Is Cixous a Sick Sue? Philosophical Musings on Theory and the Role of Art in the Modern Community

ok, i'll go ahead and post part 1, since if i extend it much more no one will ever read it...

During the past week, as you may be aware, I have been engaged in a crash course in the art of the Italian Rennaisance. From Bramante to Titian, on through Leonardo, Donatello, Raphael, and Michelangelo (the namesakes of all four Ninja Turtles), the architectural and sculptural philosophies of Bernini to the mad brawls of Michelangelo Merisi (the other Michelangelo, otherwise known as Caravaggio) or Cellini-- my dreams have been infected with the characters I have been forced to memorize the lives of. Apart from one obligatory Art Appreciation course at Troy State University, from which I learned probably less than the stupid jocks and cheerleaders who sat bored around me, I have no experience in Art Criticism. My only exposure to anything approaching a scholarly understanding of Art and its various roles in society or any of the philosophical questions underlining our approach to it, has been in classes about literature or film. Music, the most important art form I have omitted in the above sentences, I have a more natural inclination towards; though even with music there are problems in defining boundaries which I am incapable of understanding, due to my insuffecient knowledge of Music Theory (read a definition of Baroque vs. Classical and you'll understand the impossibility of anyone less than a genius in truly understanding just what makes up each). All of this being said, I have continually been challenged during the course of my studying to understand just what defines a "Masterpiece," or a "Master." This disadvantage of mine has proven to be quite an obstacle, but, as I hope to illustrate in some way in due course, has also been advantageous in several crucial ways.

Generally we all agree that Michelangelo was a "Master," but not many of us can really explain why without pointing towards the obvious magnitude of his works, such as the monumental 17 foot David chiselled out of a single block of marble, or the 300 figures of the Sistine Chapel's ceiling. When trying to explain why we all universally admire a work like Botticelli's "Birth of Venus," we are posed with more difficulties, since the work is not immediately striking to the eye acquainted with someone like Michelangelo. In short, we do not understand the context, or the innovations that made these paintings famous to begin with. Indeed, most people are unaware that several of the paintings lining the walls of the Sistine Chapel were made by the infamous Botticelli; we tend to look at what's famous. Of course, not being any sort of art snob, I don't blame the people who look at it without knowing a damn thing about it: it's naturally impressive and there is a worldwide familiarity with it. In fact, I take a fair amount of comfort in the bovine expressions of the tourists craning their necks and sneaking snapshots to show off to the folks back home. There is something calming about it, like listening to the ocean in a seashell.

Let's move on to the term "Art Fag." This term has become ubiquitous in the latter half of the 20th century and into the 21st, and in some circles has even been embraced. Part of this starts with the insufferable elitism of the art community and their deliberate attempts to alienate their perceived intellectual inferiors, and, by virtue of those very elements, the audience attracted has tended to be the disenfranchised or countercurrent, in other words, kids who never really fit in with a taste for fashion. "Fag" or not, the image that most modern Americans have of art and artists nowadays is the complete opposite of what it once was in other times and places. Art has lost its masculine connotations. In my research, the artists I am familiarizing myself with were, in their days, like the rock stars of today. They were famous and admired; though a Rennaisance wench was still unlikely to throw her bra at him while he was painting, the artists still affected a certain amount of charm on the ladies. One of Caravaggio's contemporaries noted that "after a fortnight's work he will swagger about for a month or two with a sword at his side and a servant following him, from one ball-court to the next, ever ready to engage in a fight or an argument, so that it is most awkward to get along with him." Drinking, fighting, gambling, and women: these are some of the characteristics of the famous painters of the Rennaisance era. Both Caravaggio and Celini (whom I mentioned together earlier) were guilty of homicide. Even the great Michelangelo got into fist fights. In one little known incident, he and Leonardo da Vinci (with whom he had a fierce rivalry with), when commissioned to paint opposite walls in the same chapel, started throwing paint at each other. Imagine that. Two of the greatest geniuses ever to live, two men whom the term "Rennaisance Man" was invented for, throwing paint at each other in a temper tantrum. I'm reminded of the snide insults that would pass between Axl Rose and Kurt Cobain when they would pass each other, or even the lyrical jabs that passed between Neil Young and Lynyrd Skynyrd (to state a few examples most of us our familiar with).

I'm not trying to form any opinion about these details, just including them for my argument. When I say that art has lost its masculine side, I am not saying it should move back towards it or that it has any more validity or any less validity than the more feminine art, or even the sexless, abstract kind that cram our museums nowadays to confuse the paying patrons. The question I am attempting to raise is about the universality of art.

Though I am beginning to realize what a difficult task I've undertaken, I'll press on, hopefully illuminating at some point my main point. And please, forgive any ostensible tangents, I promise they have some purpose.

The art of the Rennaisance coincided with the birth of Humanism. Finally the potential and strength of the toiling peasants had been realized (note: irony)! Even in the Roman Republic voting was never popular, it was a mere charade. As far as the Empire goes, people were too busy watching the gladiatorial matches of the Colosseum or the chariot races of the Circus Maximus to be too concerned with politics, and indeed, these were some of the noted functions of the various arenas: to distract the masses from the corrupt political process (does this principle have any relevance today?). The buildings designated for voting soon became theaters of base entertainment(note: no irony). Through the Middle Ages Rome was too devastated by wars and plagues to worry about either art or the political potential of the masses. As the upheavel left in the wake of the fallen Empire gradually began to settle and powerful families and rich merchants began to take over, the quality of life began to improve. Aqueducts were repaired or built providing drinkable water, trade routes re-established bringing in a traffic of products and ideas from around the Mediterranean, building materials imported to build stronger houses, etc. Those in charge were forced more and more to rely upon the common citizens. In the affluent period that followed, there could only be one more step: beautifying the city; making it worthy of all the thousands of pilgrims who came to see where St. Peter was crucified upside down, where St. Lawrence was burned alive (reported last words, doubtlessly apocryphal, were, "I am done on this side! Turn me over and eat," or something to that effect), where St. Paul was beheaded, the fragments of the cross Jesus was crucified on St. Helena brought back from Jerusalem, or any of the thousands of other things that are either located here or happened here. To do this would require an army of ambitious young artists.