Yan Sun

The Essay, Sec.7

July 19, 2011

Jill McDonough

   As an extremely gifted Surrealist artist, Salvador Dali is at the same time, a narcissistic, necrophilic, and morally disgusting citizen. George Orwell gave a fairly impartial and objective account of Dali in his article Benefit of Clergy: Some Notes on Salvador Dali. To Orwell, it’s important to see “the two facts that Dali is a good draughtsman and a disgusting human being” (217). Therefore, it’s inappropriate to merely see him as a morally corrupted human being or as a dexterous artist (Orwell 222); he embodies both of the characteristics, which is the fact that leads to his self-struggle. The struggle is not only illuminated by the fact that he falls into the awkward position between art and morals, but also the fact that he belongs to “that (Edwardian) period and that style of drawing” (220), yet he is so eager to “assure himself that he is not commonplace” that he exhibits a totally inversed style in his own works.

    It is commonly admitted that Dali’s works are abhorrent and “wicked” (219); however, through the careful observation of George Orwell, many of Dali’s drawings “convey at once an intense feeling of sentimentality” (219). It can be understood that the “wickedness” present in his works is a way for him to show his genius and intelligence in creating something special, something that diverts from what is commonly perceived as beauty. It is a piece of evidence of his rebellion: he so desperately wanted to separate himself from those who were seen as ordinary, and he succeeded in standing out by disgusting most of the “average men” in the name of art. However, deep down in his heart, he had “a much deeper, less conscious affection” (220) for Edwardian things. The coexistence of obvious aberration and unconscious tendency towards commonplace makes him an artist of controversy, and it also contributes to his self-struggling between being a wicked yet exceptional artist and a more morally accepted citizen.

Works Cited

Orwell, George. “Benefit of Clergy: Some Notes on Salvador Dali.” All Art Is Propaganda. Ed. George Packer. Florida: Harcourt, Inc., 2008. 210-222. Print.

2.  The misinterpretation of Order

Yan Sun

The Essay, Sec. 7

July 20, 2011

Jill McDonough

  What is art? This is a question that E. M. Forster, the writer of Art For Art’s Sake, is trying to answer before he gives the definition of “art for art’s sake,” “a phrase which has been much misused and much abused” (88). To him, “[a] work of art… is a self-contained entity… [i]t has internal order” (89).

   Fearing that the definition might not be explicit enough for readers to understand, since the word “order” is often–just like the phrase and the word “art”- misinterpreted, the writer further gives the definition of “order”.

   The order in real life is often confused with orders(Forster 90). Order “is an internal stability, a vital harmony” (90), whereas orders are something brutally imposed on the society to maintain order. Order in real life hasn’t existed; it’s unreachable given the fact that humans are perforce hungry for power and eager to apply new discoveries to destroy the old arrangement (Forster 90). The seemingly ordered society is in fact consisted of disorders, since the “order” in real life is attained through abiding by the orders set by the ruling class, and already has the “harmony” disappeared during the process of maintaining order. History is built with overturn of the old orders and creation of new conflicts (Forster 90).  There’s no possibility for “order” to stand up unless we “altered psychologically” (95). On the other hand, detached from the real world, art is the embodiment of internal order, “it is the only material object in the universe which may posses internal harmony” (92). When a dynasty died out, the order of the old society collapsed; however the art in that very dynasty endures, since it is in the art that true order exits, and will never perish.

Works Citation

Forster, E.M. Two Cheers for Democracy. 5^th ed.  New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, 1951. Print.

3. Whose problem?

Yan Sun

The Essay, Sec. 7

July 20, 2011

Jill McDonough

 Artist has always been- at least E.M. Forster argues so- a loyal and competent citizen as others, but hasn’t always been receiving as much support and encouragement from the society as others have. Forster criticizes the society’s lack of support for artists. He argues that the state does not believe in experiment, which is something artists are always looking for. He blames society for not taking care of its citizens, and for not being inclusive enough to embrace artists. But is it really the case? Or is it because Forster himself is an artist that he indulges artists and is blind to see that it’s their own fault not being able to fit in?

   Scientists experiment even if they can’t promise the outcome of their experiments; but they are working for the maintenance of the society and are admired by the state and its people. On the other hand, Artists don’t promise the result of their experiments too; the difference between them and scientists lies in the fact that the success of their experiment is erected in the ruins of the society they currently live in (Forster 98). Artists’ idea of success contradicts with the society’s interest; no wonder they are kicked out. How could you ask for somebody’s support while you’re clearly aware of the fact that you two share entirely different interests and goals? Isn’t it a little bit insolent for artists to “ask the state to employ (them) on trust and pay (them) without understanding what (they are) up to” (98)?   To Forster, it’s the society’s loss when artists are unable to fit in. The truth is, artists know they don’t fit in, and it’s part of their “duty not to fit in” (98). Therefore, they have to take the responsibility of themselves not being supported or rewarded as much as other more loyal and competent citizens.

Works Cited

Forster, E.M. Two Cheers for Democracy. 5^th ed.  New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, 1951. Print.

4. The choice of word

Yan Sun

The Essay, Sec. 7

July 19, 2011

Jill McDonough

   Imagine looking at a photograph depicting amazingly beautiful view of the sunset, what is your choice of word to describe the picture? According to Susan Sontag, “anyone with minimal standards of verbal sophistication might well prefer to say, ‘… the photograph is interesting’” (24).  In communities where the innovation is placed as the priority, the general public no longer prefers the word “beautiful”, which seems over-popular and thus has lost its original value as the commendation of something “excellent or desirable;” “[t]hey describe something as “interesting” to avoid the banality of calling it beautiful” (24).

   However, suggesting that you’re watching the very sunset captured in that photo, this time through your own eyes, will you still choose the word “interesting” to describe what you’ve seen?

   But why would someone say a photograph of a beautiful sunset is only “interesting”, while still admit that the sunset itself is “beautiful”? As explained in Sontag’s article, “[t]oday the standards of beauty in nature are largely set by photography,” but the true beauty of nature lies in nature itself, and the impact it plants on whoever admires it cannot be replaced by or equal with that given by a thin piece of photo. “What is beautiful reminds us of nature… and thereby stimulates and deepens our sense of the… reality… that surrounds us all” (26). Though sunset is a cliché (Sontag 22), and “interesting” will be a more fashionable word than “beautiful”, yet when it comes to the true sense of nature, we will still be stunned by the picturesque views in front of us, exclaiming, “That sunset is beautiful. “

Works Cited

Susan Sontag, “An Argument About Beauty”, Daedalus. Fall 2002. Print.  

   I'm glad that I finished all of my homework on time; and it's time for a little recreation right now. 

   See you tomorrow.