In Praise of a Patient & Weighty Book

 

The reigning tech aesthetic is all about gleaming smoothness (1) and instantaneous sensations, with algorithms creating a digital universe tailored to our impulsive needs. (2)

The book laying before me, was, on its own, a formidable counter-weight (3) to the fleeting lightness of our virtual lives. It weighed at least 3 kilos, its cloth cover was rough to the touch and its pages made of heavy paper were stitched by thread.  Merely leafing through the book was a slow tactile experience of a reassuring gravity.

This weighty book had been very patient, before at last getting my full attention.  Published in 1964, I has acquired it in 2013 in a second hand bookshop, where it has seduced me by its title, “Le message de l’Absolu” (4) and by its bulkiness, giving weight to whatever message it might convey.        

The book had been close to being discarded as ballast last summer, during one of those fateful fits to get rid of too many accumulated things in order to create a tabula rasa,  if not in one’s life, then at least in one’s home. Those are perilous moments,  when one might disavow everything one ever valued  -  throwing it out a as being irrelevant, no longer in tune with the times. (5)  

But the book had survived the clean-up rage, and on this stormy autumn day, it proved to be just the grave companion that I needed in these uncertain times.

Written in 1964 by Germain Bazin, a French art historian born in 1901, the book combines a classical erudition with a very modern sense of anxiety and doubt.  

Having studied with the eminent French art historians Henri Focillon and Emile Mâle (6), and having gone on to make a distinguished career as curator at the Louvre, Germain Bazin was of course well placed to tell once again the fascinating story of western art from its earliest beginnings, as a succession of different formal expressions of human meanings & longings, each capturing the essence of an era, and all part of a single history of art (7)  … until the 20^th Century.    

Having lived through two wars and witnessing a rapidly changing world, Germain Bazin combines an understanding of the inevitability of modern art’s radical break with tradition with the nostalgia of someone who realizes that all he has valued most during his life is disappearing fast.  He captures the implosion of western art mirroring the upheavals of the 20th century. He evokes the perplexities of art, and of all humanist exercises in imagination & understanding, in an era in which science has lifted as it were the lid on the world’s phenomena – confounding our intuitions. And finally, he wonders about the contemporaneity of our lost belief in transcendence (be it of the divine or humanist kind) with the end of high art’s pursuit of harmony and beauty.

 

« de la figure humaine éclatée comme par l’effet d’un explosive, le peintre rassemble les morceaux ne suivant d’autre loi que l’incongru. 

Ces puzzles ricanant sont peut-être les expressions les plus typiques de cette discontinuité chaotique […]

 que des fragments de formes en liberté que rien ne convie à l’unité d’où naît l’harmonie » (8)

          

 Que des fragments

1.     « Sauvons le beau: l'esthétique à l'ère numérique ; l’esthétique du lisse» de Byung-Chul Han / « Saving beauty » – « aesthetics of the smooth »
2.   algorithms do not second-guess our needs as humans might do – they systematically crunch our behavioural data, compare these with huge pools of other peoples’ data and then predict what we’re most likely to click on, what will most likely grab our attention. These algorithms weren’t designed out of a disinterested motivation to get to know us, nor in order to deepen the understanding of human behaviour – but with a purely commercial motive, selling advertising with the most views and the highest click-through rates.    See the blow-by-blow , page-by-page dissection by  Shoshana Zuboff in  «Surveillance Capitalism»
3.    Germain Bazin – « Le message de l’Absolu »
4.   The message of the absolute …. lacking a religious belief in the divine, the slumbering human longing for transcendence, has long pinned its hope on human art or ethics to transcend our struggling condition.      
5.  Western civilisation at large has often had these destructive moments, if only to afterwards expiate the destruction & oblivion by painstaking historical research and the building of museums.  
6.  in the early chapters one still can catch that whiff of lyrical art history, seeing the artist as a sublimation of human longing : “du fond de sa nature exilée dans l’imparfait, il entend sourdre l’appel vers la perfection”[…] “pour évoquer en eux un élan vers les sublimes clartés”.  But there’s  also of course the stern admonishing of a rigorous ageing art historian defending the seriousness of his trade against purely subjective art appreciation: “ […] se fiant à son goût elle exerce son choix par la sensation pure. […] sentir ne suffit pas pour aimer, encore moins pour connaître et lorsque l’âge amenuise cette faculté de sentir, il ne reste plus dans l’âme que la cendre des souvenirs »
7.   in a way art history has invented itself , producing an after the fact synopsis, a string of meaningful variations on a fundamental human ‘kunstwollen’ , instead of a mere accumulation of random trials & errors .  
8. “ of the human figure, which is shattered as if by the effect of an explosive, the painter brings together the pieces following no other law than the incongruous. These sneering puzzles are perhaps the most typical expressions of this chaotic discontinuity [...] as fragments of loose shapes,  which nothing invites to the unity from which harmony is born”

Cherish the light

It's official, in order to make it through the long & dark Corona autumn, we are advised to cherish the light. 

 

 

Heatwave in the City

 The city had been smoldering for days. All that concrete, all that asphalt, all those stones - absorbing and compounding the heat. All those damned cars adding hot fumes to the hot air.

Those city dwellers who hadn't escaped to the seaside, stayed inside, motionless behind drawn curtains. Only a few masked people dared to venture outside.  One felt infinite gratefulness for any tree offering some shade, for any bush of roses, however lonely,  able to conjure up visions of the Provence in an overheated brain.

But then, at last, the wind picked up and rain started pouring down.  One could almost hear a city wide  sigh of relief,  everybody throwing wide open their windows - in all streets and neighborhoods, from  cramped basement flats to lavish lofts.     

      

The Sea! The Sea! (or : Escape from an overheating city)

There's more boulevard than sea, in this most urban of seaside towns. But the lines are dizzying - vanishing, whether sinuous or straight, whether earth bound or swirling in the sky. And the light, ah the light - benignly golden in the evening, from a sun  hovering between sky and sea, after a day of mercilessly beating down on us.  

 

Rain at last - vaporizing on the hot tiles - saturating the air with water. Cooling tempers and soothing frayed nerves. What a strange summer it is, with a heatwave compounding the sense of being trapped.    

Splendour & Insecurity (1)

Through an open window a saxophone pleads wistfully – a sultry sound so well suited to the quiet streets of a city slowly emerging from its lockdown. This day in May feels like a lazy sweltering day in high summer. Restaurants & cafés are still closed – there are few cars. Some people are strolling about aimlessly, or sitting on benches, talking quietly (mostly keeping their distance and often wearing masks), or patiently queuing for a shop, forming lines of people standing still, at 1.5 metres apart. 

This Spring has been strangely splendid – pouring out sun light and bird song as never before, in a quieted down, limpid city.  This Spring has been strangely insecure, with a permanent sense of dread.  

The ever optimist and resolute colleague at work casually mentions at the end of a conference call on Friday “on attend les résultats du test pour ma mère – mas je ne pense pas que ce soit covid , ça fait déjà 3 semaines qu’elle traîne cette bronchite “.  And on Monday you hear her mother died in hospital.

The woman at the bakery shop is as friendly as ever, but she looks tired and her tone is subdued.  “it’s difficult, it’s very difficult – many of our clients are simply gone -  the students, the office workers buying sandwiches – they’re all gone now, at home.  On espère qu’ils vont revenir. On espère pouvoir tenir encore quelques mois”.

While the city slowed down, the parks were lavishly full - of the lushest greens and of so many people joyously skating, cycling, jogging.  And now, people are already eagerly returning to their lives after the easing of restrictions, enjoying whatever is again permitted. (as to myself, in a single week I happily managed to put in a visit, duly masked, to the bookshop, the classical music shop and the old masters museum).

But in the longer run,  frankly, I’ve no idea how fragile or how resilient “we” (our world, our generation, our society) will prove to be.

I don’t know whether history can be a guide here.  In art & music historical terms I‘ve always been astonished by the prevalence of hardship & pestilence in the most glorious art periods – perplexed by this enduring human capacity to paint, write, sculpt and compose works of lasting beauty amidst  plagues & wars & upheaval.  

Was it because the elite (patrons and artists) in those times were relatively shielded from hardship? Or was it rather because of their sheer helplessness in the face of disaster – they could not but  long for another world, they could not but believe  in transcendence, which made the pursuit of beauty and harmony (ad maiorem gloriam dei) worthwhile even (or especially) in the darkest circumstances. 

Our age is so different.  Perhaps we seek less solace in escapist flights of the mind, in creations of great beauty because we feel empowered to analyse and act rationally, because we trust in science and technology and entrepreneurship to improve our material lot.  Maybe, perhaps.

 Fragments from past months’ reading :  

1. The juxtaposition of “Splendour & Insecurity” (as hallmark of a sophisticated yet anguished civilisation) was found in Runciman’s book on Byzantine Style and Civilisation

2. From a book on Titian (Filippo Pedrocco)
« An awareness of impending death weighs heavily on the paintings Titian was working on in the summer of  1576, when Venice was devastated by a terrible plague which was to kill his favorite son Orazio [and himself]» 

3. From a book on Byzantium (Steven Runciman):
«There were ghastly visitations of the plague : the Black death in 1346 killed probably a third of the population of Constantinople.» 
«Against this background of foreign invasion and civil war, of plague and poverty there flourished in Constantinople a civilisation more brilliant than any that Byzantium had known before.» 

4. From a book on the Franco-Flemish Polyphonists (Paul Van Nevel)
« De pest richtte tussen 1438 en 1439 een ravage aan in de Kamerijkse gebieden, waar soms tot tachtig procent van de bevolking bezweek aan de epidemie. De beroemde polyfonist Jacob Obrecht stierf in 1505 onverwacht aan de pest, net als zijn collega Alexander Agricola. In Amiens, de hoofdstad van Picardië, moesten de kerkhoven uitgebreid worden, omdat ‘les gens se moeurent si soudainement comme du soir au matin et souvent plus tost ” » 


« The plague wreaked havoc in the Cambrian areas between 1438 and 1439, where sometimes up to eighty percent of the population succumbed to the epidemic. The famous polyphonist Jacob Obrecht died unexpectedly of the plague in 1505, just like his colleague Alexander Agricola. In Amiens, the capital of Picardy, the cemeteries had to be extended because “‘les gens se moeurent si soudainement comme du soir au matin et souvent plus tost ”»

Locked Down Night

Easter Lockdown

Time will tell

"At the beginning of the 7th century, the Mediterranean world is in crisis. The pax romana is a distant memory. The invasions, epidemics and wars have undermined the economy, discredited the values ​​of yesteryear and generalized the disarray. Everyone withdraws into the safety of their own community, behind their walls, under the aegis of local potentates. This general decline paves the way for millenarianism. (1)"

In times of upheaval I find it good practice to withdraw quietly in a room, reading a history book - far from raging viruses, be they biological or digital.

But while historical distance may put into perspective the issues of the day, it is not a sure recipe for Olympian calm. Because history abundantly shows that humankind is not that good at managing crises.   So one still needs to comfort one self: we do are better equipped now, aren’t we – with our immense progress in science, in technology. And we do have collectively become more rational, haven’t we?

Taking the historical perspective, one also wonders about the future: what collective conclusions will we draw in due time? Which societal weaknesses will have been exposed?  Which regimes will have proven to be better able to cope?   

Will democratic market economies driven by economic self-interest turn out to be better or worse at managing a collective crisis than centrally planned autocracies?  

Time will tell.

A bookish note:

1. Pascal Dayez-Burgeon – “Byzance la Secrète” :  one of the best books on Byzantium I have read – telling its story not only as an allegory on the tragedy & transience of power, but also showing the significance of its history, the enduring meaning of how it had organised and represented itself. Not just a vanquished empire, not just a lost civilisation without heirs, but a  1000 years story we can still engage with. 
2. Original French:

“Au début du VIIième siècle, le monde méditerranéen est en crise. La pax romana n’est plus qu’un souvenir. Les invasions, les épidémies et les guerres ont sapé l’économie, discrédité les valeurs d’antan et généralisé le désarroi. Chacun se calfeutre dans sa communauté, à l’abri de ses murailles, sous l’égide de potentats locaux. Ce repli généralisé est propice au millénarisme.”

 

Finding our bearings in a mass of data

Ach, who doesn’t wonder from time to time what will remain?  Not just of our individual selves, but rather of what we value, not just of an individual life, but of an entire age with its struggles & beliefs.

Anyone with some interest in (art) history, knows how sheer material contingencies play a crucial role in the survival of cultural artefacts and texts. (1)  The choice of supporting material (stone or organic), a wet or a dry climate, quality of varnish, …  And on the immaterial side – how transient fame can be, how difficult to predict the continued consideration felt for a tradition, or the continued belief in a metaphysically sanctioned message. 

Now, what will still be understood of our digital age, say, 1000 years hence? What posterity will there be for our massive collective,  distributed effort to digitize everything, to put “everything” on line – from fleeting private expressions to commercial banalities  - from a garish dark web to edifying massive online courses,  to scientific networks … 

What will happen with the ever swelling mass of digital data stored on numerous servers? (2) Will all data that haven’t been accessed for some time, at some point be systematically deleted?  (just as even so-called perpetual cemetery plots are finite, if no one renews the lease). Will there be an artificial intelligence able to make sense of the gigantic mass of data? Will “history writing algorithms” assess historical relevance of data based on numbers of views and followers?  So that a make-up video tutorial on YouTube or a contagious 15 sec goofy dance on TikTok will be considered as emblematic for our age?   

In the early days of internet much was made of its encyclopedic scope  - it was compared to a universal library accessible to all, hyperlinking everything  and easily searchable through search machines.  But since no single human is able to digest it all, on the internet the individual mind is  easily outdone by "big data" crunching algorithms. Will artificial intelligence create some sort of new collective mind, a "mind of the hive"?  (Not a coincidence that there’s an AI company called Hivemind).  

How different the 21^st C Internet of everything & everyone is from a library purposefully built by erudite and sensitive individuals.  How different the Internet is from the 20^th C archetypical library: the Warburg Library;  made up of pictures  & books obsessively brought together by an individual reflecting mind,  continuously seeking meaning, establishing affinities & correspondences between historical images.

 “venir en aide à l’historien d’art qui a perdu ses repères dans une masse inerte de données  […] leur donner un sens dans le contexte de l’histoire de la culture […] Warburg n’avait pas de méthode, mais il avait un message » (3)

«  que l’histoire de l’art importe encore non pas en tant qu’accumulation de faits, mais en tant que témoignage des souffrances et des triomphes de l’humanité » (4)

In order to find their bearings in the massively accumulated data, future (art) historians will need the help of algorithms with superior data-digestion capabilities. 

But how could we expect from algorithms to understand the meaning - the aesthetic, moral and emotional meaning -  of the data they crunch?  

How will they be able to convert these big data again into testimonials that at some point in the future might still appeal to organic specimens of humankind?

Artificial Notes

  1) some figures  & thoughts on book production and survival, from “CrossRoads – travelling through the Middle Ages” by Marco Mostert :  

“from the sixth through the eighth century some 67.000  manuscripts were produced in the Latin West […] From the entire eighth century less than 2.000 manuscripts (or fragments) have survived”
 The cost of making books was high so  “the early-medieval manuscripts that have come down to us all represent considered decisions to make a copy of a text or to write a text […] That is why every manuscript book from this period is worth studying."

(picture from Wikipedia page with list of key works of Carolingian illumination) 


2) some figures & thoughts  on 21^st C “content production” : “As of May 2019, more than 500 hours of video were uploaded to YouTube every minute. This equates to approximately 30,000 hours of newly uploaded content per hour” www.statista.com. “More than 95 million photos are uploaded to Instagram every day.” “More than 1 billion videos viewed on TikTok every day”  . 
The trend may be versus more ephemeral social media (such as snapchat, instagram stories)  with eg  programmed deletion of content after it has been viewed – that would help stop the exponential  growth in saved data. 

  3) quoted from the  French translation of Gombrich’s book “Aby Warburg – Une Biographie intellectuelle”.
Translated again into English by an algorithm – which doesn’t understand the meaning of language but is uncannily competent all the same : “to help the art historian who has lost his bearings in an inert mass of data […] give [the data] meaning in the context of the history of culture […]  Warburg had no method, but he had a message “ 

  4) “ that art history still matters not as an accumulation of facts, but as a testimony to the sufferings and triumphs of humanity ”  (also translated by ab algorithm)