Where is Art going? Where is Art going?Consider a wolf ... If we envision him in the context of larger and
larger systems
we end up seeing him as an infinitesimal speck in the universe. If
we instead
dissect the wolf and continue dividing until we single out the minutest
particles
which comprise his body, we encounter the quarks and leptons which
in part
explain the large scale structure of the universe. Quarks and leptons
help to explain
the Big Bang. In return, the Big Bang derives quarks and leptons. Neither
is more
primitive than the other, and the wolf (now howling at the moon) is
also on an equal
footing with these primitive things. The wolf, his macrocosm and his
microcosm
are clasped in a Copernican unity with heaven on earth. There is no
ultimate seat
or center of understanding. Everything is equally important whether
it be blacks or
whites, Muslims, Christians, Hindus, biology or cosmology, or even
government
versus private initiative. Yes, we are one and love makes the world
go round ...
... enter: Ode to Joy
Freude, schöner Götterfunken,
Tochter aus Elysium
wir betreten feuertrunken,
Himmlische, dein Heiligtum!
Deine Zauber binden wieder,
was die Mode streng geteilt;
alle Menschen werden Brüder,
wo dein sanfter Flügel weilt.*
In English:
Joy, thou gleaming spark divine,
Daughter from Elysium,
drunk with ardor, we draw near,
goddess, to thy shrine!
Your magic unites again
what fashion harshly separates;
All mankind become brothers
where thy gentle wing tarries.
Beethoven forged and sub-created using Schiller's lyrics for 30 years.
During this period, the French Revolution and the Reign of Terror tore
Europe asunder. Beethoven's audience was in no mood to hear about
brotherhood, and yet, he relit the spark! He coaxed Love & Joy
& Mystery
from the void, from the uncarved block.
If Michelangelo and Leonardo were alive today, standing upon the shoulders
of the Ancients, what would they create? What would Leonardo do with
a Nikon
camera? He would marvel at its precision and explore the processes
of photography.
He might tremble and think, "All of the work is done for me, automatically.
What
is there left for me to do?" Indeed, 99% of the work is managed by
technology.
It is in the remaining 1%, this precious mustard seed, that the manifestation
of our
spirit hinges. The entire value of a picture depends on how well we
prepare to look
through the camera's viewfinder. The meaning of the cosmos is precariously
balanced
in our own hands; snap at random and all of the meaning is gone. Pause,
think and
squeeze affectionately, and just maybe you'll give a bit of sanctity
to a fleeting moment.
Just imagine, Leonardo, the photographer, the spirit-capturer, the
cosmographer.
What fun!
If we do not put up a fight, science and technology can destroy our
art and reduce everything
to frenzied matter. Leonardo and Michelangelo were scientists before
there was any science
in the modern sense. For them, "science" was art's advocate. Their
anatomical studies and
dissections inflamed their art with truth and intelligence. With their
knowledge of perspective
they reached beyond architecture and created (like gods) entire frameworks
(cities if you will)
for seeing and being. Imagine Michelangelo today, the urban planner!
For him, the kingdom
of God would be an interior dream, nourished by Christ, whose fulfillment
is precariously
balanced in our own delicate hands. The future would not be determined;
it would not even
exist! It would be replaced by awesome possibilities -- both wonderful
and terrible. Base
matter would be holy clay from which almost anything can be created.
Reality would be
just the beginning the gods would still wish to be human. The terrors
of Newton, free-markets
and Darwin would be overpowered by the joys of unfettered freedom and
sheer potential.
"Arise homo erectus and stand tall; be not ashamed; open your hearts
and spread your wings,"
would be Michelangelo's message. "Stop your grovelling and create!
Plunge into the river of
life and embrace life. Don't worry. Breathe in, relax and let the seeds
of the ancients grow in
your soul. Your finest dreams have yet to come. Stroke the river with
confidence and dive
into its currents."
Of old sat Freedom on the heights,
The thunders breaking at her feet;
Above her shook the starry lights;
She heard the torrents meet.
. . . . . . .
Her open eyes desire the truth.
The wisdom of a thousand years
Is in them. May perpetual youth
Keep dry their light from tears.
. . . . . . .*
