Creative

  • Canto I - Introduction

    I tried to move, but my limbs feel frozen,

    allowing me only

    the most claustrophobic range of motion.

    After much effort, I raised my head.

    Utter darkness engulfed me, alongside

    the smell of urine and rotting flesh.

    Consciousness slowly took hold of

    my mind, and my eyes began to adjust.

    I could make out my wearabouts.

    I lay, contorted, dismantled,

    in an eerie waste bin.

    I could still smell them. The stench.

    My memory resumed and linked

    with my conscious, showing me

    the Zombie Devil, the driver, and sir.

    Now renewed fear flooded me,

    overflowing from my mind, eyes, and chest,

    where a heart was supposed to be.

    I scrambled frantically, flailing my body

    the most I could move, until my eyes

    rested upon Pochita on my low abdomen.

    How was I alive, I wondered, and soon

    answered myself, “I know not whether

    I am alive in the first place.”

    Pochita’s woof returned to me my focus,

    and my mind could make out his words,

    the contract he is offering.

    “I have always loved listening to you talk

    about your dreams.

    This is a contract.

    “I will give you my heart to fill your void.

    In exchange, show me your dreams.

    I will act as your subconscious and coexist with you.

    You will see more, feel more, understand more,

    I am your guide on your journeys forth.”

    Pochita vanished and jerked me out of limbo.

    Once again the sensation arose deep within

    my lungs, my arms, my heart

    in perfect synchronicity.

    My wounds disappeared so perfectly

    that I questioned whether they existed at all, before seeing a cord

    which was embedded between my pectorials.

    Material indiscernible, jet-black,

    tail-like , and protruding as a parasite would,

    wriggling along with my movements.

    “We disposed of your every aspect,

    Yet you live?! I truly despise people like you!”

    The Zombie Devil’s subjects shot towards me.

    “His power is mind control, beware,”

    I heard Pochita’s voice, soothing despite our situation,

    “He tricks people into one-sided contracts,

    using them as slaves, tools, weapons.

    Taking over their mind, body, and soul.

    See how they move, free yet without will?”

    I recall selling my kidney, my eye, my balls,

    cutting timber with Pochita,

    dreaming of a better life, reaping close to none.

    There is no escape, the zombies rushed me

    from all six axis, plus more,

    conjoining and morphing against creation.

    I glanced at them in empty, bottomless pity,

    voiced my verdict to grant them their stroke of grace,

    and yanked, hard, at the triangular ringed cord.

    The next moments flashed by, and I will

    do my best to recount them in detail,

    for the deed was finished before my human counterpart struck.

    Three chainsaws grew along with a mask or helmet - so to say -

    out from my two elbows out, splitting my flesh

    while one sprouted roughly out of my head.

    “This is your new form from our fusing! The Chainsaw Devil!”

    Pochita’s voice resonated from my heart,

    “Learn to control this power! Use it well!”

    I controlled them the best I could,

    wielding the rotating blades, and punished the

    Zombie Devil, leaving splatters of blood in my wake.

    My simple central belief that:

    “if I want to resolve the issue at hand,

    I could simply kill them all.”

    I stared at the pile of bodies, forming a dune,

    as three figures, silhouetted, appeared.

    Their leader approached me, almost too close, and sniffed.

    “You smell neither of human nor devil,”

    she remarked, gently. My helmet hid my face

    and the expression of longing and hunger.

    “Careful, now,” said Pochita, which startled me.

    “I have seen your past, your suffering,

    heard your darkest cries, Denji. Now I warn you.

    Obviously it is your choice, but I know how

    easily you fall for nice people, well, we all do.

    I have experience as a devil, but it's your choice.”

    However, she embraced me tightly, as I lost all strength

    and felt the helmet melt into my face,

    showcasing my blank emotion and dead eyes.

    She looked once more at me,

    almost hearing my thoughts, despite my petrified state.

    “Some coffee, salad, and desert?” She offered.

    Canto IV - Limbo

    Reality surrounded me as Pochita guided my movements,

    luring me closer to the pit, the pool which resides in it.

    “Come over, Denji. I’ll show you something fun!”

    Pochita’s voice echoed before dissipation,

    and I followed it, though scared to examine too closely.

    Upon further inspection I feel outdoors,

    on dark grass, tinted with the color of

    a murky blood red, though so dark that

    it seemed I was standing in an enclosure, like a cage, a stomach.

    “Welcome to my home,” Pochita explained.

    “Right now we are inside your consciousness.

    Here is where the decisions are made.

    “By me, of course.” Pochita said. I felt my way around,

    for my senses deserted me, no sight, smell, sound, taste,

    or any vibrations that I could comprehend.

    I wanted to clarify, wanted to ask, but sheer

    overwhelming sleepiness overtook me,

    and suddenly I could perceive all details,

    See in perfect darkness, hear the tiniest

    Movements of insects, smell…blood? -

    Is it blood? - like being woken up to a different reality.

    I was still in the dark space, but deeper down,

    where I stood waist high in the pool. I could feel the liquid’s

    sticky texture and its lumpy consistency - blood.

    “Try it,” Pochita offered, and I followed his counsel,

    bending from my lower back, until I could smell it.

    Its rusty, sharp smell reminded me of weathered iron.

    Fearing a distortion in my sense of smell,

    I plunged my cupped hands into the pool,

    and scooped out enough for one wine-cup full, and gulped it all down.

    It tasted bitter, like the dandelion leaves I received,

    then turned sour, like the unripe grapefruits I would steal,

    and finally sweet, like blood the way I remembered it.

    My tongue also noticed tiny chunks, like diced liver,

    yet with such freshness that I cannot comprehend its origin.

    I searched back for Pochita’s voice or form, and dove.

    I swam like a mindless dog towards Pochita,

    for now my vision is adjusting. He stood on an island

    where I will assume to be the center of the pool.

    I felt an acidic smell burn my nostrils,

    and it hazed my newly tuned eyes

    before clouding my mind with heavy nausea.

    As my body cut through the blood,

    I feel the blood become smooth, and

    chunks of raw flesh brush against

    my legs, my waist, my chest,

    for the pool envelops me as it deepens,

    and soon my foot paddled to keep me afloat.

    Realization hit me, but I felt no panic -

    rather a painful emptiness. I somehow knew from the start

    that the bloody pool is filled with death.

    The consistency of the blood never changed,

    the feeling only changed as shreds of flesh so fine

    they could dissolve as salt in water

    surfaced as whole organs, limbs, and slabs of tissue

    the closer I swam towards the small island.

    It is likely that the dead lived here long ago.

    I clambered onto the patch of land

    where Pochita awaited,

    alongside a grotesque body, piling high into the darkness.

    I could make out four arms, or five,

    and just as easily smell its skin

    while the whole thing melts.

    “This is my stomach. Pochita’s stomach.

    you are here because of Power. She was here. That blood fiend.

    You used up too much blood fighting the Zombie Devil,

    yet the delay of blood loss only overcame you.

    Power just gave you some blood, allowing this conversation.”

    Pochita looked at me with empty eyes, like tunnels.

    “Power being here means you ran out of blood.

    You currently stand in limbo. OUR limbo.

    On the outside, you are regenerating.

    “If you are not already aware,” Pochita continued,

    “We, the chainsaw devil, used blood to fight. But - in a way -

    We also have a very very special ability:

    WE CAN KILL DEVILS.”

    I started blankly, “Can we overcome immortality?

    Pochita, are you losing blood as well?”

    “No. We can erase their concepts.

    I am quite aware, Denji,

    that devils can always be reborn

    Making them practically immortal. But

    that is held by the Chainsaw Devil, us,

    is that whatever devils we eat, like these ones,

    we can choose to erase their existence. Kill? Sure.

    But also erase them from history, prevent their rebirth,

    put simply, we change their past, present, and future.”

    I inspected the pile of flesh, and noticed

    Four separate entities. The flower devil,

    the fern devil, the bark devil, and the vine devil.

    “Watch.” Pochita whispered words to the devils,

    phrases, sounds, even frequencies I knew not,

    for my purpose was to kill, to devour.

    “They will remain elsewhere, in my stomach.”

    Pochita concluded. “But far from the bloody pool.

    For we killed them in search of strength, not blood.”

    Canto V - Lust

    I sat in the backseat of a black sedan,

    next to the light-red-haired women. I was shirtless,

    so I recalled her embrace from blurry memories.

    “Put this on,” she said, moments after.

    She took off her blazer and handed it to me.

    “You’ll draw attention like that. Wear something”

    People always call me dirty. Smelly.

    I can hardly recall anyone ever coming near me.

    Yet she treated me nicely - l think I’m in love.

    “Denji,” Pochita voice rang out,

    “I was with you when you were in debt,

    and I’m sure that you have your own hopes?

    Hugs? Dates? General affection?

    Not being despised? But I must say,

    I have a bad feeling about her, especially long-term.”

    We stopped shortly at a udon restaurant,

    where the owner kept yelling about

    some devil who took his daughter.

    I then understood that the women operated

    A devil hunter agency, for then she asked me my name.

    “It’s Denji,” I replied.

    “I don’t want my noodles to get soggy,

    So go kill the devil by yourself, Denji.”

    Confusion overtook me, for I recalled ordering udon too.

    I turned around to search for an advocator,

    yet those with her was already reassuring

    the shop owner. Calling me “a skilled hunter.”

    She turned towards me, and gently probed:

    “Did you forget? You are my pet.

    Reply with ‘yes’ or ‘woof’.

    “You know…Denji…

    useless dogs…

    are put down.”

    I ran off, deep into the forest,

    in every which direction,

    until I heard a childish, monotonous

    laughter. It made me cringe deep down

    but Pochita told me to follow it, acting as my guts,

    and it led me to a little girl, around 5 or 6 or 7.

    She is accompanied by a…globular snake?

    …and defending it?

    “Please let this devil go!” she begged me.

    I understood her sympathy

    and from a similar situation I felt empathy.

    But clear logic and basic common sense

    told me otherwise. To kill. To torture.

    “Beware of it, Denji, don’t be tricked!”

    Pochita’s voice got louder as he said this.

    “If I kill your friend,” I said,

    “I’d feel bad, but if I don’t,

    I can only face death by my superior.

    “How about - let's run away together?

    We could change our lives, restart,

    and steal food and kill other devils together!”

    The girl looked surprised, almost blank,

    “Sir…are you sure? Could we?”

    “Yeah, of course. My heart is a devil too!”

    The girl clasped my hands, and I

    laughed with her, a silly sound.

    And her arms mutated.

    It was a few seconds before I realized

    I was hung from my hands,

    dangling in the limbs of the Muscle Devil.

    It laughed that girlish, inhuman laugh,

    straining and breaking my muscles where it touched.

    Scrutinizing my pain through five beady eyes.

    Again I was dazed and the battle ended.

    I remember most of it…

    pain, chainsaws, puncture, ripping, blood.

    Despite my blood loss,

    I was able to carry the girl back to the udon store,

    where she waited.

    Tiredness overtook me, and

    sheer exhaustion which weakened my body.

    Limply, I fell into her arms.

    “She smells really good,” I thought.

    We walked back to the restaurant,

    where she fed me soggy noodles from my bowl.

    She once again reminded me that I was a good dog,

    confessed her love for a boy named Denji,

    and told me her name was Makima.

    Canto XIV - Violence against Nature, God, and Art

    “Denji, you and the other five get along!

    Go kill the one who consumed the Gun Devil’s flesh

    and retrieve it.” was what Makina told me.

    The current group is: “Power, us,” Pochita started,

    “Aki, Himeno, Hirokazu, and Kobeni.

    Aki is our leader. Their abilities remain unknown.”

    We entered the hotel as instructed, and simply patrolled.

    We searched every floor, and played.

    Sometimes, we even threatened each other.

    I saw Himeno’s power, it was quite cool,

    for she can summon the hands and limbs

    of a ghost, and utilize it as a weapon.

    “A contract with the Ghost Devil.” Pochita said.

    “Notice how she can choose whether to

    make her power visible or not, hence ghost.”

    As we walked onto the eighth floor,

    we heard the rattle of some sort.

    It sounded empty, but soft. Flesh soft.

    Seconds later, a disembodied head jumped out.

    It slowly walked into frame, for it had

    Two feet attached awkwardly by its sides.

    It was destroyed quickly, weak as it is.

    Caught, suspended and sliced,

    in surprising unison by Himeno and Power.

    Clearly, it was not our target, or our main target.

    We sent Arai to the seventh floor and decided it best

    to separate, to cover the most ground.

    Yet it was not five seconds before Arai

    was seen walking downstairs

    from the right hand stairwell,

    Himeno followed Arai’s steps, and received the

    very same result, appearing right behind Arai,

    who stood puzzled on the seventh step.

    Aki, giving up on the problem immediately,

    led us into a random room,

    where he entered the bathroom.

    He was greeted by another room,

    two beds, two paintings above each,

    not a single aspect close or hint of a bathroom.

    “We’re stuck on the eighth floor.”

    Aki concluded, and for the first time,

    I heard fear in his voice. Like a strained sound.

    I felt tired, and while the others argued,

    I got into bed and fell asleep,

    where I was woken almost instantly,

    with Power shouting about sales taxes.

    Aki led us out of our hotel room,

    and showed us our target devil.

    It was the one we killed earlier,

    or the one Power killed.

    It now filled the hallway

    in a way liquid, like water,

    if water was replaced by webbed flesh,

    and sticky veins that stuck to the ceilings and walls.

    It made slow, reverberating sounds of squelching,

    like soapy sponge being wrung over and over.

    It ebbed in a slug like manner. We froze. Then it spoke.

    From one of its many months,

    almost melting out of the floor - for it has

    closed its distance between us during our pause -

    “Foolish humans. I’ll offer you a contract.

    Let me eat Denji, dead or alive, and I’ll return

    the rest of you to the outside world. Unharmed.”

    “Denji…” I turned around in bewilderment,

    it was Kobeni speaking, “Denji…

    Let it eat you.” She pointed her knife at me.

    “What? You’d trust that thing to keep his word?”

    I was surprised, but Pochita was the one who answered.

    “When the word ‘contract’ is used by a devil,

    it is the most powerful. For it creates a binding

    of two parties which if one party honors, the other

    must follow through, or face death.”

    The devil swelled suddenly, filling the hallway

    Like hot glass blown into a mold.

    Kobeni shrieked, and so did Arai.

    “I expand with fear, and ensnare in fear!

    Your deaths are guaranteed -

    Feel more fright, dread death, fear all!

    My weakness is not here, for this eighth floor

    is in my stomach entirely. Chainsaw Man will die

    by my hands! Killed by me, the Eternity Devil!”

    “Someone kill Denji!” Shouted Kobeni,

    clearly the most fearful. Despite not knowing her ability,

    I was sure I could kill her if I needed to.

    “Please kill him! Please!” Begged Kobeni.

    “Let’s feed him to the devil!” Exclaimed Arai.

    “Die for my nobel prize Denji!” Power shouted carefreely.

    “Fine already! I’ll get eaten!” I yelled back,

    “but I’ll fight to the death.” Pochita reminded me of

    the Eternity Devil crying in pain as my chainsaws touched it.

    “I’ll torment it to death.” I concluded.

    “I might die, but if it hates pain so much,

    I really want to make it kill itself!”

    I jumped into the devil’s mouth, which gaped,

    creating the darkest darkness. Not knowing where,

    or what, I am going to fight, I was swallowed whole.

    I felt flesh tighten around me,

    closing in around my arms, my feet.

    Before it bound me completely, I reached for my chest,

    my hand felt the cord, its triangular ring,

    and yanked with all my strength.

    Instantly, I transformed into the Chainsaw Devil.

    I leaped upwards with all my might,

    and felt once again the mind-splitting pain

    as chainsaws erupted from my elbows out,

    horizontally bisecting my forearms,

    and a chainsaw emerging from my head,

    which the helmet enclosed.

    My chainsaws ripped through the devil

    from inside out, and I flew back out

    from its mouth, spraying blood.

    “So you were alive after all! Chainsaw!

    You can’t kill me! My heart isn’t here!”

    Yet I slashed, hearing it scream in grotesque roars.

    I quickly felt my strength being depleted,

    and Pochita told me it was due to blood loss.

    I have overstrained my strength, and I need to recharge.

    My chainsaw retracted into my arms,

    leaving only one protruding from my head.

    “You die! You lose! You are out of blood!”

    I did not listen to its taunts, its wicked laughter,

    for I jammed my remaining weapon into it,

    deep as possible, partly because I enjoyed its howl.

    The other reason is due to the rain of blood I receive.

    It bursts forth like water balloons when popped,

    and I gulped it down in great big mouthfuls.

    It tasted like sewer water, but I established a cycle.

    I would drink its blood, and regenerate.

    I will regain my chainsaws, fight with blood, and drink its.

    I fought through pain, and lost many tons of blood.

    I was fighting an endless battle, on an

    indefinite scale, not knowing when it will finish.

    Turns out, this “indefinence” was three days,

    during which I have heard the Eternity Devil’s darkest moments,

    and have brought it the greatest punishment I could give.

    “It hurts! I’m sorry! This is my core! My heart!

    I can’t take any more pain! It is unbearable!

    Hurry up! Hurry up and kill me!”

    Moments later I walked out of the hotel

    alongside five useless teammates,

    into the radiant sunlight, where I fell asleep.

  • Herman pushed open the rustic door and immediately noticed the narrow beams overhead and followed down towards the slowly degrading condition of the wooden fibers. The door did not resemble nor feel like cedar, as he had been told, for there lacked the faint tint of pink color. This bothered him, and it forced his concentration upon the unevenness, the shallow cracks, which nevertheless showed sunlight through. He reached out his fingertips to touch the grainy surface, against the roughness, only to sense warmth radiated throughout his body. The warmth was palpable, and filled the environment with presence before it raced up his forearm, almost a gentle caress. It wiped away the chill of the winter’s day, and painted the forest orange and gold. He felt the wind blow gently before it ceased, which shook the shadows and colors, and threw his perspective into an elegant disarray. He followed the sunlight that shot through in narrow spotlights, never enough to illuminate an entire section of the house, but sufficient to emphasize its lines, geometry, and exposure to the elements.

    In one swift movement, he entered a grand space, filled with the echoes of a bygone era. The walls are adorned with an explosion of intricate tapestries, color fading, yet undoubtedly held distinct stories of love and betrayal. From above hung a French style chandelier, the dark paint peeling, revealing accumulated dust and fingerprints. The floor was a surprising black marble, which, despite the depreciation of time, still emulated the coldness associated with it. Herman lifted both arms, barely filling the distance between the walls, which was an undistinguishable design of creme, ivory, and gray beneath the tapestries. The air smelt of sandalwood and musk: delicate, distinct yet subtle - much like fragrances as chrysanthemum, which used to emulate around his Mother’s dining room from perfumes and incense. Could this be my own? Do we reciprocate? As Herman walked, the sound of his boots echoed through the stone, reverberating off the exposed sections of the wall and absorbed by the tapestries; the footsteps were consistent, almost too much so, every two-and-a-half seconds precisely. Click, pause, click, pause, click. Perhaps it was because he paced so slowly, or that the foyer resembled too much of a hallway, that it seemed to take forever to progress. Herman’s hearing weakened, and the sound of his movement faded into perfect silence, swarming him with ambience, overwhelming his consciousness. For a moment, the air became oppressing, something that last occurred when Herman watched his sister drown. He instantly recalled the sloshing of the waves, the flailing of her arms, and saw her open mouth choke on seawater before making eye contact one last time. There was distance between him and her, and with the striking sunlight, she appeared blurry, ethereal. What was he then? Four years old? Maybe five? He knew he wasn’t old back then, but also knew what he saw as desperation to survive. He did not attend his sister’s funeral. As a matter of fact, no one brought up the funeral until he learned what a funeral was and asked about it three years later (he knew it was three years because an artist, a politician, and a scientist famously died - death a year). “She is not your sister.” was the most he ever got. But, Herman thought, why not? Quickly, his hearing came back, and he heard whispers of non-existent groups around him, though no word or phrase was discernible. He roughly dismissed it as he made his way around the corner into the bright, backlit living room, which connected to the dining area, reluctant to reignite his needless, excruciating curiosity.

    The living room is completely empty, though Herman can still easily spot the hurriedly cleaned stains on the ground. The wiry white veins of the marble seemed ever more present, distantly glowing from below, contrasting all else, making the natural light appear dim. Herman spotted them easily, with every new sighting contributing to a map of the living room ground, a completely useless endeavor. He paid close attention to each vein, noticing the twists and turns, the organic yet mysterious lines, breaks, curves. Herman stared at them until they began to move, slithered like snakes, danced like a ribbon loose in the wind, wiggled like the ceaseless thread being knit into mittens. Herman reached out blankly, and soon found himself on the ground, trying to catch them, to save them. It was a chance to give what he never had. Then, they pulsated, sometimes stopping in their tracks. The transformations mesmerized Herman, and he finally looked up when he could no longer differentiate the outlines of the marble slabs with the veins. Herman’s hands glistened with sweat, and he followed that specific strand of sunlight, finally resting his focus on the hazy kitchen window.

    Herman approached it swiftly, to find a minuscule notecard propped up in a transparent holder, glowing with sun, an aura around its border. He looked at his name, roughly printed in violet ink, with a scarcely distinguishable off-centeredness. The “C” appeared in a beautiful cursive, leading the firstname in a frenzy of twists and turns. The “iel” settled down behind the “C”, forcibly ending its croisé devant. He continued: no space before the H, then as normal, his surname. A slow pause followed, in which Herman was almost sucked into nothingness, but his burning agitation shrouded his descend. He stood before the namecard, his fingers twitching. He reached out and swiped the card out of its throne, pinching the edges of the card tightly, yet still felt the smoothness of the paper between his fingertips. Suddenly, so unexpected that even Herman was unprepared, the namecard became ripped in two, separating the first and last names. Herman examined his surname, the “H”, the “R”, the “M”, all resembling the “N”. A sense of defiance grew in his eyes, a fire that burned bright and fierce against the previous constraints of familial ties and shackled freedom. The paper’s illumination ceased, and though the sunlight now lit the window instead, the name card retained its beauty.

    Now, the panes. Herman took a step back, taking in the sensation, searching for details. Quickly, he found them. Upon the rectangular three by four, tiny fairies danced, no bigger than the smallest unit, grouping and ungrouping, moving yet standing still. Herman stared into the misty view, a dreamy, almost ethereal atmosphere, a blank world of creativity mixed with nature, of an old life reinstated, a childhood reimagined. The diffused light beams spoke to Herman of unspoiled beauty, meant to remain undisturbed. However, Herman gave himself towards the light, pooling his forms into the brightness, watching it undisturbed form as an outsider. When he met his newborn sister, she was the smallest human he had ever seen, ever noticed. Back then, he didn’t care that her tiny fingers and toes, so perfect and unblemished, seemed to embody that sense of pure potential; that his time preceded hers, and how the world would slowly chip away at that grin until eventually the child loses its shape; and the hope which emanated from her warm palms when he held them, a fleeting feeling, but one that gave him peace in an otherwise harsh and unforgiving world. Now, time is designed to frame the vulnerability of new life, the wide and curious eyes and how her dreams would be crushed, the longing which often accompanied melancholy, knowing the limitations of life at its weakest form.

    Now, the meadow. Herman wandered through the meadow, exploding with buttercup yellow and cornflower blue, rose pink and moss green. He searched between the wildflowers and tangled grasses, seeking a moment of peace amidst the riot of colors, though not against it. He accepted the change in the sky above as a forever deepening shade of blue, though never black, and that the sun slowly set behind the distant hills, only hiding. Herman walked until he came across a pristine mountain range, with snow-capped peaks that had never been climbed, marked, named, or celebrated. The peaks seemed to reach for the sky, beckoning the adult to come closer and explore the wonders of the natural world. They rose and sank so as to break up the sky and all else should their silhouettes be taken. Herman saw in them a kind of wildness and freedom that was missing from the urban landscapes of his childhood. The snow that clung to the peaks seemed to shimmer in the sunlight, casting a halo that made everything around it appear more radiant still. From his distance, Herman could only contemplate their ominous beauty, and the dangers that lay hidden within their depths. He wondered what it would be like to venture up to the top, to brave the treacherous terrain and the biting cold, to experience the full force of nature's power firsthand. But even as he marveled at their majesty, Herman couldn't help but feel unease, foreboding, and umbratical. The peaks allowed the sun to appear, blinding Herman, chasing him away from the somethings which lurked just beyond the boundaries of human civilization. It also hid the glossy lake, a mirror reflecting the sky above, making the world seem brand-new. Herman stood afar, staring at the lake. He imagined the movements in split shots: a little girl drowning, a pair of arms, then one hand above water. It wasn’t this lake though, Herman reminded himself, silenced his consciousness, and absorbed the sheer clarity and calmness of the water surface. Questions surfaced, doubts stemming from confusion, from fear, from suffocation. Did he ever drown? If so, did his arms ever flail like his sister when she did? Why didn’t anyone save his sister? He couldn’t, he was watching from a distance - he could never have made it quick enough. Ripped of choice, only left to be guided by nature and destiny - what does the truest desire to live feel like? Is it scary?

    Herman was never scared. He was anxious, which induced his fears. When he was a newborn left in a cradle at night, he saw things, creatures. Some greeted him like old acquaintances, some simply stared at him from a corner, blankness overcrowding his little room. When he was older - four years old? Maybe five? He was able to communicate with his parents. He asked for empty spaces to be filled, so he no longer worried about under his bed. Then entire furniture pieces began to come alive.

  • Collingwood leans back in his chair, studying The Ninth Wave by Ivan Aivazovsky: Art, my dear friend, is not a mere reflection of reality; it is an expression of human emotion.

    Kuhn: An intriguing perspective. I've often found myself pondering paradigm shifts in the sciences. How might your philosophy apply to the societal influence of art historically?

    Collingwood: Take a look around, my friend. Each stroke on canvas is a window into the soul, an expression that transcends the constraints of time. Art is not necessarily a concrete object, but the aesthetic experience of the work of art as such; an emotional response.

    Kuhn: So you propose that art is a continuous expression of the human experience?

    Collingwood: Indeed. It's a dynamic flow. Uninterrupted … To understand a culture, one must delve into its art.

    Kuhn: Continuous expression, Collingwood … consider the evolution of artistic movements. Are they not parallel to what I term paradigm shifts in the sciences?

    Collingwood: A fascinating comparison. The ebb and flow of artistic evolution, the transition from one movement to another, may indeed compare to the shifts in scientific paradigms.

    Kuhn: I proposed the concept of incommensurability. Different artistic movements provide distinct frameworks for understanding and interpreting the world.

    Collingwood: Paradigm shifts in art, incommensurability in styles - captivating concepts. But art goes beyond individual movements - it weaves a narrative of cultures, reflects and shapes societal attitudes, values, and norms.

    Kuhn: Societal impact is integral. Artistic movements often emerge within specific cultural contexts, relating to societal dynamics … much like the interplay between science and its cultural backdrop.

    Collingwood: It's an encapsulation of human emotion, transcending the confines of a canvas.

    Kuhn: Emotion, you say? How can strokes convey such profound sentiments?

    Collingwood: Look beyond the brushstrokes. Feel the emotions in each pigment. Here … melancholy, silence, isolation.

    Kuhn: So, you see art as a continuous expression of the human experience?

    Collingwood: Indeed.

    Kuhn: It's a profound way to view art. The emotional resonance is a testament to the enduring nature of human experience.

    Collingwood: Take, for instance, the transition from Romanticism to Realism. It's not merely a change in style; it's a shift in how artists perceive and interpret their reality … And just as in science, these shifts are not just about aesthetics; they have profound implications for how societies perceive and interact with the world.

    Kuhn: Artistic evolution is a constant renegotiation of how we perceive and interpret our existence. Your paradigm shifts in art, Collingwood, I refer to as incommensurability scientifically.

    Collingwood: Incommensurability, you say?

    Kuhn: Take this Renaissance masterpiece, for example. The aesthetics and ideals represented here are fundamentally different from what emerged during later periods.

    Collingwood: Indeed, the Renaissance brought about a rebirth of humanism and a renewed focus on classical ideals.

    Kuhn: Now, consider this abstract piece. ‘The Tree of Knowledge.’ The aesthetic language here is incommensurable with the Renaissance … It offers a distinct - its own - framework for interpreting the world.

    Collingwood: The shift from representational art to abstract forms signifies a departure from mimetic representation. It introduces a new language of expression, and thus challenges traditional modes of understanding.

    Kuhn: Just as scientific revolutions bring about incommensurable changes in the way we understand the natural world, artistic movements introduce incommensurable shifts in our perception of the human experience.

    Collingwood: The evolution of art, like the evolution of scientific thought, reflects the dynamic nature of human expression. Each movement introduces a unique perspective, rendering the old ways incommensurable with the new.

    Kuhn: It's as if each artistic movement creates its own language.

    Collingwood: Precisely … The dialogue between different artistic periods is complex, and the incommensurability you describe captures the essence of this … ever-evolving conversation.

    Collingwood: Again, the Renaissance was more than a cultural rebirth; it was an artistic revolution.

    Kuhn: It's intriguing, Collingwood.

    Collingwood: The Industrial Revolution transformed society, and art mirrored the upheaval. Paintings not only depict the changes but contribute to the societal narrative.

    Kuhn: The shift in societal structures and values is vividly captured. Art becomes a record and an active participant in the unfolding story.

    Collingwood: Abstract expressionism challenged conventions, inviting viewers into the realm of emotion and subjectivity.

    Khun: A departure from the representational.

    Collingwood: Yet a reflection of the cultural upheavals of its time.

    Kuhn: Paradigm shifts in art, just as in science, bring about new ways of seeing and understanding the world. The interplay is indeed intricate.

    Collingwood: Art, Kuhn, is always actively shaping and being shaped by the cultural tapestry of its time.

    Kuhn: And, Collingwood, much like scientific revolutions, artistic revolutions bring about transformative moments in the way societies perceive and express themselves.

    Collingwood: Kuhn, my friend, takes a moment to absorb the raw emotion captured in this canvas. It's a representation of a revolutionary moment in art.

    Kuhn: Revolutionary moments in art, you say? How does this canvas challenge established norms? Did it reshape the artistic landscape?

    Collingwood: Notice the departure from traditional forms. This abstract expressionism rejects the confines of realistic representation. It's a rebellion. It rebels against the established norms of the art world. It pushes the boundaries of what is deemed acceptable.

    Kuhn: It's a visual revolution. New movements challenging the status quo, paving the way for a fresh perspective.

    Collingwood: These movements don't just alter the course of art; they reverberate through society. The avant-garde challenges not only the canvas but also the collective consciousness. It sparks conversations, challenges perceptions … and, in doing so, shapes the very fabric of societal norms.

    Kuhn: Very true. Just as scientific revolutions introduce new paradigms, these artistic movements usher in novel ways of interpreting the world. They break the mold, introducing a fresh language that resonates with the original.

    Collingwood: In these revolutionary moments, whether on canvas or in the laboratory, humanity glimpses its potential for transformation. It's the intersection of emotion and expression and a relentless pursuit of new understanding.

    Kuhn: This convergence of our worlds, Collingwood, of art and science, bound by the threads of revolution, pushes the boundaries of what we perceive and know.

    Collingwood: It's in the act of creation, whether through the meticulous brushstroke or the controlled scientific experiment, that we humans delve into the mysteries of existence.

    Kuhn: Indeed, Collingwood. The artist and the scientist, each contributing their unique brushstrokes to human understanding.

    Collingwood: In essence, whether through the canvas or the laboratory, our endeavors are interwoven threads in the tapestry of human experience.

Analytical

  • The Graduate, directed by Mike Nichols and starring Dustin Hoffman and Anne Bancroft, is a 1967 film focusing on the critical concept and interpretations of freedom, age, and the acceptance of the transition to adulthood. The film conveys its contents through the clever use of transitions, shadows, and objects. The Graduate has received multiple awards for its soundtrack and editing and is widely acclaimed as the most accurate and relatable film depicting the late-adolescent stage.

    The first act introduces us, the viewers, to Benjamin and his mental situation. It seems he is not a decision-maker, especially in a field that can immensely benefit or jeopardize his future: he is at the point when he needs to consider his career path and what dreams he wants to pursue. For most of the first act, Benjamin tries his best to shrink away from the necessary and unavoidable decision. We see Benjamin attend a party, where he meets family friends who congratulate him. However, this is a notable aspect in the film as he gets forced to go to the party, which seems to be a common theme. Since Benjamin is not good at taking the initiative and deciding, Nichols chooses to have other characters make the choices for him.

    In this first act, the inciting incident happens when Mrs. Robinson, the wife of Ben's father's partner, makes herself available to him. She intrudes on Ben's "alone time" in his room and asks for a ride. Mrs. Robinson is interested in seducing Ben, though it is not until two minutes later in the film Benjamin catches on, at Mrs. Robinson's house. After arriving at her house, Mrs. Robinson offers Benjamin alcohol, which he rejects. Then, after a sequence of back-and-forths, Mrs. Robinson tries to seduce Benjamin directly in her bedroom. This hugely twists the story, especially for Ben, as he will later use the opportunity with Mrs. Robinson as an escape from his adulthood.

    The break between the first and the second act happens when Benjamin calls for Mrs. Robinson at 24:46. This is his first independent choice. It also develops the relationship between Benjamin and Mrs. Robinson to be more neutral and reciprocated.

    The second act contains some crucial decisions for Benjamin, some he ultimately fails to decide. Notice how the representation from Benjamin is mostly through decision making and presented choices. Firstly, at the hotel, Benjamin is presented with the option to get a room, which turns out to be an extrinsically motivated moment with Mrs. Robinson at the bar. Secondly, in the hotel room, Benjamin still has difficulty initiating intercourse. This still shows his indecisiveness over whether to proceed fully with the affair. Finally, some possible elements Benjamin could have considered: the relationship between the Robinsons and his parents; the consequences of being caught by anyone, especially his parents; the relationship between himself and Mrs. Robinson and how that could further develop, for positive or negative; and whether taking part in an affair with such a close family friend would mean him entering adulthood, a concept he continually tries to ignore and reject.

    There is a section in the movie in the second act with the transitions of Benjamin in the pool and in the hotel with Mrs. Robinson, in which Benjamin is seen telling his father he is "drifting." The moment is of him in the pool before seeing Mrs. Robinson, symbolizing his vague sense of self. It is also a significant turning point for Ben, as the scenes of him "drifting" also show his father's annoyance, complaining that if he does not choose to move forward, his four years in college will yield nothing and become a sunk cost for the family. Ben's parents exemplify just how much others influence him and how little control he chooses to maintain over his life.

    Continuing in the second act, Ben's problem from Mr. Robinson again arises: "Would he make a move on Elaine?" Elaine, first introduced by Mr. Robinson back in act one seconds after the inciting incident, is the Robinsons' daughter. Mr. Robinson has expressed strong interest and backing in setting Benjamin up with her. Finally, the second act shows the intense conflict between Benjamin and Mrs. Robinson, who had made Benjamin promise not to date Elaine. Benjamin now faces another situation: to date Elaine and face the potential threat of Mrs. Robinson - that she will reveal everything to Elaine; or go along with the promise and stay away from Elaine. After a date with Elaine, which Benjamin was forced into by Mr. Robinson, who is still utterly oblivious to the affair, Benjamin makes his decision by confessing to Elaine himself. This is a considerable change in Benjamin as he not only dares to choose the outcome of the situation, but he also decides on his solution of telling the truth, which in itself requires an incredible amount of courage and will. It also shows just how much Benjamin loves Elaine and how much he regrets taking part in the affair with Mrs. Robinson.

    The last section of the second act is clips from the story after Elaine reveals she will marry Carl, and Benjamin decides he will find Elaine and marry her. Now, this goes against the wishes of Mr. and Mrs. Robinson, as Mr. Robinson now believes that Benjamin had seduced his wife and would not listen to Benjamin when he tries to explain that it was the other way around. Before meeting Carl and chasing down Elaine at Berkeley, Elaine also believed that Benjamin raped her mother. Mrs. Robinson has decided to play the victim and at least try to exclude herself from the situation. It is crucial to keep in mind how much emotions should be running wild in Benjamin at the moment: he should feel guilt for being seduced by Mrs. Robinson; anger, for being betrayed by Mrs. Robinson, as well as the fact that he has little to no chance of marrying Elaine; devastation, as Benjamin now realize that the person he truly loves is Elaine; hopelessness, seeing his life to take shape for a moment being with Elaine and all shattering in front of his eyes due to Mrs. Robinson; distraught, for seeing his poor choices and its consequences; disgust, as he reflects on the affair he had; worry, as he might consider how the situation would affect his other relationships should word get out; and most of all, pressure, for being in such an unstable situation in life, especially since he refuses to embrace adulthood or take any advice from others, and due to his nature of wanting independence without the ability to adapt and recover quickly. Now, as Benjamin goes after Elaine, not knowing where her wedding is, he is forced to track her down with any help he can find. This represents him truly fighting for love, a love he deemed worthy of his feelings, his mindset, and his lingering unsettled situation in finding his future.

    The act break between the second and third act has two possibilities: first, when Benjamin confronts Elaine in her dorm at Berkeley and says, "Well look (if you think I am here because of you, Elaine) I love you." (1:21:32); and second, at the church of Elaine's wedding when he bangs on the glass and gets Elaine's attention (1:42:21). Both of these moments have a commonality of being a turning point from Elaine's perspective, and both give Elaine the choice and control over Benjamin. It is almost as if Mike Nichols wanted to show the shifting of choices and possibilities, first giving Benjamin choices but no will to choose, and now depriving him of decision, but allowing him the courage to barge and disrupt his true love's wedding.

    The third act is the ending of the unknown in Benjamin. Despite the previous mention of two different analyzed act breaks, this final act marks the end of the story and draws back the uncertainty of what the future could be in store for Elaine and Benjamin. It officially starts when the couple gets on the bus amidst bewildered spectators. They choose to sit at the very end of the bus, possibly using their separateness from everyone else on the bus to show their temporary isolation from their families.

    Following the analysis of the ending, I would like to focus specifically on the scene of Benjamin going into the church before he gets on the bus, a scene we could title "rescuing Elaine" (as Benjamin does literally get her out of the church, and symbolically rescues her from a life with Carl, whom Benjamin despises). I want to start the analysis at 1:41:19, the continuous panning of Benjamin sprinting down the block towards the camera, which turns with him to reveal the church of Elaine's wedding, and end at 1:43:47, with Elaine and Benjamin running away from the church after Benjamin won Elaine back. It is a beautiful shot that contributes to the anxiety and urgency of Benjamin at that moment and overlays that rushing adrenaline onto us, the viewer, who is kept in the dark about the progression of the wedding just like Benjamin. As we do not know whether the vows have been set or whether Elaine has thrown the bouquet, the music that comes in at 1:41:43 makes everything all the more pressing. The sound acts as a reveal of the church but also continues onto how Benjamin finds the front doors locked. The continuous shot ends at 1:41:55 when Benjamin rushes up the staircase at the side of the church and (shot from inside the building as Benjamin opens the door at 1:41:59) into the second level of the building.

    Now that Benjamin has entered the wedding ceremony and is looking down at it from the second level, 1:42:02 shows us an over-the-shoulder shot - between Benjamin's head and his raised right arm pressed on the glass - onto the priest, Elaine, and Carl. This over-the-shoulder then zooms in on the open bible in the priest's hand, which is closed, and we (along with Benjamin, who is currently out of frame) watch as Elaine and Carl kiss. 1:42:06 cuts to a close-up shot of Benjamin, sweating profusely, who says, "Oh Jesus God, no." He closes his eyes, and the film cuts to the camera positioned in the middle of the aisle looking up at Benjamin from the first level of the church (1:42:11). The depth of field here is shallow, keeping Mrs. Robinson in the front row in focus (oblivious to the fact Benjamin is in that very church about to cause a ruckus and reclaim Elaine), and leaving Benjamin behind the class blurred. After a quick shot of the pianist, who started to play the wedding song at 1:41:59, the first shot from inside the church of Benjamin, we come back to the close-up of Benjamin at 1:42:15, as he slowly opens his eyes and pounds on the class, yelling a painful and strained "Elaine!".

    The next shot, at 1:42:23, is a close-up of Elaine, with Carl's head cut out of frame. Elaine turns to look up, all while Benjamin's voice continues to yell her name. We see the wedding guests turn back at 1:42:26, and the camera returns to Benjamin a second later (1:42:27). Something notable in this shot is how Benjamin is centered and isolated as the only character in the frame. He is in the exact location and position as the shot at 1:42:11, but there is no distraction in the shot, no wedding guests, just himself blending in nicely with the cream wall and tropical violet of the long curtains. At 1:42:35, Mrs. Robinson holds down Mr. Robinson and says, "Please ignore it (Benjamin banging on the glass)," quietly, enjoying seeing the pain in Benjamin and being positive that Elaine has no choice but to remain with Carl. However, after another close-up of Benjamin shouting "Elaine" at 1:42:38, Elaine starts to move down the aisle, almost subconsciously, all while staring at Benjamin. The close-up of Elaine at 1:42:38 continues until 1:43:00, all while Carl sharply whispers words of anger and confusion to Elaine, his face sometimes appearing at the very right edge of the frame. 1:43:01, 1:43:02, and 1:43:04 show Mrs. Robinson, Mr. Robinson, and Carl, respectively, mouthing curse words at Ben, their faces taking up the frame. Between the Robinsons and Carl, at 1:43:03, we see the quick turn of Elaine's neck, from her right to her left, changing her glance from her parents onto Carl. This depicts how she is in the midst of choosing to satisfy her parents and marry Carl or disobey and pick Benjamin. Her glance at Carl likely solidified her choice to pick Benjamin, as she very likely still sees marrying Carl tied heavily with her parents' decisions against Benjamin.

    When Elaine finally makes her choice at 1:43:06, with the close-up back on her face, she cries, "Ben!", which at once we hear all background audio, including Benjamin's screams, silences. At 1:43:08, we see Benjamin rush down the stairs onto the first level, where he is greeted by an irate Mr. Robinson at 1:43:15 with an over-the-shoulder shot. Benjamin tries to go around Mr. Robinson by jumping sideways down the stairs at 1:43:17 but was caught. The shot continues as Benjamin fights off Mr. Robinson, dives into the crowd of onlookers, and finally reaches Elaine (1:43:30). Benjamin grabs Elaine's wrist and rushes away with her as Mrs. Robinson says: "Elaine, it's too late!" at 1:43:34, to which Elaine responds "Not for me!" This shows a determined Elaine who made a choice against her mother and places her faith in a life with Benjamin. It also relates to the possibility that Elaine is like Benjamin, who has little control over their lives and tries to act to please others, much like how her dad practically sets her first date with Benjamin.

    Benjamin now grabs a cross and swings it wildly at the people trying to fend them off. This could be a symbolic parallel to saying, "God is on our side." Benjamin also proceeds to use the cross to barricade the church door as he and Elaine run away at 1:43:46, which places the cross as the interlocking symbol between Benjamin and Elaine's freedom and their past lives of trying to please others. The cross creates a figurative line that represents the new life Benjamin and Elaine will live.

    In conclusion, The Graduate successfully uses references (to God), relevant real-world relationships (such as freedom and adolescence versus freedom in adulthood), and beautiful composition and audio to create a splendid story of Benjamin's battle against his choices, his willpower, his previous decisions, and his future.

  • Following the initial investigation during the second trial, just before being sent back to prison, Menocchio submitted a note, as presented in Chapter 54. This note revealed Menocchio’s worldview and belief in a universe composed of chaos. More importantly, this written account serves as a primary source, and Ginzburg’s analysis in Chapter 55 further substantiates this aspect of Menocchio’s narrative.

    In chapter 55, Ginzburg examines the heretical nature of the beliefs and their divergence from the traditionally established religious norms of the time. This note is one of the main reasons which solidified Ginzburg’s conclusion that Menocchio still is loyal to his unique beliefs. Before this note was given Ginzburg writes, “[h]e [Menocchio] tried to tell them [the inquisitors] everything that he thought they wanted to know,” and later, “doubtless, he had something to hide: but probably he wasn’t too far from the truth when he declared that he had ‘read on [his] own.’” Ginzburg’s presentation of Menocchio’s note along with its analysis forms a solid piece of fact-based historical evidence.

    Ginzburg's logic and interpretation of Menocchio's note are grounded in a careful consideration of historical context, cultural factors, and the contents of the note itself. Another reason that the note serves as crucial “factual” historical evidence, is that it is relevant within the context of the Inquisition's investigation into heretical beliefs during the Renaissance. The note exemplifies the challenges faced by individuals with unorthodox views and their interactions with religious authorities, and thus validating Menocchio’s motive to argue / fight for equality in the face of societal disparities at an educational level.

    Moreover, the analysis on Menocchio’s note also lead Ginzburg to bolster his claim that Menocchio is inconsistent with what he says, and just how multifaceted Menocchio and his beliefs are (Menocchio's complex and evolving worldview as highlighted through the contrast between his public statements during the inquisitorial investigations and the private expression of his beliefs in the note. This incongruous portrayal of Menocchio underscores the depth of his intellectual and spiritual journey), leading to Ginzburg's assertion that individuals like Menocchio were not unique, suggesting that the challenges he faced were part of a broader historical trend among those with unconventional and heretical beliefs, thus adding layers to the microhistorical narrative.

    In contrast to the factual nature of Menocchio's note, Ginzburg engages in significant speculation when evaluating the unidentified text that seemingly influenced Menocchio, positing it to be the Koran. This speculative endeavor lacks direct evidence of Menocchio's access to such texts, emphasizing the notion that his beliefs could have been shaped by a diverse array of sources. Ginzburg's speculative analysis goes beyond mere identification, creatively exploring how Menocchio's heretical ideas, as presented in the book, might align with or diverge from the Koran and Islamic teachings. He suggests thematic commonalities, such as the cyclical view of the universe, opening the door to alternative reconstructions. This speculative approach not only highlights potential parallels and discrepancies in Menocchio's beliefs but also enables a nuanced exploration of Ginzburg's interpretive choices influenced by the historical and cultural context.

    Ginzburg speculates on the potential for cross-cultural influence in Menocchio's readings. He considers whether Menocchio had interactions with individuals from diverse cultural backgrounds who might have introduced him to the Koran or other religious texts. Ginzburg even makes a direct parallel between the Koran and Menocchio’s beliefs: “according to the Koran, ‘among all the prophets Jesus was the most excellent and the one closest to God.’ And Menocchio, practically echoing him: ‘I doubted that ... he was God, instead he must have been some prophet, some great man sent by God to preach in this world.’”

    In conclusion, Ginzburg skillfully integrates factual and speculative elements in "The Cheese and the Worms", epitomizing his nuanced approach to microhistory. The factual foundation is exemplified by the meticulous analysis of Menocchio's note, a primary source examined in the historical context, unveiling the complexities of Menocchio's beliefs. Ginzburg's astute logic and interpretation underscore the challenges faced by individuals with unorthodox views during the Renaissance, providing a rich understanding of societal dynamics.

    Simultaneously, Ginzburg's exploration of speculative elements, particularly regarding Menocchio's potential exposure to the Koran, introduces a layer of complexity to the narrative. This speculative element, despite lacking direct evidence, showcases Ginzburg's commitment to exploring alternative influences on Menocchio's beliefs. The speculations not only accentuate potential parallels and discrepancies in Menocchio's worldview but also unveil the uncertainties inherent in historical research. Ginzburg's adept handling of both factual and speculative realms contributes to the depth and authenticity of his microhistorical study, showcasing the dynamic interplay between known facts and the intriguing possibilities that speculation can illuminate.

  • “She had taken the wrong brush in her agitation at Mr. Ramsay's presence, and her easel, rammed into the earth so nervously, was at the wrong angle. And now that she had put that right, and in so doing had subdued the impertinences and irrelevances that plucked her attention and made her remember how she was such and such a person, had such and such relations to people, she took her hand and raised her brush. For a moment it stayed trembling in a painful but exciting ecstasy in the air. Where to begin?--that was the question at what point to make the first mark? One line placed on the canvas committed her to innumerable risks, to frequent and irrevocable decisions. All that in idea seemed simple became in practice immediately complex; as the waves shape themselves symmetrically from the cliff top, but to the swimmer among them are divided by steep gulfs, and foaming crests. Still the risk must be run; the mark made.

    With a curious physical sensation, as if she were urged forward and at the same time must hold herself back, she made her first quick decisive stroke. The brush descended. It flickered brown over the white canvas; it left a running mark. A second time she did it--a third time. And so pausing and so flickering, she attained a dancing rhythmical movement, as if the pauses were one part of the rhythm and the strokes another, and all were related; and so, lightly and swiftly pausing, striking, she scored her canvas with brown running nervous lines which had no sooner settled there than they enclosed (she felt it looming out at her) a space. Down in the hollow of one wave she saw the next wave towering higher and higher above her. For what could be more formidable than that space? Here she was again, she thought, stepping back to look at it, drawn out of gossip, out of living, out of community with people into the presence of this formidable ancient enemy of hers--this other thing, this truth, this reality, which suddenly laid hands on her, emerged stark at the back of appearances and commanded her attention. She was half unwilling, half reluctant. Why always be drawn out and haled away? Why not left in peace, to talk to Mr. Carmichael on the lawn? It was an exacting form of intercourse anyhow. Other worshipful objects were content with worship; men, women, God, all let one kneel prostrate; but this form, were it only the shape of a white lamp-shade looming on a wicker table, roused one to perpetual combat, challenged one to a fight in which one was bound to be worsted. Always (it was in her nature, or in her sex, she did not know which) before she exchanged the fluidity of life for the concentration of painting she had a few moments of nakedness when she seemed like an unborn soul, a soul reft of body, hesitating on some windy pinnacle and exposed without protection to all the blasts of doubt. Why then did she do it? She looked at the canvas, lightly scored with running lines. It would be hung in the servants' bedrooms. It would be rolled up and stuffed under a sofa. What was the good of doing it then, and she heard some voice saying she couldn't paint, saying she couldn't create, as if she were caught up in one of those habitual currents in which after a certain time experience forms in the mind, so that one repeats words without being aware any longer who originally spoke them.” ( Woolf, Chapter 3, Section 4)

    This piece of narrative was from Chapter 4 of Section 3 in Virginia Woolf's To the Lighthouse. This chapter marks a change in the narration, allowing the internal thoughts and feelings of characters to also exude through art and time, further adding a layer of complexity for Woolf’s writing. The scene sets at the Ramsey’s vacation home in the Isle of Skye, with Lily Briscoe attempting to reinvigorate her art after time passes.

    Lily is momentarily distracted by Mr. Ramsey. Her agitation is shown through the use of “wrong” twice in the same sentence, and “[r]ammed into the earth so nervously” reflects her internal situation, also referencing the setting being the same location that Lily had previously attempted to paint at and the distractions she had received then. Lily’s correction of the easel hints at an improvement in her character, just as how she will be able to complete the painting this time. The phrase “such and such a person” represents any identity or relation of Lily, suggesting that to focus on her art, she needs to distance herself from multiple individuals or concerns, with the current one being Mr. Ramsey. She raises her brush, which initiates this act of disassociation, also elevating her mental state above her distractions and problems. The atmosphere is described as “painful but exciting”, which hints at the anticipation of Lily, also saying risk and uncertainty is synonymous with creation. Having to decide where to begin also seems to point at the step-by-step process in Lily’s art-making, contrasting that of most established artists in that their hand feels where to place the first stroke before their mind. The use of “committed” and “irrevocable” is interesting as its use connotes restraint and bondage, saying that an artist will forever be morphed together with every individual piece of their art. In Lily’s case, it represents Lily’s own struggles with her art, as she grapples with the idea of committing herself to a specific direction or style, fearing that it may restrict her creative freedom. To say that “[a]ll that in idea seemed simple became in practice immediately complex” shows the discrepancies of Lily’s mind and reality. The clear vision that Lily might have in her mind is ironic both due to how long it took her to reach that vision, as well as how she shows her work is the result of causal decision rather than painting out what her mind had already constructed. The process of painting is compared to swimming in the sea, with “the waves shape[ing] themselves symmetrically” defining the structure and form that is inherent to art. Moreover, the author’s employment of “from the cliff top”, and “the swimmer among them” references the theme of distance and perspective, which is also present in how Lily saw Mr. Ramsey, James, and Cam close up versus in the boat far away. Interestingly, the distinction between the symmetrical waves and the chaos in art might indicate the “looking at the artwork as a whole” versus closely, as well as the “seeing the artwork as a finished piece” versus seeing the making of the work in broken, sometimes inefficient marks. Lily’s “quick decisive” stroke releases a buildup of tension for Lily, which allows her to overcome her hesitation and concerns. It represents the start of a creative era for Lily, where she can be free with her thoughts both as an artist and a woman, creating a multi-layered painting just as Woolf adds a creative layer to her character. Lily soon became fully immersed in her work, with the parenthesis referring to the empty space that Lily's brushstrokes enclose on the canvas, highlighting the “vitality” of her work as it slowly takes its form. It is almost like Lily’s painting is trying to communicate with her, helping her art but also its own growth. There begins a dynamic dialogue between the artist and the work, suggesting that the act of creation involves both the artist's intent and the artwork’s input (interactions). Lily’s art once again displays connection to the waters, with the waves to “tower higher and higher”, growing persistently, which emphasizes the theme of the interconnectedness of all things, including each of Lily’s brushstrokes.

    It is notable that nature follows a causal relationship, with every aspect contributing to every aspect of evolution. Art, as a creative process, is a way of expression, and specifically predesigned expression for time is constant. When nature is intertwined with artmaking, the result can be interpreted as a collaboration between the artist and the natural world - creativity and reality. On the other hand, the space on the canvas also draws out her personal reality - one that she must confront as an artist - her true inner self. Conveying one’s true self is contradictory. As the true self cannot be depicted. It is at its simplest form, meaning that nothing is associated with it, much less a canvas, paint colors, neurons, or gravity.

    This section also raises the question: who is an artist’s audience? How can art be truly appreciated? Lily’s artmaking focuses on first impressions and true, intrinsic emotions, yet her personality makes it almost impossible to portray her wish, being erratic and ambiguous. In this way, Woolf successfully depicts her character dilemma regarding art, and shows her as a failure to be constrained and limited by her own nature and mind. This format of her connection with her art sets Lily as more than a character, but as an entity with real conscious, intrinsic goals, and vivid incentives, possibly reflecting aspects of Woolf herself, being an artist with words, who also faced mental difficulties. The narrator goes on to describe Lily’s mental state before her paintings, linking back to her hesitant strokes and nervous start. The use of “[a]lways” is significant in relation to the parentheses, emphasizing the continuation of the ambiguity of gender versus nurture. It also directly highlights gender roles, a theme Lily embodies throughout her individual character and her artistic character.

    Moreover, as Lily’s relationship status has never been specifically mentioned, the spotlight only focuses on Lily's internal struggles, artistic process, and her relationships with the natural world and with the past. It also suggests that Lily's personal relationships are not the defining factor of her identity or her story, allowing her artistic instincts to infuse with the reader’s personal background and interests to display her potential and character design. In doing so, Lily is also able to come alive and interact with the reader, with the reader changing the possible one-sided interaction to a mutual, reciprocating conversation. Lily questions her life and meaning: “Why then did she do it?” When an artist is lost, they usually associate with elements that speak to them, thereby bringing their own mind out of the void and alongside an idea, an inspiration. However, Lily’s struggle regarding her purpose and artistic expressions are accompanied by her desire to convey her true self, something that should be un-associable. This could show a parallel being drawn between Lily’s characteristics and her goal, but also a congruent analogy that Lily has always been on course with her expression, or even mean that she has been successful in her artistic endeavors since the very beginning.

  • Though I hold interest in art and art history, I have never heard about Evelyn De Morgan prior to my visit to the Clark Institute. After pacing the exhibits and revisiting many rooms in my navigation, I realized I had been drawn to her painting “Field of the Slain” whenever it entered my field of vision. Something about the painting's aesthetic caught my interest. Perhaps the composition, or its pale colors, or the detailed brushstroke which reminded me of my own art, but I found myself raptured by this relatively small painting - approximately seventy-three inches by forty-nine inches.

    As I felt drawn to intrinsic qualities that I had not fully uncovered, I disregarded the plaque’s description. The painting features a central figure, an angel, carrying within her robes human heads - or faces, as upon closer inspection many seemed sunken into the depths of the drapery. The background seemed stark, and the angle of the subject told me I was gazing downwards at the mountain scape. I scanned the painting once more, and swiftly planned out my route of analysis. In order, I planned to observe: the faces; the robe in relation to the faces; the wings and/or its relation to the drapery; the background; possible interpretations from the angel’s perspective; possible interpretations from the faces’ perspective; and any final thoughts to circle back to.

    Unfamiliar with the art and its creator, I felt the need to respect details. I began my hour counting the faces, which I knew were souls, and analyzing, almost like data, whatever I can. I counted twenty-four faces: eight were looking directly at me, the viewer, almost challenging me; four were facing down, from whom I felt introspection and surrender; seventeen faced upwards, which showed me possible aspiration, even a level of transcendence. Ten had their eyes closed, almost accepting their situation, resting in peace; seven had their faces partially covered or blocked, some of them facing me, almost creating a barrier from direct eye contact; and five faces seemed to merge into the angel’s drapery in a morph-like effect, which I saw as the connection between mortality and immortality, or humanity and nature, or life and death. One head (not face) was cradled by the angel’s left arm, hooked in a way that causes her shoulders to tilt.

    The robes separated the faces (different from covered) in groups of three or one, except in one case with two faces, upon which both the angel’s arms rested. I noticed that the lower the drapery, the more its black turned to pale green, and the lower the wings, the more it graduated from brown to umber to red. Some drapery seemed voluminous, other parts tight or shallow. I wonder if that is an artistic choice, or if it hints at the presence of a body, or part of a connected body behind certain faces, extending into the depths of the robe which I would then assume to be the abyss. Maybe the segregated heads represent the sin prior to death? The time/order of death? The severity of the sin? One section of the drapery opposite to the angel’s face merges into the background, like the trails of a thought bubble, and it makes me question whether it symbolizes a selection process of the subconscious for the angel.

    The wings on either side of the angel’s head have joints which level above and below her head. The head in her arms creates a triangle with the two wing joints that perfectly encapsulates the angel’s face and the sun around her, which creates a halo - a trinity personifying the good contrasted by the deaths scattered about the composition.

    The background mountain ranges from brown, the closest, to blue, to purple, and finally matches the sky. The horizon created by the furthest mountains tilt at a positive slope, parallel with the tilt of the angel’s shoulders. The upper half of the background consists of the rugged landscape described. The lower half, right below the angel, are filled with a pile of human bodies. Nineteen total. The angel’s robe merges into one body pile, which now brings the possibility that the twenty-one heads and their orientations are from that pile only, that the angel has just finished collecting the souls lost from that pile alone. If so, it would exponentially upscale the atrocities of death depicted. A closer survey of the background showed me that the curves of the mountain ranges are congruent, though of different ratio, with the wrinkles of the robe on the angel’s thighs, waist, pelvis, breast.

    From the perspective of the angel, looking down at the heads, or at least in that general direction of the bottom left, I felt she emanated comfort, pity, warmth, guilt; I felt she offered protection or understanding; and I also realized the possibility that she is simply counting the heads, tallying the deaths, which made the scene all the more terrifying. From the perspective of the faces, looking in different directions, I sensed tiredness (of life? of death?), expectation (for life after death? Perhaps the void of nothingness, a relief of everything?), anguish (from dying? From unfinished business in the realm of the living?), confusion, calmness (desiring death? Prepared for what is after death?); and I perceived a few lacking awareness, almost staring too blankly at me, and I wondered whether they have already lost everything, every strand of being.

    Once again I stared at the faces, where I began my inspection, and saw that they share the same expression, quite masterful on De Morgan’s part. The faces have no visible hairstyle, for any hint of hair morphed into the robes. This made me question De Morgan’s intention. Did she wish to convey that death erases individuality, that we should be prepared and not fear death? Or does she wish to highlight the horrors of deaths and the pain from dying?

    At the end of the hour I felt I had ironically only familiarized myself with the scene at the most basic level, which Nabokov would describe as a reader’s first read. I stand not only as an observer but as a participant in a timeless dialogue with art. I still cannot say for certain what De Morgan was painting to convey, what the faces or robe means - but does her intentions really matter? The work invited me on a journey to contemplate life, death, individuality, atoned transcendence, each of which provided me with resources to create my own interpretations, works I created both independent and directly dependent on “Field of the Slain”.

    Artwork Reference (Copyright © 2023 The Clark Art Institute): https://www.clarkart.edu/artpiece/detail/the-field-of-the-slain-(1)

Argumentative

  • 1. Introduction / General Findings / Thesis

    Art, as the most sublime visualization of human creativity, serves both as a mirror and a catalyst. It weaves societal evolution and invites each of us to sway from its influence. It resembles an invisible yet omnipresent current, shaping not only aesthetics but also the very fabrics of cultural, political, and societal structures. This paper explores art and art history, guided by the question "How has art influenced/impacted society historically?"

    It has always been obvious that art is not a passive bystander in history, but an active participant. But it is precisely this level of activeness which art participates in that makes answering this question so difficult. Galleries? Studios? Identity formation? Power dynamics? Forging cultural narratives? From ancient cave paintings to the avant-garde provocations of the modern time, art has claimed a silent witness to the rise and fall of empires, the birth of ideologies, and the metamorphosis of societies. Thus, the question shall be examined from a multifaceted perspective, drawing inspiration from philosophers who dared to dissect human expression: Michel Foucault, and his exploration of power and discourse; Edward Said, and his critique of colonial representations; R.G. Collingwood, and his emphasis on the emotional dimensions of art; Jules Michelet, and his patriotic historiography; and Wilhelm von Humboldt, with his celebration of individuality.

    To grapple with this profound question is to engage with primary sources that chronicle the past: brushstrokes, architecture, verses, among others. This question is meant to attempt to reveal the aspirations, conflicts, and collective dreams of civilizations. But why bother?

    By understanding the historical impact of art, we resonate with communities and their traditions, their beliefs, their values. The preservation and interpretation of artistic expressions provide a tangible link to a society's heritage, fostering a deeper appreciation for the rich tapestry of human civilization. There have often been artistic movements in response to social dynamics and power structures, and this relationship could allow us an understanding of the intricate connections between artistic expressions and societal norms. In cases where art is not caused by society, it acts as a catalyst to propel social change, acting as a tool for reinforcing established structures. Understanding how art has historically served as a conduit for expressing the human experience deepens our appreciation for the shared threads of emotion that connect diverse societies across time. Even more than emotion, artistic innovation often precedes broader cultural shifts, many pioneering artists have catapulted societies towards new ways of thinking. By recognizing the catalytic role of art in cultural evolution, we gain insights into the forces that drive societal progress, innovation, and adaptation to changing circumstances.

    Scholars across disciplines have endeavored to connect artistic endeavors to the broader fabric of historical development. In tracing the historical trajectory of the dynamic relationship between art and society, historically, certain key findings emerge. Art has consistently functioned as a cultural meter, reflecting the values, beliefs, and aspirations of societies across different epochs. In The Lives of the Artists by Giorgio Vasari, a 16th century Italian painter and architect himself, Vasari's depiction of Leonardo da Vinci highlights the artist's embodiment of Renaissance ideals, and is one such example illustrating art’s functioning on the cultural landscapes of Renaissance Italy. Leonardo's mastery in various disciplines, including painting, engineering, and his understanding of the sciences, particularly anatomy, reflected the Renaissance spirit of intellectual curiosity and humanism. His works, such as the "Mona Lisa" and "The Last Supper," showcased technical brilliance alongside the humanistic outlook. Yet, art's historical impact is not confined to the grand narratives of political or cultural movements; it also permeates the everyday, shaping individual and collective identities. From the aesthetics of religious iconography to the visual language of advertising, art embeds itself in the cultural subconscious, influencing perceptions and shaping societal norms.

    Art history unfolds as a collection of eras where culture, politics, and intellect cross, overlap, and ultimately merge into a rise of transformation. The Renaissance emerges as one such crucible, with art actively shaping society. Geniuses such as Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, Raphael, Botticelli, Jan van Eyck, Andrea Mantegna, and Caravaggio revealed a rebirth of interest in classical knowledge, humanism, and the celebration of individual creativity. Similarly, the Romantic era, where creators embraced emotion, coddled nature, and upheld subjectivity, marked a revolution from the rationalism of the Enlightenment. This period illustrated how art became a vehicle for expressing societal reactions to industrialization, urbanization, and the changing dynamics of power.

    But understand such examples, alongside movements such as Cubism, Surrealism, and Abstract Expressionism - with respect to artists who epitomized their work and their style within their genre - are notably only known examples in visual art. Art, as mentioned previously, spreads across disciplines, with no tangible volume of definitions. Consider authors (and within authorship we can continue to divide: fiction, non-fiction, etc) such as Ernest Hemingway, Virginia Woolf, or Ryūnosuke Akutagawa; philosophers like Otto Weininger, Ludwig Boltzmann, or Carlo Michelstaedter (for one’s philosophy is one’s creation. How is that different from art?); poets including Sylvia Plath, Sarah Teasdale, or Vladimir Mayakovsky; or consider any categories of art, myriad and diverse like the art existing in any of the categories.

    Now realize that such a network all falls under the umbrella of art. That should provide a scale. Furthermore, the influences of the artists within any of the categories mentioned above concludes and influences more than what is contained or related to art. More than any artistic movement, or stylistic format, or even revolutionary changes, in the artistic realm. There could be artists who grappled with the upheavals of two World Wars, or the rise of mass media, or the advent of existential uncertainty, or all three elements (notably Pablo Picasso, Salvador Dalí, and Jackson Pollock).

    An overarching trend that emerges from scholarly discourse is the transformative power of art during periods of societal upheaval. Whether as a mirror reflecting the prevailing moral or a cultural climate or as a catalyst for challenging established norms, art becomes a lens through which we can understand the complexities of historical change. Furthermore, the democratization of art in contemporary times, facilitated by technological advancements and global interconnectedness, invites a reevaluation of its impact. Is it now a legitimate case that art has transcended geographical boundaries, allowing for a more diverse array of voices to contribute to the ongoing conversation. In an era of rapid globalization, questions arise regarding how art, as both a global and local force, influences the collective identity of societies.

    2. Theories and Methodologies of Philosophers

    Michel Foucault marks the first philosopher whose ideas are directly integratable into the topic of art and society. Foucault pioneered influential concepts in understanding power dynamics, knowledge construction, and pinpointing how discourse shapes societal structures. Central to his thought is the rejection of traditional narratives. Foucault emphasizes the pervasive, decentralized, and inherent nature of power regarding social institutions. Foucault’s interest in knowledge parallels the transformative potential that art holds, as previously described. Artistic creations can both construct as well as disseminate knowledge. Foucault’s concept of resistance within power structures is relevant when studying art’s impact. There have been artworks that challenged dominant discourses and illustrated (at scales even larger than the media, is in cases where the media fails to (or chooses) to avoid to cover) alternative perspective.s This resistance, manifested to the sheer at of creating, imbuing one’s creation with expression (or vice versa), becomes a means through which societal norms are both reflected upon and contested. Applying Foucault’s methods requires understanding the historical shifts in artists movements and discourse. For instance, the transition from Romanticism to Realism represents a discursive shift where artistic expressions moved away from idealized representations to more realistic portrayals, influencing societal perceptions of beauty, emotion, and truth. Foucault’s notion of the panopticon, his definition of societal surveillance, can be applied to art institutions. Museums, galleries, spaces or sites where societal norms are both displayed and reinforced. These spaces are particularly important for analyzing how art falls within the dynamic and unpredictable power structure throughout history. By focusing on power dynamics, discourse, and knowledge construction, one can apply Foucauldian concepts to unravel the complex interplay between art and power, offering a nuanced understanding of how artistic expressions influence and are influenced by the broader currents of societal change.

    Consider, for example, how the Surrealist movement in the early 20th century could be, through Foucauldian analysis, a discursive formation challenging norms and structures. Artists such as Salvador Dali and Andre Breton, with their desire to liberate the unconscious mind and bridge the subconscious and the conscious, created a rupture in the prevailing discourse of rationalism and order. Foucault's concept of the "episteme," representing the dominant knowledge structures of a given era, becomes pertinent when analyzing how Surrealism impacted society. The movement created disruptions in existing ideas, hypothesis, and understandings of reality, sanity, and human consciousness.s The imagery and explorative methods surrealist artists capitalize upon challenged both artistic and societal norms, and, in doing so, contributed to a reconfiguration of the epistemic landscape. Furthermore, let one imagine (as surrealists often do) a hypothetical world. A conservative society where adherence to rationality and traditional aesthetics is the norm: a surrealist exhibition is unveiled. The juxtaposition of dreamscapes, insanity, and artistic techniques intersects with conventionality. Here, Foucault's notion of the "power/knowledge" relationship comes into play. The Surrealist artists, by disrupting conventional representations, exercise a form of power. They challenge and reshape the knowledge structures that govern perceptions of reality. Foucault's lens allows us to discern how this artistic movement, by engaging in a discourse that transcends the canvas, influences societal attitudes and norms. The Surrealists, operating within the nexus of power and knowledge, exemplify how art can be a catalyst for transforming the very fabric of the society.

    Edward Said, a figure in post colonial studies, shifting through realism of literature, politics, and cultural theory, has carefully dissected Western representations of the East, with an approach which dives into the construction of knowledge and identity. Said's postcolonial framework challenges traditional narratives by deconstructing the ways in which cultures and societies are depicted, particularly in the context of Western colonial hegemony. His analysis covers more than the political and the cultural, arguing that the West has historically constructed a binary opposition between the “Orient” (a constructed and exoticized idea of the East, perpetuated by Western scholarship and cultural representations, which served to establish and reinforce Western dominance over Eastern societies) and the “Occident” (the Western world, reflecting the geopolitical and cultural hegemony that shaped the West's often distorted perceptions and representations of the East), which perpetuates stereotypes and reinforces colonial dominance. Said’s theories provide a compelling angle for examining art and society historically, as his work highlights the role of cultural representations in shaping perceptions and reinforcing or challenging power structures. Art is an expression inherently cultural, and sets the stage for contesting dominant narratives and encouraging asking questions such as: Who controls the narratives? Whose voices become marginalized? And how does cultural artworks / creations contribute to power and identity akin to each culture? Said would view art not as a neutral entity to be experienced / viewed / interpreted, but an active entity which forces its way into people’s lives, provoking (in most cases) uncontrollable reactions and subverting colonial legacies.

    Imagine that during the 19th century, European colonial powers, in an attempt to extend their influence across Adia, Africa, and the Middle East, embarked on imperialist ventures. Artists felt inspired by exoticity, and naturally produced a wave of Orientalist art depicting such “distant lands”. In applying Said's ideas, we can discern the ways in which such artistic representations both reflected and perpetuated colonial power dynamics. In such a scenario, Orientalist paintings depicting the Middle East would portray a romanticized and often distorted vision of the region. Artists, influenced by prevailing colonial narratives and individualized preconceived notions, would present a fantasy-laden version of the East that aligns with Western assumptions. Consider a painting that showcases a bustling bazaar in Cairo. The artist (knowingly or unknowingly, steeped in Orientalist tropes) might choose vibrant colors, paint exotic clothing, and illustrate a sense of timeless otherness. While aesthetically pleasing, this representation serves a dual purpose. It caters to the Western audience's fascination with exoticism and reinforces existing stereotypes of the East as mysterious and backward. Simultaneously, it contributes to the broader colonial discourse, justifying imperialism endeavors by portraying the colonized as in need of Western intervention. The artwork, when analyzed as Said would, functions not merely as a canvas but as a cultural artifact within the power structures of the time. It reflects the societal beliefs and aspirations of the West during the colonial era, and perpetuates a narrative that influenced not only artistic expression but also broader attitudes towards the colonized.

    R. G. Collingwood offers a framework where artistic expression and the inner life of individuals overlap. His theory underscores the expression of thought and emotion and how such human experiences serve as the foundational pillow for unraveling the intricate connections between artistic creation and human experiance (life, not reaction of art). Collingwood advanced the idea that art is a form of expression unique to each individual, and it is precisely such uniqueness that allows art, above all else, to communicate their innermost thoughts and emotions. Collingwood argues that art is not merely a representation of external objects but a mode of self-expression. For Collingwood, the artist engages in a process of "re-enactment," wherein the creation of art involves the artist's reliving and expressing their own emotional and intellectual experiences. Following such a logic, even art that one person calls bad art could be meaningful to another, and even art that every viewer calls bad art could be meaningful to the artist, who derives meaning directly from the uniqueness / fact that the work is not found attractive to others. Collingwood's philosophy positions art as a vehicle through which the inner life of individuals becomes tangible and accessible. The artist, according to Collingwood, goes beyond mere imitation of external reality; they delve into the realm of personal experience, transforming abstract thoughts and emotions into tangible forms. Art, in this context, becomes a window into the artist's own inner world, offering viewers a direct connection to the artist's thoughts and emotions. This context also structures art as a documentation to access the thoughts and emotions of past artists and societies. By linking the historical context with the work’s artistic expression, however it resonates, art becomes a medium that allows society to leave behind a legacy. In short, Collingwood’s philosophy of relating thought and emotions to the cornerstones of art provides a robust understanding of the impact of art both individually and collectively on people’s inner lives, and reshapes art as dynamis and intimate.

    Hypothetically, in the midst of the Industrial Revolution, a group of artists emerges, with their key desire being to convey the emotional and intellectual responses of individuals to the profound transformations surrounding them. One artist, influenced by Collingwood's call to explore the depths of emotion and thought, creates a series of paintings depicting the contrast between the agrarian past and the industrial present. The use of color, composition, and symbolism in these artworks serves as a visual language, expressing the melancholy, nostalgia, and hope that individuals experience amidst the rapid industrialization. The artist's canvases become a mirror reflecting the inner turmoil and aspirations of society in flux. In this scene, Collingwood’s philosophy is obviously relevant. It places the artist as a mediator between their inner experiences and the external world. The act of artistic creation, in this context, becomes a form of historical documentation, capturing the nuances of societal transformation that traditional historical narratives might overlook. Furthermore, as these artworks are presented to the public (it is notable that public artwork has long been controversial in evaluating its ethicality, validity, usefulness, success, and necessity), they elicit a collective response. Collingwood's ideas suggest that the audience, through engaging with the art, participates in a shared exploration of the inner lives of individuals within the historical context. The emotional resonance of the artwork facilitates a communal understanding and fosters a dialogue between the artist and each individual viewer.

    Jules Michelet, having visited the realm of historical inquiry, chooses to braid together threads of national history and national spirit in his works. Within the intellectual fervor of the 19th century, Michelet’s approach to history stood out from the focus of emotional and psychological dimensions of historical events, where he considers history as an organic expression of a nation’s soul. This approach was marked by a departure from the detached, factual chronicling of events. Instead, he sought to breathe life into history by delving into the collective consciousness of the people, as a form of "history from below." Just as how Collingwood argues a certain “life presence” is definite within every work of art, Michelet envisions history as a living entity, splattered with the emotions, struggles, and aspirations of the people. Logically, art for Michelet became an expression of the collective spirit, mirroring the spirit of nation. Whereas Collingwood drew more from individual emotions and characterizations of the artists, Michelet sees the artistic definition (and genres (relevant to their time periods of history)) to be representative of the nation’s soul. The romanticized depictions of historical events, the portrayal of national heroes, and the artistic celebrations of cultural symbols are all aspects embedded in a nation’s narrative by each artist's ipseity. Moreover, Michelet's approach allows for an exploration of how art functions not just as a passive reflection but as an active agent in the construction of national identity. Artistic endeavors, whether deliberate or spontaneous, become tools that shape perceptions, evoke emotions, and contribute to the shared narrative of a people.

    Consider, hypothetically, after a nation’s revolution, where the nation is swamped with the complexities of forging a new identity. Michelet’s approach would be an exploration into how art, during this period, shapes government, rallies the people, and spreads ideas. Possibly, imagery that encapsulates the nation's historical struggles, triumphs, and shared values would emerge as a vital component; and public spaces would be adorned with sculptures and murals that serve as a visual repository of the collective memory, reinforcing the evolving national identity. As the public engages with these artworks (the engagement varies, of which many methods are prevalent to previously mentioned philosophers (or art critics such as Susan Sontag, for that matter)), a sense of shared destiny (or individual values) are spread and fostered. The emotional resonance of these artworks (when significant enough, would transcend socio-economic and cultural disputes (this hypothetical scenario is simply mentioned for illustrative purposes, and does not account for the rapid speed of growth and globalization (thus why the setting is in a hypothetically historical / less advanced nation)). By emphasizing the collective dimensions, Michelet's methodology provides a lens through which the societal impact of art extends beyond aesthetics into the realm of shared experience and historical consciousness. Making works such as Michelangelo's "David" or Jan van Eyck’s “Ghent Altarpiece” more than a placeholder for aesthetic and talent.

    Wilhelm von Humboldt also presents a distinctive perspective on the relationship between art and society, underlining individual development and cultural expression (much opposite to many art critics). Humboldt's philosophy centers on the concept of Bildung, a term that encompasses the holistic development of the individual through education and culture. According to Humboldt, for example, the purpose of education (a common example and an important topic) is not merely the acquisition of knowledge but the unfolding of an individual's innate potential, fostering a harmonious development of intellect, character, and creativity. This emphasis on the individual as an autonomous and self-realizing agent distinguishes Humboldt's approach from other theories of his time. In the realm of art, Humboldt's ideas imply that artistic expression becomes a vehicle for the individual's self-discovery and cultivation (similar to Collingwood as both philosophers value the aspect of self and the artist, but different in the artist's motives (convey emotion vs understanding one’s inner self)). Humboldt argues that the artist engages in a process of self-realization when creating art, and contributes to the overall development of their intellectual and emotional capacities, almost more an exercise than a practice. Furthermore, Humboldt's focus on cultural expression as an essential aspect of individual development adds another layer to the complex understanding of art's impact on society. Cultural diversity, according to Humboldt, arises from the collective expressions of individuals coexisting within a society, making art, as a form of cultural expression, a mirror of the cultural perspectives, experiences, and values. Different artistic movements or styles, therefore, represent not only shifts in aesthetic preferences but also variations in how individuals within a society perceive and articulate their existence (including daily experiance, control (whether over their work, their life, or others), satisfaction, desires, preconceived notions, perceived understandings, etc.). For Humboldt, the interconnectedness of individual development and cultural expression is vital for the vitality and diversity of a society. Thus, a society flourishing in art is a society deep in cultural wealth (and the more diverse and genuine the expressions of individuals through art, the more vibrant and culturally enriched a society becomes).

    Let there be an artistic community within a vibrant, multicultural city during the Romantic era. In accordance with Humboldt's principles, this society would place a premium on individual creative expression, celebrating the diversity of artistic voices. Humboldt's influence extends beyond individual artists to the very institutions that support the arts. The city, recognizing the importance of fostering individual creativity, establishes cultural spaces that encourage artists like Sofia and Elias (imaginary artists within this community) to explore and share their unique perspectives. The emphasis on cultural expression as a fundamental human right, as advocated by Humboldt, informs policies that support artistic freedom and diversity.

    3. Primary Sources

    Source 1:

    The Painter of Modern Life by Charles Baudelaire

    Charles Baudelaire was a prominent French poet and art critic who published the book The Painter of Modern Life back in 1863. His work illustrates his observations regarding the changing urban landscape and how the inherent role of the artist changes in attempts to capture (and ultimately become one with / replicate) the spirit of modernity. Baudelaire, often regarded as a key figure in the Symbolist movement, engages in a reflective discourse on the impact of art on society. The book focuses on life in Paris, including aspects of urbanism, fashion, and the nature of artistic expression. The book is, at its core, a celebration of the "flâneur," an urban explorer who immerses himself in the sensory experiences of the city. Baudelaire presents the artist as an observer and interpreter of modern life, capturing the fleeting and transient moments of the metropolis. Baudelaire's work is a foundational text in understanding the symbiotic relationship between art and society, as it paints the artist as a conduit for expressing the essence of contemporary existence. By allowing oneself to become immersed in existence and conscious of the interpretable world around him, Baudelaire suggests that art could become a mirror which reflects the dynamic and ever-changing nature of society in every moment.

    Baudelaire’s writing resonates particularly with Foucault’s exploration of power and the construction of knowledge. According to Foucault, power operates not only through traditional institutions but is also ingrained in discourses and practices that shape societal norms. Baudelaire's painter, through the act of artistic creation, engages in a distinctive form of discourse that becomes a subtle exercise of power. The artist becomes a force influencing the construction of knowledge about contemporary society. In Baudelaire's vision, the artist acts as a commentator, employing artistic language to articulate his unique perspective. This artistic discourse, as Foucault would argue, is not merely an aesthetic endeavor but a strategic participation in the power dynamics that define societal narratives. Furthermore, another relationship could be drawn with R. G. Collingwood’s emphasis on expression of thought and emotion through art. Collingwood's philosophy suggests that artistic expression is not merely a surface-level representation but a profound reflection of the inner life of the artist and, by extension, society. Baudelaire's painter, by engaging with the emotional nuances of modernity, becomes a mirror reflecting the innermost thoughts and feelings of the era. Finally, Baudelaire’s book could be related to Humboldt through emphasis on individual development and cultural expression. Humboldt's philosophy contends that individual creativity is integral to cultural diversity, and the artist, capturing the unique characteristics of modern existence, becomes a symbol of Humboldt's celebration of the uniqueness and diversity inherent in individual artistic voices. Humboldt's ideas on cultural expression and individual development imply that the artist, by bringing forth their singular perspective, plays a vital role in enriching the cultural fabric of society, becoming a beacon.

    Source 2:

    The Lives of the Artists by Giorgio Vasari

    Giorgio Vasari's "The Lives of the Artists" is a collection of biographical accounts of prominent artists from the Renaissance period written in the 16th century. Vasari's compilation provides a vivid portrayal of the lives, works, and impact of renowned artists such as Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, and Giotto. Each biography within the book showcases the multifaceted impact of artistic expressions on the cultural, intellectual, and social fabric of the time.

    Humboldt's emphasis on individual development aligns with Vasari's portrayal of artists like Leonardo da Vinci as exemplars of individual genius. Humboldt's advocacy for the nurturing of unique talents and perspectives mirrors Vasari's celebration of the diverse artistic prowess that flourished during the Renaissance. Combining Vasari and Humboldt, a harmonious resonance emerges: Vasari, in rendering his biographical brushstrokes, not only chronicles the external accomplishments of these artists but also becomes a chronicler of the inner journey (profoundly in tune with Humboldt's reverence for the development of the individual within the broader societal context). Secondly, Collingwood's focus on the expression of thought and emotion in art could be connected to Vasari's biographies, where the artist’s inner lives are explored. Vasari's narratives contribute to Collingwood's idea that art provides a window into the emotional and intellectual dimensions of historical periods in the most literal way possible. Vasari's biographies contribute to Michelet's focus on national history, especially in the case of Giotto. Giotto's metamorphosis towards naturalism is not merely an artistic pivot; it is a reflection, a mirroring of broader societal changes, aligning with Michelet's emphasis on the collective spirit of a nation.

    Source 3:

    The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction by Walter Benjamin

    Walter Benjamin's essay, "The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction," speaks about the changes brought about by technological advancements. This is a field often overlooked when analyzing the progress of art and history in terms of past art history. Technology and globalization is a pivotal force in making the art world an ever-changing space. The essay not only explores the transformation of art but also delves into the implications of these changes for society, particularly the reproducibility of art through mechanical means, and how the line between making art and making a product is getting ever blurrier. In a world of mass production, Benjamin argues that art loses its authenticity and ritualistic value. The reproducibility of art, whether through photography or film, fundamentally changes the relationship between the work of art and the viewer. Artists such as Takashi Murikami have scientifically created production lines to commercialize their work, making the mass consumption of art possible, but at the cost of the original's unique presence. Benjamin’s essay also talks about the impact of the accessibility of art. A perspective that questioned the influence that the macc-accessible imagery has on the viewer’s cultural memory, ritual, appreciation, and societal perceptions.

    Benjamin’s analysis of mechanical reproduction is prevalent to all five philosophers (Michel Foucault, Edward Said, R. G. Collingwood, Jules Michelet, and Wilhelm von Humboldt). The ways in which the entities in charge of the means of art reproduction exercise control over the narratives and discourses that are contained in reproduced artworks are made clear by Foucault's emphasis on power relations as a networked force functioning across society. His idea of "disciplinary power" becomes especially pertinent when one considers how the mass production of copies of art helps to discipline society norms and values, so establishing power through forming a collective consciousness. Furthermore, Foucault’s ideology can be connected to the construction of knowledge about art, and how authoritative voices and discourses in the act of reproduction become integral to the exercise of power. For Said, his concept of “othering” becomes particularly relevant, suggesting that the loss of authenticity in reproduction may lead to a homogenization of cultural expressions, reinforcing Western-centric narratives and marginalizing diverse voices, and that mechanically reproduced art perpetuates and disseminates stereotypical representations of non-Western cultures. Moreover, this act of mechanical reproduction could be embedded itself into imperialistic power structures, with technologies and industries originating in the West asserting control over the means of representation, acting as a primary method of propaganda. Collingwood's philosophy, centered on the idea that art is a form of expression, aligns with Benjamin's concerns about the potential dilution of this expressive quality in mass-produced works. For Collingwood, authentic emotions within art comes from the unique connection fostered between the artist and his creation, making reproduction for the sake of accessibility a sacrifice in individual expression. For Michelet, the loss of original aura, as Benjamin calls it, is a key aspect for investigating how the democratization of art either unifies a nation through shared cultural experiences or contributes to fragmentation as individual interpretations become more prevalent. Michelet's examination extends to how the accessibility of art to a broader audience influences the collective cultural identity, crucial in considering the symbiotic relationship between art and the collective spirit. Finally, Humboldt’s philosophy recognizes the potential for the democratization of art to foster individual creativity for the viewers. In line with Benjamin’s writing, Humboldt’s ideas could also argue that by making the means of production more accessible, it would also give power to a wider variety of artistic voices and expression.

    Source 4:

    Stańczyk by Jan Matejko

    Stańczyk is a renowned painting by Polish artist Jan Matejko, created in 1862. The painting’s subject matter is the court jester Stańczyk, who is known for making political commentary in his performances. As Matejko was known for painting pivotal moments in Polish history, usually crowded scenes and large groups, it was unusual to have such an isolated subject as Stańczyk. The painting is set during a significant event in Polish history, after the news of the loss of the Battle of Orsza to the Grand Duchy of Moscow in 1514. Matejko's Stańczyk is a poignant representation of the emotional turmoil that followed the devastating news. The jester, usually known for his wit, is shown in a moment of profound contemplation, highlighting the gravity of the political and military events. The painting serves as a reflection of Polish national identity and collective memory (a direct reflection of the national spirit ideology advocated by Michelet). The Battle of Orsza was a critical moment in the Jagiellonian era, and Stańczyk captures the psychological toll it took on the Polish people. Behind where the jester sat, in the same red color as the jester's clothing, a ballroom filled with joy and carelessness. The similar color scheme between the subject and the scene behind illustrates that both Stańczyk and the people of the party (presumably the royal families) should be in alliance, but Stańczyk is worried about the direction of the country (as even after the loss of the battle, the people in charge still chooses ignorance). Even more so, this painting is symbolic of the Sad Clown Paradox, with the extinguished candle on the floor symbolizing the loss of hope, while the discarded jester's mask being the suspension of laughter in the face of tragedy. Stańczyk demonstrates the emotional depth that can be conveyed through a singular work of art, even more than representation of historical events. It showcases the nuances of human emotion and societal response to adversity can be captured.

    4. Secondary Sources (4-5)

    Source 1 (Paring):

    Intuition and Art by Louis Arnaud Reid and The History of Intuition and Its Role in the Composing Process by Patricia E. Conners

    Both sources analyze the intricate relationship between intuition and artistic expression. While Reid’s work is more of the general impact of intuition across art forms, Conners narrows his focus to the historical evolution of intuition, and enters into an analysis of musical composition. Though different in approach, The importance of intuition in the creative process is emphasized in both texts. Reid focuses on the ways that artists create original and genuine works by using intuitive techniques in a variety of media. Conners also documents the historical cases in which composers used their gut feelings to help them over the challenges of writing music. Moreover, both works recognize the possible social significance of intuitively inspired art. Reid investigates the ways in which intuitive processes influence how art affects both specific viewers and society as a whole. In the domain of music, Conners aims to shed light on how intuitive elements in musical compositions contribute to more general conversations about the influence of art on society.

    Source 2 (Paring):

    The Expression of Emotion by O. H. Green and Expression of Emotion in (Some of) the Arts by Robert Stecker

    The two sources present perceptive viewpoints on the intricate relationship between emotions in society and creative expression. The work of O. H. Green explores the complex world of emotions and how they are portrayed in the visual arts. According to Green, the portrayal of emotion in art is a dynamic process that involves the viewer's interaction and the artist's interpretation rather than a simple replication of reality. Robert Stecker's "Expression of Emotion in (Some of) the Arts" expands on this idea by examining how emotions are expressed in a variety of artistic mediums. Stecker provides a thorough examination of the various ways that art communicates and evokes emotional reactions as she explores how emotions appear in music, literature, and visual arts. In "The Expression of Emotion," Green makes the case that creative depictions of emotions entail a complicated interaction between cultural context and subjective interpretation, rather than merely reflecting the outside world. Green challenges a more basic view of art as essentially replicating life by emphasizing the dynamic aspect of emotional expression within the visual arts, adding a subtle depth to current knowledge. However, Stecker's "Expression of Emotion in (Some of) the Arts" adopts a more comprehensive strategy, examining emotional expression across a range of artistic mediums. According to Stecker, the many creative mediums enhance our comprehension of the emotional effect of art beyond its visual representations by evoking and communicating emotions in unique ways. Both sources acknowledge the difficulty of using art to effectively communicate emotions, which is where they agree. Green's emphasis on the visual arts is consistent with Stecker's more general investigation, highlighting the necessity of having a thorough grasp of the ways in which emotions are portrayed in a variety of creative contexts. While there is consensus about the complex relationship between emotion and art, differences arise when it comes to how much emphasis is placed on the particular techniques of expression used in various art genres. Green's focus on the visual arts can indicate a more specialized viewpoint, which might be different from Stecker's inclusive strategy that includes music and literature. These little differences of opinion, however, add to a more comprehensive discussion by encouraging academics to think about the minute aspects of emotional expression in certain creative situations.

    Source 3:

    How Art Stimulates Theological Reflection in the Conversation Between a Work of Art, the Artist and the Viewer by Leeanne Mallaby

    This secondary source by Mallaby explores the complex interplay between the viewer's participation, religion, and art. In this investigation, Mallaby looks at how the artwork itself, the artist, and the audience engage in a dynamic interaction that serves as a catalyst for theological thought. Mallaby starts out by outlining a theoretical framework that links the process of seeing art with theological thought. The author then uses a number of case studies to illustrate this paradigm by examining particular works of art and the theological problems they raise. By using this methodology, Mallaby reveals the many levels of meaning that are present in the creative process and emphasizes how the dialogue that occurs between the artist, the spectator, and the artwork itself becomes a means of facilitating theological inquiry. Mallaby's main point is that art provides a special forum for thought and communication between the observer, the creator, and the piece of art, and that it is a powerful stimulus for theological study. This perspective resonates with similar arguments made by philosophers and art historians who recognize the multifaceted impact of art. According to the author, the aesthetic experience is more than just looking at something; it's an interactive process that challenges viewers to consider religious ideas and themes. Because Mallaby emphasizes that art has the power to provoke theological reflection, her work broadens the conversation on how art affects society. By doing this, it provides pathways for comprehending the ways in which creative representations advance serious insights on spiritual and theological aspects in addition to cultural and societal conversations.

    Source 4 (Paring):

    From Aesthetics to Psychology: Notes on Vygotsky's "Psychology of Art" by Marcelo Guimaraes Lima and Putting the "Pain" In Painting: A Conceptualization and Consideration of Serious Art by J. Ryan Napier

    Lima examines the manner in which Vygotsky's theories - which have their origins in psychology - offer understanding of both the aesthetic experience and the larger social ramifications of creative performance. However, Napier's literature examines the intrinsic relationship between suffering and the creative process, employing a philosophical approach to serious art. Napier challenges accepted ideas about what constitutes creative creativity by arguing that meaningful art requires a certain amount of emotional anguish. With Lima concentrating on the theoretical underpinnings and Napier exploring the emotional aspects of serious art, both sources make a substantial contribution to the area by bridging the gaps between psychology and aesthetics. The main contention of Lima's paper centers on Vygotsky's framework, which suggests that the psychology of art influences both individual and collective psychological processes in addition to aesthetics. Lima stresses the connection between human psychology and creative expression by examining the ways in which the aesthetic experience is entwined with larger societal processes. This viewpoint supports Vygotsky's assertion that art is a potent tool for comprehending the intricacies of the human mind and how it interacts with societal events. By giving a sophisticated perspective that goes beyond conventional aesthetic evaluations, Lima's work expands the debate on the psychological aspects of art and adds to the body of current study. Conversely, Napier's main argument is around the idea that genuine artistic expression frequently involves suffering and mental turmoil. Napier questions accepted ideas about the delight of creation, arguing that meaningful art necessitates a more in-depth discussion of discomfort—both social and personal. By emphasizing the emotional work involved in significant artistic undertakings, this approach adds a layer to the conversation about the influence of art on society. By stretching the boundaries of our knowledge of creative production and providing a conceptual framework that challenges readers to reevaluate the connection between art, emotion, and societal influence, Napier's work enhances the body of previous studies.

    Source 5 (Paring):

    The Artist-Activist: History and Healing through Art by Angela Davis Johnson and Renaissance and Renascences by Erwin Panofsky

    Johnson explores the intersections between activism and art in his work, highlighting the role artists play as historical healers. Her examination of several historical periods demonstrates the varied ways in which artists have responded to social concerns in order to promote knowledge and transformation. According to Johnson, the artist-activist is essential in reshaping stories and using artistic expression to address past traumas. In contrast, Panofsky's "Renaissance and Renascences" offers a thorough examination of the Renaissance era, exploring the resurgence of classical concepts and artwork. With an emphasis on the intellectual and cultural transformations that defined the Renaissance, Panofsky's research argues for a nuanced interpretation of the term "renaissance" in relation to other historical eras. Content-wise, Johnson's work emphasizes the political and social aspects of art, offering a story in which artists actively confront social issues and historical traumas. She looks at how art, especially that produced by underrepresented groups, may be used to promote healing and record history. On the other hand, Panofsky provides a thorough historical study of the Renaissance, highlighting the revival of classical aesthetics and the intellectual currents that influenced this revolutionary period. Panofsky's main conclusions center on the creative and intellectual revolutions of the Renaissance, whereas Johnson's work makes strong claims for the use of art as a tool for historical action and healing. Both sources deepen the conversation on the complex effects of art, which advances previous scholarly work. Johnson's focus on action enhances Panofsky's historical study by offering a modern, socially conscious viewpoint. Both sources stress the transformational power of art, but they focus on different aspects of it; Panofsky examines a historical renaissance, while Johnson addresses contemporary action.

    Source 6 (Paring):

    From "Art and Identity: For Whom, For What?" The "Present" Upon the "Contemporary" by Satō Dōshin, Sarah Allen and Constructing an artistic identity by Alison Bain

    In their joint work, Satō Dōshin and Sarah Allen examine the intricacies of modern art, interrogating the intentions and target audiences of artists. They discuss the idea of identity in art and provide insight into how artists navigate the current societal landscape while expressing themselves artistically. Alison Bain's work, on the other hand, focuses on the path of the individual artist in "Constructing an Artistic Identity." Bain examines how artists create their identities in great detail, highlighting the complex interplay between the demands of society and the artistic persona. By offering insightful analyses of the contemporary art scene and the place of the individual artist within it, these sources greatly advance the body of knowledge already known in the area. The investigation of the "present" and "contemporary" facets of art by Satō Dōshin and Sarah Allen adds a lively and culturally pertinent viewpoint to the current conversation. In the same spirit, Alison Bain's emphasis on the formation of creative identity deepens our comprehension of the social and personal aspects of artistic expression. Although the sources' examination of the connection between art and identity is similar, there are also subtle distinctions between them. While Sarah Allen and Satō Dōshin present a more comprehensive view of society, Alison Bain focuses on the experiences of specific artists. These subtleties highlight the complexity inherent in the creation of creative identity and help to a more thorough understanding of the multidimensional effect of art on society.

    Source 7 (Paring):

    Is Visual Culture Becoming Our Canon of Art? By Donalyn Heise and Political Art, Cultural Policy, and Artistic Agency by Jeremy Valentine

    Heise examines the ramifications of this transition as she explores whether visual culture is becoming the new canon of art in the modern day. Her research examines how visual culture, with its focus on pictures and multimedia, is changing society views of artistic worth as it navigates the shifting landscape of art reception. Valentine, on the other hand, focuses on the relationship between political art, cultural policy, and artists' autonomy. He looks at how political environments and laws influence artistic expression, highlighting how art has the power to influence politics. The two sources share a common theme on the effect of art on society and the dynamic relationship that is always changing between creative expression, cultural policy, and the evolution of visual culture, even if they have different areas of focus. Heise carefully examines how visual imagery is becoming more and more dominant in modern society in order to further his investigation of visual culture as a developing canon. She argues that there is a clear tendency favoring visual expressions over conventional forms, and that this change has consequences for how society creates its canon of art. Her thesis challenges preconceived ideas about what makes art significant and resonantly aligns with larger conversations on the democratization of art. Valentine, on the other hand, emphasizes the complex connection between art and politics in his study of political art. He investigates how artists navigate political environments on their own initiative and how cultural policies in turn affect creative output. By examining different but connected aspects of the link between art and society, both sources provide a substantial contribution to the body of extant knowledge. Heise's examination of visual culture challenges established hierarchies and is in line with the current conversation about the democratization and accessibility of art. Valentine, on the other hand, emphasizes the possibility that art may both shape and be shaped by political circumstances, adding dimension to conversations about political art and creative agency.

    Source 8 (Paring):

    The Power of Art by Simon Schama and SUPER POWER ART (a book review on The Power of Art by Simon Schama) by Donald Kuspit

    "The Power of Art" by Simon Schama is a thorough analysis of significant artists throughout history that shows how their creations have influenced society and philosophy. Schama contends that art has the capacity to change society norms and views by resonating beyond time and geography. He explores the personal stories of artists and makes links between them and the larger historical and cultural circumstances in which they were born, raised, and produced their works. In his critique of Schama's writing, Donald Kuspit offers a critical evaluation of the book's advantages and disadvantages. Kuspit has reservations about Schama's emphasis on specific artists rather than more general cultural and socioeconomic tendencies, even if he appreciates Schama's skillful narrative and attention to the emotional impact of art. Both sources give insights on the impact of art on society, which greatly adds to the body of existing knowledge. Schama's work emphasizes the transforming power of unique artistic voices and is a valuable resource for comprehending the cultural and personal aspects of artistic effect. However, Kuspit's critique applies a critical eye to Schama's story and raises concerns about the wider societal ramifications of creative pursuits. When combined, they provide a sophisticated discussion that broadens our comprehension of the complex connection between art and social change. But the sources emphasize different things. Schama emphasizes the power of the individual artist, whereas Kuspit calls for a more thorough analysis of the larger societal factors at work. Schama's "The Power of Art" is consistent with primary and secondary sources that highlight the role that individual artists play in forming cultural environments. Kuspit's evaluation challenges the idea that the genius of individual creators alone can account for the power of art, adding a degree of skepticism and scrutiny. Schama's viewpoint is consistent with the conventional notion of the artist as a cultural hero, but Kuspit's critique offers a more modern discussion that takes into account the larger societal framework within which art functions. The combination of these sources therefore mirrors the current discussion in art history and cultural studies over the relative influence of individual brilliance vs group cultural influences in forming social standards.