Austin Emerson
Half-Page 11/21/08
This week I made my way into the 70s in The Modern Mind, reading about the Moon landing, the counterculture, and the grotesque evolution of Capitalism, among other things. The chapters I read this week were an interesting bunch. One section was on historical reconstructions, examining past times and trying to reconstruct the thoughts and sensibilities of their people. I felt a pang of sympathy for these researchers.
One man, whose name I can't remember, looked at the history of Christianity, noting how there had been periods of Christianity marked by "magick" and superstition, while other periods were marked by a strict adherence to the scriptures. Elsewhere, archaeologists were busy digging up any and all evidence of the real Jesus, attempting to explain the past.
This was a difficult time for Christianity. The heavens were being tread upon by astronauts, biblical verses were being discredited as mere plagiarisms of other scriptures, and science was taking on God-like powers. Where I left off in the book, the author was explaining how two innovations would turn the world upside down. The first was information technology – computers. The second was biotechnology, the isolation and replication of certain gene strands. Scientists had finally figured out how to deconstruct and rebuild the basic building blocks of life.
One of the things I noticed when reading about this period was the diminished role of artists. Watson touches upon this briefly, noting that, increasingly, the bestseller list was full of scientific/sociological/pop-psychological books, rather than works of fiction. Pop art was the new thing in the art world, a phenomenon that the art purists of the early 20th century would have spurned. It is my belief that science had become so great a force that the role of the artist was irrevocably diminished. Art became self-conscious and ironic, a medium whose goal was "to produce new sensations in the viewer" rather than to effect any change in society or make any serious statements. Novels lost their popularity and spiraled into increasingly Postmodern forms.
The new society was too scientific, too urgent, to make room for art. It was during this period that scientists began seriously theorizing about the beginnings of the universe; what came before and what would come next. How could art compete with such claims?
It was also the period of the development of the counterculture, a loose conglomeration of Ivy-League sociologists, alienated university students, and fringe mystics. This is a testament to the turns society was taking, and how many disagreed. The word technocratic embodies this brave new world, and the technocracy can have only grown since then. At the same time, many accused the counterculture as being inconsolably narcissistic, subscribing to any ideas that allow them to shift the blame for their problems onto someone else.
In previous chapters, Watson identified a number of thinkers who thought that American society as a whole was marked by narcissism. The American people were "obsessed with their own psychological development," which results in a culture that is bereft of, well, culture.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Thoughts
Just doing some re-calibrating...
Modern psychologists agree that the human mind is made up of equal parts nature and nurture. Hence, 50% of who we are is determined by the world around us. If we hold this to be true, then the examination and analysis of culture is a crucial activity, one that has the potetial to yield enormous results. However, it is also a laborious activity, requiring hours of study and research. It's also easy to screw up. The question "which came first, the chicken or the egg?" can be modified in cultural study to say "Which came first: the cultural product or the environment that produced it?" In short, where does culture begin and where does it end? The output – that which determines "culture" (art, literature, advertisments, etc.) – is at once a product of the culture and a producer of culture, resulting in a constant push-pull relationship between a culture and its members. Just like the electron, we can never know with absolute certainty the position of culture and its velocity, not least because publishing a corpus on such a phenomenon would inevitably change that velocity.
Luckily, we can look back at past cultures and analyze those with a closer degree of accuracy. This of course brings its own host of problems, most of which stem from the well-publicized unreliability of memory. But, nevertheless, looking at the past has proved itself to be much more fruitful than trying to put your hands around the effervescent present.
For the past few months, I've studied the past. Namely, the 20th century. This has been mostly through the lens of intellectual achievement, and not as much physical history. I've been whirlwinded through Einstein, the Frankfurt School, WIlliam James, Niehls Bohr, the atom, the division of the atom, etc. etc.. My goal was to trace the cultural history of the world since 1900. (This goal may or may not be shortened to the cultural history of the United States, or the cultural history of Western civilization, but even that term is inaccurate in my opinion, given the differences between culture in France, England, and the U.S., for example)
So let's get down to the meat and potatoes. Our great nation, the United States of America, is usually characterized as the alpha-male of history. We were born of a later generation than England or Germany, and as such, we don't have a complex, entangling history like these other countries. We were born amidst an era of rationalism – the Enlightenment – which purportedly has some effect on our values and beliefs, and, sure enough, America is constantly characterized for its pragmatic approach to life. This is not idle speculation either, seeing as most philosophical output from the U.S. has been of the pragmatic nature. Most, not all. We are unique in that we are the only country that has stuck with its governmental system since day one. Thus, the spirit of Capitalism and Democracy is indelibly wound up in all things American. What words come to mind when you see the colors red, white and blue? Democracy and Capitalism. We are brought up to have a reverence for these twin dragons, and this undoubtedly affects the America conscience. Other countries' political systems come and go with the will of the people, but Americans will never abandon theirs.
America is also based on a certain conceit that isn't mentioned very much. That conceit is this: money=happiness. Hence, money is an ever-present source of tension for Americans. Yet, at the same time, it is the device – developed out of necessity – that lets American society function. A quick glance around the magazines in the library shows the extraordinary degree to which money affects society – nearly every magazine alludes to the saving of money, a crisis in money, or how to solve money problems.
Anthropological and archaeological studies show that money has been around almost as long as humans, and that it is necessary for any complex society to develop. But surely not to the degree which we see today. Money is seen as one of the chief measures of value in American society (one who has no money is basically a non-person, unable to eat, sleep or live anywhere.). The current American debt is 11 trillion dollars. That's $11,000,000,000,000, This number attests to the sheer vastness our society has grown to. As a result, the average person feels ineffectual and small, like the world at large is complex and frightening, ruled by machinery high in the skyscrapers of Washington and Wall Street.
Modern psychologists agree that the human mind is made up of equal parts nature and nurture. Hence, 50% of who we are is determined by the world around us. If we hold this to be true, then the examination and analysis of culture is a crucial activity, one that has the potetial to yield enormous results. However, it is also a laborious activity, requiring hours of study and research. It's also easy to screw up. The question "which came first, the chicken or the egg?" can be modified in cultural study to say "Which came first: the cultural product or the environment that produced it?" In short, where does culture begin and where does it end? The output – that which determines "culture" (art, literature, advertisments, etc.) – is at once a product of the culture and a producer of culture, resulting in a constant push-pull relationship between a culture and its members. Just like the electron, we can never know with absolute certainty the position of culture and its velocity, not least because publishing a corpus on such a phenomenon would inevitably change that velocity.
Luckily, we can look back at past cultures and analyze those with a closer degree of accuracy. This of course brings its own host of problems, most of which stem from the well-publicized unreliability of memory. But, nevertheless, looking at the past has proved itself to be much more fruitful than trying to put your hands around the effervescent present.
For the past few months, I've studied the past. Namely, the 20th century. This has been mostly through the lens of intellectual achievement, and not as much physical history. I've been whirlwinded through Einstein, the Frankfurt School, WIlliam James, Niehls Bohr, the atom, the division of the atom, etc. etc.. My goal was to trace the cultural history of the world since 1900. (This goal may or may not be shortened to the cultural history of the United States, or the cultural history of Western civilization, but even that term is inaccurate in my opinion, given the differences between culture in France, England, and the U.S., for example)
So let's get down to the meat and potatoes. Our great nation, the United States of America, is usually characterized as the alpha-male of history. We were born of a later generation than England or Germany, and as such, we don't have a complex, entangling history like these other countries. We were born amidst an era of rationalism – the Enlightenment – which purportedly has some effect on our values and beliefs, and, sure enough, America is constantly characterized for its pragmatic approach to life. This is not idle speculation either, seeing as most philosophical output from the U.S. has been of the pragmatic nature. Most, not all. We are unique in that we are the only country that has stuck with its governmental system since day one. Thus, the spirit of Capitalism and Democracy is indelibly wound up in all things American. What words come to mind when you see the colors red, white and blue? Democracy and Capitalism. We are brought up to have a reverence for these twin dragons, and this undoubtedly affects the America conscience. Other countries' political systems come and go with the will of the people, but Americans will never abandon theirs.
America is also based on a certain conceit that isn't mentioned very much. That conceit is this: money=happiness. Hence, money is an ever-present source of tension for Americans. Yet, at the same time, it is the device – developed out of necessity – that lets American society function. A quick glance around the magazines in the library shows the extraordinary degree to which money affects society – nearly every magazine alludes to the saving of money, a crisis in money, or how to solve money problems.
Anthropological and archaeological studies show that money has been around almost as long as humans, and that it is necessary for any complex society to develop. But surely not to the degree which we see today. Money is seen as one of the chief measures of value in American society (one who has no money is basically a non-person, unable to eat, sleep or live anywhere.). The current American debt is 11 trillion dollars. That's $11,000,000,000,000, This number attests to the sheer vastness our society has grown to. As a result, the average person feels ineffectual and small, like the world at large is complex and frightening, ruled by machinery high in the skyscrapers of Washington and Wall Street.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Rantings & Ravings
The term "Postmodernism" is unique in that it sprung up part and parcel with the postmodern movement itself. It is an example of humans trying to interpret culture as it happens, and it is a dangerous practice–one that belies the problems in the social sciences. The physical scientist sticks to hard facts and merely observes. The same cannot be said of the philosopher or the sociologist. In an ideal state, we would attempt to define culture only after it has run its course, for tampering with the culture during its infantile stages can be hazardous to its adult life. So here we have Postmodernism, cursed at the outset by scores of scholars who couldn't help but theorize about its future. And then, flash forward thirty years, the Postmodern "movement" has nearly run its course, and still, no one has arrived at an agreed-upon definition.
It is seeming to me more and more attractive to accept the possibility that this whole attempt at definition is pure folly – which could, in the end I suppose, make me the one to eat my words. The postmodernists have always espoused that "postmodernism can only be described, not defined." And yet these same scholars still slap a label on the whole movement, which suggests the existence of a unifying factor. Harumph.
Unifying factor there may be, but all things are similar in at least one way. Everything is composed of matter, for instance. This doesn't mean that we should spend thirty years of our life trying to come to terms with the differences between every thing. Most people would agree on that. So what do these Postmodernists see in their loose collection of art, song, literature and cinema that so compels them to group them together? Is it wishful thinking or is there really something there? And, the ultimate question in cultural analysis–at what point does the scientist cease to merely observe and begin to actively affect that which he is observing?
So what can we conclude from all this? Cultural movements, like all things, must come and go organically. They cannot be created in the stiflement of the university. The cultural movement of Postmodernism ultimately exists as wishful thinking in the imaginations of a few upper-echelon docorates. Postmodernism was borne out of intellectualism, it remained in intellectualism for the course of its lifetime, and now, today, it dies in intellectualism. Cultural critics may identify change in their thought patterns, but the sad truth is that the extent of that change exists only in the initial identification. Nothing else has changed.
It is my opinion that cultural theorizing is dangerous when done for its own sake. Hassan, Lyotard, et al, were still feeling the after-effects of Modernism. They assumed that our labels would continue to evolve, as reflected by the de facto nomenclature "Postmoderism." But labels don't evolve, culture does.
The hypothesis that I've been hinting at, but haven't had the nerve to say outright, is that cultural periodization is meaningless at worst, extremely limited at best. People are born, people die. No matter what time period they are born in, they continue to find ways to express themselves with the tools available. To attempt to understand the forces that work upon the individual in a culture and then go on to identify how these forces evolve over time, is – quite frankly – impossible. Any systematic framework is automatically too vague, and can never address every force. We've all heard of the butterfly effect. Even the gust of air from a butterfly's wings can brew into a hurricane with time. The same applies to history. We can never look into the past and seperate from the great braid of time each individual strand and follow it into the present, because they're all wound together, inextricable.
It is seeming to me more and more attractive to accept the possibility that this whole attempt at definition is pure folly – which could, in the end I suppose, make me the one to eat my words. The postmodernists have always espoused that "postmodernism can only be described, not defined." And yet these same scholars still slap a label on the whole movement, which suggests the existence of a unifying factor. Harumph.
Unifying factor there may be, but all things are similar in at least one way. Everything is composed of matter, for instance. This doesn't mean that we should spend thirty years of our life trying to come to terms with the differences between every thing. Most people would agree on that. So what do these Postmodernists see in their loose collection of art, song, literature and cinema that so compels them to group them together? Is it wishful thinking or is there really something there? And, the ultimate question in cultural analysis–at what point does the scientist cease to merely observe and begin to actively affect that which he is observing?
So what can we conclude from all this? Cultural movements, like all things, must come and go organically. They cannot be created in the stiflement of the university. The cultural movement of Postmodernism ultimately exists as wishful thinking in the imaginations of a few upper-echelon docorates. Postmodernism was borne out of intellectualism, it remained in intellectualism for the course of its lifetime, and now, today, it dies in intellectualism. Cultural critics may identify change in their thought patterns, but the sad truth is that the extent of that change exists only in the initial identification. Nothing else has changed.
It is my opinion that cultural theorizing is dangerous when done for its own sake. Hassan, Lyotard, et al, were still feeling the after-effects of Modernism. They assumed that our labels would continue to evolve, as reflected by the de facto nomenclature "Postmoderism." But labels don't evolve, culture does.
The hypothesis that I've been hinting at, but haven't had the nerve to say outright, is that cultural periodization is meaningless at worst, extremely limited at best. People are born, people die. No matter what time period they are born in, they continue to find ways to express themselves with the tools available. To attempt to understand the forces that work upon the individual in a culture and then go on to identify how these forces evolve over time, is – quite frankly – impossible. Any systematic framework is automatically too vague, and can never address every force. We've all heard of the butterfly effect. Even the gust of air from a butterfly's wings can brew into a hurricane with time. The same applies to history. We can never look into the past and seperate from the great braid of time each individual strand and follow it into the present, because they're all wound together, inextricable.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Midterm Report
Midterm Report
Austin Emerson
What did I set out to do? For my directed study, I originally set out on a multi-disciplinary quest to "study societies", such as those that existed during historical highlights like The Enlightenment, The Renaissance, Modernism, and, in conclusion, the present. I began by studying Modernism, mostly because it had the most information, and I quickly found myself embroiled in a previously unheard-of sea of academia. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Luckily, I was hooked up with a book, The Modern Mind, which seemed to objectively render the period of Modernism.
Weeks slid by and I still didn't feel like I was anywhere near the conclusion of my research into Modernism. So I changed my project, eliminating the potential murkiness of studying the Renaissance and Enlightenment and focusing on the 20th century. Even this was a huge undertaking, and I have not really come to any solid conclusions that I have full faith in. But I have learned an immense amount of information, at the very least. I now have a vague familiarity with nearly every intellectual figure since 1900, and I would probably dominate in an "Ideas of the 20th Century" trivia contest.
Where am I now? Good question. Well, I prematurely cut off my studies of Modernism, or rather, delayed them. I felt like The Modern Mind was merely imparting factual information rather than giving me any useful insight. I plan to return to Modernism, and examine it as one imbued with the retrospective knowledge of Postmodernism, which is what I am currently studying.
Postmodernism is unique in that its defining feature is a lack of definition. Its scholars seem to schizophrenically both desire a systematic regime for the definition of postmodernism and at the same time define it on such terms as "uncertainty, indeterminacy, indefinability." From the perspective of a relative outsider (myself), the practitioners of PoMo seem torn between anarchy and order, stuck in a mindset halfway between Modernism and some new sensibility. They want to patch up the fragments of Postmodernism – the disparate elements, verily, the entire spectrum of culture contained in the chronos from 1939 onward – into a unified whole, yet, like patching up a hole in a bucket with chicken wire, they go forth in doing this with the conviction that you can't define Postmodernism. In this I see a tendency toward the certainies of Modernism. It seems our postmodern scholars haven't completely broken free of it.
The primary question that has been in the back of the mind throughout all this research is “what am I going to have to show for all my research once these months are over with? Despite the brilliant luxury of time afforded to me, I still feel like I'm racing the clock in many ways. Which is probably not inaccurate. I've undertaken a huge project, and an hour and a half a day is a relatively short period of time to digest such a wealth of information, the result of a hundred years' worth of scholarship.
I set out on this project with the assumption that something happened during the dawning of the 20th century that changed man irrevocably. I'm not sure if I can still believe in that.
One thing I would like to do is return to reality a little bit. I spent most of last week reading Ihab Hassan, who is an amazing writer–almost Coltrane-esque in his wordplay–, but one whose theories remain firmly entrenched in the vague and theoretical. One thing that has separated me from a lot of the other scholars I've read is that I am constantly seeking evidence behind claims. I know all too well how a writer's personal perceptions can influence pronouncements they make on the rest of society, and I refuse to fall into this trap. And, I haven't found many answers. Ms. Snider was at a loss when I asked her if there were elements of postmodernism reflected in the current popular culture, and the writers I've read haven't given much concrete evidence either. I still want to stick to the sociological element of my project, the more scientific, grounded-in-hard-facts element, and that is what I plan to be involved in the coming weeks.
Austin Emerson
What did I set out to do? For my directed study, I originally set out on a multi-disciplinary quest to "study societies", such as those that existed during historical highlights like The Enlightenment, The Renaissance, Modernism, and, in conclusion, the present. I began by studying Modernism, mostly because it had the most information, and I quickly found myself embroiled in a previously unheard-of sea of academia. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Luckily, I was hooked up with a book, The Modern Mind, which seemed to objectively render the period of Modernism.
Weeks slid by and I still didn't feel like I was anywhere near the conclusion of my research into Modernism. So I changed my project, eliminating the potential murkiness of studying the Renaissance and Enlightenment and focusing on the 20th century. Even this was a huge undertaking, and I have not really come to any solid conclusions that I have full faith in. But I have learned an immense amount of information, at the very least. I now have a vague familiarity with nearly every intellectual figure since 1900, and I would probably dominate in an "Ideas of the 20th Century" trivia contest.
Where am I now? Good question. Well, I prematurely cut off my studies of Modernism, or rather, delayed them. I felt like The Modern Mind was merely imparting factual information rather than giving me any useful insight. I plan to return to Modernism, and examine it as one imbued with the retrospective knowledge of Postmodernism, which is what I am currently studying.
Postmodernism is unique in that its defining feature is a lack of definition. Its scholars seem to schizophrenically both desire a systematic regime for the definition of postmodernism and at the same time define it on such terms as "uncertainty, indeterminacy, indefinability." From the perspective of a relative outsider (myself), the practitioners of PoMo seem torn between anarchy and order, stuck in a mindset halfway between Modernism and some new sensibility. They want to patch up the fragments of Postmodernism – the disparate elements, verily, the entire spectrum of culture contained in the chronos from 1939 onward – into a unified whole, yet, like patching up a hole in a bucket with chicken wire, they go forth in doing this with the conviction that you can't define Postmodernism. In this I see a tendency toward the certainies of Modernism. It seems our postmodern scholars haven't completely broken free of it.
The primary question that has been in the back of the mind throughout all this research is “what am I going to have to show for all my research once these months are over with? Despite the brilliant luxury of time afforded to me, I still feel like I'm racing the clock in many ways. Which is probably not inaccurate. I've undertaken a huge project, and an hour and a half a day is a relatively short period of time to digest such a wealth of information, the result of a hundred years' worth of scholarship.
I set out on this project with the assumption that something happened during the dawning of the 20th century that changed man irrevocably. I'm not sure if I can still believe in that.
One thing I would like to do is return to reality a little bit. I spent most of last week reading Ihab Hassan, who is an amazing writer–almost Coltrane-esque in his wordplay–, but one whose theories remain firmly entrenched in the vague and theoretical. One thing that has separated me from a lot of the other scholars I've read is that I am constantly seeking evidence behind claims. I know all too well how a writer's personal perceptions can influence pronouncements they make on the rest of society, and I refuse to fall into this trap. And, I haven't found many answers. Ms. Snider was at a loss when I asked her if there were elements of postmodernism reflected in the current popular culture, and the writers I've read haven't given much concrete evidence either. I still want to stick to the sociological element of my project, the more scientific, grounded-in-hard-facts element, and that is what I plan to be involved in the coming weeks.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Moving On
Well, yesterday I interviewed Ms. Cynde Snider, and it was a very enlightening conversation. We mostly discussed Postmodernism, but we also talked about its differences with Modernism. I feel as though I am generally correct in my analysis that Modernism was characterized by a sense of progress, and this is evident even in the critical pieces, like T.S. Eliot's The Wasteland. At the core of this optimism was the sense that there was objective truth at the heart of everything. That perfection could be achieved and that there really are answers to the questions that we find ourselves asking over and over again.
When pressed for to describe Postmodernism "in a word," the best thing Ms. Snider could come up with was "Uncertainty." She went on to describe how the atom bomb both literally and figuratively blew away the past and served as an unsubtle beginning to the brave new world of postmodernity. We also discussed how periodization is frowned upon by postmodernists, which would obviously undermine my project, but that is only from a Postmodern point of view. I, personally, am not quite ready to accept that the concept of historical periods is false, although I am ready to acknowledge the problems of such generalizations. Ms. Snider explained to me an alternate view of history, one that pinballs between the romantic and the classical, until what was once romantic becomes staid and constricting –in a word, classical – and is exploded. The cycle begins anew. To use an example that is both relevant and clarifying, the concept Postmodernism is now in its classical twilight. In the 60s and 70s, there was no attempt to observe what was happening, it was merely happening. Then, as time wore on, scholars began to try to pin down exactly what postmodern meant, in the process adversely affecting the very subject they were trying to observe. Now, we are definitively out of postmodernism, which means that my project just acquired a new dimension – to define the times we live in now, the time of post-postmodernity.
It sounds ambitious, but I have some ideas. One is that we as a people, tired of the labrynthine perspectivism of postmodernism and the complex theorization of modernism, have returned to pragmatism, to science, philosophy and psychology that really works.
...There goes the bell, but I'll blog more on this.
When pressed for to describe Postmodernism "in a word," the best thing Ms. Snider could come up with was "Uncertainty." She went on to describe how the atom bomb both literally and figuratively blew away the past and served as an unsubtle beginning to the brave new world of postmodernity. We also discussed how periodization is frowned upon by postmodernists, which would obviously undermine my project, but that is only from a Postmodern point of view. I, personally, am not quite ready to accept that the concept of historical periods is false, although I am ready to acknowledge the problems of such generalizations. Ms. Snider explained to me an alternate view of history, one that pinballs between the romantic and the classical, until what was once romantic becomes staid and constricting –in a word, classical – and is exploded. The cycle begins anew. To use an example that is both relevant and clarifying, the concept Postmodernism is now in its classical twilight. In the 60s and 70s, there was no attempt to observe what was happening, it was merely happening. Then, as time wore on, scholars began to try to pin down exactly what postmodern meant, in the process adversely affecting the very subject they were trying to observe. Now, we are definitively out of postmodernism, which means that my project just acquired a new dimension – to define the times we live in now, the time of post-postmodernity.
It sounds ambitious, but I have some ideas. One is that we as a people, tired of the labrynthine perspectivism of postmodernism and the complex theorization of modernism, have returned to pragmatism, to science, philosophy and psychology that really works.
...There goes the bell, but I'll blog more on this.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
9/25/08
I am still making my through the book 'The Modern Mind' by Peter Watson. The book reads chronologically, and I am currently in the 1920s. However, I may have to abridge my studies on Modernism. The other part of my study is to examine postmodernism, and the society we live in today, which could take a long while. I am disappointed that I have not arrived at any defnitive 'Zeitgeist' for the period of Modernism, but, then again, this merely confirms a suspicion I held since undertaking this project: that a period as broad and far-reaching as Modernism is impossible to define in a single phrase. There were numerous movements, across both sides of the Atlantic, throughout every discipline imaginable.
However, I can make some conclusions: Modernism, from 1890-1914, at least, was characterized by a very optimistic sense of Progress. This belief in advancement was born, embryonically, from the increased communication and connectivity of the 1800s, which, although nowhere near the connectedness we feel today, was still unprecedented for its time. The 'world community,' still in its infant stages, gave way to, among other things, a link among scientists. Science had, until this point, been very superstitious and disorganized. But as connections between nations grew stronger, the practice of Science, now with a capital S, began to develop.
Science both united and divided. It indicated truths that were seemingly indisputable, rooted in observation and experimentation. Now, questions were being answered that had remained mysteries for millenia. This instilled in people the sense of progress and evolution that so characterized the early period of Modernism.
In my interview with Mr. Marcus Patton he explained how, in some ways, American history follows a cycle of progressivism followed by wariness, and I think we can observe this trend on a global level during Modernism. "Progress" was smashed in a head-on collision with the atavistic World War 1, which created a an incontrovertible rift between the dates 1913 and 1920, only a mere seven years apart, but dimensionally different in their respective prevailing moods.
1920 saw the beginnings of a disillusionment with progress that eventually gave way to Postmodernism. Or at least that is my conjecture. Ernest Hemingway, Sinclair Lewis, T.S. Eliot, Salvador Dali, the American expatriates, and the Surrealists all embodied this. I think that, in the 1920s and onward, people began to lose faith in the sciences to cure all human problems. This period also saw the beginning of the divide between "low culture" and "high culture." In the early 1900s, it was generally excepted that the avant garde was merely a few steps ahead of the general populace. For example, the art of the Cubists – Picasso, Cezanne, and others – was at first regarded as heresy in the art community. But, soon enough, that art was being displayed in all major galleries–the avant garde had now become the norm.
But, starting in the '20s, there appeared a break between the avant garde and the norm. Suddenly, it was possible that the two might never intersect. The advent of radio and film was the herald of low culture. It seemed the general populace was rejecting the convoluted and mystical, replacing them with the straight-forward and easily-consumable. It was during this time that Lewis Sinclair's 'Babbit' was written, a critical novel that suggested success in America required conformity. This time also saw T.S. Eliot's 'The Wasteland,' a scathing indictment against the materialistic culture that Eliot observed. Social criticism in novels and poems had always existed, but not at the level it did beginning in the 1920s.
It is my conjecture that the disillusionment caused in part by World War 1 planted, throughout the 1920s, the seeds that would yield Postmodernism. That's all for now.
However, I can make some conclusions: Modernism, from 1890-1914, at least, was characterized by a very optimistic sense of Progress. This belief in advancement was born, embryonically, from the increased communication and connectivity of the 1800s, which, although nowhere near the connectedness we feel today, was still unprecedented for its time. The 'world community,' still in its infant stages, gave way to, among other things, a link among scientists. Science had, until this point, been very superstitious and disorganized. But as connections between nations grew stronger, the practice of Science, now with a capital S, began to develop.
Science both united and divided. It indicated truths that were seemingly indisputable, rooted in observation and experimentation. Now, questions were being answered that had remained mysteries for millenia. This instilled in people the sense of progress and evolution that so characterized the early period of Modernism.
In my interview with Mr. Marcus Patton he explained how, in some ways, American history follows a cycle of progressivism followed by wariness, and I think we can observe this trend on a global level during Modernism. "Progress" was smashed in a head-on collision with the atavistic World War 1, which created a an incontrovertible rift between the dates 1913 and 1920, only a mere seven years apart, but dimensionally different in their respective prevailing moods.
1920 saw the beginnings of a disillusionment with progress that eventually gave way to Postmodernism. Or at least that is my conjecture. Ernest Hemingway, Sinclair Lewis, T.S. Eliot, Salvador Dali, the American expatriates, and the Surrealists all embodied this. I think that, in the 1920s and onward, people began to lose faith in the sciences to cure all human problems. This period also saw the beginning of the divide between "low culture" and "high culture." In the early 1900s, it was generally excepted that the avant garde was merely a few steps ahead of the general populace. For example, the art of the Cubists – Picasso, Cezanne, and others – was at first regarded as heresy in the art community. But, soon enough, that art was being displayed in all major galleries–the avant garde had now become the norm.
But, starting in the '20s, there appeared a break between the avant garde and the norm. Suddenly, it was possible that the two might never intersect. The advent of radio and film was the herald of low culture. It seemed the general populace was rejecting the convoluted and mystical, replacing them with the straight-forward and easily-consumable. It was during this time that Lewis Sinclair's 'Babbit' was written, a critical novel that suggested success in America required conformity. This time also saw T.S. Eliot's 'The Wasteland,' a scathing indictment against the materialistic culture that Eliot observed. Social criticism in novels and poems had always existed, but not at the level it did beginning in the 1920s.
It is my conjecture that the disillusionment caused in part by World War 1 planted, throughout the 1920s, the seeds that would yield Postmodernism. That's all for now.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
A few Quotations:
Since my goal is to find the relationship between the various movements in Modernism – scientific, intellectual, musical, artistic, social – I thought it would be worthwhile to save the intro to the Wikipedia article on Modernism as well as the one on Postmodernism.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Modernism:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Postmodernism:
I may comment on these later.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Modernism:
Modernism describes an array of cultural movements rooted in the changes in Western society in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century. The term covers a series of reforming movements in art, architecture, music, literature and the applied arts which emerged during this period.
It is a trend of thought that affirms the power of human beings to create, improve, and reshape their environment, with the aid of scientific knowledge, technology or practical experimentation.[1] Modernism encouraged the re-examination of every aspect of existence, from commerce to philosophy, with the goal of finding that which was 'holding back' progress, and replacing it with new, progressive and therefore better, ways of reaching the same end. Embracing change and the present, modernism encompasses the works of thinkers who rebelled against nineteenth century academic and historicist traditions, believing the "traditional" forms of art, architecture, literature, religious faith, social organization and daily life were becoming outdated; they directly confronted the new economic, social and political conditions of an emerging fully industrialized world. Some divide the 20th Century into movements designated Modernism and Postmodernism, whereas others see them as two aspects of the same movement.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Postmodernism:
Postmodernism literally means 'after the modernist movement'. While "modern" itself refers to something "related to the present", the movement of modernism and the following reaction of postmodernism are defined by a set of perspectives. It is used in critical theory to refer to a point of departure for works of literature, drama, architecture, and design, as well as in marketing and business and the interpretation of history, law and culture in the late 20th century. Unfortunately, there is no authoritative definition yet.
Postmodernism is an aesthetic, literary, political or social philosophy, which was the basis of the attempt to describe a condition, or a state of being, or something concerned with changes to institutions and conditions (as in Giddens, 1990) as postmodernity. In other words, postmodernism is the "cultural and intellectual phenomenon", especially since the 1920s' new movements in the arts, while postmodernity focuses on social and political outworkings and innovations globally, especially since the 1960s in the West.
Merriam-Webster attempts to describe the term as either of, relating to, or being an era after a modern one or of, relating to, or being any of various movements in reaction to modernism that are typically characterized by a return to traditional materials and forms (as in architecture) or by ironic self-reference and absurdity (as in literature), or finally of, relating to, or being a theory that involves a radical reappraisal of modern assumptions about culture, identity, history, or language.[1] The American Heritage Dictionary describes the term as Of or relating to art, architecture, or literature that reacts against earlier modernist principles, as by reintroducing traditional or classical elements of style or by carrying modernist styles or practices to extremes: “It [a roadhouse]is so architecturally interesting . . . with its postmodern wooden booths and sculptural clock” (Ruth Reichl, Cook's November 19
I may comment on these later.
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