Unframed, uncut, absent but duly made up, conversant unshaven, shaven and missing, slouching and diving and surfing distracted, attractive no more or never attractive, tuned in absent-mindedly, lacking a story.
The high cheekbones and the sharp chin balance the broad jaws, partially veiled by the waves of hair, long and fair. The expansive face, when inanimate, suggests that much of it shall remain unemployed or be abused when expression is attempted. Not so.
The forehead elevates the eyebrows in wonder. The cheeks are plump; the mouth is delicate; both conspire into a smile that compliments. The face lights up, tentatively, not unconditionally. In a conversation, each feature is attended by emotion. Youth accommodated, happiness unexamined, intelligence spontaneous, sincerity. Naïveté?
Sipping from a plastic cup and listening to a jazz band; typing an essay with one and adjusting the spectacles with the other hand; knitting out of defiance or habit, and chatting, to the syncopated beat (with elements of truth in it).
Some bellied and suited—mostly at lunch. Some tarnished and hooded—few such. Some human, some trying.
26 December 2011
9 December 2011
Houseboat (1958)
For some solution to exist, all problems ought not to be dismissed. Mistakes hurt less if one is considerate and well-dressed. The moments that are duller, memories censor or revive in Technicolor. Any loss in precision is offset by VistaVision. When the world slows down and reality can almost get it---art does not let it.
2 December 2011
"Steve Jobs" by Walter Isaacson (2011)
A movie is complete without a manual explaining the director's choices. A movie's biography is redundant. A person's biography is not. Few shoot a picture, and hence few must know how to produce one. Each lives a life.
One reads a biography of a prominent individual, not of a representative individual, for the same reason that one seeks the correct guess for an equation's solution, not a representative guess. Most read novels; some collect experiences and write novels; the lucky ones live novels, later collected into biographies.
In order to contribute to the civilization, one must target a minority. Pleasing a majority will lead to superficial results---unless one is a genius. Woody Allen heeds the public opinion just enough to allow him to produce the movies that he wants to see. The genius of Hitchcock was in pleasing a majority while staying true to his ideals.
It is a peculiar presumption that a company can be run by someone other than a CEO passionate about its products. The concept of the portability of a CEO (or a government minister) seems implausible.
To give to charity is to dictate how the resources whose consumption one forgoes be allocated. One's entitlement to consumption emerges from the wealth amassed through labour and, occasionally, through expropriation by means of the exercise of monopoly power. The one who chooses to exercise monopoly power and to donate to charity thereby claims that he can divert resources more wisely than those whom he expropriates. Often, this is the case. That is how and why governments collect taxes. The refusal to donate to charity is an admission that one is no wiser than others at allocating resources to charitable causes.
Having once knowingly supplied an addictive substance---human attention---one is responsible for administering---or withdrawing, if that is in the recipient's long-term interest---this substance in future. To the extent that having money is a matter of choice, not giving money is no more immoral than not having money. Mostly, however, relative affluence is due to the accidents of birth and upbringing, and dispensing money is hard to disentangle from dispensing attention.
An individual is successful if he is talented and fits well into one of the existing social structures. A society is successful if it contains diverse social structures. Thriving arts is a symptom of such diversity.
An artist has an irrational compulsion. Compulsion may or may not lead to brilliance, depending on whether one has talent. Compulsive creativity is the inability to accept the civilization as it is. Artistic creativity is the expression of tastes that are shared by others, but initially unrecognised by them. By experiencing stronger and thinking harder than others do, artists teach beauty by helping others discover their preferences.
An entrepreneur can help a consumer discover what the consumer desires, or can create a want where there has been none. Both modes can be profitable. Philosophers are entrepreneurs of the former kind; they help an individual discover his desires for the objects that cannot be traded, such as various notions of equity and freedoms.
In the era of early personal computers, making them not intimidating was the primary challenge. Now, a major challenge is to make them non-addictive. With mobile gadgets, the addicts at least can move around, instead of being glued to their desktops. Moreover, conditionally on remaining addicted, it is better to be addicted to something that is good-looking and not destructive. Generation 2.0 do not drink, smoke, or take drugs---they get their fix from technology.
Latest gadgets are expensive. So is much of contemporary art, whose endurance is dubitable. In the same way as one gives the benefit of the doubt to young artists by buying their work, one supports innovation (in technology, design, and advertising) by adopting the latest gadgets. The fact that a gadget is cheap tomorrow does not mean that it is overpriced today; without the today's gadget, the tomorrow's gadget would be impossible. Intentionally or not, today's buyers (of gadgets, but not of biscuits) sponsor future generations' consumption.
The desire for a tool's simplicity is not the desire for domination. If a tool's submission pleased, well-designed tools would have a layer of illusive ergonomics, in addition to substantive ergonomics. Instead, a well-designed tool encourages respect by asking the user to make some sacrifices in order to acknowledge the tool's character. Ultimately, individuals find partnerships more gratifying than domination. In order to be successful, a tool need not pander to its user.
Simplicity suggests that beauty and utility be combined. Some save money on a tool, used for most of the day, but splash on a little-appreciated painting, eventually deliberately neglected. Whereas the conscious mind gets accustomed to ugliness, the subconscious mind does not. In so far as some minimal level of material beauty must be enjoyed, one might as well derive this enjoyment in a parsimonious way---when using a tool.
Screws and seams distract from a tool's function. Any visible feature ought to help the user operate the tool, instead of supplying irrelevant information about the tool's construction. A visible screw cannot be simply neglected, as attention cannot be fully controlled. This limited self-control makes immersion into an activity appealing. A computer multi-tasks; a user is lucky if he tasks. The limited ability to customise a tool helps replace addictive tinkering by a productive activity, and teaches that some aspect of one's environment not only can be accepted painlessly, but also can teach something.
Marketing a lifestyle is wasteful if this marketing supplies prefabricated identities, instead of letting individuals cultivate identities based on productive activities. Marketing a lifestyle can be valuable, however, if the company's products nurture its employees' and customers' creativity. Furthermore, lifestyle advertising can be beneficial even when designed to sell bottled water, provided thus marketed identities displace the identities based on race, class, religion, or nationality.
Best open platforms resemble Manhattan. Best closed ones resemble Paris. In (early) Manhattan, a skyscraper aspires to outshine all others, disregarding the skyline. In Paris, architectural citizenship beats individual expression. The beauty of Paris gratifies, an thus indirectly promotes creativity. Manhattan directly rewards creativity, which occasionally begets beauty. The society does not have to choose among platforms, as long as individuals can. Few can choose among cities, but most can choose among operating systems. The growing relative importance of the latter choices, and the freedom with which these choices shall be made will eventually lead to the equality of material consumption---much of which will fit into the palm of ones hand.
One reads a biography of a prominent individual, not of a representative individual, for the same reason that one seeks the correct guess for an equation's solution, not a representative guess. Most read novels; some collect experiences and write novels; the lucky ones live novels, later collected into biographies.
In order to contribute to the civilization, one must target a minority. Pleasing a majority will lead to superficial results---unless one is a genius. Woody Allen heeds the public opinion just enough to allow him to produce the movies that he wants to see. The genius of Hitchcock was in pleasing a majority while staying true to his ideals.
It is a peculiar presumption that a company can be run by someone other than a CEO passionate about its products. The concept of the portability of a CEO (or a government minister) seems implausible.
To give to charity is to dictate how the resources whose consumption one forgoes be allocated. One's entitlement to consumption emerges from the wealth amassed through labour and, occasionally, through expropriation by means of the exercise of monopoly power. The one who chooses to exercise monopoly power and to donate to charity thereby claims that he can divert resources more wisely than those whom he expropriates. Often, this is the case. That is how and why governments collect taxes. The refusal to donate to charity is an admission that one is no wiser than others at allocating resources to charitable causes.
Having once knowingly supplied an addictive substance---human attention---one is responsible for administering---or withdrawing, if that is in the recipient's long-term interest---this substance in future. To the extent that having money is a matter of choice, not giving money is no more immoral than not having money. Mostly, however, relative affluence is due to the accidents of birth and upbringing, and dispensing money is hard to disentangle from dispensing attention.
An individual is successful if he is talented and fits well into one of the existing social structures. A society is successful if it contains diverse social structures. Thriving arts is a symptom of such diversity.
An artist has an irrational compulsion. Compulsion may or may not lead to brilliance, depending on whether one has talent. Compulsive creativity is the inability to accept the civilization as it is. Artistic creativity is the expression of tastes that are shared by others, but initially unrecognised by them. By experiencing stronger and thinking harder than others do, artists teach beauty by helping others discover their preferences.
An entrepreneur can help a consumer discover what the consumer desires, or can create a want where there has been none. Both modes can be profitable. Philosophers are entrepreneurs of the former kind; they help an individual discover his desires for the objects that cannot be traded, such as various notions of equity and freedoms.
In the era of early personal computers, making them not intimidating was the primary challenge. Now, a major challenge is to make them non-addictive. With mobile gadgets, the addicts at least can move around, instead of being glued to their desktops. Moreover, conditionally on remaining addicted, it is better to be addicted to something that is good-looking and not destructive. Generation 2.0 do not drink, smoke, or take drugs---they get their fix from technology.
Latest gadgets are expensive. So is much of contemporary art, whose endurance is dubitable. In the same way as one gives the benefit of the doubt to young artists by buying their work, one supports innovation (in technology, design, and advertising) by adopting the latest gadgets. The fact that a gadget is cheap tomorrow does not mean that it is overpriced today; without the today's gadget, the tomorrow's gadget would be impossible. Intentionally or not, today's buyers (of gadgets, but not of biscuits) sponsor future generations' consumption.
The desire for a tool's simplicity is not the desire for domination. If a tool's submission pleased, well-designed tools would have a layer of illusive ergonomics, in addition to substantive ergonomics. Instead, a well-designed tool encourages respect by asking the user to make some sacrifices in order to acknowledge the tool's character. Ultimately, individuals find partnerships more gratifying than domination. In order to be successful, a tool need not pander to its user.
Simplicity suggests that beauty and utility be combined. Some save money on a tool, used for most of the day, but splash on a little-appreciated painting, eventually deliberately neglected. Whereas the conscious mind gets accustomed to ugliness, the subconscious mind does not. In so far as some minimal level of material beauty must be enjoyed, one might as well derive this enjoyment in a parsimonious way---when using a tool.
Screws and seams distract from a tool's function. Any visible feature ought to help the user operate the tool, instead of supplying irrelevant information about the tool's construction. A visible screw cannot be simply neglected, as attention cannot be fully controlled. This limited self-control makes immersion into an activity appealing. A computer multi-tasks; a user is lucky if he tasks. The limited ability to customise a tool helps replace addictive tinkering by a productive activity, and teaches that some aspect of one's environment not only can be accepted painlessly, but also can teach something.
Marketing a lifestyle is wasteful if this marketing supplies prefabricated identities, instead of letting individuals cultivate identities based on productive activities. Marketing a lifestyle can be valuable, however, if the company's products nurture its employees' and customers' creativity. Furthermore, lifestyle advertising can be beneficial even when designed to sell bottled water, provided thus marketed identities displace the identities based on race, class, religion, or nationality.
Best open platforms resemble Manhattan. Best closed ones resemble Paris. In (early) Manhattan, a skyscraper aspires to outshine all others, disregarding the skyline. In Paris, architectural citizenship beats individual expression. The beauty of Paris gratifies, an thus indirectly promotes creativity. Manhattan directly rewards creativity, which occasionally begets beauty. The society does not have to choose among platforms, as long as individuals can. Few can choose among cities, but most can choose among operating systems. The growing relative importance of the latter choices, and the freedom with which these choices shall be made will eventually lead to the equality of material consumption---much of which will fit into the palm of ones hand.
26 November 2011
"Romeo and Juliet" by the National Ballet of Canada
(Four Seasons Centre, 25 November 2011)
The plot of a silent film noir has been adapted for stage by Shakespeare, stripped of words by Prokofiev, animated by Ratmansky, and competently performed by the National Ballet company. An adaptation of an Oscar Wilde plot to Stravinsky or of "Le Cercle Rouge" to Berlin would be equally natural ballet projects. Nevertheless, the National Ballet have splashed on resuscitating "Romeo and Juliet."
Understatement works in life, on the screen, and in small spaces. Whether it can work also in an opera house cannot be determined by watching “Romeo and Juliet,” which does not deal in understatement. When characters are minimal, understatement is the appropriate mode to communicate the depth of their emotions, for any all-caps dancing would only reveal the shallowness of their intellect. Exuberant music, exaggerated movements and pantomime, and no variation in the intensity of the narrative prevent one from being immersed into the ballet.
It is hard to choreograph a five-minute dance. It is nearly impossible to choreograph an entire ballet. A twice-in-a-lifetime inspiration is required for that. That this inspiration would culminate in just another iteration on "Romeo and Juliet" seems improbable. The present iteration lacks class.
Some movements in the ballet seem to be stretched to the physical limit because the textbook has it so, not because the parts require it. So, there is no surprise and no relief in the discovered freedom when the dancers accomplish the superhuman. The moves' destinations are poorly marked and seem divorced from music, which is phrased clearer.
Sonia Rodriguez has a gymnast's physique and bearing, which suit well the character of the under-age Juliet. But to assume that the audience shall be interested in the character of the under-age Juliet is to stake the ballet's success on the success of its weakest element. Change the character, jazz up the music, kill the plot, un-Lego the choreography, cut, cut, and cut, and select the dancers who make for a plausible romantic duo (hint: use Elena Lobsanova and Guillaume Côté).
Often, to forget an inventor is to pay him a compliment. Best discoveries stimulate further improvements, which quickly overshadow the original. Thus, whether one believes that Shakespeare was any good, Shakespeare deserves to be improved upon and forgotten, as Aristotelian physics has been.
The bored orchestra seem outdated. In a pit, they create a barrier between the audience and the dancers. Technology amplifies individual creativity. There is no shortage of amplifiers to be compensated for by multiplying the number of resident musicians. Hiding artists in a pit is demeaning. So, use a recording. Or put the musicians on stage (they, not the dancers, are the stars of the "Dance with the Mandolins"), revise the music until the musicians enjoy being a part of it, and then make them the centrepiece of the performance.
It is a waste of dancers' talents to have four couples learn the protagonists' roles in order to perform for a fortnight. It is a waste of taxpayers' money to rehash an old ballet instead of innovating. It is a waste of classical musicians to tuck them into a pit. With patrons willing to pay for all that, the National Ballet can afford to assume some risk.
The plot of a silent film noir has been adapted for stage by Shakespeare, stripped of words by Prokofiev, animated by Ratmansky, and competently performed by the National Ballet company. An adaptation of an Oscar Wilde plot to Stravinsky or of "Le Cercle Rouge" to Berlin would be equally natural ballet projects. Nevertheless, the National Ballet have splashed on resuscitating "Romeo and Juliet."
Understatement works in life, on the screen, and in small spaces. Whether it can work also in an opera house cannot be determined by watching “Romeo and Juliet,” which does not deal in understatement. When characters are minimal, understatement is the appropriate mode to communicate the depth of their emotions, for any all-caps dancing would only reveal the shallowness of their intellect. Exuberant music, exaggerated movements and pantomime, and no variation in the intensity of the narrative prevent one from being immersed into the ballet.
It is hard to choreograph a five-minute dance. It is nearly impossible to choreograph an entire ballet. A twice-in-a-lifetime inspiration is required for that. That this inspiration would culminate in just another iteration on "Romeo and Juliet" seems improbable. The present iteration lacks class.
Some movements in the ballet seem to be stretched to the physical limit because the textbook has it so, not because the parts require it. So, there is no surprise and no relief in the discovered freedom when the dancers accomplish the superhuman. The moves' destinations are poorly marked and seem divorced from music, which is phrased clearer.
Sonia Rodriguez has a gymnast's physique and bearing, which suit well the character of the under-age Juliet. But to assume that the audience shall be interested in the character of the under-age Juliet is to stake the ballet's success on the success of its weakest element. Change the character, jazz up the music, kill the plot, un-Lego the choreography, cut, cut, and cut, and select the dancers who make for a plausible romantic duo (hint: use Elena Lobsanova and Guillaume Côté).
Often, to forget an inventor is to pay him a compliment. Best discoveries stimulate further improvements, which quickly overshadow the original. Thus, whether one believes that Shakespeare was any good, Shakespeare deserves to be improved upon and forgotten, as Aristotelian physics has been.
The bored orchestra seem outdated. In a pit, they create a barrier between the audience and the dancers. Technology amplifies individual creativity. There is no shortage of amplifiers to be compensated for by multiplying the number of resident musicians. Hiding artists in a pit is demeaning. So, use a recording. Or put the musicians on stage (they, not the dancers, are the stars of the "Dance with the Mandolins"), revise the music until the musicians enjoy being a part of it, and then make them the centrepiece of the performance.
It is a waste of dancers' talents to have four couples learn the protagonists' roles in order to perform for a fortnight. It is a waste of taxpayers' money to rehash an old ballet instead of innovating. It is a waste of classical musicians to tuck them into a pit. With patrons willing to pay for all that, the National Ballet can afford to assume some risk.
The Kingston Prize: Canada's National Portrait Competition
(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).
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).
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.)
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