Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Stranded on the Banks of Realism

The river's tent is broken; the last fingers of leaf
Clutch and sink into the wet bank. The wind
Crosses the brown land, unheard. The nymphs are departed.
Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.
The river bears no empty bottles, sandwich papers,
Silk handkerchiefs, cardboard boxes, cigarette ends
Or other testimony of summer nights. The nymphs are departed.
And their friends, the loitering heirs of City directors;
Departed, have left no addresses.
By the waters of Leman I sat down and wept ...

-T.S. Eliot, "The Wasteland"

9 comments:

  1. Never wretch enough... for only through suffering can one derive meaning.

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  2. ...and right now I'm suffering from a over-abundance of realism in art. I fear I shall never enjoy a nude in a painting again, as the fantastical mythological contexts have all but disappeared. I am overwhelmed by the baseness of modern contexts.

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  3. "Why then Ile fit you. Hieronymo's mad againe"

    T.S. Eliot, "The Wasteland" ;)

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  4. but then, isn't painting a visual medium? Do we really have to have any kind of meaning? IS that not in itself a modern pre-occupation?

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  5. Will to power is not a "modern" pre-occupation, it's a "universal" pre-occupation.

    Does it make me more powerful?

    An understanding of mythology does. A naked picnic in the park doesn't.

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  6. Meaning and a desire for power ARE interrelated, it is a primary source for the search for meaning.

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  7. Of course, the more powerful that you actually are, the less effort you're likely to expend in the "search" for a meaning that would lend to its' increase. And the weaker you are, the more effort is likely to be expended (obsessively).

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