I would have said both of those reactions have directly to do with an inability to fully understand something!
Did you read GEB? It is definitely not about what you said it’s about above. Hoffstadter certainly doesn’t think it has “spiritual” implications, and as for philosophy, Escher’s work was used playfully to illustrate certain parts of Hoffstadter’s theory of mind, but not as a source of anything particularly deeply philosophical.
Take the video you linked to about hyperbolic geometry in Escher’s Angels and Demons. The thing is–once you hear the sentence “he used hyperbolic geometry” then look at the work, if you know what hyperbolic geometry is, then that’s it. You actually have completely understood the thing. There’s (I’m sorry this is a little rude of me to say I guess) literally nothing to be awed by anymore. That’s exactly why I don’t think Escher is great art.
I don’t think understanding is the key.
Understanding is a purely rational process. Awe and the sublime are intuitive, emotional reactions.
I think emotions are triggered by our understanding, and contribute to it, such that very often emotions can be explained as part of the rational process.
Our disagreements run pretty deep I guess!
Yes, and the implications are clear: Escher’s art is held out as an example of one of the keys to understanding conciousness - and tha is, the use of self-referentiality, or “strange loops”. Escher does this visually as Bach does it with his music (and Godel, through math). The real topic isn’t art, or music, or math - it is conciousness, and how conciousness arises out of paradox recursion.
If you don’t believe me - perhaps you will believe the author.
[Emphasis added]
https://prelectur.stanford.edu/lecturers/hofstadter/excerpts.html
The “implications” of Escher’s work go far beyond the mere technical tricks used he used to make it (impressive as they are). Check out the second video, on the spiritual,religious dimensions of the tessilated works of the Arabs in the Alhambra - the use of mathematical geometric patterns to depict the divine.
Escher studied these patterns extensively, and he is deliberately playing with such notions in “angels and devils” - on several levels. I can explai further if you are interested.
You may not have “gotten” this, but it does not mean it is not there.
It was in part that very quote I had in mind when I said what I said! Part of what he’s reacting against at the top of the quote you provided is precisely the tendency to attach some kind of mystico-philosophical depth to the topics he discussed that he didn’t intend people to get from his work.
Escher is used, just as it says in what you quoted, as an illustrative analogy to explain, among other things, the concept of a strange loop. He does this, not because there’s any particular depth to Escher’s work, but because it helps him explain a concept which is part of his theory of consciousness. Just as I said. What he said in what you quoted is exactly what I said, not what you said.
I am interested in hearing more about what depths are in the work concerning the divine. I am doubtful from the outset that there is much to say about that. In a similar work, he did fish and geese. Are we to say there were depths concerning biology in that work?
Note, however, that if you show me such depths, it will be precisely because I have discovered that there is more to understand, that I haven’t finished understanding it that I’ll begin to suspect there’s more greatness than I thought. Heads I win…
I don’t *demand * a political commentary from Escher. I was just using this as an example of the many, many things that you will not find in his work, which is why I consider it limited and thus not Great Art.
And as far political commentary is concerned, I wouldn’t be so sure that you cannot find it in Bach. Perhaps in his secular cantatas. Or in The Musical Offering. Some people interpret the latter partly as Bach saying: “I’ll teach this young arrogant king a lesson or two”. It’s not just carb-canons and retrograde inversions.
Well, I wouldn’t disagree with that. Again, I never said that I understood everything about Art.
Huh? You are directly contradicting what is posted. His work is about how conciousness develops. What " … kind of mystico-philosophical depth to the topics he discussed that he didn’t intend people to get … " are you attributing to me?
I simply don’t understand how you derive “no particular depth” from the quoted source. He’s clearly inspired by Escher, for the exact reason that Escher demonstrates, in his work, the exact same concepts he - the author - is analysing. It isn’t a mere “illustration”: it’s the fact that Escher is animated by the same “fascination” with the exact same concepts!
Read the quote again:
Indeed, if you had watched the video further you would have discovered that there was more to it than “hyperbolic space” - the angels are depicted with rounded shapes and the devils with spikey, aggressive shapes - the commentator mentions that ‘when composition follows meaning, there is fascination’ or something of that sort. Did you pick that up on first viewing? I didn’t.
The Arabs used non-representational art to depict the divine and eschewed visual depictions. Escher is deliberately using the tessilation form to depict heaven and hell in the form of angels and devils, which is already a visual pun: the contrast beyween the Christian symbology and the Islamic form.
However, they are locked together, and retreat into infinity at the edge, with each devil and angel fitting together perfectly - so, a depiction, not of Judeo-Christian values exactly, but rather something more akin to the Taoist symbology of everything containing its opposite (compare with the Taoist symbol: http://taoism.about.com/od/visualsymbols/ig/Taoist-Symbols/Yin-Yang-Symbol.--jj.htm ).
In a nutshell, it is in a sense a tri-cultural pun.
There is, as I said, “more to it” than the technical effort that went into making it.
I’ve intentionally stayed out the “Art” with a capital-A or “Great Art” discussion and lopped him generically into one of the great visual artists category to avoid having to make this distinction. I’m not entirely sure it’s useful, although art critics do seem to enjoy “high art” vs “low art” or “fine art” vs “decorative” or “applied art.”
I do hear what you’re saying, though. Escher does not evoke the kind of emotional impact in me that many other artists do. To me, his work is interesting, clean, but very left-brained and “calculated.” Does that preclude it from being Great Art? No, it’s just that that doesn’t particularly resonate on a strong emotional level with me (although it does so intellectually). However, a lot of the artists I do consider Great (in my personal pantheon) and do resonate with me emotionally – Rothko, Pollack, Kandinsky, Richter – don’t resonate with others on any level at all, so how can I possibly draw a line?
I’d rather celebrate all these artists, and not worry about what it means to be “Great Art” versus just art. And I see no reason to disbelieve people who say they have an emotional reaction to his work. It tends to stimulate more the literal side of the brain, but I can understand people getting emotional contemplating infinity, impossible dimensional spaces, etc. I do get a sense of forboding and even fear from a lot of his illustrations. Many are, to put it simply, quite creepy if you really contemplate them and insert yourself into the fictional three-dimensional space they portray.
At any rate, what I do love about Escher and what I love about the other artists that I react to on an emotional level above, is that they all show me the unreal, the impossible, the nearly unimaginable. And for me, as a viewer, that’s what I want out of my art. I don’t want to see reality. I want the art to take my eyes and mind to places it couldn’t even conceive of. And, despite the analytic nature of much of his work, Escher does take me there. My stimulation with his work is more intellectual than emotional, so I see your original point, but, in the end, it does satisfy one of the biggest reasons for wanting art in my life. So he’ll always be a great artist to me. Whether he’s one of “The Greats of Fine Art” or simply just one of the great illustrators of history, is not an interesting distinction. For me, personally, he gets a small ‘g’. But in the wide scheme of things, I’m happy to lop him in with the capital Gs.
Yes, GEB is about how consciousness develops (and more broadly, about his theory of mind). That’s what I said.
You said GEB was written on the “topic of the spiritual and philosophical implications of Escher’s work,” among other topics.
In the book, Escher’s stuff is used to illustrate concepts Hoffstadter wants to make use of in explaining his own theory of mind. This is a simple fact about the book, and nothing in the quote contradicts it. If you don’t agree with this fact about Hoffstadter’s book, our best bet is to start looking at the book itself–and I don’t really have the time for that unfortunately.
I don’t know what the commentator’s quote means, but as to the spikey-round distinction, yes, I “picked that up” on a first viewing. It’s a basic feature of the representations. It’s what gives them their “flavor” for lack of a better word coming immediately to mind.
Well… I guess what I can say about this is you’re articulating references that are in the work. To me they’re not particularly illuminating references. They don’t make me think or feel anything new, either about the referents or the things referring. And Escher’s work doesn’t strike me as being likely to have any kind of hold on me, any shaping influence, as I go on to investigate the things referred to. The Escher doesn’t tie my understanding of these things together. It just says to me “look at all this neat stuff.” Upon going on to look at all the neat stuff, I can forget about the Escher. All of this makes me continue not to think the work is a great one. But as they say, “that’s just me.”
[slightly tangential anecdote ahead]
I have to say, when I was a child, when I was falling asleep, one thing scared me more than any other. I grew up Catholic, believing in an infinite afterlife. I would fall asleep and think about what it would be like to live forever. And, as a child, I was somehow able to better grasp it and believe it than I can today: to go round and round and round with no beginning and no end. And, frankly, that scared the shit out of me as much, if not more, than the idea of mortal finality. Escher–even though he might not be one of the Greats in my pantheon–captures that feeling in some of his art. No other artist or illustrator I know does.
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… it is also, rather more to the point, what I said.
To my mind, the origin of conciousness (and the theory of mind) is a “spiritual and philosophical” matter. Indeed, the most profound one.
It is a “simple fact” that we have above a quote by the author himself stating the significance of Escher as being significant to him because he was “fascinated” (his word) with exactly the same concepts that the author believes are fundamental to conciousness.
It isn’t necessary, in the face of that, to do more extensive research.
Congratulations, you are more perceptive than I. I did not pick up on that.
I’ve taken your challenge and articulated some of the things I’ve found in Escher’s art over and above the technical. You may not find them impressive - that’s fine. Though you can hardly claim to have known them ‘at a glance’.
But can you take the same challenge and articulate what, beyond the obvious, you think is is impressive about (say) the Rothko Chapel, the example you mentioned above of “great art”? What mysteries are available there, that makes anyone think or feel ‘something new’? To go on and investigate further?
Again, I haven’t seen it other than in pictures, but to me it looks like any other late sixties/early seventies brutalist-inspired “meditative space” in shades of grey.
Rothko always comes up in threads on Art. It’s like the Godwin Point of Aesthetics :D.
What kind of awe? Scary, dark awe? Looking at a newborn awe? Looking at a mountain awe? Thinking about death awe?
I’m not sure what the “it” refers to here. Is “it” the painting itself, or the concept of greatness? Either way, I don’t see how subjectivity precludes meaning. “Great” is a pure value judgement. If you describe something as “great,” that means that you think it is superior to other things of it’s kind. That’s a pretty clear meaning right there, and it’s in no way predicated on any sort of universality or objective truth. Whether there’s a million people who agree with you, or none at all, the statement “I think this is great,” contains exactly the same information: what you think about the subject.
None of those are objective factors.
I have no problem with the idea that some things are better than others. I’m just not so arrogant to think that my opinions equate to objective reality. Why is it so important to you that your opinions on art are recognized as being “right?”
Certainly claiming something is “great” is a claim that it is, objectively and not just subjectively, “greater” than other things of the same kind. The claim may be right or it may be wrong - which is why people marshall evidence and argument to support one side or the other, when the issue is questioned.
Was Alexander the Great a greater emperor than Augustus? I may think one thing or I may think another, marshalling evidence and argument - and maybe one side is more convincing than another - but one thing is certain, the two of them were “greater” as emperors than Jimmy the Greek.
Someone proclaiming Jimmy the Greek as the greatest emperor of all time isn’t simply expressing an equally-valid opinion on the topic, he’s delusional. That’s because Jimmy the Greek didn’t, in fact, rule squat.
On the contrary. I can say without hesitation that Rembrandt had better oil painting technique than I, and I can prove it by demonstrating that he knows many more techniques, has better brush control, etc. It’s an “objective factor”. Obviously, it is not as easily measurable as (say) the ability to run the hundred-yard dash, but it is absurd ton say that there isn’t any objective difference between being able to use one’s materials well, and not being able to do so.
It isn’t important to me in the slightest whether I, personally, am “right” or not; nor do I think my views ‘correspond with objective reality’. I could be, with evidence and argument, convinced I am “wrong”. What I can’t be convinced of, is that there is no such thing as “good” or “bad” when it comes to deciding matters of art, other than one’s say-so, because, you know, everything is subjective and so a can of poo is “just as good as” a Rembrandt, if only someone (such as an art critic) thinks it is.
To my mind, that position is arrogance itself - it makes meaningless such trivial matters as skill or talent (as who is to say what those are?). It elevates the critic over the artist. Worse, this notion leads and has led to a whole pile of crappy art.
I don’t know why this concept is so hard.
Take a dollar bill, for example. Does it have any intrinsic worth? Or does it have worth simply because lots of people have decided that it has worth?
The same is true of art. A work of art is “great” if a particular receptive community agrees that it’s great. There is no intrinsic greatness to a work outside the collective judgment of a particular community.
Anything else is just an attempt to impose your own aesthetic standards on everyone else by fiat.
A fascinating discussion, but ultimately not what the OP is looking for, arguably.
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From a “Fine Art” standpoint, it is clear that, today, MC Escher’s works have value, but not the stratospheric prices that some of his contemporaries’ work are getting. Will that change? No one has a crystal ball, but I would suspect that it will likely remain somewhat like this.
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From an Art as Idea / power of his Ideas standpoint: Yes, for what he did, Escher is held up as one of THE greats. Producing art/illustrations that capture the “magic” of Paradox, Infinity and other scientific, mathematical and philosophical concepts.
Now - why are the two different? It depends on how you define Great
“Great” has two meanings: “more than,” and “better than.” The former, obviously, is objective. The latter is not.
Your example provides an interesting contrast between the two usages. You could argue for Alexander over Augustus being the greater emperor in terms amount of land conquered, number of military victories achieved, size of enemy armies routed, and so forth. But hidden in that objective discussion is a subjective assumption: that being a successful conqueror is a good thing. Was Alexander a great emperor? No. He was a bloodthirsty tyrant who reveled in the slaughter of his fellow human beings.
Okay, sure. One of the factors on your list was quasi-objective.
Of course, that still leaves the subjective question, “Is the ability to accurately represent real objects desirable?”
Really? You think you could be presented with an argument so compelling that you would actually stop liking Bach?
That’s pretty remarkable.
Of course there’s such a thing as “good” and “bad” in art. They’re value judgements that have no universal worth outside your individual frame of reference, but they still exist as philosophical concepts, and, obviously, have immense importance to your own existential experience.
You know who hated Shakespeare? Leo Tolstoy. George Bernard Shaw, too. Both were learned men, highly successful playwrights, who wrote, at length, on their dislike of the Bard, with detailed descriptions of his gross inadequacies. Were they wrong? Were these criticisms incorrect?
Fuck yeah, I think so. I love Shakespeare, and I find their arguments against him, in general, to range from the tedious to the absurd. But I’m not going to change their mind about Shakespeare. There’s no argument I could present them that’s going to change their mind about how much they like him. There’s no explanation that’s going to make them suddenly start enjoying Hamlet. And likewise, they’re not going to give me an argument that’s going to prevent the St. Crispin’s Day speech from giving me goosebumps, or well up when Juliet wakes to find Romeo in the crypt.
So, how do I resolve this? These men, in every respect my superiors in education and accomplishment, both of whom I esteem on their own merits, tell me I’m wrong. That where I see strength, there’s really weakness. That where I see greatness, there’s really rot. Do I deny the validity of my own experience, or do I deny theirs? Or do I recognize that the strengths and faults of the work exist not in the work itself, but in the interplay between the work and the audience?
Well, crappy art has existed in spades long before post modernist thought came around.
But you’ve missed something fundamental about the philosophy if you think it elevates the critic. The central concept here is that all opinions are equally valid. This elevates the audience - but it annihilates the critic.
Gosh, art threads get polemical in way that other innocuous topics don’t.
My two cents: there’s a difference between “stuff a lot of people really really like and are moved by and find value in” and “stuff that art historians see as being formally/ conceptually innovative at a particular time and place” and “things that the art market/collecting world, which is a very, very strange animal, values”.
I a) love Escher on a personal level, and think his stuff is great to view and offers a rich experience and I like it and it was one of my first arty loves, but,
b) as an art historian (Dr Capybara, PhD History of Art and Architecture. Fire away.) I see that his formal style/medium/etc is not especially innovative for its time and place but is rather traditional; it does participate in a long tradition of optical realism and a sort of magical realism/surrealism, and adds a twist of optical illusion and math games, which is fun, but formally and conceptually isn’t breaking any super-new ground in his time; and
c) in terms of the basic collectors’ market, he put out a lot of prints and other multiples, which will never command prices like paintings and one-off sculptures simply because they aren’t unique objects; the drawings will be valued more, of course. In terms of the Not-So-Basic, elite-large-cash market like the one Tom Wolfe’s screed is about and we all love/hate, it has its own agendas and values. . . oh, it’s hard to say. It’s a different game in there.
So “great”? A: Sure! B: Oh, he’s ok, yeah, but not one of the top 50 most innovative for his century. He’s a good example of his kind of thing, though, and an interesting 20th-c take on/updating of older traditions. C: Who? Oh, works on paper? How very quaint. . . Who’s already bid on it?