(Royal Ontario Museum, 25 November 2011)
The subjects in the exhibition's best paintings are artists' friends. In the paintings of William Lazos, Sean Yelland, and Richard Davis, the respect for the subjects translates into the respect for the viewer. The contemplation of friendship induces an artist to accentuate the positive in his friend and to portray him with dignity, thus producing an artistic contribution. The exhibition's worst paintings are mindless snapshots. Francis Fontaine and Michael Bayne rely on the mistaken premise that a raw emotion can be transformed into a thought without any intellectual effort.
Art scarcely needs ugliness---in part, because ugliness is ample outside art. In order to maintain a balanced outlook, an individual needs to experience a range of emotions, which art helps generate. But even when a gory image is required, the gore need not be ugly. More often than not, ugliness is the imprecision of expression. There is more art at the Bloor Street Starbucks than in some of the selected paintings.
Americans strive for an ideal and perfection---which sell well, and the market is large. The British strive for justice. Canadians strive for inclusion---or so it seems by inspecting the portraits selected by the jury, who fail to realise that their duty is to spot talent, not Canada. Besides, few included would appreciate what the chosen artists have deemed worthy of inclusion.
Partly as an unintended outcome of the portraits' selection, the gallery has the ambiance of a communal apartment, permeated by its inhabitants' routine resignation. This set-up does not do justice to individual artists. Better lighting would have brightened up the atmosphere.
An artist expresses himself in the medium in which he is most eloquent. A painter's comments on his work are bound to be inferior to his work, apart from being redundant for its appreciation. Besides, those who cannot interpret faces will come with a friend or a parent, or take a docent's tour, and will not gain from being instructed by the exhibition notes revealing whether a barmaid's countenance is glad or sad (neither, it turns out).
26 November 2011
19 November 2011
"Thinking, Fast and Slow" by Daniel Kahneman (2011)
In the book's first four parts, the catalogue of behavioural biases poses no intellectual challenge, in the same manner as one's inability to read a map poses no intellectual challenge. The remedy is either to educate oneself (e.g., to learn how to read the map) or to outsource some decisions (e.g., to use a GPS). It is the book's last, and the shortest, part which contains the contentious proposition that the interest of the experiencing self must have precedence over the interest of the remembering self (and, by analogy, perhaps also over the anticipating self). The proposition is tautological if one admits that memories constitute experiences, and is questionable otherwise. If one enjoys remembering stories, telling stories, and hearing stories, one may as well live in order to create stories. One aspires to a happy ending---however brief---for the same reason that one aspires to establish a possibility result, a proof of concept, a theorem, whose beneficiaries shall be anonymous future generations.
If from an individual's point of view it is ambiguous whether to favour the experiencing or the remembering self, one can appeal to the society's interest. The society may not care about the individual's experiencing self beyond that individual's own concern---in order to avoid double counting. By contrast, the society may doubly care about the individual's remembering self, whose stories may lend themselves to storage and communication better than readings off a hedonimeter do. Then, the remembering self must have precedence.
If from an individual's point of view it is ambiguous whether to favour the experiencing or the remembering self, one can appeal to the society's interest. The society may not care about the individual's experiencing self beyond that individual's own concern---in order to avoid double counting. By contrast, the society may doubly care about the individual's remembering self, whose stories may lend themselves to storage and communication better than readings off a hedonimeter do. Then, the remembering self must have precedence.
8 October 2011
ProArteDanza
(Harbourfront Centre, 8 October 2011)
Complete, intense, not asexual, but not about sex, "Verwoben" (choreographed by Robert Glumbek) is about being human, which consists in provoking oneself to be surprised by one's errors as one strives for an ideal. One's true self is what one is at one's best, least manipulated by the environment, but not insulated; autonomy and interaction are balanced by choosing an appropriate social circle.
Glumbek's dancers live. He has summarised everything there is to say. Fortunately, the summary is beautiful.
Restricting dancers to the classical ballet vocabulary would be as absurd as making pupils use Roman numerals in multiplication competitions, or making modern playwrights comply with Shakespeare's standards of gore and flippancy. The outcomes would be neither effective nor pretty. In "Pearline" (choreographed by Kevin O'Day), unconstrained, Mami Hata and Louis Laberge-Cote achieve an effect akin to the Fred Astaire Revolution.
ProArteDanza project intelligence. The perceived intelligence is the ability to engage---a dancer with a dancer, unburdened by, but not neglectful of, music. Each dancer's each move has an origin, a destination, and a purpose, and is transmitted from one dancer to another, with comforting inevitability. (Defined as engagement, intelligence is absent from a scenic sunset, but inhabits an iPhone.)
Complete, intense, not asexual, but not about sex, "Verwoben" (choreographed by Robert Glumbek) is about being human, which consists in provoking oneself to be surprised by one's errors as one strives for an ideal. One's true self is what one is at one's best, least manipulated by the environment, but not insulated; autonomy and interaction are balanced by choosing an appropriate social circle.
Glumbek's dancers live. He has summarised everything there is to say. Fortunately, the summary is beautiful.
Restricting dancers to the classical ballet vocabulary would be as absurd as making pupils use Roman numerals in multiplication competitions, or making modern playwrights comply with Shakespeare's standards of gore and flippancy. The outcomes would be neither effective nor pretty. In "Pearline" (choreographed by Kevin O'Day), unconstrained, Mami Hata and Louis Laberge-Cote achieve an effect akin to the Fred Astaire Revolution.
ProArteDanza project intelligence. The perceived intelligence is the ability to engage---a dancer with a dancer, unburdened by, but not neglectful of, music. Each dancer's each move has an origin, a destination, and a purpose, and is transmitted from one dancer to another, with comforting inevitability. (Defined as engagement, intelligence is absent from a scenic sunset, but inhabits an iPhone.)
6 October 2011
"On What Matters" by Derek Parfit (2011), "Selected Poems" by T.S. Eliot (1964)
With his sentences short and assured, Parfit may seem clearer than his predecessors, but since there is little substance per page to be clear about, the clarity's value is dubitable. Some of his predecessors at least wrote good literature. Surely, reading Partif shall provoke a thought, but efficient that literary provocation will be not. One comes to appreciate Wittgenstein, who thought much, wrote little, had the right ideal of mathematical precision to strive for, fell short of that ideal, and---because of that failure---is still read.
(The early Wittgenstein revealed the futility of traditional philosophic discourse in the scientific age. The late Wittgenstein pursued the only aspect of traditional philosophy to have retained any merit---the collective experience encoded into linguistic patterns---anthropology.)
Physics studies what is true, or approximately predictable. Mathematics studies what is possible, or logically consistent. Short of being a formal derivation of implications from premises, moral philosophy can only survive as an empirical study of what is willed for and by whom.
What matters is discovering facts (done by arts and sciences), discovering the logical implication of these facts (done by mathematics), and discovering the rules for discovering facts and their implications (undertaken by philosophy). It is not obvious that the latter kind of discovery needs a separate discipline and cannot be left to the evolution (of arts, sciences, and mathematics).
To a layman, one of the appeals of philosophy is in its pseudo-scientific nature. Religious doctrines promise understanding without the hard work of science and logic. A kin sense of understanding is evoked by philosophy when it fails to apply a systematic method. Genuine understanding is achieved by an argument with the precision of a computer code; it either executes correctly or it fails. Successful execution requires precise definitions of the objects beyond one's sensory experience; one cannot rely on the consensus innate understanding of such objects. Too often, philosophy borrows its definitions from the vernacular.
Another reason for the layman's enjoyment of philosophy is the seeming accessibility of the minds of philosophy's geniuses. If one reads a frontier philosopher working in the verbal tradition, one understands most of it, if the philosopher is any good. If one reads a frontier mathematician, one understands nothing.
Occasionally, a philosopher would raise a question that does not merit an answer---meaning that whether a particular statement is true has no bearing on how one should live one's life, how the society should be organised, and how scientific inquiry should be structured. Such a question may be infectious, like a mystery story. The inconsequential nature of the question does not imply that it should be dismissed, only that its importance should not be overestimated. Pondering such a question may be a satisfying diversion.
Philosophy that is not a diversion is a heuristic process that, by trial and error, through analogies and introspection, identifies what matters to individuals---i.e., what they appear to be curious about (even if no utilitarian application for that curiosity is yet evident) and what important questions are (even if the framework in which these questions can be addressed is yet unavailable). Such philosophy is perpetually immature.
What distinguishes philosophy from art is that philosophy seeks to establish a common interpretation, whereas art invites individual interpretations linked by family resemblance. Art is a technique that evokes thoughts and feelings, and nudges one towards reasoning, but does not supply reasons. Art is a well-designed distributed computing system. Art's beauty can be appreciated without any formal training; one only needs to have lived or to intend to live.
T.S. Eliot's poetry is a search for meaning that may not exist, a warm-up exercise for prose, a madness's dose, a pose, an irrational book to give the world a rational look, the spectre of an obsessive thought, deflated once articulated.
(The early Wittgenstein revealed the futility of traditional philosophic discourse in the scientific age. The late Wittgenstein pursued the only aspect of traditional philosophy to have retained any merit---the collective experience encoded into linguistic patterns---anthropology.)
Physics studies what is true, or approximately predictable. Mathematics studies what is possible, or logically consistent. Short of being a formal derivation of implications from premises, moral philosophy can only survive as an empirical study of what is willed for and by whom.
What matters is discovering facts (done by arts and sciences), discovering the logical implication of these facts (done by mathematics), and discovering the rules for discovering facts and their implications (undertaken by philosophy). It is not obvious that the latter kind of discovery needs a separate discipline and cannot be left to the evolution (of arts, sciences, and mathematics).
To a layman, one of the appeals of philosophy is in its pseudo-scientific nature. Religious doctrines promise understanding without the hard work of science and logic. A kin sense of understanding is evoked by philosophy when it fails to apply a systematic method. Genuine understanding is achieved by an argument with the precision of a computer code; it either executes correctly or it fails. Successful execution requires precise definitions of the objects beyond one's sensory experience; one cannot rely on the consensus innate understanding of such objects. Too often, philosophy borrows its definitions from the vernacular.
Another reason for the layman's enjoyment of philosophy is the seeming accessibility of the minds of philosophy's geniuses. If one reads a frontier philosopher working in the verbal tradition, one understands most of it, if the philosopher is any good. If one reads a frontier mathematician, one understands nothing.
Occasionally, a philosopher would raise a question that does not merit an answer---meaning that whether a particular statement is true has no bearing on how one should live one's life, how the society should be organised, and how scientific inquiry should be structured. Such a question may be infectious, like a mystery story. The inconsequential nature of the question does not imply that it should be dismissed, only that its importance should not be overestimated. Pondering such a question may be a satisfying diversion.
Philosophy that is not a diversion is a heuristic process that, by trial and error, through analogies and introspection, identifies what matters to individuals---i.e., what they appear to be curious about (even if no utilitarian application for that curiosity is yet evident) and what important questions are (even if the framework in which these questions can be addressed is yet unavailable). Such philosophy is perpetually immature.
What distinguishes philosophy from art is that philosophy seeks to establish a common interpretation, whereas art invites individual interpretations linked by family resemblance. Art is a technique that evokes thoughts and feelings, and nudges one towards reasoning, but does not supply reasons. Art is a well-designed distributed computing system. Art's beauty can be appreciated without any formal training; one only needs to have lived or to intend to live.
T.S. Eliot's poetry is a search for meaning that may not exist, a warm-up exercise for prose, a madness's dose, a pose, an irrational book to give the world a rational look, the spectre of an obsessive thought, deflated once articulated.
"Time on the Cross" by Robert William Fogel and Stanley L. Engerman (1974)
For centuries, the abolition of slavery had seemed both politically infeasible and economically calamitous. Reason, gods, and violence had been employed by vested interests in order to defend the status quo. The present-day institutional details that may seem unjust and inefficient in a hundred years from now may be the inter-personal inequality in the consumption of material goods (apparently required to motivate heterogeneously-endowed individuals to work) and the voters' differential regard for the welfare of their compatriots and of foreign citizens.
Today, sufficient individual incentives are provided by avoiding the threats of death and hunger. In future, even better incentives could be provided if an individual's desire to differentiate himself from others is channelled into pursuits more productive than material consumption. The acknowledgement of the equal worth of domestic and foreign citizens would require deeper arguments justifying the tolerance of cross-country consumption inequality than the present-day implicit appeals to entitlement.
The book's distinction is that it focuses on correlations, not exceptions. Using exceptions, a reader can decorate his pet theory, and deceive himself and others. The cultivation of exceptions also makes it easier for a writer to differentiate himself from his competitors. An eye for correlations distinguishes a scientist.
The authors refrain from an anthropomorphic theory ascribing the qualities of an eccentric individual to a social class. Instead, they explore individual incentives. Then, at a class level, under appropriate conditions, individual eccentricities cancel out; behavioural regularities emerge.
The slaves' better-than-free-labour and better-than-freedman material conditions need not distract from the injustice of exploitation, measured by the slaves' superior productivity, but mostly unmeasured. Liberty comes from respect for individual idiosyncrasies. Even if slavery had been comfortable for most, it would have nonetheless been inadmissible because insufferable for few.
Today, sufficient individual incentives are provided by avoiding the threats of death and hunger. In future, even better incentives could be provided if an individual's desire to differentiate himself from others is channelled into pursuits more productive than material consumption. The acknowledgement of the equal worth of domestic and foreign citizens would require deeper arguments justifying the tolerance of cross-country consumption inequality than the present-day implicit appeals to entitlement.
The book's distinction is that it focuses on correlations, not exceptions. Using exceptions, a reader can decorate his pet theory, and deceive himself and others. The cultivation of exceptions also makes it easier for a writer to differentiate himself from his competitors. An eye for correlations distinguishes a scientist.
The authors refrain from an anthropomorphic theory ascribing the qualities of an eccentric individual to a social class. Instead, they explore individual incentives. Then, at a class level, under appropriate conditions, individual eccentricities cancel out; behavioural regularities emerge.
The slaves' better-than-free-labour and better-than-freedman material conditions need not distract from the injustice of exploitation, measured by the slaves' superior productivity, but mostly unmeasured. Liberty comes from respect for individual idiosyncrasies. Even if slavery had been comfortable for most, it would have nonetheless been inadmissible because insufferable for few.
1 October 2011
"Brandeburgs," "The Uncommitted," and "Piazzolla Caldera" by Paul Taylor
(Wadsworth Auditorium, 1 October 2011)
"Brandenburgs": solipsistic, narcissistic, baroque, literal, routine.
"The Uncommitted": formulaic, expressive, sartorially wronged.
"Piazzolla Caldera:" well-engineered, light, musical, accordant.
The dancers, competent, play not, but are being played. Unrefined, the men cannot give class to the women, but do succeed in the same-sex duo in "Piazzolla Caldera"---the dance that most betrays the choreographer's talent.
Modern ballet resembles modernist poetry in its lack of externally imposed structure. The audience may mistake form for the promise of substance. Without reliable grammar, the choreographer may end up with an amorphous product. The talented are liberated; the mediocre are encouraged and multiply.
"Brandenburgs": solipsistic, narcissistic, baroque, literal, routine.
"The Uncommitted": formulaic, expressive, sartorially wronged.
"Piazzolla Caldera:" well-engineered, light, musical, accordant.
The dancers, competent, play not, but are being played. Unrefined, the men cannot give class to the women, but do succeed in the same-sex duo in "Piazzolla Caldera"---the dance that most betrays the choreographer's talent.
Modern ballet resembles modernist poetry in its lack of externally imposed structure. The audience may mistake form for the promise of substance. Without reliable grammar, the choreographer may end up with an amorphous product. The talented are liberated; the mediocre are encouraged and multiply.
5 September 2011
"The Long Goodbye" by Raymond Chandler (1953)
A deep thinker is unlikely to become a Marlowe. Thinking will expose that occupation's risks and suggest alternative opportunities. Nevertheless, in order to survive as a Marlowe (which Marlowe does), one must judge characters well and make winning choices. For that, Marlowe has moral taste, an instinct, or principles. Marlowe is attracted to others who appear to share his good taste---regardless of whether their taste has translated into accomplishments. Aware of the world's imperfections, Marlowe recognises that translation's haphazard nature.
Reading a mystery is addictive. Confronted with a good question, the mind refuses to admit that a good answer may be unavailable. The entire civilization has been built on the addiction to riddles the solutions to which may be beyond one's reach. This irrational addiction is valuable provided one chooses the object of his addiction rationally.
Reading a mystery is addictive. Confronted with a good question, the mind refuses to admit that a good answer may be unavailable. The entire civilization has been built on the addiction to riddles the solutions to which may be beyond one's reach. This irrational addiction is valuable provided one chooses the object of his addiction rationally.
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