TalkFest

Some follow-up thoughts.

First…

Re non-verbal arts (and often verbal as well), it was my custom as a teacher to ask students to confront stuff with which they weren’t familiar, even if they were majoring in one of the arts disciplines. Especially if they were majoring in one of the arts disciplines!

Gradually I would reveal further information, asking them to consider and talk about how it affected their response and interpretation. The idea was to get them to learn more about themselves. In the end, of course, I would provide the usual info.

That’s what I did with you guys, except I forgot to refresh my memory or provide the full information. My bad. I’m working on it and will post the stuff here.

[This presumes I was teaching a Humanities rather than arts history class, of course. In the latter I would do more lecturing and provide more info up front. You know, adapt the method to the purpose.]

Second…

It wasn’t an accident that I did the Francis Bacon first. Every single one of his “Four Idols” affected our discussion Sunday night. And what are the idols? Cognitive maps and predispositions that affect our ability to reach valid and logical conclusions. I was hoping that we all might keep these concepts in mind, and that we might use them to test our companions’—and especially our own—arguments and conclusions.

(Bob Smith hates the term “cognitive”; so, apologies, amico mio. That’s the official term psychologists who deal with this stuff use to identify what they do and how their discipline is identified.)

Argh! While writing this, I’m listening to an audiobook: Socialism: A Short History, by Michael Newman. The woman reading his book just said, “X begs the question why Z.” When you have a term for something, you’re more likely to recognize it. (Documentation on request.) We’ve apparently lost the term for the logical fallacy “begging the question.”

Third…

A work of art might be interpreted in different ways. The interpretation of the artist herself or himself isn’t especially privileged. Sometimes I change my interpretation of the meaning of short stories I myself have written. Same with visual art I’ve created. (Might make some good examples for future talks!)

Most agree, however, that regardless of one’s perspective, regardless of the factors outside the work that might prove enlightening, the “text” must be respected. (That’s more jargon. “Text” refers to any individual expression, essentially. “Art” or not.) That was a problem on Sunday night, and again it was my fault. I gave you too much stuff.

Fourth…

For the record, though, please read these excerpts from the translation of Medea I provided. Whatever else is going on, Medea is debating about her killing the children. The first part should be thought of (I think) as a “soliloquy.” She is “extroverting” her inner tension. The second part explicitly addresses the chorus, but it too reflects her mixed feelings.

You might hate what Medea does. But you have to accept her intelligence and self-awareness. Might she go off-balance? Might she show vanity? Might she show desire for vengeance? Etc.? Of course! But she isn’t stupid, and she isn’t unaware of her own inner debate and what it means.

Naturally we’re talking, not about a “real” person, apart from the reality Euripides makes us confront. But that’s the reality that keeps this play vital. Why would Judith Anderson be taking it on stage in California? Why would Diana Rigg be doing so in New York (or wherever)? Why did I think it would make a good stimulus for our conversation?

Not because it’s simplistic. Not because of it’s plot (not primarily, anyhow). But because of its asking us to confront vital considerations of character, psychology, social context, sex/gender stereotyping, relative values, and the nature of the gods…assuming “gods” actually exist.

Read carefully. Medea is one of the most coveted roles for tragic actresses. That’s because she’s a living, complex, hateful, sympathetic persona.

MEDEA

Ah me! ah me! why do ye look at me so, my children?
why smile that last sweet smile? Ah me! what am I to do? My heart
gives way when I behold my children’s laughing eyes. O, I cannot;
farewell to all my former schemes; I will take the children from the
land, the babes I bore. Why should I wound their sire by wounding
them, and get me a twofold measure of sorrow? No, no, I will not do
it. Farewell my scheming! And yet what possesses me? Can I consent
to let those foes of mine escape from punishment, and incur their
mockery? I must face this deed. Out upon my craven heart! to think
that I should even have let the soft words escape my soul. Into the
house, children! (The children go into the house.) And whoso feels
he must not be present at my sacrifice, must see to it himself; I
will not spoil my handiwork. Ah! ah! do not, my heart, O do not do
this deed! Let the children go, unhappy one, spare the babes! For
if they live, they will cheer thee in our exile there. Nay, by the
fiends of hell’s abyss, never, never will I hand my children over
to their foes to mock and flout. Die they must in any case, and since
’tis so, why I, the mother who bore them, will give the fatal blow.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

MEDEA

My friends, I am resolved upon the deed; at once will I slay
my children and then leave this land, without delaying long enough
to hand them over to some more savage hand to butcher. Needs must
they die in any case; and since they must, I will slay them-I, the
mother that bare them. O heart of mine, steel thyself! Why do I hesitate
to do the awful deed that must be done? Come, take the sword, thou
wretched hand of mine! Take it, and advance to the post whence starts
thy life of sorrow! Away with cowardice! Give not one thought to thy
babes, how dear they are or how thou art their mother. This one brief
day forget thy children dear, and after that lament; for though thou
wilt slay them yet they were thy darlings still, and I am a lady of
sorrows. (MEDEA enters the house.)

Almost as if we planned it!

Judy shared the following. Sounds very cool!

The link is to a press release fora new dance whose choreography was inspired by Pam Coffman’s body of work of Icarus images. We are talking about having them do a performance at the Museum in concert with an exhibit of pam’s work and MAYBE some sort of program like we will be doing for salon. judyt

ICARUS PR 2010.

Very enlightening interviews. For example, the interviewer says, “You know that President Obama reduced taxes for 95% of Americans, right?” The ‘Bagger responds, “I don’t believe it. You’re misinformed.”

As soon as I read this, I thought about our conversation. In my opinion this guy is earnest, reasonable, and completely wrong in his approach. What do you think?

Come, Tea Partiers and Liberals – Let Us Reason Together

By Tom Ehrich
Religion News Service

(RNS) Even though Tea Party activists probably distrust liberals like myself, I’d like to “reach across the aisle,” as they say in our dysfunctional Congress, and find some common ground.

Forty-five years ago, you see, I was in the anti-Establishment role. In protesting the Vietnam War, in siding with blacks seeking justice, and in vowing not to “sell out” to Wall Street, we were giving political voice to a vague but deep sense that America had gone astray.

We looked around then, as Tea Party activists do today, and saw disturbing signs that American values were being corrupted.

The patriotism that had stirred in us as we said the Pledge of Allegiance was being distorted by demagogues chasing domino theories. The sense of fairness and opportunity that drove us forward into adulthood had been stolen by bigots.

I identify myself as a liberal, an anti-war peacenik, a suspected Commie… and then I ask the Tea-Partiers to sit down and reason with me. Reason? Granted, I’ve never been to a Tea-Party … well, party, replete with funny hats and costumes. But nothing I’ve seen or heard (from sources all across the political spectrum) suggests these folks are gonna want to sit down with a potentially pinko liberal and “reason.” Shout, maybe. Intimidate, maybe. Scorn, maybe.

But reason? I’m willing to be talked down [reasoned down? ], but I don’t think so.

As a nerd, I’m interested in specialist scholarship. As a person and humanist, though, I’m more interested in working with others to make connections and spark personal insights. One of my favorite poems is this one by Whitman:

A Noiseless, patient spider,
I mark’d, where, on a little promontory, it stood, isolated;
Mark’d how, to explore the vacant, vast surrounding,
It launch’d forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself;
Ever unreeling them—ever tirelessly speeding them.

And you, O my Soul, where you stand,
Surrounded, surrounded, in measureless oceans of space,
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing,—seeking the spheres, to connect them;
Till the bridge you will need, be form’d—till the ductile anchor hold
Till the gossamer thread you fling, catch somewhere, O my Soul.

There’s also E.M. Forster’s famous (autobiographical) line, “Only connect.” But Whitman and Forster had quite different personalities. I’ve always thought Forster was looking at it defensively, in a way. He was a closeted gay man maturing during the time when Oscar Wilde was in Reading Gaol. I can’t imagine what that must have been like, but I can imagine how lonely he must have been and how much in need of personal emotional “connection.”

Whitman probably was also gay, but I don’t know whether he acknowledged it to himself let alone others. In any event, though he may have “ebbed and flowed” with what today we would call bi-polar disorder, he was at his best while his tide of confidence was in full flood:

Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)

That’s the mode his noiseless, patient spider represents. The point is not to hunker down and defend. It’s not to face outward and bristle with hostility. It’s not to “score points.” It’s to reach out, establishing a network through whose nodes “connections” establish themselves in all directions, creating a true community, based on confident, mutual trust and affirmation.

Here endeth the homily. Sorry about that.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Before I reeled wildly off course, this is what I meant to say: The Icarus/Daedalus (or is it Daedalus/Icarus?) myth has engaged western cultures for millenia. Why? How have others responded to and interpreted it and why? How do we ourselves respond and interpret? Why? What can we learn about ourselves and others by reflecting and sharing on such matters?

That’s where I hope we’ll focus.

—w

BTW, is what’s depicted below the Sacrifice of Isaac, or is it the Sacrifice of Abraham? Technically, the issue in English grammar is possessive vs. objective genitive. Cool. But what’s the human difference? In reading this story, do you focus on the one being killed, or on the one doing the killing? Why? Why does it matter?

Here’s what I’ve provided thus far:

• Selections from Ovid’s Metamorphoses Selections. The original is poetry, but I chose a prose version because it’s more accessible. Here’s the link I used. You can jump from there to the whole poem in both Latin and translation.
• First chapter of Joseph Campbell’s Power of Myth.
• Images relating to Minoan-Mycenaean Culture culture.
• Images and poems relating to Fall of Icarus.
• Images relating to Daphne and Apollo.
• Images relating to Medea Pix.
• Relevant Mothers Kill Childen.
• Text of Euripides’ play Medea.

Why Smart People Believer Weird Things–Prof. Shermer

Lakoff-3

Idols text-1