truism

Geta Bratescu

Richard Bevan

https://www.cellprojects.org/artists/richard-bevan

Richard Bevan (b. 1980) is an artist whose practice is grounded in the medium of 16mm film that was once treasured by the early Expanded Cinema artists but is now becoming increasingly obsolete. However, instead of nostalgia the work contains an awareness of the medium and offers the viewer the chance to see its continued vitality. His films are inherently site-specific and often record ephemeral moments within the site that the work is subsequently projected. These interventions and constructions manipulate and emphasise the light that is such an integral agent in the filming process. Shot on a 1960's Bolex wind-up camera and influenced by the equipments practical limitations, the finished films often last only a few minutes. They are then looped in order to give the details of the scene an opportunity to emerge gently, playing with the audiences’ sense of the familiar by screening a reinterpretation of the space they are in. Richard Bevan graduated from the Slade School of Fine Art MA in 2008. In 2010 Bevan exhibited works at Liste Young Art Fair, Basel with Tanya Leighton (Berlin).

Douglas Gordon

'I Had Nowhere to Go'

I Had Nowhere to Go (Douglas Gordon, Germany) — Wavelengths

Perhaps the only possible reading of any memoir is a blind reading—one made in the dark without the light of images, letting oneself be lulled by the voice, real or imagined, of its author or protagonist. Memory—the source of inventions, lies, errors and misunderstandings—is a fascinating and dangerous space, too close to nostalgia and homesickness, to intellectual, vital and emotional paralysis. Jonas Mekas, filmmaker, artist, writer, bon vivant, and survivor, fled Nazi persecution in Lithuania when he was 22 years old, and has made memory and the search for home the basis of all his work, filling this absence with images of happiness, searching, and the enjoyment of life. How then can one shoot that gap that set the stage for decades of film work? How to film memory without illustrating it, without betraying it?

I Had Nowhere to Go, Douglas Gordon’s film-with-voiceover from Mekas, starts with a radical decision: such a thing is impossible, and the only possible counter-shot of the life in images that Mekas himself has built is to be found in the black—the vacuum counter-shot, the absence and the voice. Thus, the film is constructed as a guide by the blackness of a life in perpetual escape, in perpetual quest. A huge black space, punctuated by but a few images (some steps in the snow, some onions cooking, caged animals), with Mekas’ voice narrating the life between experience, filmed, imagined, or remembered. “You’re welcome to read all this as fragments from someone’s life, or as a letter of a homesick stranger, or as a novel, pure fiction. Yes, you’re welcome to read this as fiction. The subject, the plot, is my life. The villain? The villain is the 20th century,” says Mekas at one point. I Had Nowhere to Go is an extreme walk through a wandering life, encapsulating the experience of fleeing, the refugee, the expelled, the persecuted, one who is condemned to never return home. Mekas: “Are we going home soon?”

'Nymphomaniac'

film reports :

The ‘Nymphomaniac’ Cheat Sheet: Everything You Need To Know About Lars von Trier’s Epic Study of Sexual Obsession

my thoughts about 'digressionism' (?) or after the reports :

profanity

romanticized 
pro-norgraphy

50ft / 15m / 16mm 
sending to processing

waht was i reading about 
'Essais' (107 chapters) 
the 'script (8 chapters) 
Marcel / time (7 chapters)

found the composition for mine 
this is the 3+1(+!) of the obsession

witnessed some 'intellectual master-b'
that might be the pattern shared-basion
the secrecy of 'd' word w/t 'D 95' manifesto

such aa awakening read late night

Dogme 95

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dogme_95

Dogme 95 was a filmmaking movement started in 1995 by the Danish directors Lars von Trierand Thomas Vinterberg, who created the "Dogme 95 Manifesto" and the "Vows of Chastity". These were rules to create filmmaking based on the traditional values of story, acting, and theme, and excluding the use of elaborate special effects or technology. It was an attempt to take back power for the director as artist, as opposed to the studio. They were later joined by fellow Danish directors Kristian Levring and Søren Kragh-Jacobsen, forming the Dogme 95 Collective or the Dogme BrethrenDogme(pronounced [ˈdɒwmə]) is the Danish word for dogma.

 

Vow of Chastity (manifesto of Dogme 95)

'fin de siècle'

Fin de siècle, (French: “end of the century”) of, relating to, characteristic of, or resembling the late 19th-century literary and artistic climate of sophistication, escapism, extreme aestheticism, world-weariness, and fashionable despair. When used in reference to literature, the term essentially describes the movement inaugurated by the Decadent poets of France and the movement called Aestheticism in England during this period.

Fin de Siècle is an umbrella term embracing symbolismdecadence and all related phenomena (e.g. art nouveau) which reached a peak in 1890s. Although almost synonymous with other terms such as the Eighteen-Nineties, the Mauve Decade, the Yellow Decade and the Naughty Nineties, the fin de siècle however expresses an apocalyptic sense of the end of a phase of civilisation. The real end of this era came not in 1900 but with First World War 1914.

Merce Cunningham

'Beach Birds'

John Cage (sound) 

 

 

Beach Birds

conceptual metaphor

Music Theory

Intersubjectivity

where do words come from ?

How do we use language? We use it to express ourselves through speech, to record our experiences or to invent and tell stories in writing. But before all that begins, before a word leaves our lips or a pen hits the page, we use language in our heads. This code we share is more than a “simple naming process.” It’s the means by which we form our thoughts and interpret the world around us.

One of the first people to articulate this concept was a Swiss linguist named Ferdinand de Saussure. Saussure wrote and taught in the late 1800s, and though he died in 1913, he remains one of our heroes here at Dictionary.com. Saussure understood that thinking about language was essentially thinking about thinking. He put language under his own theoretical microscope the way biologists study cells, looking at words as the building blocks of our thoughts.

The foundation of his project is breaking down our idea of a word into its component parts: the concept and the sound-image. Let’s do an experiment. First, picture a tree. It can be a tree you’ve climbed or a generic tree you’ve invented in your head. Regardless of the exact form, this abstract idea of a tree is a concept. Now picture the letters T-R-E-E. These four letters, when placed in this order, form the sound-image in that they can be spoken, written, or readBut without the imagined tree behind them, the letters are meaningless. Only by uniting concept and sound-image will “tree” evoke the mental picture you just conjured.

Saussure does not call this fusion of concept and sound-image a word, instead he calls it a sign, and it was through this code of signs that he built the discipline that’s given us so many tools to know our language: semiology. In Saussure’s words semiology is “a science that studies the life of signs within society,” named for the Greek word semeion, meaning “sign.”

In his book A Course in General Linguistics (the ground-breaking tome that this is coming from)Saussure replaces the term “concept” with “signified” (referring to that which is signified, i.e. the image of the tree) and “sound-image” with “signifier” (that which does the signifying, i.e. the written/spoken “tree”).

From there he drops a bomb that puts a new spin on the whole business: the signifier (written/spoken sound-image) is arbitrary. That’s right, according to Saussure the only function of the word “tree” is to be different from every other word. For all he cares it could be “blarg” as long as every speaker of a language recognizes that “blarg” signifies a leafy wooded plant.

Saussure points to the fact that onomatopoeias for the same sound vary greatly from language to language, and speakers are often conditioned by their language to perceive certain sounds as beautiful. (What words do English speakers find beautiful?)

This is the first in a series of three posts on the strange and wonderful world of semiology and Ferdinand de Saussure. We’ll tell a tale of love, loss, and forgiveness as we take Saussure’s “science of signs” into the real world.

Schelomo (Ernest Bloch)

 

The “Cycle” refers to a series of compositions by Bloch in which he was trying to find his musical identity. This was Bloch’s way of expressing his personal conception and interpretation of what he thought Jewish music should be, since the Jewish nation did not exist, in the strictest sense, at the time these biblically inspired works were written.[6] These works include: Three Jewish Tone Poems (1913); Prelude and Psalms 114and 137 for soprano and orchestra (1912–1914); Psalm 22 for baritone and orchestra (1914); Israel: Symphony with voices (1912–1916); and Schelomo: Rhapsodie Hébraïque for Violoncello and Orchestra (1916).[7]

Schelomo was the final work completed by Bloch before coming to America in 1916.[8] Initially conceived as a vocal work set the text from the Book of Ecclesiastes,[9] the composer ran into trouble deciding what language to use.[10] A serendipitous meeting occurred between Bloch and cellist Alexandre Barjansky, who impressed Bloch with his mastery of the instrument, which had the brooding vocal quality that he envisioned for Schelomo.[11] The word Schelomo, being the Hebrew form of Solomon, uses the violoncello to represent the voice of King Solomon.[12] While Bloch did search for inspiration from the Bible for this composition, it was instead a wax statuette of King Solomon, created by Katherina Barjansky, wife of Bloch’s friend, cellist Alexandre Barjansky, to whom the work was dedicated.[13]

Bloch recounts about the work in 1932, which he describes as ”psychoanalysis” of his unconscious creative process, stating that the solo cello in Schelomo is the incarnation of King Solomon and that the orchestra represents the world around him, as well as his experiences in life. In addition, he also states that sometimes the orchestra reflects the thoughts of Solomon while the solo cello expresses his words.[14]

Schelomo is divided into three sections, with each section separated by the use of different textures and themes in cyclic form. Schelomo is scored for three flutes, two oboes, English horn, two clarinets in Bb, bass clarinet, two bassoons, contrabassoon, four horns in F, three trumpets in C, three trombones, tuba, timpani, tambourine, snare-drum, bass-drum, cymbals, tam-tam, celesta, two harps, violins (at least twelve players), violas (at least ten), cellos (at least six), basses (at least four).[15]

In the first section, the texture in the orchestra is transparent. Both orchestra and cello soloist introduce and develop the main thematic material heard throughout the composition. There are six essential thematic ideas introduced in this section.[16] The work begins with a lament for the solo cello as the voice of King Solomon, inspired by the text, “Nothing is worth the pain it causes.” “All this is vanity.”[17] The next theme, which transforms the free-flowing, cadential lament into a rhythmic dance motif, is introduced for the first time by the solo cello.[18] This motif will appear throughout the work, in both the solo cello and orchestra, highlighting the interplay of narrative roles.[19] After these two themes of the introduction conclude, the first occurrence of the cadenza appears in the solo cello. The cadenza is used to interrupt the piece three times, representing Solomon’s rejection of the vanity the world provides.[20] Bloch describes this section as the wives and concubines of Solomon trying to tear him away from his thoughts.[21] At rehearsal number 2, the solo cello begins variations on the dance theme. This section grandly builds to a climax after a series of Oriental motifs, finally ending with another statement of the cadenza, a depiction of Solomon’s revulsion, before the next section begins.[22]

The second section introduces the shofar-like theme and texture for the first time in the piece, which is played by the celesta. The theme is then passed to the bassoon.[23] Once this new theme is introduced, the solo cello immediately returns to the motif of the cadenza. This iteration of the cadenza highlights the conflict between the soloist and the orchestra. Put in counterpoint with the new theme, the solo cello is fighting the direction the orchestra is taking. The aggressive presentation of the orchestra forces the solo cello to join in, claiming the theme at an even faster tempo.[24] This section continues to build and accelerate until the largest climax of the piece occurs. This is the point in which Solomon declares, “Vanity of vanities, all is vanity! Nothing!”[25] The turmoil of the orchestra subsides and fades away into the distance.[26]

The final section of Schelomo is marked andante moderato and does not introduce any new thematic material,[27] instead, texture changes and the main themes from the previous section are developed considerably until the end.[28] While heavily orchestrated, the theme in the solo cello remains unaffected by the surrounding influences, setting it apart from previous statements earlier in the work. In addition, the introduction of major seconds in the main theme, which was previously highly chromatic, relieves tension.[29] The final measures of the piece restate the theme from the cadenza as a discouraged epilogue.[30] This final attempt of the cadential motif illustrates Solomon’s final collapse into silence.[31]

 

. He then built a mound of stones in the shape of an altar and burned the paper over the stones in ritual fashion. 

Before age 15, he made good on his vow, having composed both a string quartet and an Oriental Symphony. However, it was with the composition of his epic Schelomo: Rhapsody for Violoncello and Large Orchestra, that he proved to the world that he had indeed become a composer of world class ability. After a performance in November of 1923, the San Francisco Chronicle review affirmed the accomplishment, reporting: "Schelomo is a magnificent work by one of the greatest living composers. Splendid as it is in brilliant coloration, it is not in the vivid pictures that its greatness lies so much, as in the burning sincerity, the richness of passion, the poignant spirituality and the profound penetration into the psychology of a race." 1

Ernest Bloch's creative output can be divided into several distinct periods, including his early period, which is comprised of the works he composed in Geneva, his so-called "Jewish Cycle" from 1911-1926, and his later period after 1927 when he wrote much in the neo-classic style. His early compositions were considered somewhat undisciplined and it was not until his Jewish Cycle that Bloch achieved his own distinct musical identity. "By 1912 Bloch began to recognize what he at first took to be an Oriental flavor in his music as having its roots in his own Jewish race; and, caught up by the spirit of the Jewish Renaissance in Europe prior to World War I, he apparently determined to let this quality have full opportunity of expression in his art." 2 Bloch's Jewish works constitute less than one-fifth of his entire output, yet it is by these works that he is almost exclusively known, and upon which his reputation is based. The music from this period has tremendous force of expression and its richly variegated coloring and exotic harmonies are overlaid with deeply spiritual significance. It was these works "which firmly established Bloch as a great composer, admired by both Jew and Gentile." 3

In 1920, the Italian essayist Guido M. Gatti confirmed the consensus that Bloch's compositional abilities had indeed reached a pinnacle with the greatest masterwork of this period, Schelomo. In an article on Ernest Bloch for La Critica Musicale, Gatti writes:

 

"Bloch has reached the perfection of his music with the Hebrew rhapsody for solo violoncello with orchestra, which bears the name of the great king Schelomo (Solomon). In this, without taking thought for development and formal consistency, without the fetters of a text requiring interpretation, he has given free course to his fancy; the multiplex figure of the founder of the Great Temple lent itself, after setting it upon a loft throne and chiseling its lineaments, to the creation of a phantasmagorical entourage of persons and scenes in rapid and kaleidoscopic succession. The violoncello, with its ample breadth of phrasing, now melodic and with moments of superb lyricism, now declamatory and with robustly dramatic lights and shades, lends itself to a reincarnation of Solomon in all his glory, surrounded by his thousand wives and concubines, with his multitute of slaves and warriors behind him. His voice resounds in the devotional silence, and the sentences of his wisdom sink into the hearts as the seed into a fertile soil: 'Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher, all is vanity...." --The orchestra palpitates in all the colors of the rainbow; from the vigorous and transparent orchestration there emerge waves of sound that seem to soar upward in stupendous vortices and fall back in a shower of myriads of iridescent drops. At times the sonorous voice of the violoncello is heard predominant amid a breathless and fateful obscurity throbbing with persistent rhythms; again, it blends in a phantasmagorical paroxysm of polychromatic tones shot through with silvery clangors and frenzies of exultation. And anon one finds oneself in the heart of a dream-world, in an Orient of fancy, where men and women of every race and tongue are holding argument or hurling maledictions; and now and again we hear the mournful accents of the prophetic seer, under the influence of which all bow down and listen reverently.... The violoncello part is of so remarkably convincing and emotional power that it may be set down as a veritable masterpiece; not one passage, not a single beat, is inexpressive; the entire discourse of the soloist, vocal rather than instrumental, seems like musical expression intimately conjoined with the Talmudic prose. The pauses, the repetitions of entire passages, the leaps of a double octave, the chromatic progressions, all find their analogues in the Book of Genesis-in the versicles, in the fairly epigraphic reiteration of the admonitions ('and all is vanity and vexation of spirit'), in the unexpected shifts from one thought to another, in certain crescendi of emotion that end in explosions of anger or grief uncontrolled." 4

Even though the title Jewish Cycle has been attached to this period of Bloch's creative output, Bloch did not generally write music based on specific Jewish melodies but rather as an expression of feelings that he experienced as a result of his Jewish heritage and his study of passages in the Bible. As a result, there has been some controversy over the labeling of Bloch as a "Jewish composer" based on these works. Bloch himself addressed this topic sereral times during his life, saying on one occasion:

 

"In my work termed 'Jewish' -- my Psalms, Schelomo, Israel, Three Jewish Poems, Baal Shem, pieces for the cello, The Sacred Service, The Voice in the Wilderness -- I have not approached the problem from without -- by employing melodies more or less authentic (frequently borrowed from or under the influence of other nations) or "Oriental" formulae, rhythms or intervals, more or less sacred! No! I have but listened to an inner voice, deep, secret, insistent, ardent, an instinct much more than cold and dry reason, a voice which seemed to come from far beyond myself, far beyond my parents...a voice which surged up in me on reading certain passages in the Bible, Job, Ecclesiastes, the Psalms, the Prophets.... It was this entire Jewish heritage that moved me deeply, and was reborn in my music. To what extent it is Jewish, to what extent it is just Ernest Bloch, of that I know nothing. The future alone will decide." 5

Exactly what constitutes Jewishness in Bloch's music has been the source of much speculation, despite statements such as this. In his writing can be found numerous examples of augmented seconds and fourths, which are characteristic of Near-Eastern scales and there are modal tonalities and melismatic melodies that are similar to Hebrew chant, although literal quotations are rare. There are various examples from Bloch's instrumental works that bear a close resemblance to Jewish song. However, many authorities, such as Alfred Einstein and A.Z. Idelsohn, "feel that Bloch belongs to that group of composers who have recreated their people's music out of themselves. He is Jewish...in the same sense that Debussy was French, Sibelius Finnish, or Bartôk Hungarian, and in that sense he may be identified with a kind of Hebrew Nationalism." 6

There are a number of common characteristics evident in the works of Bloch's Jewish Cycle; these are outlined in Table 1. The employment of many of these techniques as they specifically relate to Schelomo will be discussed in the section on analysis of the work.

 

surrealist

'surrealist' is not 'surreal' 

image014.jpg

 

'automatic writing' 

'Story of the Eye' by George Bataille ? 

Pre-war cubism was based on a formal evaluation of real space and pictorial space, a re-imagining of the object as seen from all sides and reorganised within the two dimensions of the framed picture plane. Surrealist cubism was typified by the cones of breasts that proliferate in Picasso's 1930s paintings. In Figure (woman seated), there's a shock of blonde hair, but a child-like face with staring eyes. Underneath the white face is a white neck and then a plunging, revealing neckline.

Perhaps that's just my imagination, but it was Bataille's too - he praised Picasso's paintings for the 'horrible shadows that collide in the head… jaws with hideous teeth… When Picasso paints, the dislocation of forms leads to that of thought.'

Not that this show is a parade of oil paintings by the famous names of surrealism, in the style of an RA blockbuster. It's got a well-chosen selection of Miró, Giacometti, Masson and Dali, but they are not the focus. Rather, it's an exploration of the imaginative world of an art movement, which repositions the 'masterpieces' within a much broader cultural spread, involving designing, writing, proselytising, scribbling, jotting and pontificating.

In doing so, it evokes not just a surrealist art movement, but a surrealist culture and a surrealist way of thinking. The photographic content of the exhibition is revelatory and again casts a shadow long enough to reach to the present day. In the 1930s Jean Painlevé developed a new technology of macro-photography, which he used to produce remarkable close-up images of fish.

surrealism-6-728 (1).jpg

______________

surrealist poem 

'Poem Object' 

poeme-objet-poem-object-andre-breton-1935-7e13a047.jpg

Poème Objet - Poem Object 
1935
Collage of objects (and inscribed poem) on card on wood
16.30 x 20.70 cm

"Breton's personal contribution to surrealist art was his fusion of poetry and object in his 'Poème-Objet' constructions. Although not an artist himself, he was eager to explore any technique that required minimum artistic skill, such as the collages and assemblages. In 1924, Breton called for the creation of objects seen in dreams. He made about a dozen of his own assemblages in the 1930s and early 1940s, calling them 'Poème-Objets'. The text on the plaster egg in this work translates as 'I see / I imagine' and the poem beneath is deliberately cryptic. " 
National Galleries of Scotland

Barthes and Bataile 'story of the eye'

meshes of the afternoon

space / time / symbolism

Shadow-Time in Ritual In Transfigured Time (1946, Maya Deren)

Time is Maya Deren’s raw material. Though it could be argued that temporality is the material of all filmmakers to some extent, there’s something about Deren’s short work that captures a very earnest questioning of time passing and even as an unseen character of sorts. Like Andrei Tarkovsky, Deren used time to map the questioning of her of films; creating imagery that highlighted the temporal qualities of movement. In her short film, Ritual In Transfigured Time(1946), this becomes most apparent, not only from the title suggesting a repeated set of actions but noting that time itself becomes changed and somehow more elevated by the actions in front of the camera.

My interest here is not so much in the latter part of the film which falls back upon more typical imagery from Deren’s short oeuvre of slowed down movements of body, but in the opening few minutes. These short segments seem to bear no real relation to the elements that follow; a party full of dancing couples and a garden where more dancing takes place before the lead woman dives into the sea. Yet, as a set of images in themselves, they seem to question time in interesting and stuttered ways, almost touching upon visual music. In the opening segment, Deren herself is seen through a doorway in a room. The doorway is one of two with a small partition separating them. She walks between the rooms, disappearing before reappearing with some thread, moving it between her hands and seeming to talk to someone hidden in the gap between the rooms.

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A second woman (Rita Christiana) enters the shot, looking on as Deren continues the movement of the thread. Time seems to feel out of joint as an unusual breeze ruffles the scarf she is wearing. Her hand reaches out, as if something is guiding it and she begins to walk through the other doorway. A further door leads to the room that Deren is in, showing that somehow she was moving the material in order to wrap it but without the second required person. Her conversations were also held alone. The hand of the second woman continues to pull her towards Deren until she sits at a stool and fulfills the role of the second material holder; the movements of their bodies speeding back up to a normal pace, the second woman looking shocked. The scene goes on, a third woman (Anaïs Nin no less) entering to watch them but this is all that is needed to make the point regarding Deren’s relationship with time; the disjoint is there and strangeness abounds until the physical world has once more realigned with the temporal.

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Deren’s experiments prefigure a number of practical and theoretical explorations of time’s relationship to the cinema, almost all of which bear some connection to the writing of French theorist, Gilles Deleuze. Before writing of Deren’s connection to Deleuze’s ideas of the Time-Image, it is worth noting another connecting factor; that of repetition which leads to something that I’m calling Shadow-Time. Repetition may not be so overt in this work but it is there because the two components of it – i.e. the initial two women performing the actions in the scene – are in paradox, somehow separated from the movement spatially that is supposed to be happening and, importantly, supposed to require both of them. In his work, Difference and Repetition (1968), Deleuze writes the following:

In every case repetition is difference without a concept.  But in one case, the difference is taken to be only external to the concept; it is a difference between objects represented by the same concept, falling into the indifference of space and time… (2004, p.26). 

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This indifference between space and time is a beautiful way of examining the same idea of the paradox in Deren’s scene. Shadow-Time here means the separation of the cause and effect whilst the cause perceives (in this case a foreshadowing of) the effect still occurring. Essentially they become separate and yet the overall motion continues, tapping into a sense of the uncanny. It is a shadow of the actual cause to effect action – the movement of the thread via two people – and can be seen in a huge variety of films though Deren’s is the strongest example I’ve seen. Deren continues the impossible action without the necessity of the second woman there to complete the action; it is arguably repetition but strictly constructed through difference lacking concept. It is incomplete and can probably account for the strangeness that occurs in the scene.

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The second Deleuzian aspect to consider is the foreshadowing of Deleuze’s evolution of cinema from the Movement-Image to the Time-Image; where movement action leading to narrative was jettisoned and evolves into something more complex. He suggests this to become apparent after the Second World War, something that is embedded into Italian Neorealist Cinema and properly explored in Vittorio De Sica’s Umberto D (1952). He writes in Cinema II (1986) that:

In neo-realism, the sensory-motor connections are now valid only by virtue of the upsets that affect, loosen, unbalance, or uncouple them: the crisis of the action-image.  No longer being induced by an action, any more than it is extended into one, the optical and sound situation is, therefore, neither an index nor a synsign. (2013, p.6).

The filming of movement that has no sense of progression, perhaps even simplistic in meaning, ruptures something that allows the passing of time to be more greatly perceived and felt. In relation to Umberto D, Deleuze refers to a scene in which a character tries and fails to light a match to heat a gas stove several times; the filming of the action having no specific relation to anything in the narrative but supplanting the character’s sense of time upon the viewer’s own perception of the filmic experience. Deren in a sense explores this though through a differing ideal; that the rupture caused in the short time of her film is a gap with which more esoteric and defined elements can sit quite naturally and even uncannily.

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Deleuze writes further and in more detail on the Time-Image, suggesting that:

The time-image does not imply the absence of movement (even though it often includes its increased scarcity) but it implies the reversal of the subordination; it is no longer time which is subordinate to movement; it is movement which subordinates itself to time. It is no longer time which derives from movement, from its norm and its corrected aberrations; it is movement as false movement, as aberrant movement which now depends on time. (2013, p.271).

Ritual In Transfigured Time explores this in its opening segments and through a number of ideas. There is indeed an abundance of movement in the scenes, sometimes given a strange hue by being subtly reversed; body movements acquiring a stunted and sharp sense of character. Deleuze is correct in identifying that the movement does not need to be removed, hinting again at the potential of the Shadow-Time. Instead it becomes subordinate to time and, in Deren’s conception, this goes one step further. The movement is illogical and paradoxical, two bodies out of step from one another with temporality itself trying to fix the gap, the mistake in movement. It may be a narrative ploy on Deren’s part but it works equally on a formal level too; the movement briefly rebelling but the breeze of time in the film gradually bringing the bodies back together, fixing the mistake and solving the paradox.

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Robert Smithson

 Robert-Smithson-Time-Crystals-Resized-Cropped-700x350-c-center.jpg

Robert Smithson: Time Crystals is not an exhibition that you can take in on opening night. The 3D works, two videos, slide show and photographs, together with a glass cases full of writings and a multitude of drawings, diagrams and books require the surrender of time. A second visit, within the quiet atmosphere of dark walls and curtained areas, was required for immersion into the cult of Robert Smithson (1938-1973).

His extraordinary artistic longevity, given his short career which was terminated by an early death at only 35 years old, is explained by co-curator Chris McAuliffe from the Australian National University, as “to do with how he worked and his historical moment. He was among the first to make writing a prominent part of his practice… so when there was a major turn toward theory in American art at the end of the 1970s, Smithson was identified as an exemplar of postmodernism. And he pushed the idea of an artist as a project-oriented artist-administrator further than many of his peers.” Smithson became a self-described “conscious artist”.

 

 

The Politics of Experience (part)

On Concept and Object

Art after Philosophy

Nihilism

NIHILISM AS THE DEEPEST PROBLEM; ART AS THE BEST RESPONSE

 

 

How can art and poetry encourage existential trajectories that move beyond the nihilism of late-modernity? American philosopher Iain Thomson turns towards the German philosopher Martin Heidegger, in order to illustrate nihilism as our deepest historical problem and art as our best response, while establishing Heidegger's insights into postmodernity and technology.

Heidegger, Art, and Postmodernity seeks to show that Heidegger is best understood not simply as another regressive or reactionary “antimodernist” (the way critics typically portray him) but, instead, as a potentially progressive and so still promising “postmodernist”—if I may be forgiven for trying to rehabilitate a term that has become so thoroughly “unfashionable” (or unzeitgemäße, as Nietzsche aptly put it, literally “not cut to the measure of the time”).  Sounding like some hipster conservative, Heidegger contends in Being and Time that a formerly hyper-trendy term like postmodern “can first become free in its positive possibilities only when the idle chatter covering it over has become ineffectual and the ‘common’ interest has died away.”  In other words, once everyone stops talking about “The Next Big Thing,” it becomes possible to understand what was so inspiring about it in the first place, letting us uncover those enduringly inspirational sources that tend to get obscured by the noise that engulfs a major trend during its heyday. [1]

It remains true and important, of course, that Heidegger is highly critical of modernity’s metaphysical foundations, including (1) its axiomatic positing of the Cartesian cogito as the epistemological foundation of intelligibility; (2) the ontological subject/object dualism generated by (1); (3) the fact/value dichotomy that follows from (1) & (2); and (4) the growing nihilism (or meaninglessness) that follows (in part) from (3), that is, from the belief that what matters most to us world-disclosing beings can be understood as “values” projected by human subjects onto an inherently-meaningless realm of objects.  I shall come back to this, and continue to find myself provoked and inspired by Heidegger’s phenomenological ways of undermining modern Cartesian “subjectivism.”  But my own work is even more concerned with Heidegger’s subsequent deconstruction of late-modern “enframing” (Gestell), that is, with his ontological critique of global technologization.  Heidegger’s critique of the nihilism of late-modern enframing develops out of his earlier critique of modern subjectivism but goes well beyond it.  As Heidegger, Art, and Postmodernity shows, enframing is “subjectivism squared”:  As modernity’s vaunted subject applies the technologies developed to control the objective realm back onto human subjects, this objectification of the subject is transforming us into just another intrinsically-meaningless resource to be optimized, ordered, and enhanced with maximal efficiency—whether cosmetically, psychopharmacologically, eugenically, aesthetically, educationally, or otherwise “technologically.”  (I shall come back to this point too.)  

Taken together, Heidegger’s ontological critiques of modern subjectivism and late-modern enframing helped establish his work as an uncircumventable critical touchstone of twentieth century “continental” philosophy.  And I say this even while fully acknowledging that Heidegger deliberately and directly involved himself and his thinking with history’s greatest horror (greatest thus far, at least), thereby rendering his work even more controversial than it would have been anyway.  All of us would-be post-Heideggerians have to work through the significance of Heidegger’s deeply troubling Nazism for ourselves, as I have long argued.  Indeed, that critical task is new only to those who are new to Heidegger (or who have somehow managed to avoid it by bunkering down in untenable and so increasingly desperate forms of denial).  The critical task of working through and beyond Heidegger’s politics remains difficult nonetheless, because—as I showed in my first book, Heidegger on Ontotheology:  Technology and the Politics of Education—the most insightful and troubling aspects of Heidegger’s thinking are often closely intertwined.  Disentangling them thus requires both care and understanding, and so a capacity to tolerate ethical as well as philosophical ambiguity (traditional scholarly skills that seem to be growing rare in these days of one-sided outrage and indignation). [2]

Yet, despite Heidegger’s sustained critiques of modernity and late-modernity, he is not simply an anti-modernist (or even an anti-late-modernist).  To try to think against something, he repeatedly teaches, is to remain trapped within its underlying logic.  (The proud atheist often remains caught in the traditional logic of theism, for instance, insofar as both theist and atheist presume to know something outside the realm of possible knowledge.  Like Hölderlin, Heidegger himself ended up as a romantic polytheist, open to the relevant phenomena and so capable of different kinds of religious experience.)[3]  I recognize, of course, that many people find it difficult to muster the hermeneutic charity and patience that one needs in order to even be able to understand Heidegger.  But one of the deepest and most universal axioms of the hermeneutic tradition (and still shared from Gadamer to Davidson) is that the only way to understand another thinker is to presume that they make sense, that they are not just passing-off meaningless nonsense as profundity.  (There is a detectably post-Christian wisdom in the hermeneutics tradition here.  “Thinking…loves”:  Love even thy enemy, as it were, because hatred can never understand.)[4]  When Heidegger is read charitably (rather than dismissed polemically), it becomes clear that his overarching goal is not only to undermine but also to transcend modernity. 

By working to think modernity from its deepest Cartesian presuppositions to its ultimate late-modern conclusions, I believe Heidegger helps open up some paths that lead beyond those problematically nihilistic modern axioms mentioned above, paths that also allow us to preserve and build upon the most crucial and irreplaceable advances achieved in the modern age.[5]  As that suggests, we need to acknowledge—much less grudgingly than Heidegger himself ever did—that humanity has made undeniable and precious progress in the domains of technology, science, medicine, art, language, and even (I try to show, thus going well beyond Heidegger) in politics.  According to the perhaps heterodox, left-Heideggerianpostmodernism I espouse (in the vicinity or aftermath of Dreyfus, Young, Rorty, Vattimo, Derrida, Agamben, and others), Heidegger’s central postmodern insight into the inexhaustible plurality of being serves best to justify and promote a robust liberal tolerance, a tolerance intolerant only of intolerance itself.  That may initially sound relativistic, but this is a tolerance with teeth, because ontological pluralism undermines allfundamentalist claims to have finally arrived at the one correct truth about how to live, let alone to seek to impose those final answers on others (as I have recently tried to show).[6]

“Heidegger’s central postmodern insight into the inexhaustible plurality of being serves best to justify and promote a robust liberal tolerance, a tolerance intolerant only of intolerance itself. ”

Questions concerning how best to understand the implications of Heidegger’s central insights remain complex and controversial, of course.  But I think it is clear—in light of Heidegger’s distinctive attempts to combine philosophy and poetry into a thinking that “twists free” of and so leads beyond modernity—that Heidegger was the original postmodern thinker.  Here I say “original” even while acknowledging that Heidegger’s postmodern vision drew crucial inspiration from many others (including the Romantic tradition, especially Hölderlin, Van Gogh, and Nietzsche, as well as from his creative readings of Presocratic philosophy).  For, as Heidegger, Art, and Postmodernity shows, Heideggerian “originality” (Ursprünglichkeit) is less concerned with being first than with remaining inspiring; that is, it is less about planting flags and more about continuing to provoke important insights in others.  

Moreover, this view of Heidegger as the Ur-postmodernist gains a great deal of support from the fact that almost every single significant contemporary continental philosopher was profoundly influenced by Heidegger.  The list is long, because it includes not just more recognizably “modern” philosophers like Arendt, Bultmann, Gadamer, Habermas, Kojève, Marcuse, Merleau-Ponty, Sartre, Taylor, and Tillich, but also such “postmodern” thinkers as Agamben, Badiou, Baudrillard, Blanchot, Butler, Cavell, Derrida, Dreyfus, Foucault, Irigaray, Lacan, Levinas, Rancière, Rorty, Vattimo, and Žižek—all of whom take Heideggerian insights as fundamental philosophical points of departure.  Each of these thinkers seeks to move beyond these Heideggerian or post-Heideggerian starting points (more and less successfully, it must be said, but with lots of significant advances along the way). 

Taken as a whole, one thing all of these major thinkers help confirm is that we think best with a hermeneutic phenomenologist like Heidegger only when we learn to read him “reticently”—that is, slowly, critically, carefully, thoughtfully, with reservations and alternatives left open rather than too quickly foreclosed.  If we can adopt a critical yet charitable approach to Heidegger’s views on the matters of deep concern that we continue to share with him, then we can find our own ways into “die Sache selbst,” the matters themselves at stake in the discussion.  Focusing on the issues that matter in this way can also help us avoid getting too bogged down in the interminable terminological disputes that too often turn out to be merely “semantic” misunderstandings or confusions of translation, noisy distortions in which those trained in different traditions and languages continue to unknowingly talk past one another.[7] Our hermeneutic goal should instead be genuine understanding and so the possibility of positive disagreement, that is, disagreements that generate real alternatives and so do not remain merely criticisms (let alone pseudo-criticisms, confused epiphenomena of unrecognized misunderstandings, distortions passed down through generations or sent out across other networks).  The modestly immodest goal of post-Heideggerian thinking, in sum, is to think the most important issues at issue in Heidegger’s thinking further than he himself ever did.  At the very least, such attempts can succeed in developing these enduringly-important issues somewhat differently, in our own directions and inflections, in light of our own contemporary concerns and particular ways of understanding what matters most to our time and generations.  

Heidegger’s provocative later suggestion about how best to develop the deepest matters at stake in the thinking of another can be helpful here:  We need to learn “to think the unthought.”  Thinking the unthought of another thinker means creatively disclosing the deepest insights on the basis of which that thinker thought.  When we think their unthought, we uncover some of the ontological “background” which rarely finds its way into the forefront of a thinker’s thinking (as Dreyfus nicely put it, drawing on the Gestalt psychology Heidegger drew on himself).  Thinking the unthought does mean seeing something otherwise unseen or hearing something otherwise unheard, but such hermeneutic “clairvoyance” (as Derrida provocatively dubbed it) should not presume that it has successfully isolated the one true core of another’s thinking (a mistake Heidegger himself too often committed).[8]  But nor should we concede that “death of the author” thesis which presumes that there is no deep background even in the work of our greatest thinkers.  We post-Heideggerian postmodernists should just presume, instead, that any such deep background will be plural rather than singular, and so irreducible to any one over-arching interpretive framework.  In that humbler hermeneutic spirit of ontological pluralism, we can then set out to develop at least some of a thinker’s best insights and deepest philosophical motivations beyond whatever points that thinker was able to take them.[9]

“We need to learn ‘to think the unthought’ ”

In such a spirit, my own work focuses primarily on some of the interconnected issues of enduring concern that I think we continue to share with Heidegger, including (1) his deconstructive critique of Western metaphysics as ontotheology; (2) the ways in which the ontotheology underlying our own late-modern age generates troublingly nihilistic effects in our ongoing technologization of our worlds and ourselves; (3) Heidegger’s alternative vision of learning to transcend such technological nihilism through ontological education, that is, an education centered on the “perfectionist” task of “becoming what we are” in order to come into our own as human beings leading meaningful lives.  My interest in those interconnected issues (of ontotheology, technology, and education) led me to try to explicate (4) the most compelling phenomenological and hermeneutic reasons behind the enduring appeal of Heideggerian and post-Heideggerian visions of postmodernity; and so also (5) the continuing relevance of art and poetry in helping us learn to understand being in some enduringly meaningful, postmodern ways.  The point of this postmodernism, to put it simply, is to help us improve crucial aspects of our understanding of the being of our worlds, ourselves, and each other, as well as of the myriad other entities who populate and shape our interconnected worlds.  (It is, in other words, a continuation of the struggle against nihilism, to which we will turn next.) 

Beneath or behind it all, I have also dedicated much of the last decade to working through some of the philosophical issues that arise, directly and indirectly, from the dramatic collision between Heidegger’s life and thinking (as I have been working on a philosophical biography of Heidegger). I have thus taken up, for example, Heidegger’s views on the nature and meaning of love (which prove surprisingly insightful, once again, when approached with critical charity), while also continuing to participate in that ongoing re-examination of the significance of Heidegger’s early commitment to and subsequent break with Nazism, as well as the more recently revealed extent of his ignorant anti-Semitism (fraught and difficult topics).  

In what follows I want to focus on the role that art—understood as poiêsisor ontological disclosure—can play in helping us learn to live meaningful lives.  So I shall try briefly to explain some of my thoughts on nihilism as our deepest historical problem and art as our best response.  How can art and poetry encourage existential trajectories that move beyond the nihilism of late-modernity?  Let me take up this question while acknowledging the apparent irony of doing so in this technological medium.  In fact, this need not be ironic at all, given my view that we have to find ways to use technologies against technologization—learning to use technologies without being used by them, as it were—by employing particular technologies in ways that help us uncover and transcend (rather than thoughtlessly reinforce) the nihilistic technologization at work within our late-modern age.  What Heidegger helps us learn to undermine and transcend, in other words, is not technology but rather nihilistic technologization.  By “nihilistic technologization,” I mean the self-fulfilling ontological pre-understanding of being that reduces all things, ourselves included, to the status of intrinsically-meaningless stuff standing by to be optimized as efficiently and flexibly as possible.  (That, of course, will take some explaining.) 

“What Heidegger helps us learn to undermine and transcend, in other words, is not technology but rather nihilistic technologization.”

To develop Heidegger’s thinking on technological nihilism beyond the point he himself left it, we need both (1) to learn to recognize the undertow of technologization’s drift toward nihilistic optimization and yet still (2) find ways to use particular technologies (including word processing software, synthesizers, Facebook, on-line philosophy ‘zines, and all the other irreversibly-proliferating technological media of our world) in ways that help move us beyond that nihilistic technologization rather than merely reinforcing it.  Heidegger, Art, and Postmodernity suggests that one of the best ways to do this is by cultivating a receptivity to that which overflows and so partly escapes all the willful projects in which the modern subject understands itself as the source of what matters most in the world (as the foundation of all “values,” all “normativity,” and other such widespread but deeply problematic, modern philosophical ideas).  We think Heidegger’s unthought when we disclose this postmodern understanding of being, learning to understand and so encounter being not as a modern domain of objects for subjects to master and control, nor as a late-modern “standing reserve” of resources to be efficiently optimized, but instead as that which continues to both inform and exceed our every way of making sense of ourselves and our worlds.  By learning to cultivate a phenomenological receptivity to this postmodern understanding of being, we can address the nihilism of our technological understanding of being by responding directly to its ontotheological foundations. 

Heidegger, Art, and Postmodernity begins with the words, “What does Heidegger mean by ontotheology—and why should we care?”  Here is a greatly simplified answer:  If, like Parmenides, we think of all intelligible reality as a sphere, then ontotheology is the attempt to grasp this sphere from the inside-out and the outside-in at the same time.  More precisely, ontotheology is Heidegger’s name for the attempt to stabilize the entire intelligible order (or the whole space of meaning) by grasping both the innermost “ontological” core of what-is and its outermost “theological” expression, then linking these innermost and outermost “grounds” together into a single, doubly-foundational, “ontotheological” understanding of the being of what-is.  An ontotheology, when it works (by uncovering and disseminating those grounds beneath or beyond which no one else can reach, for a time), establishes the meaning of being that “doubly grounds” an historical age.  Such ontotheologies shape and transform Western history’s guiding sense of what being “is” (by telling us what “Isness” itself is), and since everything is, they end up shaping and reshaping our understanding of everything else.  (Heidegger’s notorious antipathy to metaphysics thus obscures the pride of place he in fact assigns to ontotheologies in the transformation and stabilization of history itself.)[10]

One of the crucial points to grasp here is that Heidegger’s critique of technology follows directly from his understanding of ontotheology.  Indeed, the two are so intimately connected that his critique of technology cannot really be understood apart from his view of ontotheology, a fact even scholars were slow to recognize (reminding us that Heidegger still remains, in many ways, our contemporary).  As Heidegger on Ontotheology shows, one of Heidegger’s deepest but most often overlooked insights is that our late-modern, Nietzschean ontotheology generates the nihilistic technologization in whose currents we remain caught.  The deepest problem with this “technologization” of reality is the nihilistic understanding of being that underlies and drives it:  Nietzsche’s ontotheological understanding of the being of entities as “eternally recurring will-to-power” dissolves being into nothing but “sovereign becoming,” an endless circulation of forces, and in so doing, it denies that things have any inherent nature, any genuine meaning capable of resisting this slide into nihilism (any qualitative worth, for example, that cannot be quantified and represented in terms of mere “values,” so that nothing is invaluable—in the full polysemy of that crucial phrase).[11]

Heidegger, Art, and Postmodernity explains Heidegger’s radical philosophical challenge to the deepest presuppositions of modernity and his attempt to articulate a genuinely meaningful post-modern alternative by drawing on key insights from art and poetry, especially insights into the polysemic nature of being and the consequent importance of creative world disclosure (as contrasted with the willful, subjective imposure of “value”). Heidegger’s view is that even great late-modern philosophers like Nietzsche, Marx, and Freud remain trapped within unrecognized modern presuppositions, including the nihilistic view that all meaning is projected onto or infused into an inherently-meaningless world of objects through the subject’s conceptual and material labors (both conscious and unconscious).  These unnoticed metaphysical presuppositions undermine their otherwise important attempts to forge paths into a more meaningful future.  Drawing on Kierkegaard, Hölderlin, Van Gogh, and others, Heidegger teaches that more genuinely enduring meaning cannot come from the subject imposing its values on the world but, instead, only from a poetic openness to those meanings that precede and exceed our own subjectivity.  Such meaningful encounters (or “events”) require us to creatively and responsibly disclose their significance, unfolding their meaning throughout the lives they can thus come to transform, guide, and confer meaning on. 

“Drawing on Kierkegaard, Hölderlin, Van Gogh, and others, Heidegger teaches that more genuinely enduring meaning cannot come from the subject imposing its values on the world but, instead, only from a poetic openness to those meanings that precede and exceed our own subjectivity.”

One of the central theses of Heidegger, Art, and Postmodernity is that this crucial difference between imposing and disclosing—or between technological imposition and poetic disclosure—is the crucial distinction between the meaninglessness of our technological understanding of being and those meaning-full encounters that a postmodern understanding of ourselves and our worlds help give rise to, nurture, and encourage.[12]  Genuinely-enduring, meaningful events, the kinds around which we can build fulfilling lives, do not arise from imposing our wills on the world (as in the modern view which, as Kierkegaard already taught, turns us into sovereign rulers over a land of nothing, where all meaning is fragile because it comes from us, from the groundless voluntarism of our own wills, and so can be rescinded as easily as it was projected).  Genuinely enduring meanings emerge, instead, from learning to creatively disclose those often inchoate glimmers of meaning that exist at least partly independently of our preexisting projects and designs, so that disclosing their significance creatively and responsibly helps teach us to partake in and serve something larger than ourselves (with all the risk and reward that inevitably entails). 

In short, a truly postmodern understanding requires us to recognize that, when approached with a poetic openness and respect, things push back against us, resisting out wills and so making subtle but undeniable claims on us.  We need to acknowledge and respond creatively and responsibly to these claims if we do not want to deny the source of genuine meaning in the world.  For, only those meanings which are at least partly independent of us and so not entirely within our control—meanings not simply up to us human beings to bestow and rescind at will—can provide us with the kind of touchstones around which we can build enduringly meaningful lives (and loves).  Heidegger sometimes describes our encounter with these more genuinely meaning-full meanings as an “event of enowning” (Ereignis), thus designating those profoundly significant events in which we come into our own as world-disclosers by creatively enabling things come into their own, just as Michelangelo came into his own as a sculptor by creatively responding to the veins and fissures in a particularly rich piece of marble so as to bring forth his “David,” just as a woodworker comes into her own as a woodworker by learning to respond to the subtle weight and grain of each individual piece of wood, and just as teachers comes into their own as teachers by learning to recognize, cultivate, and so help develop the particular talents and capacities of individual students.

This poetic openness to that which pushes back against our preexisting plans and designs is what Heideger, Art, and Postmodernity calls a sensitivity to the texture of the text, that subtle but dynamic meaning-fullness which is “all around us” phenomenologically, as Heidegger writes.[13]  The current of technologization tend to sweep right passed the texture of the texts all around us, and can even threaten to render us oblivious to it (most plausibly, if our resurgent efforts at genetic enhancement inadvertently eliminate our defining capacity for creative world-disclosure).  When we learn to recognize the ontohistorical current feeding technology, however, we can also learn to resist its nihilistic erosion of all inherent meaning, and so begin to develop a “free relation to technology” in which it becomes possible to thoughtfully use technologies against nihilistic technologization, as we do (for example) when we use a camera, microscope, telescope, or even glasses creatively to help bring out something there in the world that we might not otherwise have seen, a synthesizer or computer to make a new kind of music that helps us develop our sense of what genuinely matters to us, or when we use a word processor or even the Internet to help bring out our sense of what is really there in the issues and texts that most concern us.

In my view, the role human beings play in the disclosure and transformation of our basic sense of reality thus occupies a middle ground between the poles of voluntaristic constructivism and quietistic fatalism.  Heidegger is primarily concerned to combat the former, “subjectivistic” error—that is, the error of thinking that human subjects are the sole source of meaning and so can reshape our understanding of being at will—because that is the dangerous error toward which our modern and late-modern ways of understanding being incline us.  But this has led to some widespread misunderstandings of his view.  Perhaps most importantly, Heidegger’s oft-quoted line from his famous Der Spiegel interview, “Only another God can save us,” is probably the most widely misunderstood sentence in his entire work.  By another “God,” Heidegger does not mean some otherworldly creator or transcendent agent but, instead, another understanding of being.  He means, quite specifically, a post-metaphysical, post-epochal understanding of “the being of entities” in terms of “being as such,” to use his philosophical terms of art.  Heidegger himself equates his “last God” with a postmodern understanding of being, for example, when he poses the question “as to whether being will once more be capable of a God, [that is,] as to whether the essence of the truth of being will make a more primordial claim upon the essence of humanity.”[14]  Here Heidegger asks whether our current understanding of being is capable of being led beyond itself, of giving rise to other world-disclosive events that would allow human beings to understand the being of entities neither as modern “objects” to be mastered and controlled, nor as late-modern, inherently-meaningless “resources” standing by for optimization, but instead as things that always mean more than we are capable of expressing conceptually (and so fixing once and for all in an ontotheology).  That the “God” needed to “save us” is a postmodern understanding of being is one of the central theses of Heidegger, Art, and Postmodernity

“‘Only another God can save us,’ is probably the most widely misunderstood sentence in his entire work.”

Rather than despairing of the possibility of such an inherently pluralistic, postmodern understanding of being ever arriving, moreover, Heidegger thought it was already here, embodied in the “futural” artwork of artists like Hölderlin and Van Gogh, simply needing to be cultivated and disseminated in myriad forms (clearly not limited to the domain of art, pace Badiou) in order to “save” the ontologically abundant “earth” (with its apparently inexhaustible plurality of inchoately meaningful possibilities) from the devastation of technological obliviousness.  When Heidegger stresses that thinking is at best “preparatory” (vorbereitend), what he means is that great thinkers and poets “go ahead and make ready” (im voraus bereiten), that is, that they are ambassadors, emissaries, or envoys of the future, first postmodern arrivals who, like Van Gogh, disseminate and so prepare for this postmodern future with “the unobtrusive sowing of sowers” (as Heidegger nicely put it, drawing a deep and illuminating parallel between his teaching and Van Gogh’s painting which I seek to explain in Heidegger, Art, and Postmodernity).  As this suggests, new historical ages are not simply dispensed by some super-human agent to a passively awaiting humanity.  Rather, actively vigilant artists and particularly receptive thinkers pick up on broader tendencies happening partly independently of their own wills (in the world around us or at the margins of our cultures, for example), then make these insights central through their artworks and philosophies. 

For good and for ill, then, Heidegger is a profoundly hopeful philosopher, not some teacher of despair and resignation, as he is often polemically portrayed.  As I began by saying, he is not an anti-modern who exhausts himself critiquing modernity but rather the original postmodernphilosopher, a thinker who dedicates himself to disseminating a postmodern understanding of being in which he places his hope for the future.  I continue to find myself inspired by Heidegger’s poetic thinking of a postmodern understanding of being (as well as by many of those Heidegger helped inspire in turn), especially in light of his provocative proclamations that the philosophical lessons of art and poetry’s distinctive ways of disclosing the world were needed to help us find ways through and beyond the growing noontime darkness of technological nihilism.  (Perhaps such concerns partly reflect middle-age and its attendant anxieties, but if so, then I have been partly middle-aged my whole life, and suspect that many of us feel similarly, as if we were all living in a time in the middle or between ages, a historical period of radical change and transition—or at least we, some of us, still hope.) 

 

nihilism

Myth of Sisyphus

Joseph Kosuth

 

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“Material Described” (1965), by Joseph Kosuth, in “The Thing and the Thing-in-Itself.”CreditCreditJoseph Kosuth/ Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York, Lance Brewer/Andrea Rosen Gallery, New York

This spare, thought-provoking exhibition’s title derives from a distinction posited by Immanuel Kant. That is, a thing can be known by a human being only from his or her unique perspective. What the thing is, in and of itself, independent of any perceiver’s view of it, isn’t fully knowable. Organized by the art historian Robert Hobbs, the exhibition presents seven things, which he introduces as “works that pit people’s sight and insight against the limits of what they are able to comprehend.”

The show’s earliest piece is a found object by Marcel Duchamp from 1916: an iron comb and the box it fits into. Most recent is a 1968 sculpture by Robert Smithson consisting of an aluminum bin filled with pieces of broken concrete. A 1936 piece by René Magritte depicts a man studying an egg while painting a picture of a flying bird. From 1954, there’s an all-black painting by Ad Reinhardt. The text on a small pink piece of paper certifying that someone named Hans Hartman Paulsen “is to be considered as an authentic work of art” was produced by Piero Manzoni in 1961. “Material Described” (1965), by Joseph Kosuth, has a word painted on each of four sheets of glass: “glass,” “words,” “material” and “described.” Yoko Ono’s “Sky TV” (1966) is a vintage television playing a real-time video feed of the sky.

None of these things will be incomprehensible to people familiar with modern art. Outside any human frame of reference, however, things like an egg, concrete rubble, the sky, the color black and a person remain at least partly unfathomable.

 

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Clock (One and Five), English/Latin Version (Exhibition Version) is an installation by the American conceptual artist Joseph Kosuth. It comprises five elements arranged in a row along the gallery wall: a life-sized photograph of a clock, a real clock and three enlarged entries from an English–Latin dictionary for the words ‘time’, ‘machination’ and ‘object’. The commercially manufactured clock is battery operated, has functioning mechanisms and is set to local time when exhibited. It has a white-grey face, a domed glass front and a brushed aluminium bezel rim. The photograph and printed entries are black and white, mounted on board and installed directly onto the gallery wall.

The original installation from 1965, entitled Clock (One and Five), English/Latin Version, is also in Tate’s collection (Tate T01909) and was conceived in New York when Kosuth was a student there at the School of the Visual Arts. The 1965 version belongs to a wider series of works made at this time that Kosuth retrospectively entitled Proto-Investigations. Each of these featured a real object, a photograph of this object and one or more printed definitions of associated words taken from a dictionary or pair of dictionaries, usually English and one other language (see, for instance, One and Three Chairs 1965, Museum of Modern Art, New York).

Clock (One and Five), English/Latin Version 1965 is accompanied by a set of artist-provided ‘production instructions that doubled as Certificates’ that are intended to inform future installations of the work (Kosuth quoted in Biggiero 2009, p.21). In 1974 Kosuth explained:

 

The photographs should be apparently casually push-pinned to the wall. Important: if your wall is noticeably different than the wall in the photograph of the clock which you received then it must be rephotographed. The photo of the clock must be identical to the clock and its surrounding wall. The lighting and reflections on the clock and in the photo of the clock should also be as close as possible.
(Kosuth in a letter of 15 October 1974, quoted in Alley 1981, pp.400–1.)

Clock (One and Five), English/Latin (Exhibition Version) 1965, 1997 was made in New York in 1997 to be displayed that same year at the Irish Museum of Modern Art, Dublin, as part of the exhibition Joseph Kosuth: New Installation and Survey 1965–1997. In making it Kosuth partly deviated from his original instructions, as each of the photographs have been affixed to a stiff board rather than being ‘casually push-pinned to the wall’. On its acquisition Kosuth also provided Tate with what curator Ronald Alley describes as ‘paste-ups of the dictionary sources, from which further photographs can be taken if replacements are needed, and a diagram with instructions for the installation, which also serves as a certificate of ownership’ (Alley 1981, p.401).

At the time that this work was first conceived in 1965, Kosuth was interested in linguistic anthropology – the study of how language influences social behaviour – and the operation of language in our understanding of and relationship with real objects. In a 1974 letter to Tate he explained his choice to use the English–Latin binary for the installation: ‘an important aspect of my work which uses other languages is that it can only be exhibited (exist as art) in a location where that language is spoken’, the only exception being those in English and English/Latin which ‘can be exhibited anywhere’ due to the fact that ‘Latin is “dead”’ and therefore ‘functions only operationally, not really’ (quoted in Alley 1981, p.400). The definitions provided offer the viewer expanded contexts for viewing the photograph of the clock and the clock itself. By presenting us with a visual tautology – five different ‘versions’ of a clock – Kosuth questions the notion of representation, as curator Anne Rorimer has explained:

 

Having been extracted from the ‘real’ world of use and replaced to function within the world of art, the objects re-present themselves. Kosuth thereby represented the idea of representation per se through photographic and/or linguistic means. As the combination of … equal parts … these works are statements of fact, not simply about external reality, but about the means to represent it.
(Ann Goldstein and Anne RorimerReconsidering the Object of Art 1965–1975, Los Angeles 1995, p.150.)

Furthermore, art historian Liz Kotz has described the movement between each element of these installations as an ‘ascending spiral of abstraction’ which led Kosuth to remove the ‘real’ object altogether in favour of purely linguistic representation in his Investigations series of the late 1960s and the 1970s (Kotz 2005, p.9).

Although Clock (One and Five), English/Latin Version was first conceived and made early in Kosuth’s career, the subsequent version was produced when he was an established artist. Kosuth has frequently rejected attempts to associate him with wider art movements. However, he has acknowledged the influence on his work of French artist Marcel Duchamp’s (1887–1968) readymades and has links to both postminimalism and conceptualism, publishing an essay in 1969 entitled Art After Philosophy that is now considered seminal in theories of conceptual art.

Further reading 
Ronald Alley, Catalogue of the Tate Gallery’s Collection of Modern Art other than Works by British Artists, Tate Gallery and Sotheby Parke-Bernet, London 1981, pp.399–401.
Liz Kotz, ‘Language Between Performance and Photography’, October, vol.111, Winter 2005, pp.3–21.
Fiona Biggiero (ed.), Joseph Kosuth: The Language of Equilibrium, Milan 2009.

 

 cri_000000170331.jpg

One and Three Chairs, 1965

Medium: Wood folding chair, mounted photograph of a chair, and mounted photographic enlargement of the dictionary definition of "chair"

A chair sits alongside a photograph of a chair and a dictionary definition of the word chair. Perhaps all three are chairs, or codes for one: a visual code, a verbal code, and a code in the language of objects, that is, a chair of wood. But isn't this last chair simply . . . a chair? Or, as Marcel Duchamp asked in his Bicycle Wheel of 1913, does the inclusion of an object in an artwork somehow change it? If both photograph and words describe a chair, how is their functioning different from that of the real chair, and what is Kosuth's artwork doing by adding these functions together? Prodded to ask such questions, the viewer embarks on the basic processes demanded by Conceptual art.

"The art I call conceptual is such because it is based on an inquiry into the nature of art," Kosuth has written. "Thus, it is . . . a working out, a thinking out, of all the implications of all aspects of the concept 'art,' . . . Fundamental to this idea of art is the understanding of the linguistic nature of all art propositions, be they past or present, and regardless of the elements used in their construction." Chasing a chair through three different registers, Kosuth asks us to try to decipher the subliminal sentences in which we phrase our experience of art.

Publication excerpt from The Museum of Modern Art, MoMA Highlights, New York: The Museum of Modern Art, revised 2004, originally published 1999, p. 257.

 

dematerialization

the dematerialization of art

Jean Arp

T05005_10.jpg

According to the Laws of Chance

Nick Cave

Olivier-Castel_9-skins--peaux-neuves_2015-copy-2.jpg

Nick Cave, 'Four Cities: Selections from The Sick-Bag Song' Duncan White, 'After the Crash' Juliet Escoria, 'West Virginia to New York'

 

'women, fire and dangerous things'

A Sartrean Perspective on Love's Object

Schema Theory

Heidegger on the Connection between Nihilism, Art ...

Semiology // Semiotics

by Robert M. Seiler

We can define semiology or semiotics as the study of signs. We may not realize it, but in fact semiology can be applied to all sorts of human endeavours, including cinema, theatre, dance, architecture, painting, politics, medicine, history, and religion. That is, we use a variety of gestures (signs) in everyday life to convey messages to people around us, e.g., rubbing our thumb and forefinger together to signify money.

We should think of messages (or texts) as systems of signs, e.g., lexical, graphic, and so on, which gain their effects via the constant clashes between these systems. For example, the menu we consult in a restaurant has been drawn up with reference to a structure, but this structure can be filled differently, according to time and place, e.g., breakfast or dinner (Barthes, 1964, p. 28).

In the notes that follow, I will say a few words about structuralism, an intellectual movement which flourished during the 1950s and the 1960s, and semiology, which has been one of the chief modes of this intellectual movement. The major figures in this movement include Ferdinand de Saussure, Roland Barthes, Roman Jakobson, Claude Levi-Strauss, Thomas Sebeok, Julia Kristeva, and Umberto Eco. For reasons that will become obvious, I will focus on Saussure and Barthes, the pioneers. All believed semiology is the key to unlocking meaning of all things.

the basic elements of structuralism

To begin with, we should think of structuralism as a mode of thought, a way of conceptualizing phenomena. Whereas in the past, determinists like Aristotle saw things in terms of cause and effect, structuralists look for structures:

  • From the 15th century, the word "structure" was used as a noun: the process of building (Williams, 1976).
  • During the 17th century, the term developed in two main directions: towards the product of building, as in "a wooden structure," and towards the manner of construction generally. Modern developments flow from (b). The sense of the latter is: the mutual relation of the constituent parts of a whole which define its nature, as in "internal structure."
  • The term entered the vocabulary of biology in the 18th century, as in the structure of the hand.
  • The term entered the vocabulary of language, literature, and philosophy in the 19th century, to convey the idea of internal structure as constitutive, as in matters of building and engineering. Scholars would talk (1863) about the structural differences that separate man from gorilla say.

We need to know this history if we are to understand the development of structural and structuralist thinking in the 20th century, as in linguistics and anthropology. We note that this theoretical construct dominated intellectual life in France, extending into the literary arts, during the period from WW I to WW II. Linguists in North America had to discard the presuppositions of Indo-European linguistics when they studied the languages of American Indians. They developed procedures for studying language as a whole, i.e., deep internal relations. Thus, we now distinguish function (performance) from structure (organization), as in structuralist linguistics and functional anthropology.

According to (orthodox) structuralism, these structures range from kinship to myth, not to mention grammar, one permanent constitutive of human formations: the defining features of human consciousness (and perhaps the human brain), e.g., Id, Ego, Superego, Libido, or Death-Wish in psychology. Of course, the assumption here is that the structuralist is an objective observer, independent of the object of consideration. In this context, we use words like code (hidden relations) to describe sign-systems (like fashion).

We should note that structuralism challenges common sense, which believes that things have one meaning and this meaning is pretty obvious. Common sense tells us that the world is pretty much as we perceive it. In other words, structuralism tells us that meaning is constructed, as a product of shared systems of signification.

Semiology: Two Pioneers

Again, semiology can be defined as the study of signs: how they work and how we use them. We note again that almost anything can signify something for someone. Saussure developed the principles of semiology as they applied to language; Barthes extended these ideas to messages (word-and-image relations) of all sorts.

  1. Ferdinand de Saussure, 1857-1913

Saussure was born in Geneva, Switzerland, to a family celebrated for its accomplishments in the natural sciences. Not surprisingly, he discovered linguistic studies early in life.

In 1875, he entered the University of Geneva as a student of physics and chemistry, taking course in Greek and Latin grammar as well. This experience convinced him that his career lay in the study of language. In 1876, he entered the University of Leipzig to study Indo-European languages. Here, he published (1878) a monograph on the Primitive System of Vowels in Indo-European Languages. He was awarded the Ph.D. for his thesis on the genitive case in Sanskrit.

After completing his thesis, he moved to Paris, where he taught Sanskrit, as well as Old High German. For 10 years, he focused on specific languages--as opposed to general linguistics. In 1891, he returned to Geneva, to teach taught Sanskrit and historical linguistics at the university. The university provided the catalyst for shaping semiology--he was asked to teach (1906-11) a course of lectures in general linguistics. He died in February of 1913.

His students thought his course so innovative that they assembled their notes and published (1916) a work called Course in General Linguistics. In this work, Saussure focuses on the linguistic sign, making a number of crucial points about the relationship between the signifier (Sr) and the signified (Sd). Below I summarise the key ideas:

  • Language (Saussure, 1916) is a self-contained system, one which is made up of elements which perform a variety of functions, based on the relations the various elements have one with another. We can think of syntax and grammar as organizing principles of langauge. We have no trouble recognizing the grammatical sense of the following construction: Colorless green ideas sleep furiously.
  • We can think of language (p. 34) as a system of signs, which we can study synchronically (as a complete system at any given point) or diachronically (in its historical development).
  • A signifier (Sr), the sound-image or its graphical equivalent, and its signified (Sd), the concept or the meaning, make up the sign (pp. 36-38). For example, we can say that, to an English speaking person, the three black marks c-a-t serve as the signifier which evokes the "cat."
  • The relation between Sr and Sd is arbitrary (pp. 37-38). Different languages use different words for the same thing. No physical connection links a given signifier and a signified.
  • Described in these terms, language is a system of formal relations. This means that the key to understanding the structure of the system lies in difference. One sound differs from another sound (as p and b); one word differs from another (as pat and bat); and one grammatical forms differs from another (as has run from will run). No linguistic unit (sound or word) has significance in and of itself. Each unit acquires meaning in conjunction with other units. We can distinguish (p. 29) formal language (Saussure calls it langue) from the actual use of language (which he calls parole).
  • Every expression we use is based on collective behavior or convention. We can say that a sign is motivated when we perceive a connection between Sr and Sd, e.g. in instances of onomatopoeia like "bow-wow" and "tick-tock" (pp. 39-30).
  1. Roland Barthes, 1915-80

This cultural theorist and analyst was born in Cherbourg, a port-city northwest of Paris. His parents were Louis Barthes, a naval officer, and Henriette Binger. His father died in 1916, during combat in the North Sea. In 1924, Barthes and his mother moved to Paris, where he attended (1924-30) the Lycee Montaigne. Unfortunately, he spent long periods of his youth in sanatoriums, undergoing treatment for TB. When he recovered, he studied (1935-39) French and the classics at the University of Paris. He was exempted from military service during WW II (he was ill with TB during the period 1941-47). Later, when he wasn't undergoing treatment for TB, he taught at a variety of schools, including the Lycees Voltaire and Carnot. He taught at universities in Rumania (1948-49) and Egypt (1949-50) before he joined (in 1952) the Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, where he devoted his time to sociology and lexicology.

Barthes' academic career fell into three phases. During the first phase, he concentrated on demystifying the stereotypes of bourgeois culture (as he put it). For example, in Writing degree Zero (1953), Barthes examined the link between writing and biography: he studied the historical conditions of literary language and the difficulty of a modern practice of writing. Committed to language, he argued, the writer is at once caught up in particular discursive orders, the socially instituted forms of writing, a set of signs (a myth) of literature--hence the search for an unmarked language, before the closure of myth, a writing degree zero.

During the years 1954-56, Barthes wrote a series of essays for the magazine called Les Lettres nouvelles, in which he exposed a "Mythology of the Month," i.e., he showed how the denotations in the signs of popular culture betray connotations which are themselves "myths" generated by the larger sign system that makes up society. The book which contains these studies of everyday signs--appropriately enough, it is entitled Mythologies (1957)--offers his meditations on many topics, such as striptease, the New Citroen, steak and chips, and so on. In each essay, he takes a seemingly unnoticed phenomenon from everyday life and deconstructs it, i.e., shows that the "obvious" connotations which it carries have been carefully constructed. This account of contemporary myth involved Barthes in the development of semiology.

During the second phase, the semiotics phase dating from 1956, he took over Saussure's concept of the sign, together with the concept of language as a sign system, producing work which can be regarded as an appendix to Mythologies. During this period, Barthes produced such works as Elements of Semiology (1964), and The Fashion System (1967), adapting Saussure's model to the study of cultural phenomena other than language. During this period, he became (in 1962) Directeur d'Etudes in the VIth section of the Ecole Pratique des Hautes Etudes, where he devoted his time to the "sociology of signs, symbols, and representations."

The third phase began with the publication of S/Z (1970), marking a shift from Saussurean semiology to a theory of "the text," which he defined as a field of the signifier and of the symbolic. S/Z is a reading of Balzac's novel Sarrasine, plotting the migration of five "codes," understood as open groupings of signifieds and as points of crossing with other texts. The distinction between "the writable" and "the readable," between what can be written/rewritten today, i.e., actively produced by the reader, and what can no longer be written but only read,

i.e., passively consumed, provides a new basis for evaluation. Barthes extends this idea in The Pleasure of the Text (1973) via the body as text and language as an object of desire. During this period, he wrote books as fragments, suggesting his retreat from what might be called the discourse of power, as caught in the subject/object relationship and the habits of rhetoric. He tried to distinguish "the ideological" from "the aesthetic," between the language of science, which deals with stable meanings and which is identified with the sign, and the language of writing, which aims as displacement, dispersion. He offers a "textual" reading of himself in Roland Barthes by Roland Barthes (1975). In 1976, he became professor of "literary semiology" at the College de France. In his last book, Camera Lucinda (1980), he reflects on the levels of meaning of the photograph.

Barthes died on 26 March 1980, having been knocked over by a laundry van (reports suggest that the driver was drunk).

In the notes that follow, I summarise the principle he forumlates in Elements of Semiology:

the basic elements of semiology

The goal of semiological analysis is to identify the principle at work in the message or text, i.e., to determine the rhetoric or the grammar tying together all the elements. I gloss the chief terms used by analysts in the section below, and I provide a short guide to semiological analysis in the very last section.

  1. axes of language

We get a sense of how language works as a system (Barthes, 1983, p. 58) if we think of language as a pair of axes or two planes of mental activity, the vertical plane being the selective principle (vocabulary) and the horizontal dimension being the combinative principle (sentences). For example, we might select items (words) from various categories in the vertical (associative) dimension, such as kitten, cat, moggy, tom, puss, mouser; sat, rested, crouched; mat, rug, carpet and so on, and link them in the horizontal (combinative) plane to formulate statements like The cat sat on the mat.

The idea is to think of language (Saussure, 1916) as a system of signs. Let me say a few words about this important concept. By "system" we mean an organized whole, involving a number of parts in some non-random relationship with one another. In other words, a system is a set of entities that interact with one another to form a whole. We speak of mechanical, biological, psychological, or socio-cultural systems. A machine is a system. We think of the brake system in a car. An organism like the body is a system. We think of the nervous system. With regard to social units, we think of the family. The members of the family are the objects of the system. Their characteristics as individuals are the attributes; their interaction forms constitute the relationships. A family exists in a social and cultural environment, which affects and is shaped by, the members.

The following example will help clarify three related terms: The system of traffic signals performs the function of controlling traffic; the structure of this system is the binary opposition of red and green lights in alternating sequence.

To make a long story short, we should think of texts as systems, e.g., lexical, graphic, and so on, which gain their effects via the constant clashes between these systems.

  1. Signs

As we have seen, de Saussure--the founder of semiology--was the first to elaborate the tripartite relationship

signifier + signified = sign

According to Saussure, the linguistic sign unites a sound-image and a concept. The relationship between Sr and Sd is arbitrary. It should be remembered that neither of these entities exist outside the construct we call a sign. We separate these entities for convenience only.

  • The signifier--which has a physical existence--carries the meaning. This is the sign as we perceive it: the marks on the paper or the sounds in the air.
  • The signified is a mental concept that is the meaning. It is common to all members of the same culture who share the same language.
  • The sign is the associative total of the two: we speak of it as a signifying construct.

During the 1960s, long hair on a man, especially if it was dirty (the signifier) usually suggested counterculture (the signified), whereas short hair on a man (the signifier) suggested the businessman or "square" (the signifier). Of course, these meanings vary according to place and time.

  1. motivation

The terms motivation and constraint describe the extent to which the signified determines the signifier. In other words, the form that a photograph of a car can take is determined by the appearance of the specific car itself. The form of the signifier of a generalized car or a traffic sign is determined by the convention that is accepted by the users of the code.

motivated signs

Motivated signs are iconic signs; they are characterized by a natural relation between signifier and signified. A portrait or a photograph is iconic, in that the signifier represents the appearance of the signified. The faithfulness or the accuracy of the representation--the degree to which the signified is re-presented in the signifier--is an inverse measure of how conventionalized it is. A realistic portrait (painting) is highly conventionalized: this means that to signify the work relies on our experience of the sort of reality it re-presents. A photograph of a street scene communicates easily because of our familiarity with the reality it re-presents. It is important to recognize that (i) in signs of high motivation, the signified is the determining influence, and (ii) in signs of low motivation, convention determines the form of the signifier.

unmotivated signs

In unmotivated signs, the signifieds relate to their signifiers by convention alone, i.e., by an agreement among the users of these signs. Thus, convention plays a key role in our understanding of any sign. We need to know how to read a photograph or a sculpture, say. Convention serves as the social dimension of signs. We may not understand the unmotivated verbal sign for car that the French use, but we understand the road signs in France in so far as they are iconic. The arbitrary dimension of the unmotivated sign is often disguised by the apparent natural iconic motivation; hence, a man in a detective story showing the inside of his wallet is conventionally a sign of a policeman identifying himself and not a sign of a peddler of pornographic postcards.

  1. denotation and connotation

Saussure concentrated on the denotative function of signs; by contrast, Barthes pushed the analysis to another level, the connotative. Simply put, these two terms describe the meanings signs convey.

denotation

By denotation we mean the common sense, obvious meaning of the sign. A photograph of a street scene denotes the street that was photographed. This is the mechanical reproduction (on film) of the object the camera points at. For example, I can use color film, pick a day of pale sunshine, and use a soft focus lens to make the street appear warm and happy, a safe community for children. I can use black and white film, hard focus, and strong contrast, to make the street appear cold, inhospitable. The denotative meanings would be the same.

connotation

By connotation we mean the interaction that occurs when the sign and the feelings of the viewer meet. At this point, meanings move toward the subjective interpretation of the sign (as illustrated by the above examples). If denotation is what is photographed, connotation is how it is photographed.

  1. paradigms and syntagms

Saussure defined two ways in which signs are organized into codes (Fiske, 1982, pp. 61-64):

paradigm

paradigm is a vertical set of units (each unit being a sign or word), from which the required one is selected, e.g., the set of shapes for road signs: square, round and triangular.

syntagm

syntagm is the horizontal chain into which units are linked, according to agreed rules and conventions, to make a meaningful whole. The syntagm is the statement into which the chosen signs are combined. A road sign is a syntagm, a combination of the chosen shape with the chosen symbol.

Paradigms and syntagms are fundamental to the way that any system of signs is organized. In written language, the letters of the alphabet are the basic vertical paradigms. These may be combined into syntagms called words. These words can be formed into syntagms called phrases or sentences, i.e., according to the rules of grammar.

Syntagms--like sentences--exist in time: we can think of them as a chain. But syntagms of visual signs can exist simultaneously in space. Thus, a sign of two children leaving school, in black silhouette, can be syntagmatically combined with a red triangle or a road sign to mean: SCHOOL: BEWARE OF CHILDREN.

  1. difference

The term "difference" describes the relationship between the elements at work in any given message. They work as rhetorical figures, such as the figures of addition, where the elements are added to a word, sentence, or image; or the figures of suppression, where elements are suppressed, concealed, or excluded. The key to understanding the structure of a system of signs, then, lies in understanding the relationship(s) the system utilizes. We are interested in the techniques of additions primarily, which include:

  • Repetition is the repetition of the same element: word, sound or image;
  • Similarity is similarity of form, as in rhyme, or on similarity of content, as in comparisons;
  • Accumulation refers to a number of different elements conveying the idea of abundance or profusion, verging on disorder and chaos; and
  • Opposition occurs at the level of form (an ad set in two different countries) and the level of content (an advertisement for detergent featuring a man in white smocking sitting on a heap of coal).

Thus, difference might be a function of contrast or opposition in terms of:

balance - instability;
symmetry - asymmetry
harmony - confusion
regularity - irregularity
understatement - exaggeration
predictability - spontaneity
expensive - cheap
high quality - low quality
exciting - boring

The idea is that nothing in and of itself has meaning: rather, meaning is a function of some relationship.

  1. Metaphor and Metonymy

These terms--used by Roman Jakobson, the linguist--define the two fundamental modes by which the meanings of signs are conveyed.

metaphor

Metaphor involves a transposition or displacement from signified to signifier, together with the recognition that such a transposition implies an equivalence between these two elements of the sign. Likewise, "visual metaphors" are constructed, e.g., a portrait of a man is constructed in such a way as to convince us that the two dimensional visual representation is equivalent to its three-dimensional reality. Similarly, a map signifies the reality to which it refers by constructing an equivalent form in whose features we can recognize those of the object itself. Thus, both verbal and non-verbal, arbitrary and iconic signs can be metaphorical.

metonymy

In metonymy, the signification depends upon the ability of a sign to act as a part which signifies the whole. Television advertisers are particularly adept at exploiting both metaphoric and metonymic modes in order to cram as much meaning as possible into a short period of time. For example, the sign of a mother pouring out a particular breakfast cereal for her children is a metonym of all her maternal activities of cooking, cleaning, and so on, but a metaphor for the love and the security she provides. As we have suggested, the structural relationship between these modes can be visualized as operating on two axes, one vertical and one horizontal in character.

  1. three orders of signification

In the study of signs, we can speak of different levels of meaning or orders of signification.

first order

In the first order of signification, the sign is self-contained: the photograph means the individual car. This is the denotative order of signification.

second order

In the second order, this simple motivated meaning meets a whole range of cultural meanings that derive not from the sign itself but from the way society uses and values the Sr and the Sd. This is the connotative order of signification. In our society, a car--or a sign for a car--can signify virility or freedom. According to Barthes (1964), signs in the second order of signification operate in two distinct ways: as mythmakers and as connotative agents.

  • When signs move to the second order of signification, they carry cultural meanings as well as representational ones, i.e., the signs become the signifiers of CULTURAL MEANINGS. Barthes calls the cultural meanings of these signs MYTHS. The sign loses its specific signified and becomes a second-order signifier, i.e., a conveyor of cultural meaning.
  • We can explain the connotative order of signification with a simple example. A general's uniform denotes his rank (first-order sign) but connotes the respect we show it (second-order sign). Say that by the end of the war film we are watching the general's uniform is tattered and torn; it still denotes his rank; however, the connotative meaning will have changed.

Thus, in the connotative order, signs signify values, emotions, and attitudes. Camera angle, lighting, and background music, for example, are used in film and television to connote meaning. The connotative meaning of a televised painting can be changed by the background music accompanying it.

third order

The range of cultural meanings that are generated in this second order cohere in the third order of signification into a cultural picture of the world. It is in this order (the third) that a car forms part of the imagery of an industrial, materialist, and rootless society. The myths which operate as organizing structures, e.g., the myth of the neighborhood policeman as keeper of the peace and friend of all residents of the community, are themselves organized into a pattern which we might call MYTHOLOGY or IDEOLOGY. In the third order of signification, ideology reflects the broad principles by which a culture organizes and interprets the reality with which it has to cope. This mythology is a function of the social institutions and the individuals who make up these institutions.

  1. semiological analysis

Barthes (1964) points out that semiological analysis involves two operations: dissection and articulation. The first operation (dissection) includes looking for fragments (elements) which when associated one with another suggest a certain meaning. The analyst looks for paradigms, i.e., classes or groups from which elements have been chosen (and endowed with specific meaning).

The units or elements in this group or class share a number of characteristics. Two units of the same paradigm must resemble one another so that the difference which separates them becomes evident, e.g., to a foreigner, American automobiles seem to look alike, yet they differ in make and color.

The second operation (articulation) involves determining the rules of combination. This is the activity of articulation. In summary: The analyst takes the object, decomposes it and then re-composes it. The analyst makes something appear which was invisible or unintelligible.

  1. Concluding Remarks

Like structuralism, semiology decenters the individual, who is no longer the source of meaning. Semiology (Barthes, 1964) refuses the obvious meaning of a work: it does not take the message at face value. We are concerned with MESSAGES and the preferred ways to READ them.

I conclude these notes with a guide to a semiological analysis, based on Barthes' (1977) seminal essay, "The Rhetoric of the Image."

Bergson and Time

some writings / notes

book extracts

'The Psychology of Everyday Things'

P196 

Kevin Lynch says about this in his delightful book on city planning, What time is this place?

"Telling time is a simple technical problem, but unfortunately the clock is a rather obscure perceptual device. Its first widespread use in the thirteenth century was to bring the hours for clerical devotions. The clockface which translated time into spatial alteration, came later. That form was dictated by its works, not by any principles of perception. Two (sometimes three) superimposed cycles give duplicate readings, according to angular displacement around a finely marked rim. Neither minutes nor hours nor half days correspond to the natural cycles of our bodies or the sun. And so teaching a child to read a clock is not a childish undertaking. When asked why a clock had two hands, a four-year-old replied, 'God thought it would be a good idea.'" 

psycholinguistic

'Empty Words'

Cognitive Distortions

Distortions
Our minds are wired to select and interpret evidence
sustaining the essential belief: “I'm OK”

Our minds are wired to select and interpret evidence supporting the hypothesis “I'm OK”. A variety of mechanisms: conscious, unconscious, and social direct our attention to ignore the bad and highlight the good to increase our hope and reduce our anxiety. We work hard to retain the belief that “I'm OK” even when faced with significant losses. Self-justification is deeply ingrained in each of us. Mental schema make it easier for us to perceive information that supports what we already know or believe.  Unfortunately we often get it wrong.

High and Low

Our thinking is the result of our own perception, judgment, experience, and bias. Our brain distorts reality to increase our self-esteem through self-justification. People perceive themselves readily as the origins of good effects and reluctantly as the origins of ill effects. We present a one-sided argument to ourselves.

Confirmation biasExternal Link is the strong human tendency to dismiss or distortevidence contrary to our beliefs and readily seek out evidence that supports our views.

Humility reduces our need for self-justification and allows us to admit to and learn from our mistakes. It can help us overcome many of these distortions.

People suffering from depression often reverse this bias and interpret evidence to support their fears they are not worthy.

During times of stress, overload, or threat, we often resort to a simplistic form of thinking, called primal thinking, that incorporates many of these fallacies. For an accurate appraisal it is important to reassess the situation using effortful, valid, thoughtful, and accurate analysis that properly allows for the complexities we face. Employ critical thinking and work to understand what is.

Styles of Distorted Thinking

In addition to the logical fallacies that can misrepresent or misuse evidence, here is a list and short description of several common forms of distorted thinking. 

Filtering (selectivity): This is a failure to consider all the evidence in a balanced and objective assessment. We go where our attention is, and our attention is inherently limited. Selectivity is a failure to consider a neutral, or balanced, point of view. It can have two basic forms. The first is considering only the negative details and magnifying them while filtering out all the positive aspects of a situation. The second is taking the positive details and magnifying them while filtering out all the negative aspects of a situation. In any case evidence that supports your bias is selected, favored, or weighted more heavily than evidence contrary to your bias. Find the realistic balance between the optimistic and pessimistic points of view. Seek out, carefully consider, and assimilate all the evidence.

Overgeneralization: It is incorrect to arrive at a general conclusion based on a single incident or piece of evidence. This is a common example of the more general fallacy of basing a conclusion on unrepresentativeevidence. Consider a broad range of representative evidence before drawing a conclusion. Consider systematic evidence, and dismiss anecdotal evidence.

The parable of the blind men and the elephantExternal Link illustrates the dangers in generalizing from unrepresentative evidence. What each person experienced was a true portion of the elephant, but taken individually each sample was unrepresentative of the entire elephant. Each blind man extended the evidence gathered only from his limited point of view to incorrectly conclude he understood the whole of the elephant. Each sample can be accurately interpreted only when all the samples are integrated to create a representative whole.

Polarized Thinking (false choice, dichotomy, primal thinking, false dilemma, black and white thinking): 

 Hue

This is the fallacy of thinking that things are either black or white, good or bad, all or nothing. This fallacy can lead to rigid and harmful rules based on primal thinking when it is efficient to compress complex information into simplistic categories for rapid decision making during times of stressconflict, or threat. Polarized thinking can also lead to unhelpful forms of perfectionism. The reality often lies in the sizeable middle ground between these extreme poles. Recognize and reject the false dichotomy. The words “either / or” are a reliable signal alerting us to a false dichotomy. Find other alternatives that provide a constructive solution.  Dialogue is a powerful tool for moving beyond a false dichotomy. A clever Zen master teaches his students to reject a false dichotomy and go beyond polarized thinking with the following challenge. He places a cup of tea before the student, then says “If you drink that cup of tea, I will beat you with a stick, and if you don't drink that cup of tea I will beat you with a stick.” The student has to reject the false dichotomy, recognize options other than the two presented, and create other alternatives, such as offering the tea to the instructor, or asking his advice, to avoid punishment.

Face Vase

Some phenomenon are intrinsically dual. Consider the image on the left, known as the Rubin vase / profile illusion. Do you see a vase or two human profiles looking at each other eye to eye? An optical illusion—demonstrating a surprising feature or limitation of our visual perception system—causes us to see either the vase or the faces at any one time. This is determined by perceiving either the black as the foreground and the white as the background, or vice versa, at any instance. This perception easily flips as our attention shifts and we see the other image. We cannot see both at once and we can voluntarily see either one at a given time. What we see is an image that can be perceived as either at any particular instance. Arguing for vase vs. face misses the point; the image is intrinsically both. Focusing on the false dichotomy of face or vase distracts us from understanding the intrinsic duality of face and vase. Quantum physics elegantly describes how light is both wave and particle. Asking if Barack Obama is black or white, if you are liberal or conservative, republican or democrat, with us or against us, scientific or religious, can obscure a grander unity.

Everyday language includes many subtle false dichotomies. Asking “do the ends justify the means” focuses on a false choice between these ends and those means. It dismisses the important possibilities of achieving important goals by other, less destructive means. Asking “whose fault is this” encourages us to choose a single person to blame. Justifying actions by saying “I had no choice” falsely dismisses the many alternatives that were not imagined and not chosen. Asking if a particular behavior results from “nature or nurture” distracts us from recognizing that most behavior results from a combination of both. Concluding “you get what you pay for” dismisses the possibility of market inefficiencies or breakthroughs in product design, manufacturing techniques, or discovering new value and new types of value in unusual places.

False dichotomies are harmful because they distract us from the many alternatives that could provide creative solutions or help us constructively resolve conflict. Consider the distinction between the false dichotomy of “black or white” and the accurate dichotomy of “black or non-black”. Non-black includes a vast range of colors spanning shades of gray, the colors of the rainbow, and the infinite shades of colors in between. Yet all of these rich and varied possibilities are dismissed when we accept the false dichotomy of “black or white”.  The red rose, green grass, blue sky, and golden sunshine all disappear when we focus narrowly on “black or white” rather than “black or non-black”.

False dichotomies confuse complements with opposites. The complement of black is non-black, which includes a wide range of colors. The opposite of black is anti black, which is the single color we call white.

Using the phrase “I think of this somewhat differently . . .” can create a useful transition when you are confronted with a false dilemma or a question based on false assumptions. It creates space for introducing an alternative viewpoint and moving the conversation in a more constructive direction.

Mind Reading: You conclude, incorrectly and without considering other alternatives or testing your assumptions, that you understand how another person is thinking and what their reasons and motives are for taking a particular action. This is an example of the Fundamental Attribution Error where you incorrectly attribute an action or intent to an agent. One example of this is drawing a negative conclusion in the absence of supporting information. Focusing only on evidence that supports a negative position, while neglecting to consider alternative positive explanations is the fallacy of not considering representative evidence. It is false to conclude the “he must hate me because he didn't say 'hi' to me.” There are many plausible explanations for why he neglected to say “hi”.

Personalization (Egocentric bias, self-reference): This is the fallacy of incorrectly thinking that everything people say or do is a reaction to you. It is an egocentric viewpoint where you attribute personal meaning to everything that happens. Face it, you are not really that important nor influential. This point-of-view often causes the predator to view himself as the true victim; their cause is just and is not to be thwarted. It also often results in a set of self-centered rules.

Attribution Errors: It is a fallacy to believe you can correctly know a person's intent for behaving as they do. Their actions may or may not be deliberate. The person may not even be aware of what they are doing. Their actions may or may not be directed at you. Their actions may have unintended consequences or may result from an accident or chance. We judge others based on behavior and we judge ourselves based on intent. It is difficult to determine cause when only effect can be observed. This error is so common and so misleading it has been named the Fundamental Attribution Errorexternal.jpg (FAE).

Intentional Stance: A class of attribution errors based on the belief that outcomes only result from an agent's intent, and that bad things are the result of intentional evil. One example is attributing natural disasters such as drought, floods, and hurricanes to the revenge of supernatural forces. Personal examples, such as attributing the difficulties faced by the Nazis to the “diabolical Jew”, quickly provide a basis for distrust and hate. Intent cannot be reliably inferred from behavior.

Pattern Discernment: We may think we see a pattern that isn't there; the outcomes are simply the result of random events. Or we can think we recognize a pattern that is different from what we actually see. We may also fail to recognize a pattern that is present.

Catastrophizing: You anticipate an unreasonable disaster based on a small problem. Every scrap of bad news turns into an inevitable tragedy. It is the error of using a personal, pervasive, and permanent explanatory style despite contrary evidence. This is another example of the more general fallacy of basing a conclusion on unrepresentative evidence.  Consider a broader range of representative evidence before drawing a conclusion. Strike a realistic balance between optimistic and pessimistic views. Skip the histrionics.

Control fallacies: It is a fallacy to mistake what you can change for what you cannot change. Do not underestimate the degree of control you have for your own actions. You are not helpless, powerless, nor perpetually a victim. Examine the alternatives you have for taking action and  responsibly for your life. Also do not overestimate your responsibility for the happiness and pain of others. Be realistic in evaluating the power and influence you do and do not have over yourself and others.

Fallacy of Fairness: Your sense of justice may not be shared widely and is certainly not shared universally. The world may not be fair, or at least it may not always work according to what you feel is fair. Examine your own sense of justice and continue to reconcile it with what happens in the world.  The principle of empathy is a good basis for justice. Anger is the emotion that urges us to act on our sense of justice. Choose your battles carefully to make the most constructive use of your limited time, energy, and other resources. Don't harbor resentment at every injustice you perceive, and examine your feelings of self righteousness. Gather evidence to make an informed decision.

Outward Causes: We are biased to think that basically we are all right and that therefore our difficulties are caused by outward causes. This leads us quickly to blame others for our difficulties. It also opens the door to hating others because we blame them for our difficulties. This fallacy describes an inappropriate external locus of control.

Blaming: Do not be quick to hold others responsible for your pain. Do not blame yourself unjustifiably for the failures of others. Consider a broad range of representative evidence, including the likelihood that there are many causes contributing to each outcome, before drawing a conclusion. See disproportionate responsibility, below.

Disproportionate Responsibility: (Single causes) Generally many causes contribute to each result, outcome, event, or incident. For example, the causes contributing to an automobile accident can include: design of the automobile, manufacture of the automobile, maintenance of the automobile, design of the road system, weather conditions, driver training, driver preparation, driver attention, choice of vehicle, choice of route, choice of time and schedule, passenger behavior, pedestrians, obstacles, traffic signals, other cars and drivers on the road, and other factors. Be objective when assessing blame or taking credit. Divide the responsibility for the good or the bad result proportionality among each of the contributors, based on how their actions or inactions affected the result. Perhaps you deserve some of the credit or must take some of the blame, but it is unlikely you or they are solely responsible. Don't make the mistake of polarized thinking when assessing responsibility. Don't attribute undue blame to a scapegoat.

Should (counterfactual thinking, imperatives): Don't get angry every time someone does not act according to your ideal. The word “should” is a plea to behave according to a particular (often implicit) set of values and beliefs. Examine those beliefs, and decide if they really do apply to the person or situation that is irritating you. What is the evidence? What can you change and what can't you change? It is unreasonable to expect that others will act according to your ideal vision of their behavior or role, especially when your preferences are unstated. See the fallacy of change, below.

Fallacy of Change: It is unrealistic to believe you can change other peoples' nature, personality, deeply ingrained habits, or strongly held beliefs. Be realistic about what you can change and what you cannot. Do not depend unrealistically on others for your own well being.

Ignorance: Choosing to ignore or dismiss relevant information, choosing a narrow worldview; refusing to inquire, examine, study, and learn; rejecting alternative viewpoints before examining or considering them; ignoring or denying evidence; choosing to stay unaware; and holding desperately to your limited beliefs are all ways to choose ignorance over wisdom and more carefully considered evidence. Blind faith, forgetfulness, and lack of introspection are also forms of ignorance. When coupled with your attachment to an idea, belief, someone, or something, ignorance can surface as pretention, deception, shamelessness, lack of rigor, inconsideration and disrespect of others, and distraction.

With nearly three million Wikipedia articles to study, millions of books to read, more than six billion people to meet, and new discoveries being made every day, no one can know it all. We are all ignorant. In addition, we sometimes choose to ignore readily apparent information that contradicts our beliefs. Avoid this form of deliberate ignore-ance. Stay curious.

Emotional Reasoning: We decide with both our heart and our head. Continue to improve your emotional competency and ensure a healthy and constructive balance of both passion and reason. Identify and verify the assumptions that are being made. Carefully consider the evidence before deciding.  Exercise impulse control while enjoying the constructive passions of life.

Being Right (denial): Dogmatically holding onto an opinion, belief, or defending an action can be a destructive result of stubborn pride. Denial is a failure to acknowledge evidence. Even if you believe you are right, decide if you would rather be right or be happy. Don't waste time pursuing the fallacy of change described above. Examine your sense of justice and the assumptions you are making. Gather evidence to make an informed decision, but even if you are right, it may not be a battle worth fighting. How is this working for you now?

Cognitive Dissonance: Tension between thoughts and actions inconsistent with those thoughts. A tense and uncomfortable contradiction exists unless your actions support your thoughts and beliefs. To close the gap and relieve this tension humans often revise their thoughts to support their actions. People who cannot stop smoking convince themselves that smoking is good. They highlight the relaxation, autonomy, sophistication, weight control, and maturity symbolized by smoking. They certainly don't emphasize the health risks, expense, and filth created by the habit they cannot escape. Irrevocable bad decisions are similarly defended. People who bought the wrong car, lost money in the stock market, went on a disappointing vacation, or got a bad haircut spontaneously invent clever defenses for the actions they are now stuck with. What is remarkable is how strongly we believe these self-justifying stories when we make them up ourselves.

Confabulation: Manufacturing a plausible story to account for surprising events or behavior. People often unknowingly fill gaps in memory with fabrications that they believe to be true. They confuse imagination with memory, or they confuse true memories with false memories. Often people can’t seem to stop themselves from making up explanations after the fact for whatever it was they just did for unconscious reasons.

Optimism: Believing that all is good and everything will turn out fine provides the important benefits of encouraging us to persist toward our goals and overcome obstacles. However, unchecked optimism can easily detach us from the cold harsh truths of reality. Examine the evidence, think critically, allow for skepticism, consider a variety of viewpoints, come to a balanced conclusion, and act responsibly.

Heaven's Reward Fallacy: Don't expect every sacrifice you make to be rewarded. Don't play the martyr. Sometimes life is fair, but too often it is not. No one is coming to save you. You are responsible for your own life, well being, and happiness. Exercise your autonomy and take action because you want to, not because you believe you will mysteriously be rewarded.

Just World Theory: The mistaken belief that good things happen to good people and bad things happen to bad people. This is sometimes used as an excuse to blame the victim; “he got what he deserves.”

Asch Effect: People often change their opinions to agree with the majority, despite the presence of clear contrary evidence. Experiments conducted by Solomon Aschexternal.jpg demonstrated the effects of group pressure on the modification and distortion of individual judgment. Experimental subjects often modified their judgment or estimate of an observation to conform with the majority opinion of a group.

Bias: The tendency to attribute positive motives to in-group members (especially yourself) and negative motives to out-group members (especially those regarded as “the enemy”).

Global Labeling: This is the fallacy of overgeneralization, combined with an unrepresentative stereotype. Suspend judgment until you have an opportunity to meet and understand a person as an individual. Do not generalize one or two qualities into a negative judgment about a person or group. The symbol is not the person.

Stereotypes:  Human memory is organized into schema which are clusters of knowledge or a general conceptual framework that provides expectations about events, objects, people, and situations in life. For example, if you are asked to describe a bird, you are likely to recall some description (prototype) based on a blend of common specific bird species, or you will recall a specific bird you are familiar with. This attribute of memory leads us to rely on stereotypesexternal.jpg. These are simplified and standardized conceptions or images held in common by members of a group. While stereotypes are an essential feature of human memory, they can cause problems when the attributes associated with the group are incorrectly extended to an individual. For example, a common stereotype of a bird includes the ability to fly, however extending that stereotype to a penguin leads to an incorrect conclusion.

Magical Thinking: Believing that the laws of physics, economics, or the laws of cause and effect, don't apply to you. Believing in miracles or believing that wishful thinking or sheer will alone can cause the outcome you are hoping for are examples of magical thinking, as are appeals to paranormal or supernatural phenomena. Don't let optimism exceed the bounds of reality. Hope is not a strategy.

Accepting Repetition as Evidence: Sometimes a person will simply repeat their opinion when asked to provide evidence to justify an assertion or belief they have expressed. They may repeat their position emphatically, engage in various dominance displays, highlight various power symbols, show impatience, or assert their positional power as they simply repeat their opinion. A variation of this fallacy is to claim “everyone knows . . . is true” as the evidence. But repetition is not evidence, and it should not be accepted as evidence.

Assumptions, Opinions, Rumors become fact: It is easy for assumptions, opinion, or rumors to be accepted as fact. This can happen if these ideas or stories seem reasonable on the surface, or they support your views or interests, if they advance some hoped for outcome, or they are expressed by someone in authority or someone you trust, if the stories are fun to tell, or if others you know also share these beliefs. The incorrect assumption, opinion, and rumor that the earth is the center of the universe went unchallenged by millions of people for perhaps thousands of years. Other rumors and unchallenged assumptions can be even more destructive. When you hear a rumor, take the time to challenge itExternal Link, identify and examine the source, and get independent confirmation of it before passing it on. Don't accept myths, legends, and other speculations and fiction as fact.

Reification: is a fallacy of ambiguity. It is the error of treating an abstract construct as if it represents a concrete event or physical entity. Grand Canyon and RainbowFor example, a particular painting is a specific, real, physical entity, but “art” is an abstract concept with inherently arbitrary and fuzzy boundaries. Arguing that a particular painting is or is not “art” explores the boundaries of the abstraction, but doesn't tell us anything about the painting. Because our brain creates mental symbols for abstractions as readily as it does for real objects, we are easily fooled into believing that our particular concept of “art”, “truth”, “beauty”, “good”, “democracy”, “justice”, or “government” is real, well defined, widely shared, and correct. A related error is to treat a non-living abstraction as if it has intent or judgment. Stating that “The government has decided . . .” falsely attributes intent and responsibility to an abstraction. Remember that abstractions are nothing more than arbitrarily defined, ephemeral, imprecise mental constructs. It may help to think of abstractions like a rainbow. A rainbow is a beautiful emergent phenomenon created in our minds as the result of seeing sunlight refracted through thousands of rain drops. But the rainbow is not real and everyone sees it slightly differently depending on their particular viewpoint. Abstractions are as elusive as the legendary pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. Don't get too attached to them. Operational definitions can help reduce the ambiguity inherent in the abstractions we use.

Sunk Cost Fallacy: Because sunk costs are already spent and cannot be recovered, it is irrational to consider the value of sunk costs when considering alternative actions. Future actions cannot reverse past losses. Economics and business decision-making recognize sunk costs as the costs that have already been incurred and which can never be recovered to any significant degree. Economic theory proposes that a rational actor does not let sunk costs influence a decision because past costs cannot be recovered in any case. This is also called the bygones principle; let bygones be bygones. This recognizes that you cannot change the past. The fallacy of sunk costs is to consider sunk costs when making a decision. Sound business decisions are based on a forward-looking view, ignoring sunk costs. Unfortunately human beings continue to value a past investment of money, effort or some intangible quality (e.g., “credibility” or “face”) independent of the investment's probability of paying future dividends. The irrelevance of sunk costs is a well-know principle of business and economics, but common behavior often ignores this fallacy of trying to undo the past. For example, revenge is an attempt to recover the sunk costs that represent some past and irrevocable harm or loss. People falsely reason “I have too much invested to quit now” when it is rational to only look at the future prospects of the activity. Arguing that “we must continue to fight to honor those who have already died” is another tragic but appealing fallacy of sunk costs.

Suggestive Context (perception set): Sometimes the context in which information is presented is so familiar, or so compelling, that we quickly perceive evidence or draw conclusions without sufficient checking. We then hold firmly to these incorrect conclusions. Here are some examples to try yourself: A bat and a ball cost $1.10 in total. The bat costs $1 more than the ball. How much does the ball cost? Write down your answer. Double check your answer. Now read the correct answer here. For a second example: Look at the following text

FINISHED FILES ARE THE
RESULT OF YEARS OF SCIENTIFIC
STUDY COMBINED WITH THE
EXPERIENCE OF YEARS

How many times do you see the letter ‘F’ in the sentence above? Count them only once. Write down your answer. Now read the correct answer here.

Mere Exposure Effect: People prefer objects they have been previously exposed to, even if that exposure was so brief they do not recall it. Feelings apparently come first. Affect—our subjective feeling about something—precedes and strongly influences our cognitive judgments about what we like and don't like. Quite often a statement such as: “I decided in favor of X” is no more than an after-the-fact justification—aconfabulation—for the vague feeling that: “I liked X.” Most of the time information collected about alternatives serves us less for making a decision than for justifying it afterward. Advertisers exploit this effect when they get you to prefer their product simply because you have seen it first or more often.

The “Seven Sins” Of Memory: Although we tend to think of our memories as retaining a perfect record of our experiences, human memory distorts in these seven ways, documented by Daniel Schacterexternal.jpg:

  1. Transience: Memories fade over time.
  2. Absent-mindedness: Lapses of attention cause us to forget temporarily.
  3. Blocking: When conflicting demands are placed on our memory, they may interfere with each other and block recall. The word may make it to the tip of your tongue but no further.
  4. Misattribution: Memories are retrieved, but they are associated with the wrong time, place, or person.
  5. Suggestibility: Memory is distorted to agree with a suggested result. See “suggestive context” above.
  6. Bias: Memory is distorted by our own attitudes, beliefs, emotions, point-of-view, or experiences.
  7. Persistence: Sometimes unwanted memories cannot be put out of mind.

The Ego Defense Mechanisms: These distortions help us avoid accepting evidence that challenges our self-image as a good and worthy person or that challenge our strongly held stereotypes. Perhaps they act to reduce anxiety, but because they are distortions, they are not helpful in the longer term.

  1. Denial: arguing against an anxiety-provoking stimuli by stating it doesn't exist. Refusing to perceive the more unpleasant aspects of external reality.
  2. Displacement: taking out impulses on a less threatening target. The mind redirects emotion from a ‘dangerous’ object to a ‘safe’ object.
  3. Intellectualization: avoiding unacceptable emotions by focusing on their intellectual aspects. Concentrating on the intellectual components of the situation to distance yourself from the anxiety-provoking emotions associated with these situations.
  4. Projection: moving unacceptable impulses in yourself onto someone else. Attributing to others your own unacceptable or unwanted thoughts or emotions.
  5. Rationalization: supplying a logical or rational reason as opposed to the real reason. Constructing a logical justification for a decision that was originally arrived at through a different mental process.
  6. Reaction formation: taking the opposite belief because the true belief causes anxiety.
  7. Regression: returning to a previous stage of development. Reverting to an earlier stage of development in the face of unacceptable impulses.
  8. Repression: pulling thoughts into the unconscious and preventing painful or dangerous thoughts from entering consciousness.
  9. Sublimation: acting out unacceptable impulses in a socially acceptable way.
  10. Humor: Refocusing attention on the somewhat comical side of the situation to relieve negative tension; similar to comic relief.

Quotations

  • “You're entitled to your own opinions, but you're not entitled to your own facts.” ~ Senator Daniel Patrick Moynahan
  • “The human understanding when it has once adopted an opinion (either as being the received opinion or as being agreeable to itself) draws all things else to support and agree with itself.” ~ Francis Baconexternal.jpg, (1561-1626)
  • “A lie can get halfway around the world before the truth can even get its boots on.” ~ Mark Twainexternal.jpg
  • “Ignorance is a choice.” ~ Neriah Lothamer
  • “The greatest of faults, I should say, is to be conscious of none.” ~ Thomas CarlyleExternal Link
  • “‘I have done that,’ says my memory, ‘I cannot have done that,’ says my pride, and remains inexorable. Eventually—memory yields.” ~ Friedrich NietzscheExternal Link
  • “The saddest lies are the ones we tell ourselves.” ~ Lucille Clifton
  • “Our mental limitations prevent us from accepting our mental limitations.” ~ Robert A. Burton
  • “Wisdom is ‘seeing through the illusion’” ~ McKee & Barber

References:

A Mind of its Own: How Your Brain Distorts and Deceives, by Cordelia Fine

Vital Lies Simple Truths: The Psychology of Self Deception, by Daniel Goleman

Prisoners of Hate: The Cognitive Basis of Anger, Hostility, and Violence, by Aaron T. Beck

Decision making and behavioral biasesexternal.jpg, Wikipedia entry.

Asch conformity experimentsexternal.jpg, Wikipedia entry.

Influence: The Psychology of Persuasion, by Robert B. Cialdini

Destructive Emotions: A Scientific Dialogue with the Dalai Lama, by Daniel Goleman

Mistakes Were Made (But Not by Me), by Carol Tavris and Elliot Aronson

On Being Certain: Believing You Are Right Even When You're Not, by  Robert Burton

Greenwald, A. G. (1980). The totalitarian ego: Fabrication and revision of personal history. American Psychologist, 35, 603-618.

An Encyclopedia of Claims, Frauds, and Hoaxes of the Occult and Supernaturalexternal.jpg, by The James Randi Educational Foundation

Psychology of Intelligence Analysis: Biases in Perception of Cause and Effectexternal.jpg, Chapter 11, Center for theStudy of Intelligence, Central Intelligence Agency, 1999

Maps of Bounded Rationality: A Perspective on Intuitive Judgment and Choiceexternal.jpg, Nobel Prize Lecture, December 8, 2002 by Daniel Kahneman

Feeling and Thinking, Preferences Need No Inferences, by R. B. Zajonc, University of Michigan, American Psychologist, February, 1980.

One Red Shoeexternal.jpg, a movie farce, staring a young Tom Hanks, based on distorted thinking.