picture taken of myself.

"Spieltrieb"

The above work of art, an 18th-century Italian porcelain sculpture depicting the River Nile, is one of the reasons I so love the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I spend a lot of time there, as a consultant, but sometimes I have only a few minutes to spare to for the art: we modern people are always running to our next appointment! But at the Met you do not have to look far to find an object that puts your heart at rest, drives all other concerns from your mind, and also gives you pleasure. Such is the effect of this allegorical work, which you can see in a really professional photograph and also read about here. I was particularly delighted by the 16 little babies climbing all over the river good. The number 16 refers to the ideal height of 16 cubits that the Nile rose annually, ensuring the fertility represented by the cornucopia.

I mentioned in my earlier posting ("Subprime Art?") Schiller's concept of Spieltrieb (the impulse to play), which seems to me well evoked by the small detail of the alligator. You can see the alligator's teeth and the god's big toes. Are these detail necessary? No, but they add to the pleasure you feel when viewing this object, much as the little guys tormenting the alligator seem to feel.

Now, according to Schiller, pictured here in a very noble representation by Gerhard von Kügelgen, modern man (and woman, too!) is divided in his essential nature: civilization (work, raising a family, all the responsibilities of life) is at odds with our desire to escape from responsibility. Our reason tells us we have to make the necessary accommodations to live in the world, in order to keep a roof over our head, gas in the car, and food in the refrigerator. Our sensuous nature urges us to escape the frustrations and irritations that such responsibilities induce in us. Some people watch TV all the rest of the hours of the day; some indulge in pornography or shop until they drop. Obviously some people lean more toward one side than the other.

Writing in The Aesthetic Letters, Schiller proposed the idea that art could help us to bring the two sides of ourselves into a more rewarding harmony. Art, in the form Schiller envisioned, should not be about reality, much as the sculpture of the Nile River god is not about any reality that has ever been experienced. Thus, when you look at that sculpture, if only for a few minutes, you are not being reminded of politics or of the war in Iraq or of the inequities of the world. Instead, the Spieltrieb comes into play, so to speak. It reminds us that, for the moment anyway, we are free of those burdensome duties. It is a great place to escape to. Applied often, it makes us more appreciative of life, despite its shortcomings. Of course, there are artists who believe it is their role to make us aware of contemporary realities, but the art they produce is a form of propaganda, made with color or plastic or whatever. Pleasure is the furthest thing they want us to feel, for it makes us forget that the world (so they think) is really a terrible place.