View all notes
Available query params: commented=1, untagged=1
Each overview, whether monistic like van der Leeuw’s or dualistic like Bazin’s, holds that the spiritual quality in art suffered its decline at the expense of “realism,” the duplication of either external or internal reality. Art has always been excited by the challenge of realism: the bison came off the walls and became sculptures, the sculptures became photographs, the photographs moved. Eventually the artist, in his desire to imitate life, attempted to reproduce physical existence itself, not like the Greeks just to portray the highest sensual form. Victor Frankenstein’s mad dream was a Gothic extension of a dream shared by many artists of his age: to artificially recreate human life and its external surroundings. The urge to duplicate the external world was accompanied by an urge to duplicate the internal world. The romantic artist scrutinized and dutifully recorded his own feelings; he was accountable to no other reality than his own. The myth of the “artist personality” came into full bloom, resulting in both the psychological picturesque and impression, romantic verse and the psychological novel. Sypher has noted the similarities in nineteenth-century realism and romanticism; the romantic work of art, though verging on total fantasy, was only realism turned outside in.6
Cinema short-circuited the desire to duplicate external reality—no longer would a painter or novelist strive for the realism cinema inherently offered—and plunged the desire to duplicate internal reality into a deeper, more complex level. Cinema was also, as Hauser wrote, “the final step on the road to profanation.”9 It canonized the human, sensual and profane: it celebrated the realistic properties of the nineteenth century while the other arts went on to explore the twentieth. From its outset cinema exemplified the abundant means. Imitative, representational, experiential, it could produce instant empathy.
The transcendentally minded film-maker finds himself in a unique position: he must properly dispose of a surfeit of abundant means (cinema’s inherent “realism”). He cannot ignore or neglect these means, but must turn them to his advantage. Cinema may have freed the other arts from their desire to imitate life, as Bazin and Sypher contend, but it did not free itself. In fact, Bazin writes, cinema thereby acquired new chains to the “obsession with reality.” This unique alliance of media and abundant means has its advantages as well as its drawbacks. On one hand spiritual cinema was freed from the need to prostitute itself in order to achieve a sense of “realism.” Before the advent of cinema, certain religious artists attempted to first create the illusion of the immanent, then break that illusion, thereby revealing the Transcendent. But, for the most part, these artists spent most of their energy unsuccessfully creating the illusion which they never could successfully “break.” Because the transcendentally minded film-maker already has the illusion at his disposal, he can go immediately to the next stage, attempting to break the illusion. However, the religious film-maker cannot ignore the abundant in the way other artists can. A transcendentally minded painter like Kandinsky, for example, could functionally ignore the abundant means. For him, the abundant means were given; they were the physical gallery where the spectator stood. The canvas itself could be totally sparse, the interplay of abstract forces. Because the cinema is an imitative art in time it not only creates the abstract painting but the gallery as well; a transcendentally minded film-maker simply cannot dismiss the abundant means out of hand.
At the stage of disparity the conflict between abundant and sparse artistic means becomes apparent—and disturbing—to the spectator. This conflict is personified by the protagonist; here is a product of abundant means, a man in realistic human form whose physical needs are like our own, yet whose conduct is a model of sparseness. There is a disparity of artistic means: there are abundant imitative techniques—the protagonist and his surroundings; and there is the cold, sparse stylization which supersedes these techniques. Again, transcendental style uses a minimum of abundant means to sustain a film in which the means are becoming increasingly sparse.
Transcendental style theoretically substitutes sparse means for abundant; just how successful it is in this effort can be determined by the decisive action. It is clearly an abundant means, a dramatic or emotional action which cries out for audience empathy. Yet, if transcendental style is successful, the film will at this late point be so bare, so sparse that an abundant technique will have no context to relate to. In the transformed order of artistic means the empathetic, dramatic device now seems out of place.
The conventional religious film uses a style of identification rather than of confrontation. The style amplifies the abundant artistic means inherent to motion pictures: the viewer is aided and encouraged in his desire to identify and empathize with character, plot, and setting. For an hour or two the viewer can become that suffering, saintly person on screen; his personal problems, guilt, and sin are absorbed by humane, noble, and purifying motives. The spiritual drama, like the romantic drama, becomes an escapist metaphor for the human drama. A confrontation between the human and spiritual is avoided. The decisive action is not an unsettling stylistic shock, but the culmination of the abundant means used throughout the film. It fulfills the viewer’s fantasy that spirituality can be achieved vicariously; it is the direct result of his identification. The abundant means are indeed tempting to a film-maker, especially if he is bent on proselytizing. With comparative ease he can make an ardent atheist sympathize with the trials and agonies of Christ. But he has not lifted the viewer to Christ’s level; he has brought Christ down to the viewer’s.
Spiritual art must always be in flux because it represents a greater mystery, also in flux: man’s relationship to the Holy. In each age the spectator grasps for that special form, that spot on the spectrum, whether in art, religion, or philosophy, which can take him to the greater mystery. At present, no film style can perform this crucial task as well as the transcendental style, no films as well as the films of Ozu and Bresson. To expect or settle for any less from film in general, or the films of Ozu and Bresson in particular, underestimates and demeans them. Transcendental style can take a viewer through the trials of experience to the expression of the Transcendent; it can return him to experience from a calm region untouched by the vagaries of emotion or personality. Transcendental style can bring us nearer to that silence, that invisible image, in which the parallel lines of religion and art meet and interpenetrate.
[...] For all of its forward-looking ‘innovation’, there’s something suspiciously feudal about Silicon Valley. Tech royalty compete for dominance in platform wars, prepared to sacrifice their subjects’ privacy for business contracts and advertising dollars. They hoard resources while showering key personnel with lavish gifts to ensure loyalty and peddling a compelling story about their right to rule. Meanwhile, the remaining workers, dependent on ‘gigs’ for their livelihood, are made to battle with each other for scraps.
Even former enthusiasts are willing to admit that something is awry. But when it comes to actual solutions, there’s little forthcoming. Policymakers echo weary lines about codes of ethics, up-to-date regulation, and diversity in leadership roles. All of which are essentially cosmetic tweaks, little more than window-dressing for tech’s worst excesses. The accumulated power of its corporate behemoths, and their role in propping up an increasingly lopsided economy, remain untouched.
you can tell i really liked this passage because i've recycled in multiple talks since this was published lmao
also i do mildly resent the fact that "suspiciously feudal" wasn't my phrase and yet sounds so much better than whatever clunky phrase i'd come up (since forgotten)
Place Silicon Valley in its proper historical context and you see that, despite its mythology, it’s far from unique. [...] this breakthrough enabled a few well-placed corporations to reap the rewards. By capitalising on network effects, early mover advantage, and near-zero marginal costs of production, they have positioned themselves as gateways to information, giving them the power to extract rent from every transaction.
Undergirding this state of affairs is a set of intellectual property rights explicitly designed to favour corporations. This system — the flip side of globalisation — is propagated by various trade agreements and global institutions at the behest of the nation states who benefit from it the most. It’s no accident that Silicon Valley is a uniquely American phenomenon; not only does it owe its success to the United States’ exceptionally high defence spending — the source of its research funding and foundational technological breakthroughs — that very military might is itself what implicitly secures the intellectual property regime.
Seen in that light, tech’s recent development begins to look rather different. Far from launching a new era of global prosperity, it has facilitated the further concentration of wealth and power. By virtue of their position as digital middlemen, Silicon Valley companies are able to extract vast amounts of capital from all over the world. The most salient example is Apple: recently crowned the world’s most valuable company, Apple rakes in enormous quarterly profits even as the Chinese workers who actually assemble its products are driven to suicide.
I don't actually like the "far from unique" phrasing but I'll need to think about a better way to conceptualise it
The Silicon Valley model of technological development is structurally flawed. It can’t simply be tweaked in a more socially beneficial direction, because it was never intended to be useful for all of society in the first place. At its core, it was always a class project, meant to advance the interests of capital. The founders and investors and engineers who dutifully keep the engines running may not deliberately be reinforcing class divides, but functionally, they are carrying out technological development in a way that enables capitalism’s desire for endless accumulation.
The ruling class would like nothing better than for that Left to disappear, for us to return to speaking an obscure language to small rooms of the converted and abandon the endeavour of building majoritarian coalitions which can transform society.
pablo iglesias' speech! <3