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steepholmFor various reasons I’ve been looking back at Four British Fantasists over the last couple of days, and I found myself reading the discussion of James Lovelock’s defence of hedgerows in Ages of Gaia. Lovelock describes the appearance of the English countryside, with its small enclosed fields, as “as much as a sacrament as the cathedrals, music and poetry.” In my book I take issue with this for a number of reasons, but today one particular objection gave me pause. This is what I wrote:
“It is difficult to privilege a particular and historically very specific form of man-made landscape without also implicitly defending the social system for whose purposes that landscape was created and maintained.” (134)
Well, I can see what I meant here. Many of those hedgerows, eco-friendly mouse and vole condominia as they may be today, were built not for wildlife or aesthetics but to enable landgrabbers to deprive the poor of their historic right to common land. They are not a sacrament, but evidence of a historic class crime – and a crime for which redress has never been made.
But should that stop us finding them beautiful? And if so, what are the implications? To take another, perhaps still starker example, can we admire the pyramids without at some level endorsing slave labour? (This is assuming for the sake of argument that slaves were used in their building.) In a very basic and abstract way we might admire their triangularity; we might get a vulgar thrill from thinking that “These Things are Very Old”; but if we’re the kind of people for whom the human history and purpose of such objects is an important part of our response, then how are we meant to reconcile ourselves to that admiration? How can we even be impressed by their size without also quailing a little at the thought of the power that decreed it and what that meant in human terms? Should we, in short, wish that the pyramids had never been made? And is that wish compatible with admiring them now, or does present admiration make us retrospectively complicit?
Am I worrying too much?
“It is difficult to privilege a particular and historically very specific form of man-made landscape without also implicitly defending the social system for whose purposes that landscape was created and maintained.” (134)
Well, I can see what I meant here. Many of those hedgerows, eco-friendly mouse and vole condominia as they may be today, were built not for wildlife or aesthetics but to enable landgrabbers to deprive the poor of their historic right to common land. They are not a sacrament, but evidence of a historic class crime – and a crime for which redress has never been made.
But should that stop us finding them beautiful? And if so, what are the implications? To take another, perhaps still starker example, can we admire the pyramids without at some level endorsing slave labour? (This is assuming for the sake of argument that slaves were used in their building.) In a very basic and abstract way we might admire their triangularity; we might get a vulgar thrill from thinking that “These Things are Very Old”; but if we’re the kind of people for whom the human history and purpose of such objects is an important part of our response, then how are we meant to reconcile ourselves to that admiration? How can we even be impressed by their size without also quailing a little at the thought of the power that decreed it and what that meant in human terms? Should we, in short, wish that the pyramids had never been made? And is that wish compatible with admiring them now, or does present admiration make us retrospectively complicit?
Am I worrying too much?
whoops!
Date: 2009-07-13 01:55 pm (UTC)Re: whoops!
Date: 2009-07-13 04:35 pm (UTC)Re: whoops!
Date: 2009-07-13 09:08 pm (UTC)I think I distinguish between an aesthetic response - which is just about beauty, form, colour visual impression and I suppose an 'artistic response' which includes an appreciation of intent and context.
My response to landscape tends to lie only in the former - unless it is an explicitly designed landscape like Versailles or soemthing; I am not an expert on human geography so mostly I don't know anything about intent or historical context. In architecture I veer towards a more artistic response except that ignorance often restricts me so that I am only able to give an aesthetic response. Of course it is more complicated than that but that is more or less how it works for me. I think it is OK to separate out the impact of the thing itself, the context of its creation and the intent of the creator and to have different responses to each: I think a sword can be beautiful, a stealth bomber, a King's throne etc
Re: whoops!
Date: 2009-07-13 09:47 pm (UTC)Re: whoops!
Date: 2009-07-13 10:33 pm (UTC)Re: whoops!
Date: 2009-07-14 11:58 am (UTC)I'd love to be able to pin down a bit further the extent of "some degree" in your "What is aesthetically beautiful is also to some degree culturally determined". I believe there's some evidence that aesthetics has at least in part a biological/evolutionary component, inasmuch as sexual selection teaches us to find beauty in symmetrical people who are also the most likely to be healthy breeders - and the way in which the Golden Section (by way of the Fibonacci series) turn up in many natural contexts, for example the branching of veins and branches. So, to some extent, aesthetics may be hard-wired - and this could account for some of the response to the elegant proportions of the pyramids, too. At the same time, ideally I'd like to have an integrated response that involves the whole of my being, rather than some parts of my mind being offended, while other parts are going "Cool!"
Re: whoops!
Date: 2009-07-14 02:06 pm (UTC)