Steve’s Stuff

I like music (and most art) from the 20th century from the modernist’s exploration of the ontological boundaries to the postmodernist’s reminder not to take ourselves too seriously. What’s not to like?

At the moment, I’m very interested in mass art and it’s connection to Plato’s fundamental distrust of art (more specifically, it’s proclivity to mimesis). Finally, we have a large body of work that both uses the tools of mass communication and can effectively reach a wide audience. Basically, it’s connecting with a lot of people through the means that they can understand - the possibility of subversion has never been greater. Was Plato correct in thinking that mimetic art would fool and corrupt society? Should it be banned from our “republic”?

Previously in history, fine art was really for the cultured, the learned, and the elite. Sure, the masses may have gone to a few operas, but did they have any real, deep understanding of what they were looking at? No way - it was a social event - they usually weren’t even paying attention to the stage. Thus, fine art never even had the chance to sway the “delicate” minds of society. The connoisseurs wouldn’t be influenced by subsersive content because if they were smart enough to grasp the concepts of art, they were smart enough to think critically, smart enough to avoid being duped by the clever artist with his nefarious plot to poison their minds.

That was then. “Now” is a different story. Mass art is made for a mass audience. It uses communication techniques that they easily understand (and enjoy), it uses mediums that they’re comfortable with (e.g. TV, movies, pop culture), and it’s readily available for a nominal cost (i.e. once you buy the TV, you can begin consuming mass art for free). The state of the world clearly shows that many individuals are still unable to think critically and therefore unable to filter out the “junk”. If their entertainment is subverted, they will be easily swayed from any of their beliefs. How many people thought the Da Vinci Code was real? If an artist (or, conversely, a Dan Brown) throws in a few little touches in the way of footnotes (and the like), the legitimacy appears to increase drastically. Many people will still believe *anything*.

So, the question stands: should we ban art because it would be good for society? My instinct as an artist is to say, “hahahaha - of course not! Lets get in there and mess with people’s heads!” You can’t ignore your artistic instinct, so lets have some fun.

This is another review I wrote for Amazon.com

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Perhaps the only things more polemical than Adorno’s critique of Schoenberg and Stravinsky are the reactions that followed. Unfortunately, many people still assume that they understand Adorno’s views and arguments concerning these two composers. The reductionist tendency to simplify Adorno’s view to “Schoenberg good, Stravinsky bad” shows just who has and who hasn’t actually read this book. It is never so simple. Adorno is frequently critical of Schoenberg in very perceptive ways. Of course there’s no mistaking who Adorno favors, but to consider this book as a good-vs-evil study is far too limiting. Not only is this a great study of the then current state of musical thought, it is also an interesting overview of twelve tone music, how it works, what it seeks to do, and why it’s important.

The format of the book is especially nice. Adorno’s favored paratactical prose style can be incredibly difficult when multi-page paragraphs begin to accumulate. For the most part in Philosophy of New Music, each new paragraph is marked by a heading. This keeps the ideas organized and focused. Adorno’s paragraphs seem to function as a spinning out of an idea in a very fluid manner and the length of his sections are just the right length to allow the reader to comfortably follow him without getting bogged down. His theses is developed piece by piece, but clearly dividing up the ideas helps the reader see the logical progression. Having read other Adorno writings, I found this to be unusually clear and concise. I wonder how much more useful Aesthetic Theory would be if he had used this structure.

The remarkable clarity is probably due, to a large extent, to Robert Hullot-Kentor’s translation. I’ve read many other translators with varying degrees of success (Ashton’s attempt at Negative Dialectics being one of the worst), but Hullot-Kentor is by far the best. Adorno’s writing is riddled with allusions and references that are frequently vague or obscure. Hullot-Kentor does a great service to readers by including additional references and background information. His detailed understanding of Adorno’s complicated thought is evident in every sentence. Reading Adorno has, to me at least, never been so straightforward.

In addition to the translation, Hullot-Kentor provides an excellent foreword providing both a context and an overview of what is inside. His description of the translation process is, as always, interesting. Hullot-Kentor has found a way to provide very readable English translations while maintaining Adorno’s linguistic artistry.