Showing posts with label fact and fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fact and fiction. Show all posts

Monday, September 3, 2012

Italian Reactions: It Takes Two to Tango


Art Historical Reflections no 3. The celebrated Rosa di Pomplona argues eloquently that innovation in Italian art springs from the fortuitous combination of ingenious engineering and an excellent cuisine.  Great art arises from the union of opposites, ultimately the physical and the metaphysical, she says, as is exemplified in Les Mademoiselles d’Avignon by Picasso. The act of its painting metaphorically is a form of cooking and practically of engineering: this act transforms the raw model into an object of culture. The painting itself is a sublime union of opposites inaugurating and epitomising a new style in art.
Initiated: 3 September 2012
Written by: Bert Witkamp

Rosa di Pomplona is, as one might expect of the leading Florence based Instutio della Bella Artes, a renowned specialist of the Italian renaissance. She knows, however, also her way in the tempera painting that preceded oil painting.
Figure 1. Rosa di Pomplona, celebrated art historian and great granddaughter of a model that posed for Picasso when he painted his classic Les Demoiselles d'Avignon.
"The problem of what brings about innovation in art is a fundamental one," she affirms, "and I have pleasure in voicing my appreciation for professor Heinrich Von Schwaben and professor Craigh Cleavens for bringing this topic up in international popular and academic fora. In my contribution to this debate I shall scrutinise innovation in Italian art and that what brought it about. First, let me comment briefly on what my colleagues have put forth. Cleavens attributes innovation in British painting to rationalism and empiricism as grounded in the British philosophical tradition and in the British way of life. Unfortunately, both painters who he presents as illustration for his contention hardly, if at all, can be considered rational in a philosophical sense; though indeed one must concede that they were empiricists in that they learned from experience." 

Rosa notes, in reference to Bacon, that we may indeed say that for a man who has no money it makes sense rationally to steal a loaf of bread as that action, if successful, shall satisfy his hunger. Similarly, it was rational for Turner to paint for the wealthy as they could pay for his work, and they did it well. Whether the wealthy would have paid for pictures of starving children, emaciated mothers or exploited labourers is doubtful. It is not clear, she states,  whether such opportunistic rationalism gives rise to creative innovation.
In philosophy rationalism and empiricism must be guided by moral principles which are not necessarily rational themselves; or may be rational for some but not for others. “Craig,” she concludes, “does not go deep enough.”
"As far as Von Schwaben is concerned," she continues, "his theory of physical determinism, has certain merits and demerits. Surely, the demerits are the most obvious. How could one hold seriously, for example, that a physically large painter would become a great painter; or is likely to develop an appetite for large paintings, or would be inclined towards the painting of grandiose scenes? If, however, we incorporate the self-perception of the artist in this theory we might arrive at something more sensible. The artist who perceives of himself as small might be inclined to compensate for this by huge paintings; or obey his self-perception by the painting of miniatures; or develop a predilection for grand imagery or grand subjects." She notes, however, that if a theory keeps giving you multiple options in similar situations a label such as “determinism” is a misfit. "I should say," she observes, "that Von Schaben’s theory should be expanded to include the mental aspect of the body and subsequently more aptly be labelled the Psychosomatic Theory of Innovation in Art."
Italians, according to Di Pomplona, generally attribute innovation in art, and actually, of all spheres of human endeavour, to two factors. The first factor is technical. It is a question of technique, of engineering, that opens up new ways of artistic construction and hence of expression and perception. Rome could not have been built without its engineers, she argues convincingly. Rembrandt could do what he did because he did it in oil paint. And, she admonishes, he could do that because he had good eyesight and not, as Von Schwaben suggests, because he lacked good eyesight! Oil painting is painting in layers; and these layers may have substantial thickness causing unique kinds of reflection of light and perception of reflected light by the observer. He could not have created these perceptions in tempera, she emphasized, though tempera also is applied in layers; but those are thin and lack the body of an oil paint paste. This gets us to the second factor. The second factor is the national cuisine, and more precisely that what the artist eats and drinks. It is well known that the Italian cuisine is excellent and that is a fundamental reason why our artists produce such appetizing art. It’s our pasta, olive oil, chianti, not to mention the cheeses and meats. The idea that great art is produced on an empty stomach is pure non-sense. Good food is the basis for our physical, sensory and intellectual well being; and our personal well-being is a precondition for our ability to do good for others, i.e., our social well-being.
If there were an art of the gods” Rosa proclaims powerfully, “it would be the art of cooking, as in it all things are combined that sustain life and make it worthwhile. It is technical, it is sensory, it is a skill, it requires good taste, it is social; it is culture sprung from  agriculture and hence ultimately from the land, the seasons and the cosmos.”
Readers, it is clear indeed that Rosa speaks with the wisdom and authority of what chronologically was Europe’s second great civilisation, the Roman Empire, and arguably its greatest state ever. And she has more to say. The fate of Italy, she says, as of its earliest days, has always been determined by the balance between the arts of engineering and of cooking; of the technical and the sensory. Too much engineering is exemplified in the philosophy of amoral political expediency named Machiavellian; too much cooking in gluttony, debauchery and hedonism. A poor state of cooking usually leads to excessive engineering; and a poor state of engineering leads to overcooking. Present society has too much of both; as demonstrated by excessively engineered food and its massive consumption. The technical and the cooking need to be in harmony. It takes two to tango. Heaven and earth, male and female, life and death, light and darkness, saints and sinners, movement and immobility, determinism and the random, ruler and ruled, the wise and the ignorant: one can’t do without the other.
"Lastly," she confides, "let me tell you a funny anecdote to illustrate the fundamental importance of multiple coinciding inspiring forces to bring about innovation; be these contrary, supplementary or complementary. My great grandmother was a model who posed for Picasso when he did his trailblazing work “Les Mademoiselles d’Avignon.” She, the great grandmother, had said: “Pablo was cooked when he painted that thing and I was raw. He was cooked to the point of double vision, and I was raw to the point of being in my natural state. The painting is the combination of the raw and the cooked; a sublime union of opposites inaugurating and epitomising a new style in painting.”

Monday, January 2, 2012

Fleas, Logic and Evolutionary Theory

Notes out of Zambia no 3 and Facts and fiction no 2. Jumping from fleas to logical types and evolutionary theory; topping it off with a mystic poem. 2012 has come!

Written by Bert Witkamp

1. I just killed a flea by using a dictionary. Indeed, such action adds an unusual kind of functionality to dictionaries; in this case KRAMERS' Netherlands - English pocket dictionary. It is not a very good dictionary, both in terms of material construction and content. These negatives definitely contribute to its flea killing functionality. Is this the kind of reasoning that leads you 1) into theories of logical types & hierarchies; 2) into the seasonal practicalities of flea life? Fleas love the rainy season & if you have pets they love you too, these fleas; or 3) gets you into evolutionary theory?
2. The flea business is very different from the issue of logical types. Example. You can say sensibly: I know. You can say sensibly: I know that I know. I doubt that the logical sequel "I know that I know that I know" has any real meaning to you and me (perhaps save for the Buddha’s amongst us) but the next one (I know that I know that I know that I know) surely is beyond comprehension. It is logically possible, but practically meaningless: can't relate it to the structure of the mind. This is where the fleas come in. Reality takes over from logic; you can throw a book at fleas, but not at logic; and if you hit the flea well it is dead, and if not, you get bitten (unless you bring your pet in fast). Logic has no feeling, it exists only in the mind, its relation to practical and pragmatic reality always is an issue of debate. I just sprayed against fleas to save the dictionary; and indeed I know that I sprayed. I think I might also know that I know that I sprayed. But beyond that it gets foggy.....or is it mystic?
The best growing chicks get slaughtered first. What has Darwin to say about this?
3. The business of killing fleas by a dictionary did trigger of thoughts about evolutionary theory. Evolutionary theory is about living longer as a species (that is very different from living longer as an individual – one of those links with the theory of logical types!). Keeping broiler chickens made me query conventional evolutionary theory. You see, the best broilers (slachtkippen in NL) get killed first, and the poor performers live longest. How does the short life expectancy of the best growers harmonize with the idea that evolution is based on “the survival of the fittest”?  Actually, as you know, evolutionary theory is based on two interlocking principles. The first is that of (random) combination of whatever is possible in a gene pool including fertile (i.e., genetically transmissable) mutation. The second principle is that of the survival of the fittest. Of all the combinations, including mutations, chances of survival are best for those that are optimally adjusted to their environment – in whatever way. You see immediately that there is a heap of statistics in this – going from the random to the structured – in a process Gregory Bateson labeled stochastic. Step 2 definitely is not a random process as the new arrivals land in a structured situation. It also is incredibly complex due to the variety of life forms (organisms) and the variety within organisms.   
4. Getting back to our broilers you might say that these reservations are irrelevant as broilers do not produce off-spring. True. But that does not hold for the next example. The next example is about trees. The best trees in the wild get lumbered and with them their contribution to the gene pool. The survivors are the poorest trees, with less potential for outstanding off-spring. The survivors are trees with crooked trunks, having diseases and whatever unfavourable properties. Now, what is the conclusion? That evolutionary theory does not work, c.q. needs refinement? That the refinement is about what we, species homo sapiens sapiens, (that is: the human being that knows that it knows), do to nature? Mess it up, have no respect for it? Think we are outside of the eco system? Or, if in it, at the centre, at the very heart of it? Big fallacies, both of them, possibly fatal. Why? Because, in the immensity of the cosmos, the largest ecosystem we are part of, we, homo sapiens sapiens, are very small fry. In the cosmos we don't hand out the shots. That is one thing that you should know that you know that you know.......
5. In hindsight - there was no foresight in any of this - would you not agree that one possible extension of this text is in William Blake's
To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.
The first verse of his Auguries of Innocence, itself a great title. There is all kind of stuff in Blake that I am not so found of. But this is perfection.

Friday, January 28, 2011

Weather forecast

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Some agree that God does not play dice with the universe.

Some say God plays dice with dice.

Some say, in view of certain moral issues and global warming,
that God plays dice with ice, as some kind of warning.