Thursday, September 25, 2008

The flesh is joyful and there is much to learn

Of course, still on the Barzun.

Here is a passage from page 623:

"The social motive for the aesthetes' retreat into art being clear, there remains the question, what motive made purity a second necessity? Mallarme gives the answer in his superb sonnet, written in clear language and entitled "Brise Marine" (Sea Breeze). The first line reads: "The flesh is sad and I have read all the books." The last six words tell us that the whole weight of past literature bears down on him and adds to his pre-existing sorrow. Exactly 100 years earlier Faust had said the same thing, also in the first line of his soliloquy--all the books are dust, not life. Each of the two utterances records the end of a cultural age, 1790 and 1890."

So here we are, and the end of another hundred something years we have spent (artistically at least) continuing to demolish what was already collapsing by the turn of the last century. It is not that long ago, really - my grandpa was born in 1898 - but Americans naturally believe one hundred years is a long time.

I want to find, to learn and to build. We are alive, with minds, with access to knowlege and each other. There are many in the world who do not have enough life and access- that is one of the challenges. Communication and exchange with people facing different challenges is one way to grow beyond what your own challenges have driven you to. So it is all there to be done, in mutually beneficial ways.

On a slightly different subject, something I chose not to twitter yesterday was along the lines of "Q: So is academia just a circle jerk then? A: No, but it is an especially ponderous form of asexual reproduction." I don't trust academia and I don't trust the Permanent Art Council, though without animosity.

They are fine - they do their things: product is produced, people get paid, conferences are held, lunch is done, the world turns. The creative people I keep track of in the course of my dowsing for civilization aren't interested in poetry and probably don't catch my drift, but they are the ones striking out, trying to figure out what a new direction might be. I am impatient to know how this will develop, not simply because of my own personal ticking clock but because there must be some very fun, very cool stuff to talk about, to learn, and to do.

[I just deleted the last paragraph. Nobody wants to hear about how they should be glad to be alive if they aren't already. It's your call.]