The Beautiful Blog

Experience

2010-12-13T07:59:00.000-08:00

I find it surprising that, since the number of various experiences seems to be important, that science has not tried to make it possible to see what it’s like to become a toaster oven.

The Four Notes of Fate

2010-11-03T20:59:00.000-07:00

Ludwig van Beethoven conveys the message of fate and human will to the whole world through his music. Much of Beethoven's life reflects this struggle between human will and fate, in fact. Beethoven was born to Johann and Maria Magdalena van Beethoven in the year 1770. His family steadily became poorer after his grandfather's death in 1773 and his father's descent into alcoholism. After age eleven, Beethoven was forced to leave school to provide for his family. His father made young Ludwig undergo vigorous musical training in hopes that he would become another child-prodigy like Mozart, but this failed. In spite of his failure to become a child prodigy, though, Beethoven went on to study music; and he made a name for himself early on. Although no credible testimonials survive of his first visit to Vienna, legend has it that Mozart said “this young man will make a great name for himself in the world” when he heard Beethoven's superb improvisational skills. But then the hand of fate struck. By 1800, Beethoven realized that he was going deaf. He was tempted to take his life into his own hands, but, as the Heiligenstadt Testament reveals, “..only Art held [Beethoven] back; for, ah, it seemed unthinkable for me to leave the world forever before I had produced all that I felt called upon to produce.…” Beethoven would not let deafness stop him from writing the music that he was called to write. He stated that he would “seize fate by the throat”. He did this through his music. After completing his famous tenth symphony, he planned to continue on by outlining his next symphony. But fate had caught up with him. On March 26th, 1827, Ludwig van Beethoven died; and was honored by the presence of ten-thousand people at his funeral.

Beethoven wrestled fate through his music. Even early on, you can hear traces of this life-conflict of his. He aggressively displayed emotional intensity in his Piano Sonata in C minor, which is known as his “Pathetique Sonata”. After he learned of his advancing deafness, he decided to start over in his composing career by writing his Third or “Eroica” Symphony. Beethoven was taking quite a few chances by displaying this fiery emotion amidst the practice of self-control in the Classical period. When the audience heard the first four notes of his infinitely famous Fifth Symphony, they were sure he was insane. However, by the time he wrote his great Seventh Symphony, the audience had caught on – they wanted to hear it again. Beethoven saved his best for last, though. The Ninth Symphony was one of the very last manuscripts to be written by the great composer. During its performance, Beethoven had to be made aware of the applause from the audience by one of the soloists: as he was completely deaf. Beethoven also wrote one opera, called Fidelio. But his struggles with fate are best portrayed by far by his nine symphonies that shook the world.

Beethoven's lyrical melodic lines and powerful accents bring to mind the dramatic and hostile aspects of the struggle with fate, while his slow, somber themes inform us of the deep wounds fate inflicts. The rhythmic motifs illustrate this continual battle. One particular practice of Beethoven's that enables him to portray the underlying element of fate is his treatment of the bass line. Until Beethoven, composers in the Classical era wrote the bass line in the cello and doubled it an octave below with the stringed bass. Beethoven departed from this practice, and wrote independent parts for both instruments. Another rather different and somewhat odd characteristic of Beethoven is his treatment of sonata form. On some occasions – in his early piano sonatas, for example – Beethoven departed from the normal use of this form. He used what has been called “binary sonata form”. In binary sonata form, the boundary between the development section and the recapitulation section is somewhat uncertain. When listening to this in Beethoven's music, one might come away with more of a sense of turmoil created by this unclear boundary – A chaotic struggle between the will of the composer and that of fate.

The four notes sound. Instantly, fate has struck its blow: Beethoven was going deaf. He started sketching his Fifth Symphony as early as 1804, around the time he realized that fate had dealt him the blow. By July of 1809, he had finished it, and presented the score to the publisher E.T.A. Hoffman. Hoffman was a contributor to one of the most respected music journals in Germany at the time, and had nothing but praise for the work. The review he wrote was twice as long as his other reviews, and contained extravagant and pictorial language about Beethoven's work of early Romanticism – it was the largest piece of writing ever written on a work of Beethoven at the time.

Undoubtedly, Beethoven's Fifth Symphony was one of his most important works: perhaps the most important of all. Beethoven's Fifth marked a major turning point in the composition of his symphonies. Perhaps with the exception of his third, Beethoven's symphonies had been mostly written in the style of musicians in the Classical Period before him. His techniques were moderated and somewhat under control. While composing his Symphony No.5, Beethoven seems to have uncontrollably unleashed his self-expression into his music. The self-expression Beethoven displays in this piece and his use of Classical techniques undoubtedly set the pace for the Romantic era to follow. This is more than likely the reason why Beethoven's Fifth Symphony is so important, and why it is remembered so well today.

The theme of fate seems so prominent in Beethoven's life, but it is much more prominent in the first movement of his Fifth Symphony than it is in his other works. One only has to hear the violent first four notes to understand that this piece is about the harsh blows inflicted by fate. The four note motif is so striking that is easily recognized around the world. Even if you happen to miss the opening statement, you can still hear the motif throughout the entire piece. During the exposition, the motif is often stated in other voices, even while other material is being played. At the beginning of the development section, we hear the opening theme stated in F minor. Then, the material breaks down into the development of the motif. Even though the development is chaotic, you can still hear the motif interspersed between the other developed material. The recapitulation is signaled by the chords in the woodwinds answered by the strings, followed by a loud repetition of the motif. Once you pass through the recapitulation, the loud statement of the motif signals a change from the end of the recapitulation to the beginning of the coda. The coda is a long one, and is almost a re-development section. This re-development returns to the main theme, once again, with a loud restatement of the motif. The piece ends with a violent series of chords alternating between dominant and tonic, creating a dramatic close to seal the end of a journey of fate.

An element of Beethoven's music that seems to jump out at you is his continual use of harshly loud accents (called a sforzando). The first of his symphonies where this can be clearly observed is in the opening two chords of the “Eroica” or Third Symphony. In addition to the harshly accented chords that leap out from the material, many of Beethoven's themes seem to naturally accent themselves, whether or not this is indicated in the music. This supports the partly mythical-seeming connotations of fate with Beethoven. Something that may not appear fate-oriented, however, is Beethoven's ability to weave lyrical melodic material into material that is contrastingly rough and aggressive. However, when Beethoven mixes this melodic material into his rough and accented music, as he does in the fourth movement of his Sixth Symphony, it becomes all the more fateful. But in his earlier works, there is more of a contrast between smooth and rough, and this is openly displayed in the first movement of his Fifth Symphony. During this period in time, Beethoven still used sudden dynamic contrast, but he also began to use crescendos and decrescendos effectively. Again, the smooth transition from loud to soft and soft to loud is more prominent in his later works. This period may be more of a transition from Classical to Romantic: and so Beethoven's Fifth is a pivotal point in this transition. Another characteristic of Beethoven that may play a factor in moving from Classical to Romantic may be his ability to move into polyphonic texture at any time. While he uses this texture sparingly at this point in time, the texture can appear anywhere and lead to any place in his music. The rough accents, contrastingly smooth and lyrical melodic material, contrasting and smooth changes in dynamics, polyphonic texture jumping from nowhere: these all add to the sense of fate perceived in Beethoven's music.

Due to Beethoven playing a major role in the transition from Classical to Romantic, he almost has more in common with composers of the Romantic period than he does with those of the Classical. However, Beethoven's roots were in the music of the Classical period, and therefore many trends of the time influenced his music. The importance of the symphony at the time must have left a large impression on him, as he went on to expand it considerably. Although he made vast expansions to it, Beethoven drew heavily on the sonata form that was in standard use at the time. Also, Beethoven's music was mostly homophonic in texture, as was a good deal of the music during the Classical period. However, Much of Beethoven's transition to Romanticism might be linked to his teacher, Haydn. Haydn influenced Beethoven in a large number of ways: Haydn used syncopation, abrupt contrasts in dynamics, unconventional modulations, and accented chords that surprised his audience – Beethoven used all of these techniques, and developed them further. Beethoven also appears to have drawn from the music of Mozart as well. In some of his works, Beethoven seems to have similar phrasing, and his use of the orchestra sounds as though it might be a development of Mozart's style of orchestration. Mozart, like Haydn, also frequently used syncopation. So, both of these musical giants seemed to have influenced Beethoven quite heavily. But, in his genius, Beethoven took both the styles of Haydn and Mozart to new heights that even they had not imagined. This shaped the music of Beethoven to become what we hear today.

Beethoven's determination to conquer fate has left us with some of the greatest music in history. Perhaps his music would not have taken the shape it took had Beethoven not been struck deaf. Perhaps what Beethoven called fate lead him to compose the very music of the struggle with fate that he did. In the end, Beethoven left us with astonishing music, and perhaps even a whole new era of music.

Bibliography

Medforth, Budden, and Knapp, Raymond. Ludwig van Beethoven. Encyclopædia Britannica Online. http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/58473/Ludwig-van-Beethoven.

Cassedy, Steven. Beethoven the Romantic: How E.T.A. Hoffman Got It Right. University of California, San Diego. http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/journal_of_the_history_of_ideas/v071/71.1.cassedy.html.

Sherrane, Robert. The Classical Period: Ludwig van Beethoven. ipl2. http://www.ipl.org/div/mushist/clas/beethoven.html.

Song, Moo Kyoung. The Evolution of Sonata-Form Design in Ludwig van Beethoven’s Early Piano Sonatas, WoO 47 to Opus 22. University of Texas at Austin: 71, 72, & 115.

The Myth of the Four Lovers, Chapter 1

2010-10-18T19:40:00.000-07:00

Arouse, O Muse, thy ancient mouth,
And form thy song upon the theme
Of converse between gods and men.
For many times the gods have come
And made a mockery of love.
But now, Behold! Thy tale has changed!

The earth is large, but not the world. Occasionally, he who is privileged to live upon the earth for a brief sojourn before he travels into Hades or Elysium (Depending on his deserts, not his cunning, for the Feather of Truth lies not) finds a space, perhaps an island surrounded by coral, perhaps a walled garden, perhaps a vessel upon the deeps of the sea, where the very landscape seems to be bounded Being.
There once was such a place, half of a small Aegean island, neither in Ilium nor far from that great dead city of Troy. The gods had seen fit to raise up a mound of stone in the midst of the sea, the island of Gaes. Mostly mountain it was, but in between the two feet of the stone titan (the mountain had no name, for the people of the island were sensible enough not to honor a mountain that did not occasionally spew fire like an angry god) there stretched an expanse of rolling grassy hills, with hedges and small forests of pine, juniper, birch and aspen scattered here and there.
One could not discern the sea from the midst of the plain, where the brooks and rivers met, for Poseidon had shown favor to the people of the island, shrouding it in mist during the day, thus warding off the hostile eyes of enemy ships. Unfitting it was, therefore, for those who lived there to gather their food from the sea. Some were farmers, others shepherds, and all looked upon the sea and the gods with reverence and gratitude for their plentiful flocks, their abundant fields of grain, and their life of peace.
The king of the island, descended in a line of sons from time immemorial, bore the name of Cithos. He was a shepherd, and he diligently kept the festivals, drawing the sacrificial bull to the altars and pleading with the Apollo and the spirits of heaven and earth for plentiful harvests, numerous lambs, perpetual peace, and cornflowers. (It was unknown why he prayed for cornflowers; this too had been handed down in a line of sons from time immemorial.) And, so that the line of the kings might not fail, he himself had two sons: Lithmanes, the older and a farmer, and Karethos, the younger and a shepherd.
This is the description of the island of Gaes; its lands, its peoples, and its inhabitants. And if there be anything lacking, any beauty unmentioned, hold me not at fault, O Muse, Who walks upon the mists of the grey sea!

Evangelization a la Ronald Knox

2010-06-21T13:36:00.000-07:00

He’s not a wicked man, whose life is thrown
Into the filth of vice, a toxic waste
That eats a life or twists it to a brawn
Of some demented Hulk who man-flesh tastes.
He merely lives – a quiet, desprate shell
That with grasping success flies for a toy,
Some spark of novelty to stave off hell
Though for a little while. Devoid of joy,
For years his actions getting what they seek
Yet getting nowhere, he is found alone.
For he who is not rushing toward the peak
Along his path, has no life-spring, not one.
How different’s he who’s drunk from living springs,
And, seeking God, will not stop for mere things!

Ding Ding Ding! Let Round One Begin!!!!

2010-04-26T05:51:00.000-07:00

Okay, it's time to stir up the hornets' nest! How and why is syncopation bad? Music has a direct effect on the brain, so, what are the effects of syncopated music? And while we're at it, what are the effects on the brain that listening to the musical "Wicked" causes?

Based on a True Story: The Myth of St. Edith Stein

2010-04-08T19:05:00.001-07:00

Within an older world lived she, with stars
Both regular and sharp. Alone, with He,
Elusive, dropping hints to follow far
Into a Sinai, past Europe’s debris.
But not enough for some were all these hints:
For were they careful, they would find a treat
That wasn’t there to feed their unbelief;
Too sloppy, they’d in custom unfind hints.
And such became Miss Stein, a ph‘lospheress,
Who, trapped in chaos ‘twixt the “Death of God”
And then the finding of the new, searched
With her Phenomenologicer’s Rod.
So ends her quest: she’s found This God Who’s New:
‘Tis Christ, the Only God she’d always knew.

An Apology

2010-04-07T21:16:00.000-07:00

Sorry about those Chinese comments. I had no clue what they were saying, so I was allowing them to stay. Then I clicked on one, and a screen came up that said that what it linked to was filtered for content reasons. Which means the linked-to site was REALLY BAD!!!!! I hope that nobody was scandalized by that.

Constable Keep

2010-03-16T19:53:00.001-07:00

Note well: This is not the whole story. Hopefully, there is more to come. So, if some of the conversation in the middle scene seems a bit…incongruous…well, it’s supposed to be.

He had nice curves. It of course is expected that the person who reads that thinks that there is a typo and that the previous sentence should read “she.” But that is not the case. He had nice curves, from the top of his well-rounded, elongated domular, “British Grenadier” policeman’s hat; to his face, which continued the contours of the cap; to the graceful arms and well-rounded lower body. His buttons were as shiny as the hall of mirrors at Versailles, and as golden as the mirror-frames. For Constable Keep refused to save pounds by buying brass buttons, even if they looked just as nice as the gold ones.
The perpetual English rain may have been plopping in the puddles as Constable Keep twirled his bobby-stick, but its frenetic pace and the rushing of the hansom-cabs did not stop the Constable from sniffing a deep sniff and grunting a small grunt.

“Hmm…yes…It’s a fine day, and…Ooh! Get away from me!”

The instigator of the problem was a small child with dirty hands. Constable Keep ran after him with small but surprisingly quick steps, twirling his stick and yelling unintelligible insults at the child. The insults were all in good taste, of course.
An older man stood by the side of the street laughing. He was dressed in those old and worn clothes of quality that betray moderate wealth matched with a more than moderate lifespan.

“Be careful, bob, or you’ll get fired for disturbing the peace.”

Keep turned around.

“No…perhaps not fired, although I have been fired before…from a clothing store I believe. Never mind. I won’t get fired. I’ll be deposed or downsized. Or possibly even transferred.”

Constable Keep sniffed and looked straight at the man, with eyes that looked like finest glass and made you feel like they were made of glue.

“You see,” Constable Keep continued, “That really wouldn’t be all that bad. For perhaps I would get transferred to deep guard over the Globe Theater on the other side of London. I’ve always had this dream, you see, of guarding Shakespeare.”

“Well,” said the old man, “I’m in a literary society.”

“Pooh. Literary society. Just because it’s a literary society…”

“And so is the present administrator of the Globe.”

And with that, the old man walked away.

The next day, which happened to be Constable Keep’s day off, he received an invitation to a meeting of the very same literary society that the man had mentioned before, the Globe Street Regulars. He went, of course.
The Globe Street Regulars met in a pleasant, well-kept, slightly overdecorated small house in a London suburb. The yard was not quite as large as one might like, but the porch chairs were stuffed quite as large as most people could ever have use for. Down the street was a train station, the very fast express line that went through Oxford, stopping near that esteemed university en route. (It was not a place for really useful engines, for Oxford is an excellent place for learning those things that are learned for their own sake.)
Constable Keep, dressed in his best bobby hat, walked up and rang the bell just as the sun completely disappeared beneath the gorgeous curtain of London smog. Fortunately, this barrier did not stop the beams from decorating the sky with colors to gorgeous to be mentioned in a story taking place in grey, rainy England. Ah, the glories of stereotyping…
Following Costable Keep was Kate, whose prim yet precise steps measured out the stairs up to the porch as if they were a dance…or a length of wire. Kate had almost not come that day because she had spent too much time trying to get the head of another literary society to write her a letter of recommendation. Eventually, however, her good manners got the better of her, and she gave up on the letter to fulfill her RSVP to the meeting of the Globe Street Regulars.
Haspic and Harskevitz arrived a bit later. A British version of a sandstorm had ensued, driving the smog away from the sunset, staining the small house slightly sand-colored.
Finally, Dr. Baker arrived. He had been a bit delayed, for instead of taking a cab, he had followed Plato’s advice (as stated in Plato’s Britannia, that is) and taken a bus. When someone asked him his reason, he said, “It was my day off, so naturally, I wasn’t being exactly scholarly and particular.”
Upon entering, the guests found, in addition to the mysterious man who had invited them, a Dr. Than, and a Dr. McDuff. After everyone had been roundly introduced (Kate was introduced as Catherine), Dr. Baker had the pudence to ask what work of literature they would be studying.

“After all, one must make sure that moral falsehoods are not placed before the minds of those who must be protected, such as Kate, who, like Aphrodite in the Trojan war, ought not fight the battles of lower creatures, lest they be injured.”

Kate responded, “If Dr. Than wanted to program a computer to draw me, I would be perfectly happy if Dr. Baker expressed his admiration of the picture. I would not be so foolish as to believe that Dr. Baker was therefore in love with the computer.”

At this, Constable Keep pulled out a donkey’s head, put it on his own, and started braying: “If…neigh!...anyone did that, the would be almohohost as bewitched as Titania!”

“Considering the level of absurdity in Through the Looking-Glass,” Dr. Than remarked, “Your behavior is quite normal.”

“Do not associate with this illiberally educated, solely arithmetical man, Kate,” Dr. Baker warned.

“Kiss me, Kate!” Constable Keep brayed.

“Do not change Diana to Venus!” Dr. Baker fumed, willing, but too thin and weak, to fight the policeman.

“I shall kiss nobody. Writing love letters, even in this modern age of supercooled supercomputers, can get one into enough trouble!” Kate remarked.

“But you haven’t written any love letters to put into the post office box by Paddington station,” Haspic interrupted, “And neither did Bishop Machbeuf.”

“And Bishop Machebeuf wouldn’t have,” Harskevitz said, “for he neither planted bombs at Paddington nor had lady-friends from any French archdiocese, especially Paris.”

“How you do go off on tangents,” the mysterious man remarked.

With that, Dr. Baker and Dr. Than began arguing about an obscure point concerning tangents, with Dr. Baker taking the side of Euclid and Dr. Than taking the curve of Lobachevski.

“Of course, unlike the Maya, the Native Americans of New Mexico were not renowned mathmaticians,” Haspic remarked, “or else, they would have calculated that 5 kilograms of dynamite was sufficient to throw a train engine off its track, possibly killing all inside.”

“If there were no such things as weaponry, there would be no dashing soldiers to become senselessly infatuated with. Most video game designers would also lose their jobs.” Kate lamented.

“Whish is why I am Not a Pacifist,” Dr. Baker blurted out before continuing his argument. “War is noble, say the ancients.”

“But it’s not St. Crispin’s day!” Keep lamented.

“It does matter when or where a remark is made,” Harskevitz observed, “If Bishop Valliant had made his remark about the French soup tomorrow at noon instead of on Christmas many years ago, the remark would not have been nearly as well-dressed with fame.”

“I am well dressed with yellow stockings, cross-gartered!” Constable Keep said, slightly lifting up the foot-ends of his policeman-perfect pants to reveal the off-regulation socks underneath.

Kate gasped in horror, for, according to good manners, such a display of “underclothes” is not acceptable in public. She was also gasping in amazement because the socks were exactly the same shade as the yellow slugs in Halo. She said as much, and then fainted. With that, the meeting was over.

A few days later, Constable Keep received this letter in the mail.

Dear Sir,
After observing your behavior at the literary gathering, I have come to the conclusion that you are a very cultured man, enthusiastic for and well versed in the works of Shakespeare. I am sure that your behavior at the gathering was calculated (and well calculated, I might add) to the end of obtaining the job of guard for London’s Globe Theater. However, I have decided that, even more than Shakespeare, you are, due to your wonderful disregard of conventions in pursuit of a worthy goal, more suited to guard the street on which GK Chesterton resided while he lived in London. To this end, I shall move the mechanisms of law enforcement in the London area.

Sincerely,
Dr. Mysterious Stranger
Professor of Modern British Literature
Oxford University

The Surprise...Yes, this is a TRUE story...Hee Hee!

2010-03-02T20:01:00.000-08:00

Step falls on step, just like the day before
Falls flat on floor (it's on Nebraska ground),
Eyes view white walls, and closed and opened doors
No laughter gleams, and no scared heartes pound.
The statue stands as he has always stood
Upon his pedestal of cubic wood
The carpet's clean, just as it ought to be
So free of clutter that it looks empty.
It grabs my head and whips it straight around
I cry: "I say! Where did all of it go?
There's nothing here! This is such empty ground!
And Andy says: "It's like this always, though."
The hallway is just as its sposed to be
But never has it been so wonderf'ly.

I wonder if this is the right video...

2010-02-23T13:30:00.000-08:00

This is one of my compositions, played on the organ at St. Gregory the Great seminary, by me. At least, I think that is what it is.

Its the End of the End of the World as We Know It

2010-02-18T08:11:00.000-08:00

They say that feelings don't count as evidence. Who is they? I have a feeling that I don't know. But one thing that I do know is that feelings are a useful tool to lead us to things...even evidence. So, let me begin with a story.

Two days ago, I watched most of the movie "Equilibrium," most meaning the important three quarters. In some ways, it is a very good movie, one that points out yet another way in which an intelligentsia and a sheepish population can produce a horror. For those of you who don't know, in the world of "Equilibrium," the rulers have produced and mandated with death a drug that, according to the movie, stops pain, war, and sorrow by stopping feelings. I think it's more like it stops them by stopping feelings, Chestertonian moments, wonder, Dasein awareness, and I-Thou relationships. (Philosophy may begin in wonder, but logic definitely does not, considering that an absence of feelings does not prevent the main character from believing a cloaked variation on the Final Cause argument.) Regardless, the resistance movement regards the ability to exercise their gifts (I almost said God-given, but in the context of this particular movie, which is under suspicion of being slightly anti-Christian; that is a question for another day) as a right which it is worse than death to not be able to exercise. The main character joins them, has a few Chestertonian moments, kills the ruler, and liberates the world. A bit formulaic perhaps, but if you're following an archtypical story, there's going to be a few repeated elements. And that's usually a good thing. Why then, did I feel so unhappy for about an hour and a half after watchin the movie? There's the fact that Equilibrium follows the formula that stipulates that the story must be interrupted every so often for a sequence of slowed-down, over-dramatized violence, but I don't think that that is enough to account for such a thing.

I think that the real reason, following Chesterton's comments on Isben in Heretics, is that "Equilibrium" does not really provide an arresting vision of a world with what the resistance is fighting for. There are those one or two moments where you realize, by something as simple as the character touching a stair-rail, just how vital life beyond the drug is. But there's no happiness: no member of the resistance is ever seen doing something happier than reading Yeats. Even the room of hidden forbidden objects, with its snow globes and Beethoven LP's has no people enjoying themselves. More importantly, it has no religous symbols, instead it has small pictures of scantily dressed women. The captured resistance member says that she lives to feel...and although she mentions love she doesn't say or even imply just how much she loves, or Who the object is.

Unfortunately, this absence of happiness is compounded by the shallowness of all the characters. Only the main character and the woman who converts him have more than a functional role in the story, leaving the world with feelings almost as empty as the world without them.

Like Isben, Equilibrium warns of the horror of evil, and does so effectively. Like Isben, Equilibrium does not know what goodness really is. Like Chesterton, I find it quite lacking.

On Snow

2010-02-10T12:23:00.000-08:00

Give light a shape; when merely it reflects
From anything, it carries not itself
But like a word it humbly genuflects
And it is lost in bush, or tree, or shelf:
Unto whatever’s seen it gives a pass
And dies unto the solid, colored form.
Take all the world and cover it in glass!
In sparkling hints that their weight misinform
So that the eye, when seeing what seems dust
Does gladly say that there is Something More.
It feels, but does not know, it, rather, trusts,
That “Shapeless blobs” have really shapes galore.
Why does a whitened world our minds awake?
Because this thing called snow is light with shape.

Prelude to the use of Diotima’s Eros as a form of “Philosophic” knowledge

2010-02-02T08:27:00.000-08:00

Preliminary note: There is nothing necessarily sexual in Diotima’s Eros. If you want to know more, read Plato’s Symposium, the Song of Songs, the Definition of Literature post, or there are a great deal of other similar things that you might find profitable.

“The greatest philosopher is unable to grasp the being of a single fly.”
--St. Thomas Aquinas

To which we respond, “how is this quote true?,” a question that includes “what does it mean, how do we prove it, and what are we missing in our knowledge?

There is one obvious answer: existence is a mystery for two reasons:
A. Each individual being is linked to the whole of reality by at least God’s creative act. But God, one of the causes of the thing known is infinite and unknowable. Therefore, nothing is completely knowable.
B. Existence itself is a mystery. It cannot be given an essential definition. To one who looks long and hard enough (and I know this from sense and phenomenological experience), existence elicts a sense of wonder, even from things well-known. And wonder implies ignorance (Josef Pieper).
a. “There is an is!” –G.K. Chesterton.
b. “Why should there be being, and not nothing?” --Martin Heidegger

Essence is also a mystery, or at least an ultimately undefinable, analogous to the mystery revealed by the Fallacy of the Perfect Dictionary.

In the art of logic, the clearest knowledge of a thing includes an “Essential Definition.” One who knows a thing by essential definition knows the type of thing (genus) that it is as well as that which separates this kind of thing (species) from other species of the same type necessarily and always (specific difference). For example, the essential definition of square is “A rectangle with all sides equal.” Rectangle is the genus, all sides equal is the specific difference, square is the species.
What is missing from an essential definition? What is not grasped? When one knows a thing, the mental representation of what the thing is is in the intellect. What the thing actually is, not just the representation, is in the thing itself, and in the Mind of God, for God knows all things as maker. For true and complete knowledge, it seems that an essential definition is incomplete.
Consider an angel. Each angel is, in itself, a species. This means that the “what-it-is” is identical to the individual angel (this is different from, say, an orange, where what the orange is is different from the individual orange). If the essential definition of this angel were equivalent to having the what-it-is of the angel in the mind, than everyone who knew the essential definition would have the angel in their mind, which is absurd. Therefore, there are cases where an essential definition is not complete knowledge of an essence (the essence is the what-it-is).
With material things, one can never completely know the particular, because this would imply that the particular is in the intellect. But an intellect that knows oranges obviously does not have real oranges in it.
Even with essences of material things, the so-called “essential definition” can never be known to be complete knowledge. What an essential definition does is say “Everything with genus A and specific difference B is a C.” This statement is known to conform with what C is. The idea that every C necessarily is genus A with difference B does not imply that every C only necessarily is genus A with difference B. Because the idea in the mind that is the essential definition is not the cause of what C is (the cause of what C is is the essence of C, that to which the definition conforms), the essential definition is knowledge that provides a perfect test for C’s essence, but is not necessarily identical to C’s essence.
Hence, intellectual knowledge has been shown to be possibly insufficient. Therefore, we can justifiably investigate the knowledge gained through the Eros loved by Diotima.

Inspired by a passage in the Office of Readings...I wish I could remember which one!

2010-02-01T14:36:00.000-08:00

The flowers send forth fair odors from their eyes
The sight of the gardener, the one whom they love
Causes their scent, song and soul of their selves
To throw itself in loving ecstasy
Towards His Divine Face.

Praise Him!

He treads by the river
The grasses savoring every soft step.
His gazes upon His beloved Lily-flower
Her perfumes grow ever greater,
Her whiteness ever purer.

Praise Him!

What is Literature?

2009-12-10T12:17:00.000-08:00

For centuries, literature has been an essential element of what has been considered to be a complete education of the human person. Although education is often considered to be a matter of the intellect, intelligent observers of human nature know that there is a lot more to the human person than the thinking mind. One of these non-intellectual “parts” is the Enthusiastic Part, that in the human person which acts, desires to act, et cetera. Literature can be defined as written works insofar as they are allied with the Enthusiastic part of the human person, as opposed to the intellectual part. By seeing what this definition includes, it will be shown that this definition is a workable definition of the word “literature.”
First, it is necessary to describe a few ways in which something can be allied to the Enthusiastic Part. One of the most obvious ways is through the emotions. Something that awakens or quiets emotions, whether the awakener/quieter be literature, music, an event, or anything else, has an effect on the Enthusiastic Part because the emotions effect what one desires (i.e., what one has enthusiasm for). For example, a symphony awakening emotions of bravery (even if it has no articulate meaning) can inspire a person to do heroic deeds. Something that inspires or satisfies the imagination also has an effect on the Enthusiastic Part because it is natural for humans to be affected profoundly on an emotional/non-intellectual level by images. For example, the act of carving a sculpture could give the sculptor a greater love either of the thing he is carving or of Beauty itself because by his action, the Beauty or the thing has been made into an image through his imagination.
Finally, many forms of mysticism employ the use of the Enthusiastic Part. Loving Union with God, the highest mysticism, is the final end of this human faculty, for this faculty includes the will. Because of the interconnectedness of the will, the desires, the emotions, and the imagination, what happens to any one part affects the others. For example, the music one listens to could very well affect what music they “hear” in a visionary mystical experience (such as a vision had by the saints). Alternatively, the poetry one reads could effect what causes a more “everyday” mystical experience (such as a profound consolation in prayer or a flash of intuition). Theoretically, this mystical experience could in turn inform or improve one’s desires, or even one’s intellect. The insights gained in a prayer consolation, for example, could conceivably cause one to learn something about God that is true but perhaps not provable.
Literature quite obviously effects the emotions of man; through these, it can also effect mysticism and other elements of the Enthusiastic part. The epic style of Paradise Lost, for example, produces an atmosphere of “gravitas” in the work that inspires the reader to treat the story of man’s fall with the depth it deserves. In A Tale of Two Cities, The detailed characterization of Lucie Manette and Madame Defarge leads the reader through a system of emotional approval and disapproval to an appreciation of virtue and a hatred of vice. The Chestertonian plots in Tales of the Long Bow draw attention and thought to the themes of the book by their humor and absurdity.
Literature also effects the imagination of man; this also can effect mysticism and the rest of the Enthusiastic part. By personifying the West Wind in “Ode to the West Wind,” Shelley engages the imagination of the reader, allowing him to enter into the emotion expressed more fully. The clever jokes in The Importance of Being Earnest could distract frivolous Victorian readers from the potentially offensive fact that they themselves are the ones being satirized, thus better allowing the message to sink in.
This definition of literature in no way excludes wide variations in the quality of things that fit the definition. According to the definition, comic books, for example, are literature because their melodramatic plotlines and exaggerated illustrations and characterizations appeal to a real set of emotions. Their plots are the result of the imaginative processes of the author and engage the imaginations of the readers. This is not to say that comic books are good literature, however. The simplicity and exaggeration of many of the plots, characters, and emotions appeal mainly to the most basic and simple elements in the Enthusiastic Part, severely limiting the breadth and depth of the ways in which the comic books can fulfill their purposes as literature.
The definition of literature also allows for wide variations in the degree in which a given work of literature fits the definition. To begin with, the Summa Theologica is not literature at all because any effect that it has on the Enthusiastic Part occurs through the ideas expressed, not through the work itself. Plato’s Republic fits the definition to a very limited degree; although it is primarily a work of philosophy like the philosophical parts of the Summa, the fact that the work is a dialogue allows for the reader’s imagination and emotions to be slightly engaged. Plato’s Phaedo is still more literary than the Republic because the emotional appeal of the martyrdom of Socrates, as well as the dialogue style, draw the reader in through his emotions. Death Comes for the Archbishop by Willa Cather is still more literary than the Phaedo because the argument of the story in favor of priestly virtue is primarily presented in the context of a story, not the context of an argument. Finally, the Song of Songs is more literary than all of the above, even though it is from the Bible, because it presents the theme of Loving Union with God (the theme most important to the Enthusiastic Part) in a way that primarily appeals to the imagination and the emotions.
Literature can be defined as written works insofar as they are allied with the Enthusiastic Part of the human person. This definition has been tested and found satisfactory. Based on the role of the Enthusiastic Part in the life of the human person, this definition highlights literature’s importance in the complete education of the human person.

Heavenly Delimma

2009-10-14T09:20:00.000-07:00

With ev’ry day, a small bit of the veil
Is chipped away. To what’s behind I’m drawn
Like bride to groom, like groom to bride, like hail
In mad rush irresistible straight down.
And when ‘tis nearly broken through, the goal
Of this desire will but whirl around
Before I catch a glimpse, s’prise-tap me round.
This thing I want, I cannot think at all.
Unknown to me its fearfulfillment is.
I quiver, shudd’ring multiplied
In roller-coasterish wavelength harmonies
With fear of the Unknown Divine Delight.
Squeezed am I ‘twixt ice and burning sun
Ravished in terror by our God, the ONE.

Autumnal

2009-10-12T12:10:00.000-07:00

BtW: The non-capitalization of rome is deliberate.

It fades. The stony trees of summertime,
Gondor and Rivendell and rome grow thin
Freeing the cold primeval. Blowing wind
Attests. Yet while the blanket rind
Wears off, it lets more brightness through
Than coldness in. And in the azure dome
The shortened daylight savory becomes
As nature’s wild challenges of true
And blessed desolation wind their bracing call.
The whiffling weather’s wind embraces all
Of this impending decline and decay.
O breathe it in, assume its joyful stance
And thoughts heroic. Face sure-coming trance
Of death or frozen delayed life. When death’s
Most sure, the heavens haunteth every breath.

The Tale of Athanasius: From the Lay of the Land of the King book II

2009-09-28T20:51:00.000-07:00

“One golden day; when from the stone-hewn plow
Which, though my frame was slight, my heart urged on,
I turned with ruddy rounded face, sweat-healthy brow,
And clothing dusted with light grassy fronds;
I gathered up the lilies of the field
And tripped with clumsy passion through the grass
For romance, clean and innocent and feeled,
Then made me love my long-known neighbor lass.
I knew not how a courter was to clad
But walked in the sun’s light in working clothes
And that I may not seem a manless lad,
I wore a sword upon my trouser-close.
All large and free and fresh and strong I felt
Just as the hedgéd field where’pon She dwelt.

She was a modest maid of quiet ways
Who passed unnoticed in her family’s home
And no one saw her worthy of a praise
When to her healthy meals they did come.
But I knew she a secret virtue had
That, did the dragon depart from the brack
And waste the meadow, I’d be knightly lad
And she the one who would my cow’rdice crack.
For when she spoke of anything at all
(How no-one saw but I?) her words would bite
Like chisels on the hardened marble wall
And truth and justice follow. Will of might!
Who by home-acts by men all counted wrong
Can do what we cannot: You make us strong!

And in this mood, this palace crystal-light
That multiplies the goods refracted there
Until they become a bewildering, bright
And glorious thing that fillés all the air,
I shattered out when crashed a clashing shout.
My love cried out with high and helpless wails!
“A cruel, cruel man is lurking hereabout
To knife me like he’s processing a whale!”
I burst in through the opened heavy door
Into the stony house (it closed behind).
And there she lay, supine upon the floor
Her father o’er her with a deranged mind.
He thought himself to force upon her there
To soil her, and tug her lovely hair.

And as he sank a knife into her side,
I drew my sword. Its loyal metal rang
One with my voice: “You shall not touch my bride!”
My sword arm flew, and all things for me sang!
But fey he was and much too quick for speed
Of mine to make a fatal, fell dispatch.
We whirled all o’er: I followed, he did lead
The crisis trumping furnishings well-matched.
And every china plate upon the shelf
Did die in willing sacrifice for her
For though she loved them like a man loves wealth,
They and she, against HIM pow’rless were.
But he was old and dull, I young and skilled
And soon I had the daughter-killer killed.

But she had not a breath. I sat and wept
Upon her hands for full space of an hour.
But as the setting sun the meadows swept
With moist and bloody light and sinking pow’r
I thought upon her corpse, that she must not
Endure without a cleansing bath of earth.
I tried the door, to dig the grave I ought
But it was locked. Of op’ning there was dearth.
I searched for the key: upon the ice
That was her father dead my hands combed:
With caress loathsome my hands searched him twice
And through the rooms vile furnishings I probed.
Then noticed I a drain upon the floor.
The keys had flowed away. Unlock! No more!

And with them went all of my waking life.
I swooned. Insensible, I sprawled upon
Her pierced side. She would have been my wife!
Would that I slept! Awake was fear, not dawn.
I started up about at three of morn,
Awake as if I’d never slept at all,
To see a glowing filament or frond
Slow-serpentine itself between the desk and wall
As if a gorge-head lurked behind the desk:
A man with woman’s features, woman’s lips
And scorpion-tails a-sprouting from his mouth
Each one a tendril, groping for my leg.
And as it grabbed my shin, the truth I saw:
It came from inside the dead father’s jaw!

The jaw was moved by an unknown force
“My dear son, Athan, list to me,” it slimed
With slowness aggravating as, perforce,
The swamp-light cloud crawled up towards my spine.
“Do not reflex toward your wanted bride,
For I, through pact immortal, have the power
To move your limbs to mutilate her side
When’er I reach your heart. The devil’s dower
I paid in life. I wished to win at whist
You see. And for my soul’s priceless excheque,
I got all powers wanted: they’re on this list
That I’ll not read, so as to take you quick.
Don’t try to stop me: you can’t love the dead’s
Cold corpses. Wait. Keep your life and head.”

And then there surged, a heavy metal-mass
Through water: soft displaced by the weight
All overwhelming of the solid facts;
Cold duty, strong and real, surpassing great
Shoving aside the loving wat’ry thing
Of romance, which though hot and compelling
Is bleached in compare to all the cries:
The cold-filled cries, yet hotter cries than “love”
The cries sans nicety all filled above
The breaking point of romance with more blyss:
The beauty, glory, majesty, desire
Of Moral Duty. I, Athanasius,
Escaping from the demon, was inspired
To slow down its effects by hero-stroke:
With my own sword, my own legs I then broke.

Then, helpless, I did writhe upon the floor
Five minutes, maybe, freed from demon’s grasp,
Yet able not to flee from the horror
Impending: my free will's last final gasp.
Then as the tendrils closed upon my breast
To hypnotize me ever for its will,
There broke upon the door another guest
Quite uninvited by the man-devil.
From his free mouth there came a blast of spells
Uncountable and rapid and devout
With flying waters spurged from leafy wells
And oils designed to drive such demons out.
For several hours they fought upon the floor
a-Wrestling, and dueling spells galore.

And when ‘twas done, the magic-man emerged
And taking out his bag of healing herbs
With incantations healed the severed legs
And raised from sleep the girl (he used a dreg).
I, Athanasius saw that love was dead.
I’d tasted magic’s work in time of need,
When only it could save from That Most Dread
And from the Chains of death, it ‘lone could free.
She woke to life, and I to bitter death
We shed great tears of wormwood at the sight
Of all the joyful life the other hath.
No sin of envy: these tears were our right.
For I knew that I must magician be
A celibate, yet still He loved She."

Hey! If you're on Facebook....

2009-09-24T13:37:00.000-07:00

http://apps.facebook.com/imaginationquiz/quiz/questions?quiz_metric[activated_at]=1253496566&quiz_metric[clicked_attribute]=feeds_clicked

it's a quiz I made to find out what sort of imagination you have. One of AGP's friends has taken it about 6 times to see what all the possible results are. Fascinating.

On Truth

2009-09-15T11:39:00.000-07:00

The sleeper floats and slides in bliss of night
With dreams abounding. Facile to his will,
An endless line of decadent delight
Prostrates itself before his choice whimful.
Then presses he upon the sweetest sweet
That fits his mind like key into a lock
A sweet too perfect to be treat
Believable. Then comes the greatest shock.
He reaches for the thing. Behold! It shakes!
Transforms itself like whirlwinds made of steel
Into a monster-lion of golden make
That eats the rest of that most supine meal!
O well for you, who would those poisons eat,
They’re made by mind: the mind itself would eat.

In mind sweets, all teeth languish in the soft
And sug’ry clouds of nothing offered there.
Likewise the palate weakens slowly. Oft
There’s problems in the void, enticing air.
For if that which desired was what was,
All men would bore the faster with the earth.
The human being’s kept alive because
It’s’uprised from a Source of great rebirth.
O do not mourn, thou who hast Chocolate lost!
For candy made by minds is nothing good.
For beauties like to death, exchange for most
Solid, advent’rous, fierce, and filling food!
This thing is not a mush all soft and slack:
When you do push at truth, it pushes back!

Inspired by St. Edith Stein....

2009-09-09T07:33:00.001-07:00

This sonnet set, in a manner similar to the "Four and a Half Romantic Sonnets" that I posted maybe about half a year ago, explore the differences between the behaviours of men and women. The first sonnet explores St. Edith Stein's idea that gender (how you think and behave) is partially independent of sex (what you are). The second explores her ideas about how men and women use their work-faculties differently.
The third explores her ideas about how men and women grow closer to God differently. The third explores her belief that it is the husband's responsibility to give himself and his wife to God. Like the last sonnet set of which I spoke, the sonnets have the tone of the man struggling with and eventually overcoming the idea of himself being pointless compared to the woman.

O Muse of Poesy, having knowledge great
Of things unproven, read for me this code:
Should I behave according to the mode
Accustomed, or with charism counter fate
And act according to ‘clination strange?
For if one’s habit-acts proceed in kind
Unnaturally from the norm arranged
By certain sex, then how shall judge our minds?
Tis best to know both masculine and male
Or rather to inquire separately?
For they are like, but not identical.
Sex, not gender, is necessary.
I know not which provides the method best
But for the present, both of them we’ll test.

What purpose serves to separate the parts
That constitute a task? Seems weakness is
At work in this. He cannot handle th’art
Of intricate yet humble task-filled webs.
Or else the things that are this kind of work
Seem to outshine, like misty gold morning,
On plains, all else, and make it look a shirk
Quite far removed from important things.
But who is man to judge upon the use
Of studies, arts, and rulings God-decreed
By Him providing their full parts and juice?
Engage then, in heroic thoughts and deeds!
It may take strength and valor to combine,
But, hero, separation’s also thine.

When one does journey, does he take a road
To see a friend, on which he swerves aside
To paint a picture, kill a dragon-toad
Or else? Or does he direct ride?
When with a blazing love and loyalty
A man is fired, like a lightning flash
Or lava flow that slow engulfs a tree
Why does he burn the tree, and not just crash
Straight through to love the one he loves? Both ways
He groweth strong with exercize of love
So why, when pathway straight is good pathway
Does loyalty divert the thoughts of love?
It is because one does not love the less.
Love’s r’ward’s prompted, deferred by willingness.

Why would one choose a living book of lore
Arcane or with no ready-to-hand use,
A near machine that rituals galore
Pour forth from for the things that it does choose,
To be the channel through which waters new-
Expelled from Mother, from the skies azure,
And from the channel’s very walls, shew
Their joyful burbling to give God pleasure?
The channel’s virtues are its contents bright
And all the love with which they’re placed before
The throne of God. And this master of lore,
Whose sex does sometimes seem to be a blight,
Was chosen for his truly ritual dance
So e’en gift-ACT is love-obedience.

So never fear, man: you’re not challenged least.
Love you don’t lack, nor privilege of the priest.

2009-09-08T13:41:00.000-07:00

Rap came up in conversation today...someone tried to say that it was a legitimate form of artistic expression.

What was he talking about, for goodness' sake! Art's not about expression!

The Necessity (not the use) of Poetry

2009-09-02T12:44:00.000-07:00

Usually, I am a little put off by those writings that begin “there are two types of people.” Today, however, I am not. There are two types of people, those who think that the truth is outside their own heads, and those who do not.

As those of you who read this blog know, there are ways of communicating to those in the first category. You find your evidence, make your case, and hope that either you already agree with the other person, the other person is honest enough to believe your case, or that you are honest enough to believe theirs.

To those in the second category, however, communication seems like an impossibility. When anyone communicates, they take their concepts out of their heads and put them in the heads of others. For those in the second category, however, this is very difficult for several reasons:

1: Are there any others? (Extreme Cartesianism)
2: If there are others, is there any medium by which I can send my concepts to them? (Extreme Deconstructionalism)
3. If it’s all in the head, how can my concepts have validity for others, or theirs for me? (Relativism, even the non-extreme kind)

People of categories one and two are rare, for to believe either of those two positions requires enough knowledge, education, and intelligence to ask the necessary questions. You cannot be indoctrinated into being a Cartesian because the normal experiences of everyday life indoctrinate you into being an anti-Cartesian so much more effectively. You cannot be an extreme Deconstructionalist at all and remain sane because if language has no meaning, than the statement “language has no meaning” has no meaning. But people can, and are, indoctrinated into being relativists.

Unless you are a relativist yourself, you think that they are wrong and ought to mend the error of their thoughts. Yet, it is quite impossible to communicate anything relevant to them using the method of case-and-evidence.

Therefore, write poetry!

One cannot convince a consistent relativist of Truth by proofs. Proofs deal with truths and thus have no common ground with the relativist. What does have common ground with them is that which is not true or false, those things which have always been inside their heads. And among these are desires, passions, pleasures, pains, tragedies, laughters, fascinations, lifes, and loves: the very stuff of poetry.

He who addresses a relativist must be exceedingly crafty. His prime concern must appear to be not truth, but the beauty produced when his work meets the mind of the relativst.

In fact, it would be best if his prime concern actually was beauty, for then he is honest. But then, how does he convince the relativist?

His work must be made in such a way that its beauty is dependent on the truth in it. If he writes a beautiful poem about a tree, it must be so made that if you take away the truth about the tree, the beauty of the poem vanishes. If he wishes to excite passion for the truth, the essence of his work must be such that passion for the truth is essential to it: remove the passion and the work vanishes.

If he does these things, there is some hope that the relativist, in swallowing the beauty, will swallow the truth as well, and come to love it and believe it.

The one who wishes to possess truth and give it to others must know a great many things. It is a great misfortune that some who are knowledgable about the fundamentals of truth-finding and truth-communicating (metaphysics) and who are enthusiastic about giving truth away dislike poetry, the way in which truth seduces the myriads of those who hate it.

So I revisited my Jacques Maritain book....

2009-08-31T17:21:00.000-07:00

And here's what I found.

1. Maritain, like Wood, thinks that an important element in the work of art is its form/unity. To the extent that the work is one and is a thing, it is good objectively (and i know you don't care about that, Don Pedro!). This would throw many modern artists out.

2. Maritain also places great importance on the 'artistic habit.' This is the grasp that the artist has of the rules of his art. Maritain does not tell what these rules are (he is no artist, although he does know his art history and criticism). He does provide advice on how to teach the habit, however, advocating the use of apprenticeships, not academia.

One of the aesthetic ideas that seems to flow from one and two is that the trained artist, not the philosopher, is the one most qualified to judge the quality of a work of art from his own discipline. Based on the sheer variety of forms and the practical and intuitive nature of the artistic habit, it also seems to imply that the rules for making good art are far harder to articulate and far subtler than something along the lines of "tonality" for example. I can gather nothing about whether or not he would say (as I do) that tonality is superior to atonality, all other things being equal.

3. The artist's primary concern should be to make as good of a work as possible, not to tell a theme, serve a purpose (as in music for relaxation, for example), or make money. Themes and purposes are not bad, but to not ruin the work, they have to be incorporated into the essence of what the art is. If the art is squeezed and stretched to fit the theme or purpose, the art is what we call preachy (Maritain doesn't actually say that, but you can guess it).

4. Art is not the same as morality or prudence or metaphysics. The artist who makes an excellently made sinful work is a good artist but a bad human being. Art is to the making faculty of man what metaphysics is to his mind: both deal with issues of matter, form, and the like. But art does not know them and should not try. It merely makes them.

A Fable for Interpretation

2009-08-05T13:05:00.001-07:00

Once upon a time, a European trader who had never been to India arrived for the first time in that ancient land. As he was walking the streets from the port to the market, he saw a snake-charmer sitting by the roadside. The charmer played an incoherent jumble on his pipe, and the snake slithered upwards and swayed to the music.

"What a poor musician you are." the European observed "I know a great deal about the Indian musical tradition" (which was true) "and I know that you play very poorly, without any sense of unity of melody."

"Sit here and play it yourself" the Indian suggested dispassionately.

The instrument was about six inches long and was very similar to the a recorder. The European picked it up and began to play an English marching song. The snake attacked him and bit him. He died.

"The poor unfortunate fellow." the indian observed sadly. "He didn't understand that while I do make music, my real work of art is the proper union of the music with the snake. All would do well to remember this. It destroys all differences between the objective value of the art and judgements of taste."

The Lay of the Land of the King: Book the First

2009-07-26T20:30:00.000-07:00

In which the king rescues a boy from the Vale of Thry to be put into his service.

Canto I

Within a vale of green, upon a hill
Both small and rich, where chickens ranged about,
Where men and women lived, and had good will,
And where the sky did smile on all things out,
There lived a faml’yd boy of modest birth
Beguiled and read of books of fantasy,
Of gods and heroes from around the earth,
Of bonzelike mages working magically.
No stupid boy was he, although a brain
Of genius stature possesséd he not.
He tended crops, bewailed the pouring rain,
Sat down to read, and ran when Sun came out.
And none of them that lived in town did guess
That he would grow to save their happiness.

Canto II

In dripping caves where dankness’s looming breath
Unluminates an atmosphere of gloom
The Rebels gathered round to talk of death
To everyone who lived outside that room.
Like men seemed they, though gruesome and defiled.
Their horrid hides hid haunting organisms
With eyes that blazed with knowledge fell and wild
And noses smelling power through nose-spasms.
Of plots they spoke: of building living cranes
By which they’d dangle humans over knolls
Of poison-flower covered quicksand plains
And thus increase their deadly, hellish tolls.
No goal had they. Plots gave their lives no spice.
They hated their own King and wished malice.

Canto III

The centerpiece, the Rome of this fair land
Where peasants dwelt while Rebels peril brewed,
Was filled with all its ruler’s many hands
And eyes and mouths by which his land was ruled.
Benign was he, this ruler of the realm
Who dwelt in house of gold, not built by slaves
But by his many subtle powers alone.
Far-great was he, deserving of all praise.
And on this day, when whispers of “the plot”
Imbued the merry air with grayish tint,
He called his min’sters all, to test the blot
And see what could be done in spite of it.
And they all formed a council wondrous wise
Who’d meet the deadly plot with live surprise.

Upon his left sat his most trusted aide
Like man he seemed, although of wav’ring sort
With skin that did with armor plating trade
Its look, its notion, and warlike comport.
And then there sat a man who fused with fish
Seeméd to be, though one could not describe
Just where discerned there was to be this fish.
And in his hand he held some healthy dyes.
Across the row from King, there sat a man
Who seeméd stretched, like cords of telephone
Across the silent space of sky and land
And yet, he seeméd more than skin and bones.
And on the right hand of this glorious king,
There sat his Great Queen, loved above all things.

“Your worship,” said the head, the warlike one,
“You know The Rebels, who denied your rule
So many moons ago, ‘fore years did run,
Are once again fermenting malice cruel.”
“Prosperity” the fishlike healer said
“Although an august landlord, is not a king
Who plans for all his subjects well ahead.
From their excess is where this fester rings.”
“Indeed, I sat within their walls of cave
(Within, and not betwixt, the walls was I)
I heard them plot and rant and plot and rave
Do burn the town most pure in Vale of Thry.”
(These words were spoken by the third great lord
In order that dark secrets might be heard.)

“As wielder of your pow’r, I beg to speak”
The warlike one revealed, “If by your leave
I ventured to the vile cave, your strength
Which all do know is limitless, would cleave
The evil end from end.” With laughter glowed
The golden room like fertile unfarmed sheaves
Do fill a silo when the stomach’s whole
The laughter of the King! “We thank you, sir.
The realm is mine, and all who dwell within.
These problems serve as tests where they may turn
To better things unknown. And only sin
Makes most great change into honor and love
Therefore, help’s of themselves, and not above.”

Canto IV

Upon a day within the Vale of Thry,
The boy, in feyful mood that’s caused by books,
Did step out into lawn and ground and sky,
In search for something magical. He shook!
For every day of every year he’d moped
That he could not, by drinking potion rare
Or chanting words, move even his light cloak.
Yet when his hope was least, its goal was there!
Uncurling like a watchly-pendulum
As languid and as quick as op’ning bud
A deadly nightshade plant popped from the scrum
And grew to full-grown size like oozing blood.
And then he saw that every day for weeks
It had approached his house like this, like feet.

All awestruck by this obvious conjure
The child, hardly daring to approach
For fear of poison’ng powers long abjured
By everyone, on encroacher did encroach.
And then a rattle of unfitting wind
Did overturn the sensual leaf. Revealed
Upon the side that closer lives to sin:
Downside leaves of night with stars a-pearled.
His eyes did see this velvet blue but more
In that small fateful moment held the leaf.
A full-black shape, a groping hand of war
Did flow from it, OUT of the thrice-thin leaf.
Upon the foot of child the hand did start
Then, groping up, sans wrist, it felt his heart.

And then, a spot of wet was by them felt
Like cleansing rain, although from bush, not mist
And the hand fell, like newly curéd welt
And went away. And as it went, it hissed.
The bush then shook. The boy approached, of course
And, parting branches, saw a silken shoe
Perform a loop. He saw invis’ble force
Was flipping a strange man, just out of view.
What sort of magician would flip himself?
Or cause another to be thus so flipped?
And why did he not want it to be smelt
By anyone who through the grove did trip?
He parted branches, then he saw The Feet
Soft walking on the grass, yet floating o’er it!

Canto V

There weren’t just feet this time, but also legs
Attachéd to a thin, but full grown, man.
“O child, know ’twas I who cast the dreg
That rescued you,” he said “from phantom hand.”
“’Twas you who flipped as well?” the child asked.
The man’s thin face turned down in light disgust.
“Ah yes it was. ‘Twas not my power tasked
But rather that of King, a distant gust.
To me he has just given commission
To find and bring you to his distant school
Where you’ll be taught his legal cantations.”
“That’s great!” the child said. “Not cool?
I like it. You omit that cliched word
But soon you must depart your home and world.”

And so into the child’s house they stepped
To say goodbye unto his mother fair.
And premonition on the child crept
That he’d not see her there, or anywhere.
But then her smile, like glaze upon her face
That has its shape, yet shows what’s under through,
Betrayed her worry that they’d be erased
But also showed her joy at what he’d do.
“My son,” she spoke with tones of ancient grace
Crafted with labor, like a violin,
That makes a home a soaring, joyful place.
She spoke no more, but merely embraced him.
And lest it seem their parting was too fast
The messenger, he would not let it last.

For all at once, the roof did burst apart
And flaming dogs, like hailstones, blasted through
Assaulting the sad scene of broken hearts
But not the third one. He knew what to do.
Invoking mysteries on a nearby pot,
He then o’er turned it. Furious and fay,
The frothy flow extinguished the dogs hot
Then grabbéd he the child’s arm. Away!
They ran, while Zeus’s lightning bolts
Imploded walls. Construction in reverse
Collapsed the house as quick as earthquake jolts
Cause colonies of fleas to be dispersed.
The two, fleeing the chaos, did not rest
Until they reached the nearby green forest.

Canto VI

“My mother!” sobbed the boy from calmer wood,
“I fear you die!” but then the master said
“I would not fear for her, they’re after you!
The selects of the king are often dead.”
He built a fire from some nearby sticks
And threw upon it powder smelling sweet
“Such pantomimic deadlies will end quick
For they will flee this fire on fleet feet”
“Who are these they, and why do they want me?”
The boy inquired, worried but intrigued.
The master spoke: “They are an enemy
Who keeps you from the service of the king.
But now the time comes, now it is the age
For your first lesson as the King’s new page.

When light was newly made and stars were young,
And one fell Power ruled the world
As absolute as lightning’s whiteness flung
Upon the darkened sky, it then was heard
That thrown against this ordered, whirling state
Opposing all its per’lous perfect poise
One sole ambitious mind, both free and great,
Did seek to make orig’nal things and toys.
And so in search of equal majesty
Where monarchs none there were to take and tax
Those things that seeméd not to be their fee
This spirit shook the kingdom ruled. His back
Denied accustomed load, did straighten out
Never again to bend or bow or pout.

He poised himself in midst of lily-pond
And with his power, with dreamy, curling grace,
Did spike some lilies that grew quite close around
With hollow, brilliant jewels. And then effaced
The lilies were: like lotus they became.
Arrived then the allies of the first,
With sweet and sinuous wounding words they came
To dwell within the lotuses new-birthed.
All burn within that dry and freezing pond
Where nothing dwells, except alluring flowers
That fade away when touched, mere dreams bedrawn
From heartless passion, inf’nite-licensed powers,
And weightless stones of might. Then comes a knife
That cuts aside the beauty of false life.

This tale is not a thing on how to rhyme,
But works on our minds all subconsciously.
The jewels, my son, prefigure…” Then, a vine
Curled up into a cobra strikingly.
The tale’s decode was ended as the wood
Broke into tree-ish ranks of phalanxes
That aimed their spears upon the master good
Too many to be cowed by woodsman’s axes.
Tell, poet, of the running that ensued:
Bark flying like the bullets of the gun
Thry’s boy with his old master good
By speed alone did they the chaos shun.
There are some who lament a forest fire
But more than burning, THIS made the trees tire.

Canto VII

When night was come, and all the air was dark
And tightly wound around the tensile spring
Of danger and adventure, Lo! A spark!
And with a wooden brand concealed, burning
And lighting stones with eerie orange glow
They lightly ran along the quiet path
The humid air about them. All its flow
Embraced them like impending peril’s waft.
They ran all of the night until their bones
Did turn from structurals to drums a-beat
Of tired agony unfit for stones
For both their lives depended on their feet;
Then cast themselves upon savannah space;
Then rose they with the moon, again to pace.

Then when the boy from Thry could go no more
And tripping on the very air he fell
The two looked up (the man had bent to floor
To help him nicely as he could). The swell
Of beats of fainting, tired hearts increased
To frantic pace as fin’lly they beheld
Their palace-goal, with all its floors of fleece.
Its walls were thick, and sweetly flowed its well.
Then realized they that danger now was past
And, slowing their exhausted step, they strode
With regal beat the journey’s paces last.
Behind them, strong kind gates were slowly closed
And with them closed the days of Thry’s small vale.
A strange new life would this great change entail.

My Personal Library

2009-07-25T14:30:00.000-07:00

I recently went through the exercise (and I think you should too) of looking through my family's library and deciding which things I thought I would want to take with me, should I ever leave the library behind. I selected based on my opinion of them, whether I thought I would need my own personal copy (not just a library copy) and the likelihood of them being in another library (I didn't take Frankenstein for example). A book could either fit category 2 or categories 3+1 to be selected. Some Chesterton works only fit #1.

And then, when I was done, I arranged them. Not historically, and not alphabetically, but in quite another fashion. I arranged them in order from most Literary to Most Theoretical, which sort of corresponds to Most Dionisyian to Most Apollonian. Now that you know what Dionisian and Apollonian mean, (if you read the last post) you might want to see my list and my ordering. Please comment on my arrangement. Books that are both very Apollonian and very Dionisyan are generally placed close to the middle.

List of books from Most Literary to Most Theoretical

Category 1: Poetry

The Yale Complete works of Shakespeare
Beowulf
The Odes of Horace

Category 2: Prose

Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte, with notes by Joseph Pearce
Nancy Drew: the Thirteenth Pearl
The Hardy Boys: While the Clock Ticked

Intermediate Category 1: Historical Fiction

Come Rack! Come Rope! By Robert Hugh Benson (a story about Catholics in Elizabethian times)
Death Comes for the Archbishop by Willa Cather
Spanish Lover by Spearman (the story of Don Juan of Austria)

Intermediate category 2: Literary Criticism

A Student’s guide to Classics
The Politically Incorrect guide to English and American Literature by Elizabeth Cantor
Shadowplay by Claire Asquith (Sort of like the Da Vinci Code for Shakespeare, except that it’s
both scholarly and rabidly pro-Catholic.)

Intermediate category 3: The Silmarillion

Category 3: History, Theology, and practical matters

St. Francis of Assisi by GK. Chesterton
G.K. Chesterton on War and Peace (Nespaper articles written around WWI)
33 Questions about American History you’re not supposed to Ask by Thomas Woods
The Bible
The Everlasting man by GK Chesterton (The theoretical midpoint of the collection)
The American Boy’s handy book
The Student’s guide to the Core Curriculum by Mark Henrie
The Student’s guide to Liberal Learning by Father James V. Schall
The Philosophy of Tolkien by Peter Kreeft
Saint Thomas Aquinas by GK Chesterton
The Story of Thought by Brian Magee (history of philosophy)
The Catechism (book on Catholic doctrine)

Category 4: Art Theory

The Elements of Music by Ralph Turek
The Art of Counterpoint

Intermediate category 4: Aesthetics

Placing Aesthetics by Robert H Wood
Art And Scholasticism by Jaques Maritain

Category 5: Philosophy

Philosophy 101 by Peter Kreeft
Socrates meets Marx by Peter Kreeft
Socrates meets Descartes by Peter Kreeft
The Hellenistic Philosophers (selections from Stoics, Epicureans, etc)
Thomas Aquinas on Human Nature (Selections from Summa, commentaries, etc)
Five Texts on the Mideval Problem of Universals (If you don’t understand the title, don’t read the book.)

The Metaphysical Bases of Apollonian and Dionisian

2009-07-21T13:08:00.000-07:00

“Whether the Supreme Ecstasy is more affectional than intellectual is no very deadly matter of quarrel among men who believe it is both.”

--G.K. Chesterton, Saint Thomas Aquinas

There’s a great and stunning, but also commonsensical, revelation in the quote above: the idea that both contemplation and desire/fulfillment are routes to, and experiences of God. This is not the time, place, or writer to detail how this is done, or which way is more effective for human beings (do both!) but as for their place in art…that’s another matter. Placing the word art in a topic automatically makes it fit for this blog. Hee Hee!
I am one of those troublesome sorts of people who doesn’t really think I understand a thing until I can give it some sort of metaphysical classification. As far as I can tell, all sorts of things seem to fall into three broad categories. Two are fairly simple. First comes those things that really are, things like cows, iron, et cetera. Then comes those things that are only when they come in contact with other things, things like the emotional content in a piece of music, colors, proportions, et cetera.
Finally, and most difficultly, come those things that are a little bit of both, or “fuzzy things.” A good example is the Idea of Large. “Larger” means something, and “Smaller” means something, but “Large” and “Small” are completely relative. To call a thing “Large” is meaningless, except in comparison to something else.
Unfortunately, it is easy to mistake the things in the second or third categories for real things. When I listen to a sad piece of music, for example, I would be foolish to say that the music is actually sad: no misfortune has happened in the music, and music does not actually feel sad. What I mean when I say the music is sad really means that I am sad because of the music. When I can’t solve the Sorites paradox, I mistake a thing in the third category for something real (read, and attempt to solve, the Sorites paradox here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sorites_paradox If you can‘t solve it, ask for my solution.).
Which category do the affective (art as a means for awakening/fulfilling desire) and contemplative (art as an intellectual exercise) artistic qualities fall into? It must exist in one of them. Here’s why:

Everything that exists is either in the mind of the thinker, or not in the mind of the thinker (category 1).
Everything that exists in the mind of the thinker either is a successful subject of the Sorites paradox (more on this later, but this is category 3) or it is not (category 2).

Because of human nature, it is tempting to classify art on a Category 3-esque contemplative vs. affective scale (I will, from now on, use the philosophical terminology: “Apollonian” for Intellectually-disposed things, and Dionysian for affective/desire disposed things See Robert Wood‘s chapter on Plato for evidence that this usage is correct) , and make statements like “This work is more Dionysian than Apollonian” or “This work is more Dionysian than that work.” This is because, for humans (and Vulcans) desire can cloud our thinking and thought weaken our desires. How many of us have had the experience of liking something less because we had to study it?
It is also tempting to place the two in Category 2. This is perhaps the simplest explanation. If something stimulates my mind, it is Apollonian. If something stimulates my desire, it is Dionisian. And if it stimulates both, it is both.
And I, of course, am always tempted to put as much as possible into category 1, because it’s the most objective of the three. I don’t want to know what a thing is through a lens of subjectivity (category 2) or as a mere illusion (category 3). But which one is it really? And what’s the big deal?
We can effectively eliminate Category 3 from our discussion by means of the Sorites paradox. Oh wait…I probably had better tell you what that is.

The Sorites Paradox:

Consider a heap of sand. If you remove one grain, is it still a heap? How about two? How about three? How about…..?

Although the subject of the paradox is the heap of sand, it does not need to be a heap of sand. Any number of things will do. The keys to a successful subject of the Sorites paradox is that the subject’s existence must be a matter of degree, not type, and that the two qualities that are the matter of degree must be a positive and a negative, not two positives. For example, “Functional Pancreas” is not a successful subject because if you remove a certain number of molecules (the number might vary from pancreas to pancreas, but will still be a definite number), the pancreas will no longer be able to function. “Red material object” is also not a successful subject because insofar as something is not red, it is another color, and the object remains a red object percentage-wise (gaining another quality percentage-wise as well, such as green) insofar as it is even partially red.
Apollonian or Dionysian in a work of art does not fulfill the Sorites paradox. Although it may be the case that often by removing Apollonianness, Dionysianness increases (and vice versa), this is not always the case. If I compose a desire-awakening melody (the object of the desire is not important for the example, so long as it is not desire for the Apollonian), for example, it does not necessarily become less desire-awakening by being made into a fugue.
Therefore, the qualities of Apollonian and Dionysian belong in Category 1, Category 2, or both. This places them within the realm of “verifiables,” things which can be precisely defined. What is their precise definition? How can we render them to be more than general atmospheres?
The ultimate definition is a definition in metaphysical terms. The metaphysical definition of fish, for example, is that which has the essence of fish. Of course, then a definition of essence of fish is required. Contrast this example with another metaphysical definition: “Sad music is that which causes emotions with the essence of sadness to be provoked in the listener.” The metaphysical definitions tell us which category the thing falls in. Fish, where fish is defined by essence of fish, is a Category 1 thing, whilce Sad music, where
Chesterton’s quote gives a clue for a Category 1 definition of Apollonian and Dionysian by stating that the Vision of God is both Apollonian and Dionysian. God, of course, is Existence Itself. What is perhaps less known about God is that He also contains within Himself the “originals” of the essences (an essence is the whatness of a thing) of all things as well. (The proof of this is beyond the scope of this post, but it’s in the Summa, trust me. It‘s also in the “Writing Rules For Atheists” post, rendered into heroic couplets.) Because all existent things must have essence and existence, it would make sense if it were possible to define Apollonian and Dionysian in terms of essence and existence.
As was stated above, the Apollonian concerns itself with intellect, culminating in the Beatific Vision, while the Dionysian concerns itself with desire, culminating in the Beatific Union. It is in the nature for desire to desire existent beings: things like food, water, pleasure, and the like. Even objects of desire like Dragons fall under this category: one who desires a dragon desires a dragon to exist, desires to bring into existence the perfect subjective/literary dragon, etc. Intellect, however, observes and thinks. The most fundamental observation of the intellect is “Things exist.” This statement requires the observation of things and existence and an intuitive knowledge that things are different from existence. Additionally, the intellect can think of essence without existence and existence without essence, as when one thinks of a unicorn or Prime Matter. Therefore, in terms of essence and existence, intellect “takes apart,” while desire “puts together.”
Dionysian art, therefore, emphasizes the union of essence and existence in things, while Apollonian art emphasizes the essence and existence separately. The increase of one does not necessarily mean the decrease of the other. St. Peter’s Basillica, for example, obviously emphasizes the union of essence and existence in things by its overabundance of things more than a simple building that used the same amount of material. However, this does not downplay either the symmetry (akin to essence) or immensity (akin to existence) of St. Peter’s compared to the hypothetical building. I do not know if this emphasis on the togetherness/separateness of essence and existence can be achieved objectively (and thus be Category 1), but the point is that it can be achieved and defined as either Category 1or category 2. (It does seem to me that an increase in complexity is objectively Dionysian, while an increase in size + symmetry is objectively Apollonian.) The Baroque is not necessarily irrational; the Renaissance is not necessarily cold, unfeeling and unsatisfactory. As both are beautiful, the artist will do well to use both simultaneously.

"My Church" In Florence

2009-07-14T15:03:00.000-07:00

This is the church where I went to daily mass in Florence. It is called Santissima Annunziata and is blessed with a miraculous painting of the Annunciation and the body of St. Juliana Falconeri. It is Baroque (with an amazing ceiling). The painting is of David Dancing Before the Ark. The high altar (the one without the painting) is under the large dome. The monks say the morning office in a walled in area behind the altar. It was my favorite church in Florence.

Finally, the Three C's!

2009-07-14T14:56:00.000-07:00

computer, Camera, and cable! More pictures from italy!. I'm not going to include them all because I have about 800!

Fr. Kane at St. Peters

Rafael's chapel at Santa Maria del Popolo

St. John Lateran, the Ceiling of St. John Lateran, And two pictures of the canopy of St. John Lateran. A debate: Which canopy picture is better? One is more accurate, but the other portrays the atmosphere better.

Writing Rules for Athiests

2009-07-13T14:09:00.000-07:00

It's very preachy. But when you set the Argument from Causation and the "Third Large" argument into heroic couplets, preachiness is kind of hard to avoid. And the thing I'm preaching against ends up looking just as preachy as what I'm preaching for.

To every man who falsifies a thing,
There ought to come a time (the fact is rare
Except in realm of belief-mind) when their
False forgery is to the real compared.
And in this final test, they shake and sing
With jitters like a high-school musical
Full-hoping that their skill is hidden well.
This thing might save some folks from horrid hell,
Yet done it’s ever not, this wondrous thing.

Yet once there was an atheist who sat
Exam’ning bills and coins, to see their worth
See if they had a true and minted birth
Such a job was very detailed work.
And every day he looked at this and that
Examining the currency reprints
For counterfeits, subversives to the prince
And honest work of thinking labor whence
Would come the story we do here recap.

For by and by the money flew so thick
That goodly coin and counterfeit were one.
Of course he lost his job (a gainful one)
And by and by became immersed in fun

And turned to writing tales. No tales of God
Would he relate. An athiest was he,
Not a denier, who, though he thinks God Be,
Denies His Existence most spitefully.
Attempted he to take all trace of God
Out of his tales he penned in idle time
And forméd he a list of Godly rhyme
That would be scraped away like muddy grime
Away from his new tale so very Mod.

And here’s the list of his forbidden things:

Societies, economies, and arts
(For these rely on morals in the heart)
All happiness beyond ephermal bliss
(For if God’s not, no lasting pleasure is)
Profoundish thoughts and thinking on our lives
(For meaning ends is what such things imply)
All his penned men lived inside Ure’s torte
And all their lives were nasty, brutish, short.

Then, he did think about his written world,
Upon the theme of whether it implied
In its integral shape, a Divinized
Imaginary there necessetized.
Then haunted him a vague foreboding old
Implying that he missed a Godly blot
And that He’d sneak in (“Even though He’s not”)
Despite the author’s very bestest shot
In subtle form quite metaphysical.

Began he then upon a thoughtful stream
Considering what “materialist” means:
“There’s only matter, spirit’s gone” quoth he,
“It behoovs them to be or not to be.

Or are there things that are or aren’t, or are
There only things of which the things are made?
No, there are things. If not, than that would bar
The structures real from being even made.
So there are things that are, or they are not.
But whether are or not, the things remain
Like unicorns, or trees, or hybrids wrought
In future times by cunning human brains.
Hence it is true that what is must be caused
For its being is not necessity.
The men in tales by peopleness are caused.
Peopleness and being, certainly.
But then how shall we ever make an end?
For in this, Peopleness is like to men!

But can it be that what a something is
Itself provides itself with being power?
Then there would be no difference ‘twixt the “is”
And the true fact that it was tree, or flower.
And with no difference tween these needful two
Existence, meaning same in all that are,
Would be sole molder of the what and who
Rendering same all the things near and far.
Something must be in which the “what” and “is”
Are one and same, and yet it has been shown
That there cannot be more than one of these
For different things must differ. That is known.
But if there is but one Existent True
How differs it from God? This will not do!

And so the writer made a second list
Of things that with his doctrine would not fit.

Permitted not were things of actual types
(Like quarks and leptons, vitamins, and kites)
Which have objective diff’rence from things else.
And through this rule there were removed from tales

People, puppies, planets, plants,
Poverty, plutocrats, pandas, pebbles
and everything
As well as everything else that was different.

And thus the athiest ended up with no story.

Therefore all you who read: it is proclaimed
That when we speak of var’ous types of things
Implied by this, by necessity named,
Is God, the Source and Summit of All Things.

2009-06-05T02:42:00.000-07:00

Best part of the trip so far (except for one, but youàll see that later): going to Anzio with Fr. Mitchell, Fr. Kane, seminarian Steven Mills, and some other Nebraska people (nobodyàs wearing their clerics, by the way, so look carefully at the faces to see whoàs who. Fr. Kane has his back to us). Most of the pictures are of the American cemetery, but there are two of the beach and one of the train station.

2009-06-05T02:35:00.000-07:00

First Few Hours in Rome...enjoy!

2009-06-05T02:23:00.000-07:00

This is the High Altar at Saint Mary Major

This is the Manger of Jesus at St. Mary Major. Its the best reason to go there because the basillica is too in your face baroque.

This is me at St. Mary Major. I used Spanish to get this picture (it was taken by a woman from Argentina).

This is the courtyard of the La Casa di Amy hotel

But Look anway.

2009-05-26T09:48:00.000-07:00

If I have internet in Florence I will be sending lots of pictures to this blog in June. Woo Hoo!

Warning. We Hibernate in the Summer

2009-05-26T09:47:00.000-07:00

As I am out of school and not supposed to post from home, there will be very few posts this summer, I think. So if you visit every day, be prepared for a very conservative (as in unchanging) blog.

To the Air

2009-05-07T17:10:00.000-07:00

They look at you with gaze eternal, bright
The clouds and sun, the lords of sky and soil,
And fill you, as a basin, with their light
Till very Emptiness shines as a foil.
The bleached clouds make perfect fifthes ring
For sky is neither overwhelmed nor brash
And like the crystal curtain of the rain,
The light processes downward like a wash.
And from my glassy realm that colors all,
Resplendent visions do my eyes embrace
For here the languid tart airs of the fall
Join with the airs of joyful springtime’s grace!
Not air are you, O Neighbor, Firmament,
You are a pool of water heavensent!

> An essay inspired by the ideas from a chapter in a dissertation written by a

2009-05-07T16:59:00.000-07:00

>
>
> Q: When is a merely personal opinion no longer merely personal?
> A: When it comes from the imagination.
>
> You’ve probably all had the experience (and if you haven’t you’re behind in
your life experiences), of being deeply moved or impressed by something without
knowing why. Like when I saw a Rocky-mountain wildflower and immediately
identified it with Tolkien’s Niphrediphil, or when a dreaméd pinnacle of stone
frightened me beyond all previous nightmares by saying “One.” If we think about
such things too hard (and even if we don’t) we can find edifying lessons in such
things for ourselves. But in the mystic mind of George MacDonald, these lessons
are more than just “private revelation;” they are much more, approaching the
power of objective fact.
> No human artist creates from nothing. From this, MacDonald draws the
conclusion that when an artist does make things, he uses the materials given to
him by God. Hence, by necessity, the makings of the artist are more than the
artist could ever have in his mere intentions. As one person differs from
another, so do their perceptions of this more-ness. When one person perceives
more-ness where it truly is, their perception is true, whether anyone else sees
it or not. And the imagination is one of the faculties by which this
individually perceived more-ness is seen.
> Although I know of no defense offered by MacDonald for this assertion
concerning the imagination, such a defense does exist.
> Consider first the phenomenon of color. What we call color is the result of
interaction between the thing seen and the one seeing; it does not exist in the
thing seen itself. In the case of color, it is absurd to suppose, however, that
because the attribute of color is a subjective phenomenon, the relationship
between the thing and the color was not the result of a specific Intention of
God the Creator. Supposing such a thing would make God seem a slob, denying
artistry to a significant aspect of the psyche when He gives such artistry to
far less significant psychological elements.
> When we see something outside ourselves as uniquely moving (or as anything,
for that matter) by means of our imagination, this perception of the unique
value of the thing, like the perception of color, is also the result of the
interaction between the seer and the thing seen. So if one finds a particular
landscape numinous, for example, such a perception will be the result of the
union of the landscape with their imagination. God knew from all eternity that
that particular person would have that reaction to the thing seen and designed
the thing that way so as to evoke the reaction. In the case of colors, the
reaction, though it itself was not the object perceived, was symbolic of
something about the object, at least that the object reflected light waves of a
certain range of frequencies. In the case of the numinous response, one could
say the same thing, that the feeling of numinousness is symbolic of the fact
that the object manifested God’s presence in a haunting way.
> Either the imagination is always a faulty instrument of perception, the moods
it perceives having no correspondence in the object perceived, or it is not, and
there can sometimes be something in the object that corresponds to the mood felt
in the imagination. But it is not commonsensical for the imagination to be an
always faulty instrument. Consider the imaginatively-perceived emotion of
sadness. While there may not be anything inherently sad in the object
perceived, it is unquestionable that the sadness is a symbol of some amiss-ness
or evil in the object. And once you begin to treat the imagination like a
sense, where can you draw the line that represents where the valid judgments of
imagination end?
>
> Problems and solutions in this line of thought:
>
> “John” is a Shakespeare expert who happens to be so well-versed in the
Shakespeare theories of Claire Asquith that her ideas reside in his unconscious
mind rather than his unconscious mind. After seeing a performance of “As You
Like It,” his imagination, moved by the play, moves him to pursue the
priesthood. He does not know it, but the reason he feels this way is because
Orlando and Rosalind, according to Asquith, symbolically represents expatriate
Englishmen who return as Jesuit missionaries and their devotion to the Church,
thus encouraging the romantic feelings awakened by the comedy to be transformed
into ideas of more mystical love. His imagination is engaged in this perception
of the relationship between the romance of “As You Like It” and the self-giving
to the Church required by the priest, it is true, but the perception is
“explainable,” and thus, it seems, is a moderated, and thus untrustable
perception. Does it have objective merit unseen by the unprepared viewer, as
MacDonald would have us believe?
> There is, in fact, no conflict between the imagination’s sight and this
situation. When one reads, one sees words and sees their meanings by observing
the other words nearby and, in narrative, by remembering (sometimes
unconsciously) the words that came before. This is a sort of “contextual” way
of deriving meaning in language. When the imagination sees a meaning in a
thing, nothing prevents context, including what one knows about the thing
unconsciously, from shaping the meaning. God knows all the contextual
situations that one’s imagination would ever be placed in and, as the Eternal
Creator, has created the contextual situations just as He created every
individual thing. Thus, every meaning derived through contextual imagination
does not have less value because of the contextualization.
> But the imagination must be genuinely the thing moved. For a mathematical
person to be interested by the music of Milton Babitt is not an imaginative
happening; interest in mathematics is primarily in the realm of the intellect,
not the imagination. The imaginative interest one might have in profanity also
is not the proper imagination; it is fallen imagination at work that leads to
such a conclusion in that case. Were there any person who, with pure unfallen
imaginative interest, was moved by the music of Babitt, it would be prudent to
conclude that such music probably does have hidden merit. I know of no such
person. But pure imagination moves the minds of the watchers of Shakespeare.

Contra Propaganda

2009-05-04T13:34:00.000-07:00

Okay okay, Chesterton didn't really say that. But maybe he would agree. :-) There has been some propaganda on the blog "Kindred Ink" reguarding a form of early American folk dancing known as contra dancing. I hope the offended parties will accept my apology for the use this communist technique. :-)

2009-05-02T21:32:00.001-07:00

http://kindredink.blogspot.com/2009/05/chestertons-dying-wish.html

Note: Please take this in the spirit it was intended. It is all in good fun. :-)

Bad Boy!

2009-04-30T16:45:00.000-07:00

Bite the Bullet, Billy Boy,
Don't be a bloody, bashful boy,
Bloated with big, unBewailed blunders
Bemoan your badness, though mother thunders.

First Summary of "Placing Aesthetics"

2009-04-30T16:18:00.000-07:00

General: Art is of two kinds: representative (it means something) and formal (it has worth by its form alone, without meaning). Purely representative art is usually not considered art: prose, for example is completely representative language, while poetry is representative/formal.

Plato: Believed in dual moralistic and "ascendic" character of the arts. Any art can be conducive to morality, of course. Ascendic art, however, is that art which awakens within us desire for God. It does this in two ways. The first is by allowing us to contemplate form, both as an observer and an artist. This enables us to think more about forms themselves rather than being limited to particulars (material beings). Through this encounter with form, the path is open for us to be able to see Beauty itself.
Some works of art will be so constructed as to evoke in particular observers an intensified desire and awareness for Beauty, and lead us ever closer to union with it.

Aristotle: Believed that the moralistic element of art also included catharsis, the purgation of negative emotions by presenting them as art, such as in tragedy. Developed a test for formfulness: lack of superfluous elements. Believed that music was an imitative art, imitating character.

Kant: Beleived that one determines the value of a work of art through taste, an objective but non-systematic form of judgement. Taste is developed by appreciating classic works of art and by learning creative thinking skills so that one can see worth in unlikely things. Developed two kinds of beauty: beauty and sublimity. Beauty is harmonic. Sublimity results when one reaches a state of turmoil by realizing the greatness of a thing, such as God or themselves (example: contemplation of outerspace leads to a sense of insignificance, which then comes into sublime conflict with the knowledge that we are more important than all the infinite empty spaces).

Hegel: Believed that art was part of the development of human culture, which in turn is an expression of God. For Hegel, God exists in a sort of symbiotic relationship with creation, and history, both natural and human, is part of His process of self-realization. This is heresy. However, God, as Creator, is Creator of both human culture and the natural world; thus art can reveal him in a somewhat Hegelian sense. The form of a work of art is every bit as important as its meaning because the form is an existing being and the means by which we percieve the being.

Schopenhauer: Through art, we can gain a bit of freedom from our desires, desires that cause us pain and suffering.

Niechtzche: Art is part of culture, and culture is the framework that provides intelligibilty for human existence. For example, because of our culture, the thing we call a fork has a human meaning and a purpose that it does not have in, say, chopstick-only China. The meaning of the life a bantu lives is slightly different from the meaning of the life a Swede lives because the Bantu has a culture that encourages personal responsibility but the Swede does not. For the atheistic N, this principle extends even to matters of truth and falsehood. The greatest artists, he says, are religious leaders, who invent "false" but effective systems to cover the whole of life. All artists participate in this meaning-shaping to some extent, whether or not you believe everything N. says.

Dewey: Experience of art unites the formal to the representational, thus providing a holistic experience. Art should prevade all of life, from the home to the factory.

Heidigger: The artist is the person who evokes in people the realization that the fact that things exist is a wonderful mystery that needs to be appreciated by contemplation and action (btw: the way we appreciate it in action includes living a moral life and believing the True Religion). The chapter on Heidigger was very hard.

On the Definition of Music

2009-04-27T08:16:00.001-07:00

A definition is the words that express the limits of the existence of a thing, whether the thing be a concept, a material reality, or a non-conceptual, non-material reality. To define a thing, one can either make one’s own limit (an “arbitrary definition”), or look at linguistic precedent, or find a thing that has a limit in its own nature and make the definition based on this nature.

There are two things that have no limits to their being and thus possess the ultimate state of liberalism in definition (whether you believe in them or not), God, Who is Infinite Existence, and Prime Matter, which has no existence. Music exists, and is not God, so it must have limits to its being.

Concerning music, scientists who study sound have invented a technical definition of music for their purposes, defining music as “Sound with a regular wave pattern,” thus excluding non-pitched phenomena from music. This is a useful definition, as it is possible to construct (whether or not with success is debatable) an objective, mathematical theory of music based on this definition. Although scientists had a perfect right to make such an arbitrary definition, such a definition leaves out percussion instruments (which goes against common usage of the term “music”) and the works of John Cage. Musicians seem to not have come to a consensus on this topic, however, and as the scientific definition does not work because it leaves out some instruments, defining music arbitrarily is not an option.

Defining music based on linguistic precedent is outside the scope of this paper and the abilities of the author.

As for defining music by its nature, it is obvious that it is an art of sound. One can appreciate natural unmodified (wild) sounds in much the same way that they appreciate music, but this does not make the sound art or music. In a similar way, one can appreciate unmodified (wild) plants, but this does not make the plants part of the arts of gardening or floral design. The same sounds, once modified and selected by humans, however, become art through this modification. Whether or not this is a final definition is open to debate, but the definition of music by nature includes the dual quality of art of sound. From here, an evaluation of Cage and Babbitt can be made.

Milton Babbitt’s works are known for being highly organized and inaccessible to the common listener. He defended the idea that some composers should compose music so advanced that only subsidies could continue its composition.

Whether or not Babbitt was right or wrong about music is debatable. The fact is, however, that his works are not actually music, for it can be rendered unmusical by even the elementary definition above, without considering its level of advancement or its connection with the listening public. Babbitt composed by inventing an organizational system and then applying it to the staff-notated musical tradition. Unfortunately for music, although such a work may be art, it is not sound. There is an art to inventing such fascinating number-games as Babbitt invented, but such systems are media-independent, able to be applied to music, painting, sculpture, chemistry, poetry, et cetera. There is no regard for the sound to which the system is applied, hence the sound is non-essential to the art. If the sound were better off for the organization, or the organization better off for the sound, then there would be an art of sound, and music would result, but this is not the case. Babbitt has art+sound, not art of sound.

By the above definition, some of John Cage’s ideas would be music, and some would not. The idea of letting “it [presumably the sound] act of its own accord” (p. 12) is quite unmusical, taking the sound, and leaving out the human element of art. Cage’s advocacy of non-traditional techniques and instruments, such as tapes (p. 11), however, can include both sound and art, and thus is possibly music.

Defining music as the art of sound is a concise, useful, and true nature-based definition.

Ideas, Anyone?

2009-04-26T18:23:00.001-07:00

I am seriously considering writing a Shakespearean drama based on the plot of "The Three Little Pigs."

Any suggestions?

Clerihews

2009-04-25T16:54:00.000-07:00

The priestiess, Diotima,
Would have disliked Grima
Beauty draws us to God
Grima to Grave-sod.

Skinny Grima Wormtongue
Never hurted no one.
He just sat and said things
His words did the hurting!

John Cage
Puts us in rage
For composing sonatas
That are so-not-a's.

Hamlet...The man, not the tale.

2009-04-23T17:50:00.000-07:00

Revenge. It's a common thread in lots of stories, from the Greek Tragedies, to The Count of Monte Cristo, to Wuthering Heights, to True Grit. And, for some reason or other, the revenge-seeker seems to be the one who attracts some of our sympathy, whether (s)he be Electra, Heathcliff, Maddie Ross, or Anakin.

And this does not exactly seem to be a good thing. We all know that revenge is an evil, a pleasure in which it is forbidden to indulge, but we just can't help ourselves. The authors aren't much of a help either, often portraying the avengers as victims of previous wrongs, to be pitied, not condemned. And if this is so, Hamlet, a classic revenge story, would seem to be missing some merit.

Both Because "Hamlet" is such a classic and Hamlet is such a lovable character (despite, indeed, because of, his ambivalent revenge-desires), we ought not just reject the story out of hand as a tale not conducive to morality. If Shakespeare was a moral man, he would have been intelligent enough to be aware both that art has consequences and how to get the good moral consequences across most effectively. If Shakespeare was not a good man, we will never know, will we?

Whatever Mr. S might have been, Hamlet gives many signs of being a good man. At least twice in the play, he affirms his belief in Divine Providence. He is intensely interested in the slavation of his mother. He resists temptations to suicide. He is humble enough to make himself a fool in front of the entire court. He is a pleasant friend, someone we would feel attracted to regardless of his moral state. Most importantly, he is devoted to the commands of his father's ghost.

In fact, the actions of the ghost make one wonder whether or not Hamlet's desire to kill his uncle is actually an act of revenge. The ghost makes it clear that he is not a dammed spirit; the sufferings he describes are the pains of purgatory, land of saints, not hell, a claim that Hamlet later tests to the limits of both his ability and the aesthetic limits of the play (An awkward turtle would fit very well. Tuea Huea!). A purgatorial spirit would be unable to command or even request anyone to commit a sin. God, being the arbiter of life and death, may have (I think this is possible) ordained that Hamlet's uncle would die by assassination, and, through His ordinance give His keys of death and hades to Hamlet temporarily. Regardless of what God did, Hamlet seems convinced of the rightness of his cause, thus removing all moral responsibility of the death from him.

After taking the responsibility upon himself, Hamlet, spurred on by obedience, seems to grow spiritually. He begins to articulate his sufferings, especially his growing rightful disdain of the world, making us think that his sufferings have become more acute but that he knows what they are for. His madness is more true than the sanities of many people. His pledge of obedience has lent purpose to his life.

When true revenge begins to creep in upon his obedience, however, his plans begin to go astray. His not killing his uncle while his uncle is repentant of his sins opens up the possibility of the tragedies that follow. His giving into passion kills the wrong person. Though afterwards, he seems to desire to be merely obedient, the damage has been done, and the two moments of revenge and blindness end up being the death of nearly all the characters in the play.

In short, Hamlet is not a character constructed so that we sympathize with the vengeful. Rather, he is constructed so that we sympathize with obedience and see the evil consequences of revenge.

4'33 as an Analog for Prime Matter

2009-04-23T15:25:00.000-07:00

What would a thing with no properties but the potential to become anything be like? How about the music of John Cage, where the performer is given no instructions? The performer could do anything in that time, yet the piece considered by itself is...what?

By the way, this post is not labeled music because it is unclear whether or not it is about music.

Chastity as a Having, not a Lacking

2009-04-19T14:12:00.000-07:00

Conceive I had a crystal, clear and clean
Hev'n-hard and bright and inn'cent like a child
Along a simple sidewalk, all unknowing
Soul-secret secrets of her or'gin wild.
Take I this treasure, fragile like a maid,
Into the deepest ice-caves of my cloak
To guard it from the dirt and from the trade.
Yen dirties pure things, and by these they're broke.
How then shall I percieve those nearest me
Who know not of the treasure that I claw.
Which of these two the greater secret be
That when they're told, the hearer shakes with awe:
The one before them drops, in mud, jewelry,
Or that the same conceals them secretly?

For your Easter Week Meditiations...

2009-04-14T14:48:00.001-07:00

You MUST listen to "Mass" by Leonard Bernstien!

Explanation of the Previous Post

2009-04-14T06:39:00.000-07:00

8 purposes of art.

> 1. Moralization (Plato)
Art can be used to encourage good behaviour by being about good behaviour. Move along. Nothing to see here that you didn't know before.

> 2. Indoctrination (Plato)
Art can be used to encourage good behaviour when the artist, in imitating something good, internalizes its goodness. For example, the dancer internalizes gracefulness when they dance.

> 2. Preparation for mathematics (Plato)
Mathematics is the form of abstract thought that humans first expose themselves to. Through mathematics, we can free ourselves from the limitation of thinking in images and begin to think about real things in terms of something that is itself real. Art prepares us for mathematics by guiding our imagination in the perception and liking of proportions (ratios).

> 3. Moving into the transcendent world by imitation/discovery (Plato/Aquinas)
Everything material is divided into two parts: the form of the thing, which is what it is, and its matter, which is what it is made of. Omnisciently, God knows the form of every thing that exists, and because His knowledge is not different from Himself, by knowing about the forms of things, we learn about Him. The artist, by imitating a pre-existing form or discovering a new one, learns about the form he works with, as do the observers of his art.
To the extent which a thing has a form, it is more perfect and more coherent. Hence, the more coherent a work of art is, the better it is.

> 4. Moving into the transcendent world by moving from referential to abstract (Plato)
Some forms of art are based on the expression of ideas other than themselves through words and images. In other arts, however, the idea being expressed is the work itself, leaving the observer quite imageless. Hence, art can perform funciton #2 not only by introducing us to mathematics, but by itself containing the qualities which the study of mathematics is supposed to impart.

> 5. Training our desire for the Infinite, God. (Plato)
We all have either a latent or an active desire for the Infinite. According to Diotima, this expresses itself at the lowest level through physical satisfaction, especially the conception of children (children make the parent "immortal"). The lifestyle that desires the Infinite and expresses it in a lifeful and extravagant manner is called "Dionisian." Art can perform the function of calming the passions so that one can achieve a rational and ethical lifestyle where desire is calmed, calld "Apollonian".
Once one acheves this lifestyle, however, art (and thought as well) can awaken the person to the fact that the object of the Infinity-desire is not physical satisfaction, but a sort of spiritual satisfaction that is itself more than rational, and thus again Dionisian. Art does this by awakening the desire for spiritual goods; for example, a work of good art might inspire a rational (or even an irrational) person to, out of desire for God, to take the very Dionisian step of becoming a Franciscan.

> 6. Being part of a culture (Aristotle)
Move along. You know how this works already I think.

> 7. Learning about a form. (Aristotle)
Same as #3, except that the object of the knowledge sought is the form, not God.

> 8. Being yet another of the creative Self-Revelations of God. (Bonaventure)
In the final analysis, God is unknowable to us on earth. Yet every one of His creations reveals something about Him in some way. Every work of good art does so as well.

8 purposes of art...so far.

2009-04-13T06:26:00.000-07:00

> 1. Moralization (Plato)
> 2. Indoctrination (Plato)
> 2. Preparation for mathematics (Plato)
> 3. Moving into the transcendent world by imitation/discovery (Plato/Aquinas)
> 4. Moving into the transcendent world by moving from referential to abstract (Plato)
> 5. Training our desire for the Infinite, God. (Plato)
> 6. Being part of a culture (Aristotle)
> 7. Learning about a form. (Aristotle)
> 8. Being yet another of the creative Self-Revelations of God. (Bonaventure)

If you want explanations, just ask. I got these 8 purposes from the book "placing Aesthetics" by Robert H Wood of The University of Dallas.

"Tonality" revisited, Part II

2009-04-09T07:01:00.000-07:00

> > A short interlude on the definition of the word "Tonality"
> >
> > In the previous article concerning this, Tonality was used improperly. Properly, it means a system of organizing music according to specific rules of consonance, dissonance, and chord progression. That this system is superior to others is unprovable.
> > The improper way I used it, it meant the ordering of pitches according to a specific method that is much broader than and includes tonality, yet does not include all pitched music, such as some, but not all, serial and set-class pieces.
> >
> > On the mathematics
> >
> > Two vibrations at the unison have a ratio of 1:1
> > Two vibrations at the octave have a ratio of 1:2
> > Two vibrations at the octave+perfect fifth have a ratio of 1:3
> > Two vibrations at the perfect fifth have a ratio of 2:3
> >
> > Assuming that two notes an octave apart are equivalent notes, which seems a self-evident assumption, though it might not be, the next notes in the series are
> >
> > Two vibrations at the major second have a ratio of 8:9
> > Two vibrations at the major sixth have a ratio of 16:27
> > Two vibrations at the major third have a ratio of 64:81
> > Two vibrations at the major seventh have a ratio of 128:243
> > Two vibrations at the tritone have a ratio of...you figure it out.
> >
> > Invert using octave equivalence, and you now have all the possible relationships between notes in the order of simplest ratio to most complex ratio. According to me and many other theorists who I follow, the music ought to incorporate these into its composition as per above. The closer the relathionship
> >
> > On the answering of objections
> >
> > Obj. Saying that if two objects have one mathematical ratio as the relationship between them and two other objects have a different one, then one set is more closely related than the other is arbitrary or determined by biological or cultural factors, for mathematics does not decree one relationship as better than another.
> > Ans. It is true that many things are related merely arbitrarily, culturally, or because of biology, but non-arbitrary relationships can exist. For example, the relationship between me and my parents is necessarily a closer relationship than the relationship between me and my cousins, because if I would have had different parents, I would be a different person, but if I had a different cousin, I would remain the same person; thus the relationship of parent is essential, while the relationship of cousin is not.
> > Into what category do ratios fall? It seems that it is self evident, independent of biology or culture, that the closer the relationship approaches 1 (or the closer the notes approach to a unison), the closer (and thus, more relational) the relationship between them; a yardstick is more closely related to a meterstick than it is to a 2.5-meterstick because it is more close to it in length.
> > The other sort of self-evident, culturally and biologically independent relationship is a bit more complicated. Consider the intervals of perfect fifth and major sixth, with the ratios of 2/3 and 16/27 respectively. In regards to choosing between them, the composer can say "I choose ____" or "I choose ____ because of ____" If they are trying to be completely objective and independent from biology and culture and they choose to have the second option, what is left to them is to choose on the basis of the ratios. And which makes more sense: to say "I choose the fifth because it has the relationship of the ratio of 2/3, not 16/27," or "I choose the sixth because it has the relationship of the ratio of 16/27, not 2/3?" The second statement is hilarious and ludicrous and unbelieveable and seems to be self-evidently less valid than the first. One could, of course, simply say "I choose ____" or even "I aleotorate ___," but then, they are choosing, and, considered in the abstract, their choice has no basis. It would be better to choose with an abstract basis in the way outlined above.
>
>
>
>

The Artistic Temperament...NOT!

2009-04-07T09:48:00.000-07:00

Since I haven't posted anything in a relatively long time, you might be inspired to recall G.K. Chesterton's magnificent essay "On the Wit of Whistler." What is happening to the poster during his absence of posts? Is he fairly exploding with unexpressible artistic impulses, just like the minor poet? Or is he simply not being visited by his muse and is being an ordinary person?

The answer is neither. I am being visited by the muse, but the idea is so big that it is takes a long sitting to get out, and time is going through a recession for me right now. This one will be only temporary, as I do not practice inflation or bailouts.

LOTR poetry

2009-03-27T12:03:00.000-07:00

> > > When he, the herald voice of Gil-Galad,
> > > Did come to Elendil’s folk bearing news
> > > Of war, of pestilence, of last alliance
> > > Twixt Elves and Men against the Eastern Fire
> > > And Eastern Ring, he set his eyes upon
> > > The creaking ships, the aged hands that held
> > > Age-transcendent elven-works and scrolls,
> > > The young hands with the psalm, the child, the sword.
> > > Amidst this grandeur next to futility,
> > > He saw, like one might see a raven in
> > > The forests of Eol, a wizened maid
> > > Who walked towards him with a look of fate.
> > > “Elendil be’eth occupied,” she said.
> > > “Orowen be’eth I. I hail from there,
> > > The House of Healing. There, the wounded die
> > > In peace, while we do tend their hurts” she said.
> > > “Elendil sai’th that my house is yours
> > > Throughout your stay within our humble town.
> > > For when the king is occupied, I oft
> > > Fulfill this humble task of great import.
> > > For some few guests. Now tell me, elven-man,
> > > You treat all speaking tongues with dignity.
> > > But does this task degrade your king or self:
> > > Namely: for maid to play the host to man?
> > > The herald laughed, a sound like carven urn
> > > Of silver plate. “A forward tongue you have,
> > > Dear Orowen, to ask this thought so strange so first
> > > Among our words, but I will answer it.
> > > Tis true, we ought to not think it a social slight
> > > The times we find ourselves with maids alone
> > > Except for three small points of nature’s plan.
> > > The first is that in times when Woman’s host,
> > > She’s careful not to show her wit and make
> > > Her manly guest regret his lack thereof;
> > > When man is host to man, the two can speak
> > > More freely knowing they ‘lmost equals are.
> > > The second’s that in times when Woman’s host,
> > > The things of which she knows are not the man’s,
> > > And thus insulted are his speech and wit.
> > > The third is that the man is king of home;
> > > For one king to be hosted by his peer
> > > Is honor, loyalty and due respect,
> > > But e’en the greatest consort’s not a king.”
> > > (As they spoke they walked a ways through town.)
> > > And Or’wen laughed, a cloudy sunset sound,
> > > “I know of many things be known to men,
> > > I hope I’m not like those thrice dull women.
> > >
> > > But see, we reach my house,” the widow said.
> > > A quiet house, with garden filled with vines
> > > Of creeping shade, green holly-bush of yew,
> > > And bitter herbs for medicine to make.
> > > An archen door with beams of ancient wood
> > > That stagnant stood like Morwen’s wild tomb
> > > Did ope upon the wrinkled walls within
> > > Encrusted with her baubles of the past
> > > Soft and tender mathoms fancied she:
> > > A tapestry of Nienor’s nakedness,
> > > A pukel-girl with knife and shield and fat
> > > War-grimaced face of strong impending doom,
> > > A china urn of nightshade-color’d ink
> > > Ornate within and out with sleepy runes.
> > > From thing to thing the herald’s eye did dart
> > > Confounded with the faintly war they made:
> > > Like orcs confounded with tree-light they waged
> > > Upon themselves and on his senses six
> > > A little bit like in the elder days.
> > > And as she spoke in quaint and silvery tones
> > > That quieted and blended with the fight
> > > While the herald listened, wholly stupefied,
> > > By her age-temperate verbage and décor,
> > > She brought a drink in piquant, steaming cup.
> > > “Small stirrup-cup” he said (a feeble joke).
> > > She laughed. “Why should I serve such cup to you,
> > > The cup that goes from maiden’s hand to king’s,
> > > When we can drink the equalizer, tea?”
> > > She laughed again, and with a trembling hand
> > > So wrinkle-thin like chestnuts from the Wold,
> > > She disposed of the brew within his mouth.
> > >
> > >As when the lights of Valinor were quenched
> > >By struggling 'gainst The Spiders beak and webs
> > >When life and light were sucked from trees, and pools
> > >Imprisoned in Ungol'ant's mucky hulk,
> > >So was the trick within the fatal brew:
> > >Surprise unlooked for, death unprophesied,
> > >Steamed forth from it; the ancient widowed maid,
> > >Became more violent than the youngest, freshest dark
> > >Demonic uruk-hai of fatal brood
> > >In her surprising scheme of drinked death,
> > >And the elf, the drinker unaware
> > >Felt his life grow dim, his vigour faint.
> > >His slender elven-love did stand right there:
> > >Was she an elf, or Entwife of the beech
> > >Convulsed into a blend of troll and orc?
> > >And in that tone of fear and anger mixed,
> > >He fell to ground, all cold and faint-away.
> >
> When with a block of ice a prankster strokes
> A sleeper's head, and rouses from his rest
> The one who sleeps so soft and peacefully,
> The sleeper feels his life-force drain away
> In slow and gradual headache agony
> (Like short-lived fizz escapes mead-jars unsealed);
> The herald rose, and with the sudden start,
> With which one wakes when hearing war-cry's gong,
> He felt a red-hot iron pinching him
> And with despair realized his limbs were bound.
> "How now!" She leered with coldest vict'ry cry
> "Do you expect to bear your message forth?
> You fool-mistook me for a common nurse,
> As innocent and simple as a wife.
> No wife am I, no widowed olden maid.
> A terrible swift Mordor-queen am I.
> With promises from HIM of future fame.
> If I kill you, no message shall be sent
> From Gil-Galad to southern king of men.
And when your lord hears of this deadly deed,
Attribuiting its guilt to Elendil,
There will be no new league, the elves and men
Are left to face the great Dark Lord alone!"
And as he writhed and cried aloud in pain
The messenger of Gil-Galad despaired
And in the mood that causes suicide
(a pleasure in which elves do not indulge)
His mind began to work its fantasies
Of deark and dearth and hallways full of fear
In which the very stars were always veiled
And life and light extinguished for all time
Except in sundry jails and torture-halls
In which resided fair Celebrian
But fair no more, a shell of former self,
Doomed to die unless some daring one...

UNLESS some daring one would come:
One whose task it is to hope
Against all hope and live against all death
With sword in hand and eyes light-blazing fresh
So that without the sword, the eyes will do!

And as she moved a knife towards his wrist,
A Harad-blade, convulsed with swirls of steel,
He said, with voice of calm and even tone,
"I pleasure in the thought of that small thing's
Invigorating, lightly tickling touch."
And as she laughed at his final jest,
Her cutting hand then gave a little slip,
There came from it the sound of sawing things
That bind the muscle to some harder thing
By name, the table on which he was bound.
And as she coiled in her joyless mirth
He stood and looked upon her shriveled form.
"Were you a man," he said "I'd bow before,
The duel that'll deal your deathly punishment.
But since your not, I'll grab your wrinkled arm,
And simply bind you in your own jail cell."
He left her there, and, telling Elendil,
Saved the lands and had her put in jail.

Another Question Provocative of Comments?

2009-03-24T06:56:00.000-07:00

Does hip-hop dancing belong in the category of High dance or Don Pedro's beloved Vulgar dance? Like High dance, it is free-form. Like Vulgar dance, it is popular.

I'll put up a poll about it!

The Index and Les Miserables

2009-03-24T06:40:00.000-07:00

I was just informed that Les Miserables used to be on the Catholic Church's now-abolished Index of Forbidden Books because of its strong pro-French-Revolution sentiments. I am not forbidding discussion of this book on this blog, just advising caution.

A note about the Index: though it no longer has binding power, we are still encouraged to avoid books that could be a danger to our salvation and can commit sin by reading such books. What books these are will vary from person to person (Example: Descartes (who was on the index years ago) is no danger to Peter Kreeft, though he might be to Peter Jaros.) The index did not prevent the flow of knowledge because people who had a good cause to read the books within it were permitted to do so.

Provocation

2009-03-22T14:28:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, I had a post that got 50 comments in two days. It was like being in, well, not where I am now. So, if you have an idea controversial enough yet unstupid enough to get that sort of response from us, please post it in the comments box. Try to make it relevant to the blog topic.

Tonality revisited, part I

2009-03-12T06:31:00.000-07:00

What’s Wrong With the World of Music Theory

In G.K. Chesterton’s What’s Wrong With the World, he spends an entire section lamenting the state of education. One of his complaints, perhaps the most telling of all his observations, is the complaint that in modern education, one is not taught to tell the truth; one is taught not to lie, but one is not taught to tell the truth. He described the modern style of teaching debate as a sports game sort of contest, where one uses the facts of reality and tools of rhetoric to argue for their side, without even considering whether their side is the right side.
Analogously, this is true in music theory as well. The student is taught the language and techniques of tonality and then gradually moves on to more diverse, atonal techniques. As they learn, they are never asked whether or not tonality is more than a pleasant convention or a liked, practical technique, and, in contrast, whether atonality is a liberation from needless convention, a way to construct art without pleasure, another element in the vocabulary of musical expression, or an abuse of music itself.
Unlike normal education, it is difficult to read malicious intent into this lack. For most musicians, the study of theory is difficult enough as it is, even before the addition of complicating semi-philosophical considerations. Also, most musicians consider their art as a form of expression, and thus learning the tools used in the music, which is necessary for reading what the music really means into the notes, is more important than whether the tools themselves are good or bad. But I do not find theory difficult, so I will ask the question, and, in the process, try to teach you about theory.
First things first: Precise definitions and precise goals. So, let us define our key term. Music. Unfortunately, composers do not have a consensus as to what the word means. John Cage considers shooting a piano with a shotgun music. For reasons soon to be explained, we will use the definition that scientists use: music is sounds with a regular wave pattern, what we call pitched sound.

The Metaphysics Behind Music Theory Part 1

Now our goal, of course, is to find good music. A thing is good in itself insofar as it is perfect, and good as an means insofar as it is an effective means to a perfect end. As was mentioned above, music is used as an expressive art, thus, most musicians are familiar with the second type of goodness, for if the music is for expression, it is a means, not an end. Therefore, the theorist must be concerned with the first form of goodness. Perfection is further defined as a thing’s adherence to what it is (its form) and the level of this form on the hierarchy of being (the higher a form is, the more Godlike the being it forms). So when we search for good music, what we are searching for is an arrangement of pitched sounds that adhere to their form(s), and some forms are better than others.
Now there are two forms that are involved music. One is the form of music itself, what music is. The other is the form of the particular piece of music, what arrangement of music the particular piece is.
How does this apply to music practically? We might as well begin with tonality, the starting point of music theory. Tonality is based on the assumption that certain mathematical relationships that are part of what pitched sound is ought to be reflected in the arrangement of notes in the particular piece. Notes with the closest relationship mathematically ought to have the closest relationship actually. Expressed philosophically, this is equivalent to saying that the properties of the non-primary matter must have an analog in the form of the whole.
It would seem that there is no basis for holding this position. For no matter what the particular form is, the mathematical relationships will still exist. The particular form, no matter how it tries, cannot undo the mathematical constants of its larger genus.
But there are two ways in which the relationship can exist, one is in the abstract, as was mentioned. The other is in actual sounded notes. And if the notes are not simultaneous, one will cease to exist before the next starts, thus the two tones in which the relationship is must be simultaneous. This idea is the basis behind what we know as tonality, which I will show more or less presently.
A reminder: this is only possible with pitched sound, so defining music as pitched sound places it firmly within these aesthetic parameters, thus making it a useful definition, as well as a popular one.

Hans Lundahl is back!

2009-03-11T08:22:00.001-07:00

look on the post about him and on "the Book, Part IV'

The Dead Blog Syndrome

2009-03-10T18:39:00.001-07:00

There is a deadly malady going around Blogger. An infectious disease known as "The Dead Blog Syndrome". This disease is highly contagious. It starts as a lack of desire to write. It gradually consumes you until you are unable to write anything at all.

If you read this, you are vulnerable to The Dead Blog Syndrome". Beware!!!!

A Theory for your Criticism.

2009-03-08T14:50:00.001-07:00

Everything God made is beautiful, so art should be judged primarily on how much it makes us notice this fact.

The difference between this theory and what we have worked with so far is that it does not focus on the gradations between more and less beautiful works, considering that because they all exist, they are all beautiful and that is all there is to it. personally, I doubt this subtlety in this theory, but I want to see what we can learn from it.

Announcement Announcement exclamation mark

2009-02-27T13:45:00.000-08:00

For my next composition assignment, I am going to set the 'Four and a Half Romantic Sonnets' (published earlier on this blog) to music. As far as I know, no composer has ever set their own poetry to music before.

That the Musician should be Poet

2009-02-24T09:07:00.000-08:00

Despite the rationality and love of precision possessed by the Ancient Greeks,
there was one distinction they failed to make. Due to an accident in
terminology, both Homer and Pythagoras were said to have practiced the same
profession: the art of music. For music, as is clear from The Republic, went
far beyond the system of pitched sound that we identify with the art today; upon
reading The Republic, one might think that the poetry, not the notes, were
primary, while the music was secondary.
Ah, that the philosopher might be king, Plato moans (and then proceeds to train
them so that they are anything but philosophers; his system would make them into
inhumane illiberal eugenicists, but that is, unfortunately, beside the point).
He did not moan that the philosopher might be musician, for not only would he
consider this an inferior role for such a person, but it had already been done.
Pythagoras, philosopher, mathematician, and musician, had embodied such a
person, blessed with a vision of truth to enhance his artistic beauty.
And the result was quite good, to say the least. For Pythagoras discovered the
basics of what we now term “Tonality,” the system of rules embedded in the very
nature of music by which our principles of harmony function. Every note was
governed by a ratio, and these completely rational mathematical principles
produced a music that was perfect, proportionate, sonorous, truthful, and
beautiful. What has Homer produced to compare with it: an over-long, rambling
duet of poems about stupid humans and stupider gods using, of all things, the
imperfect medium of language? How does this compare to the perfection of
Pythagoras?
And what is the perfection of Pythagoras? Hammers in a prescribed size ratio
banging simultaneously on an anvil! Oh joy.
Perhaps a king would be better as a philosopher, but there is one thing that is
absolutely needful for a musician: he must be a poet, for poets are human. The
commonsense of humans assents to Pythagoras’ theory, even if it does not
understand it. Yet, simultaneously, it recognizes that art can, and (to save
itself from itself), must have other aims besides it. Why do we remember the
Iliad, but not a single music of Pythagoras? Because Homer was trying for mere
perfection (whether he achieved that is debatable), but was willing to risk the
chance of losing perfection for the sake of making something besides another
perfect fifth. Why do we remember the Preludes and Fugues of Bach, but not the
musical works of Pythagoras? Because mere perfection is a paltry and easy
target: just as one might become a sinless saint by dying directly after
Baptism. The later philosophers of music recognized this, and seeking
philosophical perfection but being unwilling to find it in the system of
tonality, denied it and true musical perfection along with it. The earlier
musical poets, by accepting Pythagoras but preserving their poetry, were able to
become both Pythagoreanly perfect and everything else as well.

February 20, 2009, Part 1

2009-02-23T07:31:00.000-08:00

In the first hour, I crept to the cavern,
The crater beneath the treacherous tarp
Where Bacchic dancers declaim, sing, and tap
Waiting for the film to break, overturn
And thus upset the balance of the world.

Had there been gargoyles (there were then none)
With lustful devils lurking by each one
Casting spells of decay-smelling powder
That numbs the mind with depressing power
More death in the air that day would not have swirled.

And there I planted a papyrus perfume
That on March Ninth would hopefully bloom.

In the second hour, I limped from the place
With tears streaming down the back of my face
For from the ordeales, I wanted to flee,
My mind was filled with fair far scenery.

A tree-filled meadow, sunny and green
Dotted yet open with tannish buildings
Filled with books and words that are destined to last
Where some things are ugly, but nothing is dullest.

I desired that place like a potter, who spins
His clay on the wheel, but when does he win
The cup he is making? Is perfection achieved
When exhausted and spent he regretfully cease?

In the third hour, when tumbling tears
Of fear and regret made thundering storm
I tried to sit quietly, though my mind leered,
In front of my God, to recite the form
Of prayeres learned in long-forgotten years.
From this, only exhaustion there was born.

But when I fixed my gaze upon Him
Tried to wrench the round key of my Image-Machine
That lover’s pen, drunken anti-turpentine
Wild monster of swamps unheard, unseen,
Into Truth’s small square unspoiled key-hole
To “put” God in that ring of paltry rubied gold,
He grabbed me, threw me, twisted me (like a newspaper’s
Darling politicians tweaks truth over long years
To bend opinions into an eastern circle)
So my every drawn breath was a feverish oracle
In praise of Him.

Do We Have A Dead Blog?

2009-02-21T21:00:00.000-08:00

Where have all the new posts gone? Long time passing..... Anyway, it would seem that this blog has had a lot of dead time lately. How much dead time does it take for the blog to be dead? Old Fashioned Liberal, I think we need another dead blog poem.

In Honor of St. Valentine

2009-02-16T07:21:00.000-08:00

The Love Sonnet Aragorn Never Wrote

I ponder, Arwen, if I ought to speak
To honor you, with tones of lore and song
Or whether, to be honest, I should speak
With sharp but gutt’ral Ranger talk and tongue.
Are you, perchance, the lovely drops of pools
Residing in the blessed realm undead
Molded in Yavanna’s craftsman-schools
To be a symblemune, but soft and red?
Or are you, sweet, more like Athelas plant
That, when the ranger flees across the bleak
Rain-driven windy moors of adamant,
He sees you, finds an unknown pow’r: to speak!
For you the child of Elf and Dunedain are,
Both blossoms are you, Arwen Evenstar.

Religious Fiction: Preaching and Preaching

2009-02-10T18:47:00.000-08:00

Recently, I finished reading "The Masterful Monk" by Owen Francis Dudley. You might say that it belongs to rare genre of "religious fiction."

In truth, the writer of religious fiction is in quite a tight spot. No matter what he does, he will be accused of preaching. Few people read fiction for edification, and even among these, few expect the message to be blatant. Peter Kreeft even goes so far as to suggest that the moral theme of a work always be hidden, so that it can better pass the watchful dragons of our suspicious conscious mind.

But those who would use this as a criticism of religious fiction, which would include (in addition to The Masterful Monk) such diverse works as "Come Rack! Come Rope!" by Robert Hugh Benson and "Father Elijah" by...I can't remember :(, are missing a significant element of the genre. Aside from the psychological debate about whether obvious moralizing in a book is good, the main thing that sets religious fiction apart from other genres of fiction is that, unlike works with a hidden moral, in religious fiction, the subject of the moralizing is equivalent to the plot material and the source of drama. In the Masterful Monk, the storyline centers around a wavering Catholic attracted by a Margaret-Sanger style eugenicist and her lover, a man attracted to the Catholic Church who converts to Catholicism in the middle of the story. Take out the obvious religious element, and the story goes with it.

Contrast this with a genuinely preachy story, such as my ill-fated "An Old-Fashioned Guy." In such a work, the moralizing is obvious in a way out of proportion to the role it plays in the plot. Remove all the references to Hegel in the story, and the characters still get thrown in jail and tell stupid (but funny) jokes.

Once a reader can make the distinction between preachy and obviously religious in a literarily necessary manner, they can read religious fiction without being repulsed by its imagined preachieness.

The Polls Are Closed!!!!

2009-02-08T14:10:00.000-08:00

I will assume the role of statician here. As I'm sure you've all noticed,
the two polls have been closed for some time now. Popular opinion
states that polls are usefull and the Romantic Period was the greatest
era in music. That sums it up folks!!!

Judge Him by His Music, not His Athiesm

2009-02-05T06:35:00.000-08:00

All of you NEED to go listen to the prelude from Tristan und Isolde. I don't care if Wagner was an athiest, his music has enough beauty to have been composed by a Christian.

2009-02-01T10:35:00.000-08:00

Whenever I think about genders, I find myself up against a big wall. They are
so complex, that any approximation of their essences is quite beyond me, and
without their essences, how can I find what qualities and behaviors match them?
So, when I try to form an opinion on the statement “Women are the superior sex,”
I find it nearly impossible to get anything beyond a vague, but highly poetic,
opinion, better expressed in poems than in philosophic word-tangles. So here
goes.

By the way, I was just beginning to write the second stanza when I was told to pick up my sister from work. In my poetical abstraction, I ran into my garage door with my car as the door was going up.

Four-And-A-Half Romantic Sonnets

O pity not my hands, sunburnt, begrit,
That rest abiding in your smoothed palm.
Abhor my dull and clumsy speech and wit
Insensitive to mental tension‘s qualms.
I will not ever rant or rave or rail
If you but ignore, deprive, insult.
I must obey my queen, or else I fail.
Respect for you befits even a dolt.
Discard me, shove this man, O shut your eyes,
Upon my dirtied clothing and visage.
Grab your silken glove and strike, despise
My swarthy cheek with royal shame-barrage.
O find uncouth all things that make a man
But Sweet, I pray thee, do not pity what I am.

O every word that from your soft speech drips
Adorns you with the wisdom learned by fire’s
Thrice-Godly edge. O when you move your lips,
Your facile mind’s Bach’s pen, Liszt of lyres.
When circumstances play you (sorrow and delight)
Or others puzzle you beyond mere mind’s
Frail power to untangle, your fright
Shows not, great heart, but insight the day does win.
I languish in the yelling, bloodied air;
Heartless, I live and act by thoughts alone
Indoors, all beauteous things are your care
And not a king could want a hol’er throne
Than the one you own in times of urgent dread
When, through love, you tend a sick one’s bed.

O what am I, but a muckle thinking sword
Whether I deal in weights or corn or steel
Bright numbers, soldiery, or Micr’soft word?
I cannot match your double mental wheel!
In what fair school, by what strong exercise
Can I obtain one-tenth of what you have
In way of love? If I am not supplied
With love, I am merely very bad.
How can I hope to have the worthiness
To speak, though I love you and you love me.
I know you burn to give me just one kiss
But my acceptance would be unworthy.
My strength must grow before I take your hand
O sap it not by pitying what I am.

TELL me not, Sweet, I am unkind
That from the nunnery
Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind,
To war and arms I fly.
True, a new mistress now I chase,
The first foe in the field;
And with a stronger faith embrace
A sword, a horse, a shield.
Yet this inconstancy is such
As you too shall adore;
I could not love thee, Dear, so much,
Loved I not Honour more. (This stanza by Richard Lovelace)

The rainbow has descended from the sky
As I return from my campaigns abroad
In which I chased the foe and he did fly
And I walked o’er newly conquered sod.
From glories of my peacock retinue
In midst of which I sit in triumphed state
And perfect peace, while clerics pay their due
To me, for God and I our foes did abate,
While as I sit, in content solemnity
In virgin white and manly martyr-red
There is one thing I want. It is to see
You, and for us twain to be be-wed.
I have returned from wars in foreign lands.
Which of us is now the better man?

Divine Irony

Our God is like a heptagon
To nothing can they be compared.
When Aquinas, the paragon,
Thinks upon God, he says “Beware!”

Our God is above smallest sense,
Too delicate and large for thought
The shape is below math-art’s talents
Drawn with the Tools, this it cannot

For God cannot be seen, and shape,
Is unlike love, or spring’s first rose,
Or mountain peak, or taste of cake
Or Catholic life that by grace grows.

But one way He is unlike the shape
For any shape cannot do this:
Reveal Himself in Human Make
So let us rejoice in this!

The Disapearance of Our Friend Hans Lundahl

2009-01-30T12:23:00.000-08:00

I'm not upstaging you by posting about the temperaments, Old
Fashioned Liberal, so I'm keeping my promise. :-)

I have noticed that our friend Hans hasn't been around lately;
here or on any of his blogs. Now, due to my mistrust of
governments in general (particularly our present ones), I would
say that he "disappeared" due to the French government disliking
him. But that's just my conspiracy theory. :-) If you're out there,
Mr. Lundahl, maybe you wouldn't mind letting us know? That way,
I wouldn't be falsely accusing the French government. :-)

Where are They?

2009-01-29T12:47:00.000-08:00

Happy gender issues day! I've already done a post on wage discrepancies at El Dipudado etc.

In these days of gender equality, it might be surprising to you to find that there is still one occupation that has is still dominated by men for non-physical reasons. This occupation does not require its members to be men, like the priesthood does, nor does it require physical strength. This occupation is the field of music composition. The men/women ratio of composers at UNL is approximately 20/1. Why?

One of the first things antifeminists learn is that men and women have differing brains. To put it simply, the male brain is better suited to the activity of music composition. Here's why:

1. The male brain generally tends to have a stronger right hemisphere compared to the female brain. The right brain controls melody, while the left brain (stronger in women than in men) controls pitch and rhythm. Composers, however, do not need to be especially adept in pitch because they do not perform or sing. If they did perform or sing, they would have to be sensitive to tuning issues, and get pitch very precisely. They do not have to do this; an out of tune instrument can be quite sufficient for the composers purposes. Also, although women's brains may be more sensitive to rhythm, women's brains are also less sensitive to their sensual passions (have you ever met a woman more enthusiastic about eating than a man?). The sensual passions are what rhythm effects. Hence, though women are better at rhythm, men enjoy it more.

2. The two halves of the male brain are very divided from each other compared to the female brain. This makes men more singleminded, systematic, and fit for specialization, but less intelligent. When composers compose, they usually do it by themselves because the process of composition is not appreciated by anybody except the composer, although everyone enjoys the results. This setting permits a massive amout of single-minded activity.

3. I don't know why, but the male brain is more suited for abstract concepts than the female brain. This would seem to make men better than women at music theory because music theory is filled with abstract symbols and vocabulary.

4. Finally, an important part of being a composer is getting over the preconception that composers are special sorts of musicians, that not just any musician (especially one's self) can be a composer. Being more aggressive, men are more likely to view this false but popular idea as a challenge and thus take up composition.

Now for the killer question: should we encourage women to become composers? Should we encourage them to work outside the home, for that matter? Are the two questions even related?

Appendix to the Mideval Aesthetic Article

2009-01-26T08:11:00.001-08:00

After that article on the Mideval aesthetic, you may be wondering what my personal views on the subject of unity versus fecundity are. My personal view is that because unity is related to form (putting in elements of a different form destroys the unity), it can have imperfections. If it does not have imperfections, unity is achieved. Once unity is achieved, the artist is better off adding fecundity, not unity, because the addition of fecundity, by definition, is an addition of existence and thus goodness. An increase of unity is just as likely to take away elements (and thus, existence) as to add them, and unlike the addition of fecundity, which would not remove the unity if added properly, the addition of unity beyond lack of imperfection is likely to remove the fecundity. This view is much closer to the mideval aesthetic than it is to the non-mideval one.

The Mideval Aesthetic

2009-01-20T06:52:00.000-08:00

"The perfection of the work as a whole was sacrificed for the freedom of the
individual craftsman. And yet the many individual and imperfect creations,
which cause the whole building to fall short of perfection, somehow give it a
kind of beauty that is different from perfection."

--Dr. Elizabeth Kantor, speaking of Gothic Cathedrals as an illustration of the
general Medieval aesthetic.

What? Old Fashioned Liberal, why are you telling us this? Whatever happened
to unity, and coherence, and the discovery of exemplars that exist because they
are good and not merely because they are possible? Are you contradicting
yourself? Are you going to satirize this quote? Are you going to downplay the
ideas about art that were believed when art was governed by the Church and its
dogmas rather than the other way around? What ARE you going to do?

I'll tell you, doubtful reader, I will explain, make distinctions, and think
carefully, in all things trying to act sane.

First of all, what are the imperfections of which Dr. Kantor speaks? There
appear to be three:
1. A poorly made element made by an inferior artist within a larger work.
2. An overabundance of elements that "spoils" a work.
3. A disunity caused by such abundance.

For these imperfections to make the Medieval Aesthetic inferior to the
aesthetic based on forms/exemplars (the one we have been exploring in music up
to this point), the two aesthetics must be in fact different. If they are
different, there are only four possibilities about how they can be different.
1. M. Aesthetic must contain all the elements of Non M aes., and then some
2. Non M. Aes. must contain all the elements of M. aes, and then some
3. Each must contain some ideas that the other does not.
4. They are the same, except in what they emphasize.
If 1 is true, M. Aesthetic is superior to Non-M. If 2 is true, non-M is
superior to M. If 3 or 4 is true, we must weigh the differences and decide
which is better in which situation.

Now the idea that Medieval Aesthetic seems to oppose NonMideval Aesthetic is
that Medieval Aesthetic would risk spoiling the unity of something by the
addition of fecundities, even incongruous or inferiorly crafted ones, while
nonMideval Aesthetic consciously seeks after unities, adding fecundities when
possible.

The two ideas are not as different as they seem at first glance. Both
acknowledge that both unity and fecundity are artistic goods. Their difference
is that the medieval aesthetic is “Liberal,” willing to take a risk to achieve
its goal of incorporating both elements, while Non-Medieval aesthetic is not
willing to trade unity (which can be had or not had) for fecundity (which is
always had in one degree or another). Hence, the difference is a type 4
difference, and if the Medieval one succeeds, it is automatically going to be
superior in most cases. If they fail, a unity imperfection will be present,
Medieval Aesthetic is not automatically superior. Because we do not know all
possible imperfections, we will limit ourselves to the three imperfections
discussed above. Any artist worth his salt should be able to tell when one of
these three happens for his particular art. Hence, the Medieval Aesthetic
includes all the elements of the Non Medieval aesthetic, making followers of a
Non-Medieval aesthetic objectively inferior, though knowledge of their aesthetic
(which I have been investigating so far, and probably will continue to do) is
quite productive.

#2 deserves some mention. Overabundance does not necessarily spoil the unity
of a work; when it spoils at all it merely makes the unity less noticeable
and/or is repulsive to the observer. Either way, the fault is in us, not in the
art itself, and an subjective merit is traded for an objective one. In art,
this is a wise choice, as we can change our tastes and our level of
understanding, but we cannot change the fact that both unity and fecundity are
good. Any overabundance that does spoil the unity would do so because it is
not in unity, and thus would be incongruous and thus easy to tell.

#1 also deserves some mention. Architecture in the middle ages put the
inferior artists with the superior ones not because it was good for the art, but
because it was good for the craftsman himself. As this is a subjective element,
not an objective one, I will not discuss it here.

In Honor of our new President...

2009-01-20T06:30:00.000-08:00

I have re-posted the two posts related to Obama that I posted in the past. Enjoy!

Sarcasm on the Symbolism of a Popular Work of Art

And I mean really really really popular! What is this work, you ask? The Obama O!

And yes, it is art, after a fashion. It is filled with subtle symbols that only the aesthetician would care to read.

In the first place, consider the fact that it is a sun over the horizon. At the Constitutional Convention, George Washington sat in a chair with a sun over the horizon on its back. At the end of the convention, Benjamin Franklin said something along the lines of: "Throughout the convention, I wondered if it were a rising sun or a setting sun. I see now that it is a rising sun." Now, however much we might want to, we don't live on Tatooine. Therefore, the sun has to set after it rises before it can rise again. Therefore, the sunset in Obama's O is a setting sun.

Second, consider the fields below. They are red and white. I can think of two sorts of fields that are that way. Obviously, there are those fields that have blood on snow. Less obvious is are the red and white fields of communist China. (Explanation: in the opera Nixon in China, the proletarians sing "When we look up, the fields are white with harvest in the morning light." White for harvest, red for communism.)

Finally, consider the overall shape of the picture. It is round, and at the core of its being lies the shape that is roundest of all: O. Chesterton says that the snake eating itself in the shape of an O is the perfect symbol of pantheistic fatalism.

Therefore, what does the symbol mean? It means that Obama wants to put America into decline by killing people and turning the country into a Communist agricultural powerhouse. The end result? The eventual taking over of the world by pantheistic India.

It's amazing how much you can learn by reading the inner secrets of art. Or can you? Hee Hee!

The Expressionist Poem
Transfixed, I gaze upon a lovely lemon on the table
That seems an ancient honey-stone from some dark ancient fable.
Across there sits a Man of Night, like a disembodied smile,
Who has with thongs unbreakable chair-bound me for a while.

"The Lemon's booby-trapped" he says.

Then, as I watch in hypno-horror, worrying for his life,
Toward the perilous citrus fruit he moves a Subtle Knife
That is engraved with verbal curves of cultured anarchy
That tries to hide a destroyed thing behind existent being.

"No knife is a punishment" he says.

Just before it breaks ths skin, I am changed suddenly,
At the prospect of a deadly fruit I am filled with agony
Wonder of wonders! Actually two agonies in fact!
An agony that does repel, and one that does attract!

"Are you caucasian?" he says.

For I know that when the yellow ball is touched by the blade,
The resulting effulgence of juice will be as a sculpted jade
Contorting all my features into squinted forms horrendous
For the juice will be in my very eye and cause a pain stupendous.

"Eight hundred million dollars for the man in the Ford!" he says.

But the aspect of the pain-cordial has its fascination
Am I a sadist to desire that juice plus eye equals elation?
Verily, I even see it as a sun-hued reaper grim
Even as in salty joyful draughts my lifted spirit swims.

"Your mother needs a hired helper" he says.

Of this fair free United States I am a full free resident
Shall we have a joyful martyrdom when Obama becomes president?
Posted by Old Fashioned Liberal at 7:31 AM 3 comments

Just Dance

2009-01-18T19:03:00.000-08:00

Sorry to bring up the subject again, but dance is my favorite type of art (not that music and literature aren't amazing, but hey) and I wanted to get some real aesthetical opinions on dance.

Now I definitely favor what I call the "vulgar" dances over current modern "high dance." While traditional high dance in very artistic (a.k.a. ballet and the like) of late most "high" dance seems utterly ridiculous. Case in point is the "ground breaking motion" of the Australian team on Superstars of Dance. I'm still not convinced that doesn't count as gymastics and not dance. It was certainly hard, but this is dance people, not a random aggregate of acrobatic moves without any connection.

By "vulgar" dance I mean dances that were born from people just being social. My favorites are the salsa, merengue, bachata, bomba, plena and the like; however, you are probably more familiar with ones like foxtrot, swing, the lindy, etc... Not only do these dances tend to be very flexible for whatever need (competition, reacreation, etc), they also have morphed into "high" dance which I believe is quite artistic. Case in point the Argentinian duet of the tango on Superstars of Dance. Phenominal! The tango is a perfect example, actually. It began in the brothels of Buenos Aires (what a beginning) and is now the world's most respected form of dance. Granted that there are significant diferences between tango fantasía (show tango) and tango arrabal (salon tango), the high dance was born from the vulgar dance.

I suppose I can summarize by saying that the vulgar dances are all that is left. I attribute the decline of high dance to a) apathy towards aethetics b) a desire to be different no matter what, even if you look like an entire retard doing so, and c) an isolation of dance from the other artistic media and cultural celebration. the "cutting edge" of dance is exactly that - something that I want to stay as far away from as possible.

Sannet 1: the Answer to the Profile Random Question

2009-01-16T11:52:00.000-08:00

Read the poem first, then the explanation.

Sa when a mathematician makes a sheet
Of paper black with math-words writ in ink
And then with balance, equalness, mind fleet,
Solves it, jumps up and can't find words to speak;
Sa when a person steps upon a stage,
Encountering the foe most fearfully,
Sits upon his chair, begins, and plays,
He finds that he has won most joyfully;
Sa when the vision-blest souls, as gazelles
Do prance a dance upon Elysian hills
All gazing up upon the brightest wells
Of light Divine; transfixed but with free wills;
So is this small experience of bliss:
Children running through a water-sprinkler's fizz.

My random question was: What would be the name of your ballet inspired by children running through the sprinkler.

The meaning of "Sa"

"Sa" is a clause used only in poetic similies. It roughly means the same thing as "As," but with one subtle difference. In many poetic similies, one half of the simile, the half inside the "As" clause, is a 'common half,' the half that is assumed by the poet to be understood by the reader. The other half of the similie is the uncommon half, the half that the common half sheds poetic light upon. The limitation of this structure is that although many things may be used to enlighten one thing in the same sentence, the use of one thing to enlighten many things is a bit awkward. "Sa" gets around this difficulty by putting the things to be enlightened in the dependent clause.

English Sonnet form
All lines in Iambic pentameter
Rhyme Scheme: ABABCDCDEFEFGG
The GG lines summarize the poem

Another Futile Attempt At Composing

2009-01-16T10:02:00.000-08:00

As the title implies, I will expose myself to large amounts of
criticism once again. And don't expect good quality either.
Oh, it also cut out the ending. :-)

A Poem Upon the Letter "A"

2009-01-12T16:48:00.000-08:00

As an arrow arcs at an ashen target,
That awaits the attenuating of its life
An Albino Asteroid, named Abby Margaret
Atomizes ale casks in awesome strife.

All the able Albanian allies
Are all afilled with awestruck anger
As they see a life leave, not dally
And the Asteroid anti-fill all the tankards.

In Praise of Aquinas

2009-01-12T16:22:00.000-08:00

Take, great tailor in black and white,
A single thread. Guide it aright
Through a maelstrom of sewing swords
(Each knit a thought, each purl a word),
As a diver from above falls
Twisting from airborne obstacles
(Between him and his water-right)
In a seemingly powered flight

Run, O massive lordly dog
Unfailing through the obscure fog
That sits about your seeked Goal
Like earth-tunnels conceal a mole.
Run and smell, and think and run
Until your fair task is done.
For as a Master is your prize:
Lady Wisdom, Truth undisguised.

Sit, O mountain of dizzying height
By hearth and plate, where sits a bite
Of inconspicu's ed'ble grain
(Type matters not: see, eat, be sane)
Have leisure in this thrice-small place
Where there is time to contemplate.
Set your genius upon this road
And be a tailor, mount, and dog.

Another poem

2009-01-07T15:51:00.000-08:00

Thought you might want to see this one too. I wrote it, of course. Can you guess what I was doing over Christmas Break? Hee Hee!

A Warrior’s Lament

2009-01-07T15:48:00.000-08:00

A Warrior’s Lament

For years I’ve mastered all intricacies
Of truth and falsehood, laughter and tragedies.
For years I’ve slaved in quiet musty book-rooms
Reading, writing, thinking of truths and truisms,
Examining subtle things of human brain
That oil the key that opens soft Lie’s chain.

In seven-circled secret vow we’d forged
Ourselves to Jesuitish vassal-lord
In ancient days the heroes pledged their sword
We are bounded by and to the Word

The Word of God, the word of Holy Writ,
The word of subtle rhetoric and wit
The word of truth, of Lady Goodness fair
Against the Unword: our foes everywhere.

In thought we fought the deepest darkest wars
That ever waged against barbarian hordes.
Of whom Berserkers were a pale conceit:
The Soft Liars, with anarchic poisons sweet.

And here I am in midst of great contest
Where worst of lies meets up with Truth’s most best
I tremble, for I fear not shame or fall
I fear (help!) that I fear them not at all!

What happened to the days of Charlemagne
Where vassal-kings and warriors of fame
Would heed their king and die rather than fail
Would avoid shame before killing travails?

My modes of thought have sadly crippled me
That I cannot in fights of int’llect see
The honor of soldiers, the dream of simple boys.
Is it for the saints who but destroy?!

I know I am irrational, I know that I complain.
I know that honor truly flows in my debates’ veins.
But without sense’ble honor, God’s standard seems a trifle
Would that I could merely be Be’wulf’s shield-man for a while!

A Poetic Riddle

2009-01-07T15:47:00.000-08:00

This is my first (and quite possibly only) attempt at free verse.

Guess the title of the poem

Armed with knife and trident I advance
Toward the freezing dragon with icy jaw of death
Where dead things lay, their rot stayed by mankind’s spell-dance,
I seek a grain-offering for the God of Life, but foes wait with bated breath.

Bravely I wrench apart the iron jaws and teeth
Searching for the sacrificial food from Ceres’s fields
Heeding not the nameless muck that stagnates at my feet
Only hoping that my courage shall not yield.

For behold, as I search, my passions assail me
Aided on by the magic that surround my being
Enticing charms are set by fearsome creatures that don’t heed
The good and bad, the laws set down by Perfect Being.

(At any other time, I need not turn aside,
On any other day, these things would have no peril
But at the sage decree of my God’s Perfect Bride
These things now are the death of me, a mortal, sinful, swirl.)

I gaze in fear and wonderment and desire
At the casters of the magic: The half-dead boars, unclean swine
The pagan entrails and tripe, the undead chickens fried by fire
And worst of all, seductive cows, bovines that craze like wine.

I cannot fight these phantoms pre-killed!
Not with mere carnal weapons bright!
I need a weapon of wizard skilled
A potion magic-bright!

No scholar am I of wizardry, but I know enough to see
That only one thing will save me: a sort of food of plant
Will no vegetables come and save me
From my hunger for domesticated vampirants?

Of Boredom

2009-01-07T15:46:00.000-08:00

When on soft waves of waking thought our small minds undulate
It seeing every single thing with spirit full and sate
With full and true awareness of the goodness of the land
That God-All-Good does always give us from his mighty hand.

When the fullness does proceed from some absence of care
That is the everlasting lot of humans everywhere
When nothing pressing urgently does force one to a point
Requir’d for action. When one may see All Counterpoint

When this soul’s awareness is both all a-restless and awake
When in its deepest recesses it feels that it will break
With longing for the infinite blest vision beatific
But faint enough to not disturb thought-process scientific

When one is free to full indulge in mystic pink profession
When one has the liberty to have a mad obsession
With the fair slowed-down sanity that all our hearts desire:
Contemplation; the act that is a calmant, ice, and fire.

When all these fair requirements are fully now fulfilled
And when this blessed, blessed, state is unwilled yet not unwilled
He who does in truth observe this blessed state: he can
In all truth and honesty say “There goes a bored man1”

Many will say that this small mind is growen smaller still
And that it has in passing lost all blessedness of will
For boredom is a strangely land, not widely understood
And has the double fate of being quite evil or quite good.

And when all these fair requirements are fully now fulfilled
And when this blessed, blessed state is unwilled yet not unwilled
One can see with clearest eye, as through clear air afar
And close as well, one can see things as they are.

Without mental word or thought, but with only mental sight
That with all intuition knows eternal wrong from right
The boreded man can truly see all good things as he should
And discover with surprised delight that all good things are good!

And when all these fair requirements are fully now fulfilled
And when this blessed, blessed, state is unwilled yet not unwilled
Some sometimes, only sometimes, a Someone Quiet comes
Bearing Divine Gift of Joy for privileged boreded ones.

And seeing a cup of champagne, though place and time be formal
The thrice-bored one picks it up, and, not caring for the normal,
Places it upon his head, though it might well break,
And shows it to all in the place, for blessed laughter’s sake.

They say that sleepy, idle hands the devil’s workshop are
And through them myriad evil demons tempt us from afar.
But when the modern foolish child cry-complains “I’m bored.”
Tell them “Well-trained, idle minds are the workshop of the LORD.”

Alphabet Poetry

2009-01-07T15:41:00.000-08:00

I would like to do a poetic series on the Alphabet. Here's some to get you started

Drowning

When one whiffling wind wends its way
Through windpipe within wilted neck
Withered under wild whim
Of white and willful water-death
Then we work out why we wish
When death-wilderness will win in while
To wrap our writing hand around
Whate’r, with unwavering will.

You may have thought that was a little immoderate. Well, it gives pleasure, doesn't it? And non-sinful pleasure is a legitimate end of a human activity. Here's another:

Grammatically correct Nonsense.

Questing Axle’s zithering Baxter
Zooms towards quorums in zany tracker.
For waxing quorums’ zillion flaxes
Is what Baxter quells for Maxes.

Film Music or Concert Music?

2008-12-26T18:30:00.000-08:00

In an earlier post, the question of which music is better has been
brought up: film music or concert music?

Concert music has been around for hundreds (perhaps even
thousands) of years. This type of music was perfected from the
baroque era to the romantic period. Many new techniques were
developed and the concert halls became large attractions. This
kind of music was written to be listened to on it's own, and
therefore had a much higher standard to follow. Opera was soon
to come after concert music, and had to follow a similar standard.
However, instead of entirely having to hold it's own, opera music
had to be written to encompass the singer as well. The concerto
soon evolved from this, as music soon had to encompass the
solo instrument.

Film music has come about very recently. When the silent films
came about, the music played wasn't even written specifically
for the picture. Classical and early popular music was usually
played until the films became more sophisticated. The music
that was used here closely followed the contemporary concert
music of the time. In fact, it followed the concert styles for many
years, even until the mid eighties perhaps. Then the music began
to be written to match the picture more and more. In the past
twenty years, film music has become very sophisticated, and
could even be said to have become an art of it's own.

So, which is the more noble? In concert music, it can be as noble
as the composer chooses. In film, it can only be as noble as the
film allows (which is hardly noble at all in some cases). But music
written for film has the potential to serve an extremely high
purpose: to bring souls to God. With the rise of many Christian
filmmakers, this is becoming more and more of a possibility.
Perhaps we will even see Catholic filmmakers on the rise.

While you are pondering these questions, I will subject a film-like
piece of mine to your professional opinions. Enjoy!!!!

Diotima

2008-12-21T09:17:00.000-08:00

So I’m sure you all know by now that this blog is called Disciples of Diotima. It is a subtle compliment to me for you to be so trusting of me as to be looking at it without knowing a great deal about the woman, or what her ideas were (alright, I had one very short post on it a while back). Eventually, all of you really ought to be a little curious about this. I certainly am! So, what does Diotima actually say about beauty?
Diotima is mentioned by Socrates in the famous philosophical dialogue the Symposium, a dialogue that deals with love and beauty. Socrates, who, though he called himself an annoying gadfly, was evidently liked well enough to be invited to banquets, speaks after several other speakers. Asked to give speeches In praise of love, the first few detail and praise numerous desires. Stating that he speaks what he thinks is true about love (as opposed to merely praising it with half-truths) and saying that he gained his wisdom from the woman Diotima, Socrates gives a radically expanded definition of love, including within it (as far as I can remember) all forms of human desire and attraction, including but not limited to friendship, hunger, and romance (Agape, Christian and Divine love, is understandably not, included; love is even “proven” to show that the beloved has something the lover lacks, which cannot be the case in Divine Agape).
The part we are concerned with, however, is one of the most central statements of desire. Diotima says that what humans most desire is “Birth in Beauty, whether of body or soul.” Furthermore, she paints the birth of one’s own children as a type of this most-desired birth, and also says that all that is desired [loved] must be good. What does this mean for beauty?
The sensible listeners in Socrates’s time could have inferred a few things. Drunkenness and other sins, obviously not beautiful, will not fulfill the greatest desire; the making of things: children, the Parthenon, poetry, ourselves, is much closer. And these things must be good things, or they will not satisfy the desire. But this sort of inference gives no definition of the noun “beauty” as distinct from the noun goodness, only a definition of the phrase “birth in beauty.” What the phrase would mean (unless it meant goodness) if the “birth in” were removed is unclear.
Another method of analysis only confirms the near-equivalence between beauty and goodness. In his Ethics, Aristotle teaches us that the object of our greatest desire is happiness, which consists in contemplation of (and, for the Christian, loving of and union with) the Good. If Diotima is not to contradict Aristotle, beauty and goodness must be more or less equivalent.
Then why is beauty associated with making in the Symposium, while goodness is not? Perhaps it is because when we make a thing for its own sake (such as a poem) we are concerned more with seeing of the goodness of the perfection of the thing than we are with things that we did not make. Language sufficient to get an idea across is good, a poem about the same idea is closer to perfect because we make it with care; emphasis is on the making of the thing in addition to the thing.
This coincides with Aquinas’ definition of beauty as well as the word’s common usage. Aquinas says:

“ Beauty and goodness in a thing are identical
fundamentally; for they are based upon the same thing, namely, the
form; and consequently goodness is praised as beauty. But they differ
logically, for goodness properly relates to the appetite (goodness
being what all things desire); and therefore it has the aspect of an
end (the appetite being a kind of movement towards a thing). On the
other hand, beauty relates to the cognitive faculty; for beautiful
things are those which please when seen.”

If the things were not made especially to approach perfection, why would they please us when seen in any special way? Take this example from common experience:

Consider that sort of rock that is called a Potato Stone. On the outside, it looks like a potato, but on the inside, it is filled with shining agate. Both are good, as both exist, but the inside is more beautiful than the outside because it is more obviously made to be special and perfect by God. The outside is just as Divinely fashioned, but this is not obvious, it cannot be seen.

In conclusion: Diotima coincides with Aquinas. Is she not a good person for us to be disciples of?

Republic (Plato), Aesthetics of

2008-12-19T05:18:00.000-08:00

Most scholars agree that the writings of Plato have two periods: the first is where he is merely repeating the words of Socrates, and the second is where he is expounding his own views. Most also agree that the Republic is in this second category.

Plato begins with the assumption that the purpose of art is to help in the training of the philosopher-kings of the ideal state. Rightfully, he excludes things such as indecency and erroneous depictions of God from art. There are also some more doubtful exclusions.

Exclusion: Reason

Anthropomorphism God is not anthropomorphic.

Laments/Comedies/Drinking songs These things are not conducive
to the training of leaders;
they are irrational/dangerous.

Imitation/Pantomime By imitating a thing, one becomes like it.

Perhaps others that I cannot remember.

Plato's fallacy is the assumption that just becuause these things are what they are, that they will have the psycological effect he thinks they will have or becuause they are dangerous/useless, they should not be. But no child ever really became more like a dog because they pretended they were. And the sorts of things that he forbids are all legitimate human activities: Crying, laughing, drinking, etc. Their absence could be worse than what is prevented by their absence, an aspect Plato never even imagines.

Plato's other repbulican aesthetical views, however, are very sensible. They consist in the fact that that beauty and truth and goodness are allied, and that by seeing beautiful things, one can learn to recognize what beauty is, and that this is conducive to goodness.

Harry Gregson-Williams

2008-12-14T20:34:00.000-08:00

In response to my previous post, I will open for discussion a composer
who is apparently free from the Ecumenical Philosophy: Harry
Gregson-Williams.

I have noticed a new style of music emerging. My theory is that it
evolved from various television drama shows (not that I have seen
many). This style is a very rhythmic and driven style designed to keep
the audience on the edge of their seats. I am no expert on this
particular style, but I have definitely noticed it's emergence. It
appears to be accomplished with heavy accents and fast-paced moving
parts, primarily in the strings. A few movies that appear to have used
this new style extensively would be: The Lion, The Witch, and The
Wardrobe, Prince Caspian, All three of the Pirates of The Caribbean
movies, and National Treasure one and two. Now that you have these
films called to mind, you might be thinking that this is just typical
action music, right? Well, it's my opinion that until at least the
seventies (probably until even later), action-music was scored in a
neo-classical way. That's right, if you think about the harmonies
used, this will make at least some sense. But the turning point is
Lord of The Rings.

I myself have seen very few of the movies made in the eighties to
the present. However, I think this new action style might have
emerged in Lord of The Rings. The score to Lord of The Rings
has many moving parts in the action sequences, but still appears
to use many of the old neo-classical harmonies. There are heavy
accents in some places of course, like the Isengard theme, and this
set up the development of the new action style (which in my
hypothesis was already being developed in the TV dramas).

So, what do you all think? Is this a good style? It's true, it doesn't
seem to place the accents on the weak beats (yet), but how good
is it for your blood pressure?

The Expressionist Poem

2008-12-12T07:31:00.000-08:00

Transfixed, I gaze upon a lovely lemon on the table
That seems an ancient honey-stone from some dark ancient fable.
Across there sits a Man of Night, like a disembodied smile,
Who has with thongs unbreakable chair-bound me for a while.

"The Lemon's booby-trapped" he says.

Then, as I watch in hypno-horror, worrying for his life,
Toward the perilous citrus fruit he moves a Subtle Knife
That is engraved with verbal curves of cultured anarchy
That tries to hide a destroyed thing behind existent being.

"No knife is a punishment" he says.

Just before it breaks ths skin, I am changed suddenly,
At the prospect of a deadly fruit I am filled with agony
Wonder of wonders! Actually two agonies in fact!
An agony that does repel, and one that does attract!

"Are you caucasian?" he says.

For I know that when the yellow ball is touched by the blade,
The resulting effulgence of juice will be as a sculpted jade
Contorting all my features into squinted forms horrendous
For the juice will be in my very eye and cause a pain stupendous.

"Eight hundred million dollars for the man in the Ford!" he says.

But the aspect of the pain-cordial has its fascination
Am I a sadist to desire that juice plus eye equals elation?
Verily, I even see it as a sun-hued reaper grim
Even as in salty joyful draughts my lifted spirit swims.

"Your mother needs a hired helper" he says.

Of this fair free United States I am a full free resident
Shall we have a joyful martyrdom when Obama becomes president?

The Ecumenical Music Philosophy

2008-12-11T11:48:00.000-08:00

Over the centuries, western music has been roughly of one style.
the Baroque, the Classical, the Romantic, etc... But since the evolution
of many new styles in the twentieth century, music has not been as
clean cut as it was in the nineteenth century and before. We have
now what I will call:

The Ecumenical Music Philosophy

This philosophy incorporates every last style, and as a result, many
hybrid styles are formed (isn't the twentieth century all about
hybridization?). The result can be quite messy, but also quite beautiful
in the rare gifted hands.

So is this a good philosophy? I myself have partially fallen into it
(although there are many "musical" styles I will never incorporate
into my music [or even listen to]), but is it a good philosophy? Was
music better when there was only one dominate style? If there was
only one style, then it could be enriched by all composers and
continue to be enriched in the future. On the other hand, couldn't
all of these new styles enrich music as a whole? Could it be boiled
down until each style is interchangeable with the others? I won't
answer this, since I do not have the answer. But there must be
benefits to both sides.

Labels

2008-12-10T07:20:00.000-08:00

I would highly encourage all new visitors to investigate the labels list on the right side of the screen. It is an excellent way for you to see what sorts of older articles we've got that might interest you.

Parodic Request

2008-12-09T07:18:00.001-08:00

O give me a subject
To which I cannot object
For a disturbing, Expressionist poem

For in my S.S. class
(The one I was in last)
They told us 'bout this idiom.

Diversitheehee

2008-12-05T07:14:00.001-08:00

Just wanted to point out the somewhat high level of internationalism on this blog. Although all its contributors are American citizens (at least the last time I checked), Don Pedro wants to obtain Argentinian citizenship. Additionally, we have two international commenters: Hans Lundahl (France) and Relentless (Canada).

Notice that this required no affirmative action or propaganda or even conscious seeking.

Rules or Fulfillment?

2008-12-02T08:26:00.000-08:00

Here I have a topic similar to "The Goal". In music, which is better?
Following the rules? or fulfilling the goal that was intended for the
piece of music? There are several rules currently being discussed,
and every one of them has a valid point. But what if someone was
composing a piece for a specific purpose? For example, what if
someone was composing a film score, and there is a very disturbing
scene which he must write music for? Obviously, the technique he
will probably use is general dissonance, which is generally against
every rule I've heard of. And what if this film is a film that intends to
give glory to God by spreading one of His messages? Would it be
better for that composer to follow the rules instead of fulfilling the
purpose? Do the ends justify the means?

Metaphysics Backwards

2008-12-01T14:34:00.000-08:00

One of the things one learns in Music Theory is the idea of musical forms (Sonata form etc.). Such things are useful, of course, and even understandable, but one thing always bothers me when I am in a philosophic mood. How is it possible to say whether a piece of music has the qualities necessary to give it the nature of a sonata when it has a few exceptions to the rules that define the form? For example, if a piece has everything required by the form except that the second theme in the first section is in the same key as the first theme in the first section, is it still a sonata. Common sense would seem to say yes, as would a music teacher. But what about the metaphysician? Similarly, if an animal had everything that an elephant had except that it was orange or could jump or...you get the picture, would it still be an elephant? A biologist would say no, common sense would say yes...what would the metaphysician say?

Quite honestly, I don't know what the metaphysicians of the world say on this fine point. (I know what Chesterton said: that exceptions should be treated as exceptions and then ignored.) But I suggest this: that the analytical methods of music theory could possibly be applied in an analogical way to metaphysics to give us a way of handling the natures of exceptions. Any thoughts?

The Book, Part VI

2008-11-25T14:54:00.001-08:00

But what makes a good melody? How can a melody be crafted to a higher degree of purely musical perfection than other parts when it is not even required, in purely musical terms, to exist? To answer this question, it must be noted that the non-melody parts in a piece of music are not constructed to emphasize the fact that they are things-in-themselves with an identity of sorts. They do not exist for any purpose besides the harmony of which they are a part. A melody, on the other hand, does have a purpose beyond the harmony; it exists for itself as well. If there were no harmony, the melody might still be.
Because it exists for itself, it is imperative that melody have a distinctive nature. Harmonic notes are made what they are because they “fit” the harmony. Melodic notes are made what they are, however, not only because they “fit” the harmony but also because they “fit” they melody. Our ears tell us when notes belong to the wrong melody, so this does not need to be discussed. Our ears also tell us when a melody is not a melody; such as when it is merely chaos, or merely a mathematical equation.
Metaphysically, there are four divisions of quality of melody. Now God knows all possible sequences of notes, therefore all melodies have an identity and can exist as a combination of matter and form insofar as they can be identified with an Exemplar in the Mind of God that results from God’s knowledge of their possibility. Some melodies only have this level of existence, but some have higher levels. The higher the level, the more melodic the melody and the more suitable they are to play the role proper to melodies in music’s section of the Divine Economy.
Now among merely possible melodies, there are two types: the kind that can be extended indefinitely without repetition while remaining the same thing (such as the alto parts of Bach chorales), and the kind that cannot (such as the soprano parts of most Bach chorales). The second type has more identity and is the higher melody because there are far more things that it is not.
But some melodies have a higher existence still, namely, they exist because they are good melodies, intended for or especially deserving of the sublime, actual mode of existence that composers provide (Veni Creator Spiritus). These are the highest melodies of all, as they have both non-limitless identities and an Exemplar that exists as more than a possibility. Any sort of melody can also be a corrupted or imperfect version of any of the previous three types, occupying the place below the place occupied by that which it is a corruption of.
Also fascinating, however, is the problem of the foreign melody: the melody that does seem crafted to one group of people, but not to another. This is my piano teacher’s complaint with eastern music and my mother‘s complaint with Han Chinese music: that it all sounds the same; or, in other words, that it is not crafted to be its own unique thing. But to the Han Chinese, this is obviously not so, as it would not all be popular if really was all the same. For popular implies unpopular, and when music is all melody (as Han Chinese music is) the fact that the other melodies were of inferior quality would be the most probable explanation of why the popular ones had the status they did. How can both perceptions be?
It is really quite simple. If we spoke Chinese, we would find Chinese words to be intelligible. We don’t speak Chinese, so we find it to be random noise. If we heard music “In Chinese” we would find it to be intelligible; we don’t, so we find it to be monotonous noise. Alternatively, the first Chinese composer perceived music as “Chinese” and composed in “Chinese,” just as the first Greek composer perceived music as “Greek” and composed in “Greek.” But chaotic melodies are not based on any such self-evident tradition; they are based on nothing of any musical value. All we have heard is the music of our own tradition, so all other traditions seem foreign to us. But music that is based on no tradition can probably be judged fairly by any of us. Most likely, we would judge them to be worthless. The melodies of music within our own tradition give self-evident testimony to their value as individual beings. But this perception is not a perception of goodness, emotion, or quality, merely a perception of unity.
How this unity can be achieved is beyond the scope of this work. Many of the conventional methods, such as motives, repetition, dramatic and melodic shape, etc., may prove to be valuable tools. In the final analysis, however, it is the perception of those within the valid tradition that is the final judge of the quality of a melody.
These are guidelines of reason; those who follow them ought to achieve a level of musical beauty that is reasonable. Hopefully, they will make themselves, their listeners, and their music more like God in the process and product.

End of Part One.

The Greatest Era

2008-11-19T09:39:00.000-08:00

I will ask a simple question: which era in musical history is
the greatest? Now hold on! Before you say the baroque era
was the greatest, let's examine what we are judging these
eras on.

I think there are two key factors in this comparison.
Intellect and emotion. Now, which is the greater of the two?
Is one really greater than the other? Those of you who are
mathematicians would probably say intellect is greater.
However, I will leave this be, since I do not really have the
answer. Christ said to open our hearts instead of our minds,
but I 'm sure I can think of thousands of quotes from the
Bible and writings of the saints that would lean in favor of
the intellect (what the conditions are for either one
presiding, I do not know). So I will let more knowledgeable
people than I answer that.
What I will do is analyze the musical eras. For the sake of
simplicity I will say there are six eras. The Baroque, the
Classical, the Romantic, the Impressionistic, the Contemporary,
and the Modern eras.

The Baroque

The land of fugues and cantatas. Some of the most intellectual
music was written during this period, and the intellect was
usually of higher priority than emotion. Music was considered
more of a science then. So (in my opinion. Feel free to offer
alternate opinions), I would say on a scale of 1-10, that the
intellect would number 8, and the emotion 2.

The Classical

Here comes the symphony!!! Music was still very intellectual,
but emotion was beginning to be applied within the rules.
Music was still a science however.

Intellect: 7

Emotion: 3

The Romantic

Opera was in full force by this time, at least in Italy. It's hard
to define when the Romantic period first began. Many people
think it started with Beethoven, but I'm not sure when it ended.
Music was still somewhat of a science, but many composers
began to compose with feeling instead of following the rules exactly.

Intellect: 5

Emotion: 5

The Impressionistic

Emotion was pretty much all out in this period. It's true that
there were new ideas and rules that were followed, but
emotion was at it's height.

Intellect: 2

Emotion: 8

The Contemporary

The contemporary period presents us with an unbalance.
Perhaps music was very intellectual, or maybe not. Emotion
might not seem to be a part of the music, but it could very
easily be. The contemporary period was more of a radical
conversion of the Baroque period, so it strikes me as martian
music. :-)

Intellect: 7

Emotion: 1

The Modern

Here we come to film music, jazz, Broadway, pop, folk, and
many other different styles (including rock, but I won't
analyze that). Much of this music (depending on the style of
course) seems to have returned to the essential roots of
music (believe it or not). The hardcore rules are used extensively.
But emotion is now a top priority because music is no
longer enriched scientifically (to a certain extent).

Intellect: 6

Emotion: 9

So which is the greatest? Is it the period that is perfectly
balanced? And who is to be the judge of that? Learned scholars?
Experienced musicians? Knowledgeable professors? God is of
course the ultimate judge. So, which era would He pick?

The Goal

2008-11-17T12:32:00.000-08:00

I'm sure we've all heard the reasoning that "the ends justify the
means". Well, how much of this is true? I'm sure those of us who
take an active role in this blog would say it is not true or just. But
is it all black and white? Do higher goals justify more less than
savoury means than lower goals? Again, I would say we all would
reject that. But when it comes to the highest goal - namely
salvation - is this still true?

Now, logically, you can't use immoral means to get to Heaven.
So, that means the ends don't justify the means in this particular
case. But, maybe you can use means that people would find
distasteful for salvation, right? So the ends justify some of the
means? Well, let's see:

What exactly do we define as "the means"? The means are the
action(s) used to bring a certain outcome. Okay, so what means
are distasteful? Who is the judge; and how do we know if they're
allowable? Is this question really worth asking? Maybe not. But I
think it's worth mentioning in our day and age, when we can be
deceived into using immoral (not distasteful) ways to bring a moral
outcome. But, since God uses trials and evil times to bring good,
is it still true that the ends don't justify the means? Maybe it's just
that we can't use that philosophy.

My Humble Acession to Mr. Lundahl

2008-11-16T17:13:00.000-08:00

If any of you have been following, Hans Lundahl and I had an extensive debate about something. It boiled down to this:

OFL: You cannot trust commonsense's approval of "dissonance only up to so far," because this judgment is of a nature that is easily changed by experience and because other things that people react to in the same way are things that people who have not been jaded by exposure to vast varieties of music disagree upon.

Lundahl: You can trust this because the fact that experience causes the approval of the more dissonant music points to such experience being a sort of jading that dulls the perceptions of common sense.

The argument hinges around whether or not the perception of the non-jaded falls under the ground of undeniable common sense. (Undeniable common sense also includes such things as:
Our 5 senses tell us useful things about the world, the rules of logic are valid, etc.; but not things such as things always fall when they are dropped, it is good not to offend people, etc.)

Now perhaps it can be proven that this judgment is common sense (and thus Lundahl wins). But even if it cannot, unless it can be disproven, it can be proven that it is more likely that the statement is true rather than false. Here's how:

1. Consider any statement that has no evidence for it being either true or false. (example: Our senses provide us with useful information about the world outside ourselves.)

2. You cannot consider this statement, by itself, to have less than a 50% chance of being true.

3. Theoretically, it is possible that you could construct multiple proofs (or prooves) based on another statement that has no evidence for it being true or false that, if the second statement were true, the first would also be true. (For example, the statement in part one would be true if common sense were a valid guide of human thought OR if there is a Benevolent God Who would not fool us by giving us senses that didn't do anything real. This assumes, of course, that there is no evidence for or against God, a statement that is quite false but that we are pretending is true for the sake of argument.)

4. Each of these statements and proofs also cannot be considered to have less than a 50% chance of being true.

5. For the original statement to be true, any of the secondary statements must be true. But for the original statement to be false, ALL of the secondary statements must be false. Therefore, it is more likely that a statement that has no evidence whatsoever concerning it is a true statement than a false statement. This argument ought to hold up (though not convince) under the fire of any musical modernist skeptic.