Saturday, 30 January 2021

The Dolores O'Riordan Diet

The Machinist
Brad Anderson
Paramount
2004

The Machinist



















"A little guilt goes a long way." (Trevor Reznik)

Brad Anderson's The Machinist is a cinematic commentary on the Kafka-nightmare, with The Castle doing indirect duty as the narrative vehicle. After several viewings the subtlety of the symbolism can't be missed. Then again, maybe I am enough of the personification of The Idiot to need more than one viewing to see it. Yes, Dostoyevsky makes an appearance, along with Christian Bale who, to prepare for the role of Trevor Reznik, stuck to the Dolores O'Riorden diet: coffee and cigarettes. Is guilt overrated? Watch the film and find out. Then watch it again.

Sources
Brad Anderson. The Machinist. Paramount. 2004.
Franz Kafka. The Castle. Wordsworth Classics. 2009.
Fyodor Dostoevsky. The Idiot. Penguin Classic. 2004.
The Cranberries. To The Faithful Departed. Island. 1996.

Sum Of The Dharma

some of the dharma
Jack Kerouac
Penguin Books
1999

some of the dharma
















Nineteen years ago I was on the road and needed change for the bus. I only had a $20.00 bill in my pocket. I looked around and noticed I was near a used bookstore. I walked into the store thinking that I could break the bill by buying a book. A book on the shelf near the front of the store window caught my attention. It was some of the dharma by Jack Kerouac. It was large and heavy, at least compared to The Dharma Bums. Because it was used I got it for half the retail price. When I handed the cashier the bill I asked if they could break down the change into coins. “The bus?” she asked. “The bus” I said, smiling sheepishly. I left the store and waited for the bus. It was raining. When it arrived I walked on, settled into my seat, and carefully took the book out of the wet bag. I opened it to the first page and read the following words of dedication: "I love Allen Ginsberg - Let that be recorded in heaven's unchangeable heart - " (Jack Kerouac). Priceless.

Sources
Jack Kerouac. some of the dharma. Penguin Books. 1999.
Jack Kerouac. The Dharma Bums. Penguin Books. 1976.

The Heidegger Files

Sein Und Zeit - Signed First Edition














"It is rather the darkest of all." (Martin Heidegger)

I recently finished binge watching The X-Files on Netflix using an Xbox console. It took me two weeks to get through it. After the last episode ended I was informed that Xbox Gold rewarded my obsessive effort with a virtual trophy. The X-Files on an Xbox. Nice.

My late father introduced me to the show when it first aired twenty eight years ago. Watching it was one of the few things we did together. He later confessed to me that his commitment to it had less to do with his interest in science fiction, and more to do with his love of Gillian Anderson. Like father, like son.

"When we last left our heroes..."


















He did, however, tell me that the X-Files were real files. I wanted to believe. So I did. The instilled belief that the show was more science than fiction, that Mulder and Scully were actually dramatizing real events cataloged in top secret government files, has been the inspiration behind my ever evolving reconnaissance mission to seek the truth out there, wherever it is and whatever it might be: "Supposing truth is a woman - what then?" (Friedrich Nietzsche).

The tenth episode of the seventh season of The X-Files is entitled "Sein Und Zeit" (Being And Time). It was written as the first of a two-part segment that reveals what happened to Mulder's sister Samantha. It is one of many episodes that informs the narrative arch of the alien-conspiracy mythology.

Fox and Samantha


   











The title of the episode intrigued me. I first read Martin Heidegger's 1927 book Sein Und Zeit as an undergraduate student at university. It left its mark on me. Over the years I have come back to this book and read it through new eyes each time (these days they are decidedly pragmatic). Richard Rorty's summation of Heidegger's significance sums up my present attitude: "Heideggerese is Heidegger's gift to us, not Being's gift to Heidegger."

This is a pragmatic way of saying that Heidegger's worth is in the language he has given us in Being And Time ("Heideggerese") to get things intentionally done in the world, rather than using "Platonese" to leave things ineffably undone (supposedly) elsewhere. So much the worse for Platonic onto-theology: "Christianity is Platonism for the masses." (Friedrich Nietzsche).

One of the things I wanted to get done after I watched episode ten was to determine if (and how) Heidegger's philosophy in Sein Und Zeit influenced the writers/producers to call it what they did. I am not the first person to think about this. But all that I could find online was an acknowledgement by a serious X-Files fansite that the connection between Heidegger's book and the title of the episode was something left unanswered. At least it was asked.

Heidegger's philosophy is a modern commentary on an ancient claim made by Heraclitus that "all is flux." What distinguishes Being And Time in the history of Western philosophy is the emphasis that it places on the word 'all'. To be in the world (being) is to continually become in a world of constant change, a world that is experienced as the indefinitely continued progress of events (time), and grounded in primordial temporality (history). So, to be in the world is to be in history (and no where else). This is true of all that is (without exception). Michel Foucault's important insight that we are all "historically condemned to history" is nothing but a footnote to Heidegger (who did not mind the condemnation).

Closure


   








With this in mind, my guess about the title is that the key to understanding Mulder's "Closure" (the title of the second part of this segment) about Samantha is found in his recognition that her death is a tragic end, but that it does not occur through alien means. As he comes to terms with the recent death of his mother, this discovery about Samantha plays a central part of what it means for him to be in the world. He finds peace at this stage of the story by letting go of his conspiratorial quest for a more-than-natural answer to Samantha's human-all-too-human disappearance. Like Heidegger, he accepts his condemnation without complaint.

"Heideggerese" has helped me gain descriptive closure over the death of my father. Writing this brief essay in his memory certainly makes this process easier. But such closure does not close the door on the mystery of being in the world (whether that includes the disappearance of your sister or the demise of your father). In the end we still must face the question of the Being of beings, the "darkest of all." This is the real X-File.

Albert Hinton (18-10-1933 to 29-12-2010)























Music And Money

Herbert von Karajan














"From the beginning of my career I told myself, among other things, that I didn't want to take orders from anybody. I have now reached a position where I can do what I choose to do and from the financial point of view this amounts to freedom in choosing the best artistic material available without being concerned about the cost. To me, money in itself has no attraction. But insofar as it allows me to achieve my artistic aims, money is important." (Herbert von Karajan).

Measured Tension

"Yes, Ms. Francon."















"She heard, in the measured tension of his words, that it was harder for him to speak them than for her to listen. So she listened. 'You must learn not to be afraid of the world. Not to be held by it as you are now. Never to be hurt by it as you were in that courtroom. I must let you learn it. I can't help you. You must find your own way. When you have, you'll come back to me. They won't destroy me, Dominique. And they won't destroy you. You'll win, because you've chosen the hardest way of fighting for your freedom from the world. I'll wait for you. I love you. I'm saying this now for all of the years we will have to wait. I love you, Dominique.' Then he kissed her and let her go." (The Fountainhead, pp. 376-377).

Sources
Ayn Rand. The Fountainhead. Signet. 1952

Faster Thrill Pussycat

Faster



















Isolation is the indispensable component of my happiness. When I have guests in my home I feel strangely estranged. I keep my entertaining down to a minimum. Above the front door of Plato’s Academy was a sign that read: “Let No One Enter Here Who Is Ignorant Of Geometry.” If I had a sign above my front door it would lack the last five words. I have nothing against the grammar of space. What I am against is the violation of my isolation. I can happily work a room when I want to. Isolation does not imply misanthropy. I am just a person who has figured out how I want to live.

People have asked me if I was lonely living on my own. I have told them I am not. I have said that I am alone, but not lonely. They told me that I definitely needed a pet. This told me that they did not understand the distinction between alone and lonely. I have told them that I don’t want a pet. They thought I was cold and callous. I am warm and comforting, at least when I choose to be. I just felt that having a pet would be twos-a-crowd for me. 

My warmth and comfort are freely given to those I love. And I love my children. I would do anything for them: from creating an IG profile because they wanted me to be socially mediated, to the point of agreeing to look after a cat. That is what I call fatherly love. Lucky for me they are wise beyond their years. 

At first Levi kept to himself. Most days he would stay under my bed. That was fine with me. I left him alone. Giving him his space made him brave. He began to stick his head out from under my bed skirt. Just his head. He slowly looked around. He would see me looking at him looking. He would disappear under my bed again. 

Cats need nourishment. I always make sure he has enough food to eat and water to drink. Cats need to be clean. I always change the litter for him. At first it felt like I was babysitting. I had no emotional connection to this animal. But he began to catch my attention, and create my attachment. 

The first thing I noticed was his independence. I knew cats did things their way. But what endeared him to me at first was his style. It was stylish of him to seek his own isolation under my bed. He found his own place. It was stylish of him to break that isolation every so often with a black skirt. How fashionable of him. And it was stylish of him to pull off being alone, but not lonely. He is intensely present, yet independently absent. It was like a feline version of hiding in plain view. Then it hit me. Levi and I had something in common. He has a life to lead. So do I. Together we live in interdependent isolation.

Levi has a routine to wake me up in the morning. He sits near the foot of my bed and meows until I lift up my head. When I lay my head down on the pillow again he runs into the sun-room. He jumps up on my black leather chair and starts scratching the glass window on my bedroom sliding door. After he does that he jumps up on my bed, walks slowly up to my face, and then gently touches his closed mouth on my lips. That is my cue to get up and make him breakfast. I fill his water dish and give him Friskies, but not before I give him a treat in the kitchen. When he has had his fill he gives me a satisfied meow and walks away. 

He is intelligent enough to know what he wants. And I am kind enough to give it to him. He is smart enough to know he needs me, and trusting enough to bite the hand that feeds him. Our morning routine lasted a long time. Now he does something different. The other morning I was in bed with my eyes closed. I felt a tickle near my ear. I heard him gently meowing in my ear. Levi is learning about the practical benefits of aural fixations.

Thrill


















    
I was in my study writing. I had not seen Levi for hours. I heard a strange noise coming from the bathroom. I had my phone in my hand (who doesn't?) and got up to see what it was. I walked into the bathroom. That he stayed still on the toilet paper he had nicely unrolled, while I took his picture, indicates his penchant for posing. After I took the picture he galloped frantically out of the bathroom. Curiosity thrills this fast pussycat. After the cat left I turned around and looked down the hall that leads to my bedroom. Follow the white rolled road. 

Pussycat


















         
It has taken me many months to realize just how loving it is having Levi here. And the love comes through the combination of his independence, his intelligence, and his curiosity. He will pounce on a paper clip and toss it around with his paws. Then he will run off as quickly as he pounced, digging his claws into my carpet with each stride. He bounces off walls trying to capture a beam of light. He lunges at birds that fly by my sun-room window. In the midst of this frenetic activity he stops on a dime and grooms himself with precision. Then he is off running again like a madman around and around my condo, stopping every so often to chase his tail. He hides inconspicuously, and jumps out at me unexpectedly as I walk by his hiding places. The space under my bed is one of them. Looking back I can see that he was obviously doing reconnaissance work during his first few days here, preparing for future attacks. So much for seeking isolation because he was shy. He was establishing his strategic independence by being coy.

He quietly walks up to me, jumps on my lap, settles himself in by gently pushing my thighs with his two front paws, and rubs his head against my chest as he prepares for his cat nap. This might be his instinctive way of establishing his territoriality. No matter. He affirms me. 

Sources
Cat food.
Toilet paper. 

Kant Cubed

A Cubism Reader
Documents And Criticism, 1906-1914
Mark Antliff, Patricia Leighten (ed)
University of Chicago Press
2008

A Cubism Reader



















A Cubism Reader is a new collection of primary-source material on the conceptual foundations of the cubist movement between 1906 and 1914. It is a sympathetically critical response to the only other book in English that contained similar material: Edward F. Fry's Cubism (published in 1966)It is sympathetic in that it recognizes Fry's interpretive importance in the history of cubist scholarship. Fry is honoured here for originally "initiating the important project of understanding the cubist movement through its primary sources." However, it is also critical because Fry's book is unapologetically modern. His editorial selections and introductory explanation of the texts are based upon his reading of the philosopher of modernity: Immanuel Kant. Why be critical about a product of Kant's critical philosophy?

Fry is taken to task for promoting the idea that the cast of Kant's critical shadow makes cubism conceptually possible and artistically necessary. In their introduction Antliff and Leighten argue that this reliance on Kant is dated, limited, and overdetermined, especially in light of a new critical discourse that has emerged over the past thirty years within cubist studies. To understand why taking issue with Fry matters, it helps to understand his own brand of Kantian aesthetics and how it contributed toward a philosophy of art that has outlived its usefulness.

Fry trained in art history at Harvard in the 1960s during the heyday of formalist approaches to the early history of modern art. Formalism, as an aesthetic doctrine, is based on the idea that to interpret a painting is to indicate and explain its form: the perceptual elements of an artwork and the relationship holding between them. These related (formal) elements are the primary concern of aesthetic value. These elements, in turn, are said to be independent of the objective meaning, reference, or utility of a work of art. The turn to the subject in modern aesthetics delimits these concerns by default.

While the philosophical roots of formalism are Kantian in both conceptual origin and perceptual substance, its influence as an aesthetic doctrine owes much to the critical scholarship of Clement Greenberg. In the heavily anthologized essay "Modernist Painting" Greenberg argues that Kant is “the first real modern” because he was the first to critique the means of criticism itself (most critically in his Critique Of Pure Reason). “Western civilization is not the first to turn around and question its own foundations,” Greenberg writes, “but it is the civilization that has gone furthest in doing so. I identify Modernism with the intensification, almost the exacerbation, of this self-critical tendency that began with the philosopher Kant.”

What makes Kant’s critique unique in the history of philosophy is that it did not follow the standard rule of criticizing a subject from the outside, as was the de facto method during the Enlightenment. By “outside” I mean not adopting the premises of the subject of critique, but rather assuming other premises as a basis for critiquing it. (The Enlightenment critique of religion was an outside job.) Rather, Kant criticizes from the inside by using the critical procedures themselves upon the subject of criticism.

In his case, Kant used logic in order to place limits upon logic (subjecting his subject), thereby reducing it down to its critical essence and essential function. Kant’s logical “antinomies” (contradictions which necessarily follow from our attempt to conceive the nature of transcendent reality) within his Critique are an example of what you get when “logic goes subjective” (as it were). The point here is not to subvert the subject of concern, but to more consistently entrench it within its own methods and motives. This turn to the subject as the object of subjective concern is the essence of Kantian modernism.

Cubism
Edward F. Fry


   
















Under the sway of Greenberg, Fry had his own Kantian historical narrative to tell between the analytic and synthetic stages of early cubism. Antliff and Leighten attempt to go beyond Fry by placing these primary-source materials within a larger more up-to-date context. In this sense, the significance of A Cubism Reader consists in reintroducing these important documents within an unapologically postmodern context (and by 'postmodern' I mean post-Kantian).

Fry's Kantian reading of the influence of cubism in modern art gets reduced to a brilliantly absurd end in the abstract painting of Jackson Pollock (Greenberg's example of a great painter). It is Pollock's work that indicates the necessity of going beyond Kant in our critical approach to art. On this reading the turn to the subject in Kant's critical philosophy is reduced to absurdity in abstract painting. Where can you go after Pollock's Lavender Mist (let alone Full Fathom Five)? You can't go anywhere. Pollock knew this most of all.

This is not to downplay abstract expressionism. The distinction must be made between how abstract painting broke away from late cubism in painterly talent, and yet still remained cubist in subjective intent. Cubism and abstract expressionism are both movements in painting that are characterized by the subjective will to abstraction. Abstract expressionism in the life and work of Jackson Pollock is the reductio ad absurdum of Kantian modernism. It represents a dead end (and in the case of Pollock, this is literally true).

This is one important reason why Antliff and Leighten take issue with Fry's Kantian reading of the conceptual foundations of cubism. It is not only dated, limited, and overdetermined, but it can also lead to disastrous consequences in the lives of artists who espouse this subjectivist philosophy of art (whether consciously or not). Post-Kantian art, therefore, is a renewed turn to the object-matter of painting. The positive results show for themselves.

For example, in questioning Fry's formalist and hierarchical narrative of cubism (where Braque and Picasso are seen as the major innovators of the movement, while artists like Jean Metzinger, Albert Gleizes, Juan Gris, and Fernand LĂ©ger who came after Braque and Picasso are seen as minor imitators), this new approach to cubism makes it possible to interpret all of the cubist artists on a level aesthetic field. This also helps introduce new questions about objective meaning, reference, and utility in the work of cubist art, questions which in the modern period lacked a vocabulary for their expression.

The most promising consequence of this turn to the object-matter in painting is how these source materials can be used as a way to add historic weight to the profound claim made by the Canadian abstract painter Kazuo Nakamura that the artist and the scientist do the same thing but in different ways: they both recognize patterns in nature (physical, geometric, and mathematical). With these primary-source materials available in A Cubism Reader, it is now possible to talk about the objective significance of the geometry of cubes (for example), and how that stress reminds us of just how realistic these cubist paintings can be seen, at least when it comes to the artistic geometry of physics at the turn of the 21st century.

Sources
Edward F. Fry. Cubism. London: Thames & Hudson. 1966.
Francis Frascina, Charles Harrison (ed). Modern Art And Modernism: A Critical Anthology. New York: Harper & Row. 1987.
Mark Antliff, Patricia Leighten (ed). A Cubism Reader: Documents And Criticism, 1906-1914. Chicago: The University Of Chicago Press. 2008.

The French Connection

Cafe - Paris
James Wilson Morrice (1865 - 1924)
















Canadian post-impressionist painting cannot be understood apart from its French progenitor. What is the essence of French Impressionism, therefore, and how did it evolve into the representative work of James Wilson Morrice (1865-1924)? This is a philosophical question, and its answer is the product of a Parisian provenance that leads back to the writings of Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867).

Baudelaire broke aesthetic ground by reducing art criticism down to its modernist essentials. What makes the opening question to this essay philosophical is because Baudelaire's reduction, in turn, cannot be understood apart from his reading of Immanuel Kant (1724-1804). His use of a priori categories in his abstract prose indicates as much. Kant's philosophy made Baudelaire's criticism possible.  

Kant is the first real modern because he is the first to analyse and critique the means of criticism (in his Kritik der reinen Vernunft - Critique Of Pure Reason). “Western civilization is not the first to turn around and question its own foundations,” Clement Greenberg writes, “but it is the civilization that has gone furthest in doing so. I identify Modernism with the intensification, almost the exacerbation, of this self-critical tendency that began with the philosopher Kant.”

What makes Kant’s critique unique in the history of modernity is that it did not follow the standard rule of criticizing a subject from the outside, as was the de facto method during the Enlightenment. By “outside” I mean not adopting the premises of the subject of critique, but rather assuming other premises as a basis for critiquing it. The Enlightenment critique of religion was an outside job. Rather, Kant criticizes from the inside by using critical procedures upon the subject of criticism. In his case, Kant used logic in order to place limits upon logic (subjecting his subject), thereby reducing it down to its critical essence, and function. Kant’s logical “antinomies” within his Critique Of Pure Reason are an example of what you get when “logic goes subjective” (as it were). 

One of Kant’s objectives was to put limits on Enlightenment reason, through his subjective critique of logic, in order to make room for religious faith. Kant’s modern critique of the Enlightenment critique was an inside job. This example raises an important point about internal criticism. The point is not to subvert the subject of concern, but to entrench it within its own methods and motives. This turn to the subject as the object of subjective concern is the essence of Kant's modernism. It is also the philosophical key to understanding Baudelaire’s brand of Impressionism, and its impact and influence on Canadian post-impressionist painting in the 20th century.

This revolutionary brand of internal criticism began to influence fields outside of philosophy (painting included), especially within the 19th century. Because of this influence, we moderns now stand in the shadow of Kant in the same way that earlier generations once stood in the shadow of Aristotle. Kant is the Eiffel Tower within the Paris of the modern mind. 

Kant's Shadow


     















What Kant did to critical philosophy, Baudelaire did to art criticism. However, what makes Baudelaire different, and thereby ground breaking, is that he applied Kant’s critical modus operandi more consistently than did his modern master. Standing with one foot within Kant’s shadow, Baudelaire made art criticism self-critical by turning it upon itself through brilliantly combining linguistic sense with lyrical scope. He showed what he said in the very act of saying what he sought to show. This forced his readers to turn their attention toward the immediacy of the present moment, just as Kant forced his readers to conclude that reason’s limits illuminates the immediacy of faith. Subjective immediacy within Baudelaire’s work is an example of what you get when “art criticism goes subjective” (as it were). 

Kant placed logical limits on our understanding of the phenomenal world so as to make room for faith in the “noumenal” (what Kant called das Ding an sich – The Thing in itself, that upon which we place our analytic categories of space and time). By making the turn to the subject more subjective, Baudelaire, with his other foot outside of Kant’s shadow, made the phenomenal world, the world of immediate sensation, the only subject of critical concern. The result was revolutionary: a subject is as it is treated to be (but more on Flaubert’s Madame Bovary in a moment).

Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867)


   
















If Baudelaire made room for anything in his new brand of modernism, it was an abstract variant on Kant’s noumenal world. Following upon a pragmatic lead by Henry’s brother William James, Baudelaire could be said to embody the spirit of James’ pragmatic credo: there is no difference that does not make some difference (less is more, in life as it is in fashion). The noumenal world makes no difference to critical consciousness. Better to reduce it down to no more and no less than a product of the modern mind. 

Commenting on the work of Constantin Guys, Baudelaire says that he “is looking for that quality which you must allow me to call ‘modernity;’ for I know of no better word to express the idea I have in mind. He makes it his business to extract from fashion whatever element it may contain of poetry within history, to distil the eternal from the transitory." In what does this “eternal” consist? Baudelaire is clear: “By ‘modernity’ I mean the ephemeral, the fugitive, the contingent, the half of art whose other half is the eternal and the immutable.”

How does Baudelaire's "immutable" differ from Kant’s “noumenal”? The difference is entirely abstract: “Absolute and eternal beauty does not exist, or rather it is only an abstraction skimmed from the general surface of different beauties. The particular element in each manifestation comes from the emotions: and just as we have our own particular emotions, so we have our own beauty.” Human emotions understood as mutably immutable, the historically condemned constant in a poetically changing world, is Baudelaire’s aesthetic equivalent to Kant’s logical antinomies. 

This abstract reduction on Baudelaire’s part made impressionistic painting possible. It focused artistic attention on lived-experience. Through the procedure of painting itself, Impressionism was critiquing painting from within, thereby manifesting the philosophy of modernism in general, and giving birth to modernist painting in particular. It consistently entrenched its subject of concern (life as it is experienced to be) within its own methods and motives. This turn to the subject harkens back to the ancient idea (first made possible by Heraclitus, and then made popular by Martin Heidegger’s Sein Und Zeit – Being And Time) that Being is becoming, that the Being of beings is essentially historic, temporary, contingent, and immediate. By focusing on the temporary moment, impressionistic painters were literally painting the Being of beings, the ground of being: reality itself. 

For Baudelaire, impressionistic painting is not so much art for art’s sake, but art for artist’s sake. It was a modern realism with a magical difference. His was a self-conscious, indeed critical, subjectivity, the product of his answer to Kant’s famous question “What Is Enlightenment?” He answered it by asking a similar, if not more important, question: “What is pure art according to the modern idea?” Baudelaire’s answer is instructive, and sums up how best to think of his work: “It is to create a suggestive magic, containing at the same time the object and the subject, the world external to the artist and the artist himself.” That is impressionistic painting: as romantic as it is real, as objective as it is subjective, as external as it is expressive. 

Baudelaire created his own shadow to cast, engulfing both literature and art. In the introduction to the 1861 edition of Les Fleurs du mal (stripped of the six “indecent” offences), Baudelaire described his “hypocritical reader” as his intimate brother: hypocrite lecteur – mon semblabel – mon frĂšre! Peter Gay points out that while he had few brothers, he did have many illustrious sons. Influential among them was Gustave Flaubert, who praised Baudelaire for having “found the way of rejuvenating romanticism.” He returned the compliment by commending Flaubert’s Madame Bovary for showing that “all subjects are equally good or bad according to the manner in which they are treated.” No wonder Flaubert said of Baudelaire that he resembled no one (a very modern compliment). He used hyperbole to make a point, obviously, but the point leaves its impress, nonetheless, especially concerning Baudelaire’s unique place in the history of impressionistic painting. 

Baudelaire’s friendship with EugĂšne Boudin made the transition from Realism (representation) to Impressionism (romance) in painting possible. Baudelaire’s influence on the product of that transition in the work of Edouard Manet was so acute that it’s only right to read Manet’s painting as Baudelaire’s Olympian program put to modern canvas. I side with the historians who think of Manet’s Olympia as the first modern painting.

Olympia - 1863
Edouard Manet


     











     

In Baudelaire you go from Kant’s turn to the subject to a more consistent turn to subjectivism. What you get in the impressionistic wake of Baudelaire’s work is a final turn toward the substantive. What is Canadian post-Impressionism? Canadian post-impressionistic painting is the result of a critical focus placed upon phenomenal subjectivity, articulated and promoted within the work of Baudelaire, and manifested on canvas by painters like Morrice who felt and dealt his influence. That influence is grounded in Baudelaire's theory of representation in his 1857 poem "Correspondence." He writes that art expresses feelings and evokes ideas and emotions. In the process it rises to a level of artistic interrelatedness, where "sounds would suggest colors, colors sounds, and even ideas would be evoked by sounds and colors." Cafe - Paris is a visual example of Baudelaire's conviction that "the whole of the visible universe is only a storehouse of images and signs to which the imagination assigns a place and relative value; it is a kind of nourishment that the imagination must digest and transform." This is why Morrice should be numbered among Baudelaire's many illustrious sons.

Sources
A.K. Prakash. Canadian Art: Selected Masters From Private Collections. Vincent Fortier Publishing, 2003.
Charles C. Hill. Morrice - A Gift To The Nation: The G. Blair Laing Collection. National Gallery Of Canada, 1992.
Francis Frascina and Charles Harrison (eds). Modern Art And Modernism: A Critical Anthology. Harper & Row, 1987.
Gustave Flaubert. Madame Bovary. Penguin Classics, 2002.
Herschel B. Chipp (ed). Theories Of Modern Art: A Source Book By Artists And Critics. University Of California Press, 1996.
Immanuel Kant. Critique Of Pure Reason. Penguin Classics, 2008.
Martin Heidegger. Being And Time. Harper Perennial Modern Classics, 2008.
Peter Gay. Modernism - The Lure Of Heresy: From Baudelaire To Beckett And Beyond. Norton, 2008.

Serious Generosity

Georgian Bay, Towering Sky, 2009
John Lennard




















In his "At Home With Glenn Gould" interview Vincent Tovell asked Gould about his musical influences. Gould mentioned Arthur Schnabel. Tovell asked what it was about Schnabel that singled him out. Gould answered: "Well, I think in part it was the idea that Schnabel seemed to be a person who didn't really care much about the piano as an instrument. The piano was a means to an end for him, and the end was to approach Beethoven." 

Gould used the words 'in part' (in part) because he was attentive enough to have known that for Schnabel approaching Beethoven was merely the means to another end. Schnabel was a musician in inventive transition. Gould could relate (hence the influence). Because he transitioned between part composer, part conductor, part critic, and part musician (among his other partitas), Gould seemed to be a person who would have known about and approved of music critic Harold C. Schonberg's creative claim about Schnabel: "[He] was the man who invented Beethoven."

Schnabel approached Beethoven to invent Beethoven. His piano was merely a translation device to accomplish this task. Schnabel's musical modus operandi is based on the idea that Beethoven is an artist of note because his work, like all great works of art, is an instance of serious generosityGreat artists like Schnabel recognize the generosity of Beethoven's work in that it beckons you to approach it with aesthetic admiration (the erotic enthusiasm of the Eroica). Some never get beyond the admiration. Schnabel did. That is serious business.

This example from the history of music illustrates the criterion for great art (of any genre). Inventive artists like Beethoven are worth approaching because there is a generous method to their serious madness. Their generosity consists in the opportunity their work creates for us to approach the object of artistic expression. But their seriousness consists in reminding us that acting upon this opportunity demands something of us. This is certainly true when it comes to Schnabel's influence behind Gould's music. Gould's inventive approach to Beethoven (let alone Bach) constrains you to realize that if you want to experience more than just "a momentary ejection of adrenaline" in art (as Gould describes it), then you must gradually work at understanding the structured harmonic whole of an artistic work that makes this adrenaline possible. This gradual awareness produces something much more satisfying: a state of wonder and serenity. Only generous art worthy of that serious name produces that satisfying result. But it comes at a price. 


Brooklyn Bridge, NY
John Lennard







     
     

     


     

    
     
The price listed for Lot 44 at the Canadian Contemporary Art auction held by Waddingtons on March 08, 2012 was between $2,800.00 - $3,200.00 CND. The price realized for this lot was $3,360.00 CND. The lot was entitled Brooklyn Bridge, NY. The painter of this lot is John Lennard. The price for his paintings are on the rise.

Ryan Green from the prestigious Master's Gallery in Calgary, Alberta knows a good investment when he sees one. His recent decision to show his work is an institutional confirmation of Lennard's status as one of Canada's leading contemporary painters. Roberts Gallery in Toronto, Ontario is no less discriminating. It recently listed a Lennard 2009 work entitled Georgian Bay, Towering Sky for $10,000.00 CND in an exhibition that featured a number of his other paintings. It was purchased by the author of this review because he recognizes the historic significance of, the contemporary interest in, and the future returns for this painting and the body of work it represents. While there is certainly more to Lennard than merely describing him as an "artist to collect" (as one magazine recently classified him), it still pays to collect his paintings. John described the significance of Georgian Bay, Towering Sky to me in one word: risk. That word does double duty: it describes his work as an artist and his worth as a human being. Investing in Lennard is well worth the risk. Wherein lies the profit? Certainly not on the margin.

Despite the promising profit margin for collectors, Lennard is not a marginal painter. He does not waste his time with fashionable trends. His work is clearly centered within the pictorial tradition of modern art (his debt to J.W. Morrice is unmistakable): "It is important to look more to the tradition of painting," Lennard insists, "instead of looking for inspiration in what other contemporary artists are doing. I try not to get caught up in the latest fashion or trends. I feel that way you will be closer to finding your own voice."

Lennard's lack of interest in fashion trends to the contrary, it is best to interpret him as working with a voice that is similar in tone to the late fashion designer Alexander McQueen, who said of his working method: "Demolish the rules, but keep the tradition." This is the voice of a generous tradition and a serious demolition. All great artists speak through it. Wilhelm Worringer goes so far as to claim that this voice (a decidedly volitional one, on his reading) dialectically spoke within the tradition of modern art (from Piccasso to Pollock) in order to make abstraction comprehensively possible. It should therefore not be overlooked, nor undervalued: "The element that impresses me most when I see another artist's work," Lennard states, "is if their intent is pure in what they are trying to convey. There are many elements that make up a strong piece and they can be personal. I enjoy seeing a piece that comes out of the tradition of art with one's own signature. That is what I hope to accomplish in every painting." Lennard runs the serious risk of signing his name on a generous tradition. This is not safe, and for good reason. Safety in art borders on the margins of dishonesty. It also produces derivative pictures.

At first it might seem counterintuitive to think of Lennard's work as located within the pictorial tradition of modern art, at least as this is represented by the work of the Group of Seven. This counterintuitiveness is fueled by the brand of abstract means by which he paints. However, the representational tension between, say, the Group of Seven and the Painters Eleven that you get in Lennard's work is as deliberate as it is liberating. His work is a decisive commentary on the risk an artist takes by demolishing the rules without destroying the traditional context that gives them sense (if not substance). The same can be said of Kazuo Nakamura who, because he broke the rules in similar fashion, is correctly described as the "odd man out." Lennard is best described as the "even man in." He evenly demolishes the rules by painting beneath, between, behind, and beyond the tension of two traditional tendencies in Canadian painting. He has found his move. 

Finding The Move, 2010
John Lennard















     


     
     
What is the painterly equivalent of approaching Beethoven for Lennard? The answer to this question requires an answer to another question. During a conversation over dinner one evening in Toronto I asked John what he was reading. He said he was reading Martin Heidegger's book What Is Calling Thinking? Heidegger's book is a philosophical commentary on what it means to think as a person within a tradition. This kind of contextual thinking must be learned. Heidegger writes: "We come to know what it means to think when we ourselves try to think. If the attempt is to be successful, we must be ready to learn thinking ... We learn to think by giving our mind to what there is to think about." It is not without significance that Lennard was reading this book. What is called painting? We come to know what it means to paint when we ourselves try to paint. As such, we must be ready to learn painting. Lennard has learned precisely because he gives his mind over to what there is to paint about.
  
If thinking is a response on our part to a call which issues from the nature of things (what there is to think about), then painting does the same thing. The best pictures open up an encounter with reality as we experience it. What does this mean, exactly? Using Warhol's jargon, it means being receptive to the reactive opportunity that life provides to get away with something in style. In this sense, painting is like playing a musical instrument (Lennard is an accomplished musician). As Pat Metheny once put it, he is not so much a guitarist as he is an artist, and the guitar is merely a translation device for his art. Lennard is not so much a painter as he is an artist, and his paintings are translation devices for his art (so is his music, his capacity as a university squash instructor, and his penchant for chess).

John's paintings provide the space for us to think about what it means to be, as Michel Foucault once put it, "historically condemned to history." Lennard does not mind the condemnation. Georgian Bay, Towering Sky is generous enough to present you with the fuzzy artistic line that resides between a scenically representational bay and a sexually abstract sky, but serious enough to force you to refuse to choose between either realistic representation or existential abstraction as the interpretive framework of this literally multi-layered painting: a towering life is never lived on the horizon of a binary relation. Brooklyn Bridge, NY is generous enough to invite you into a decidedly New York state of mind, but serious enough to challenge that mind to consider the political, economic, and ecological implications of a post-9/11 Manhattan skyline: a less than towering sky indeed. Finding The Move is generous enough to inspire you to consider the game of chess as a metaphor for a life well found, but serious enough to force that metaphor into descriptive service by reminding you that the outcome of the game of life is as variable as the totality of moves on a board comprised of 64 squares: sometimes in life we never do find the move (ask Bobby Fischer).

It is not without note that Lennard is an accomplished musician with a Rollins-like capacity for jazz improvisation. He once told me the story of playing and recording with the drummer Bob Moses in New York (Moses was part of a trio that included Pat Metheny and Jaco Pastorius on Metheny's debut recording Bright Size Life). In response to John's question about the form and content of their musical collaboration, Moses said to him: "You don't know anything. I don't know anything. Let's see where this takes us." This comment is a perfect description of the conceptual importance of John's work. It is generous in that it lets you in, but serious in that it requires something of you. If you enter in you must be willing to take yourself somewhere. Lennard's art forces us to face the following question: "You don't know anything. I don't know anything. Are we willing to see where this takes us?" Lennard seems to be a person who doesn't really care much about painting as an instrument. Painting is a means to an end for him, and the end is to approach reality so we can reinvent it. 

Sources
Glenn Gould. "The Subject Is Beethoven." Complete CBC Broadcasts 1954-1977 (DVD 1). Sony Classical, 2011.
Liz Garbus. Bobby Fischer Against The World. Mongrel Media, 2011.
Martin Heidegger. What Is Called Thinking? Harper Torchback, 1964.
Michel Foucault. The Foucault Reader. Vintage Books, 1984.
Pat Metheny. Bright Size Life. ECM Records, 1976.
Roald Nasgaard. Abstract Painting In Canada. Douglas & McIntyre, 2008.
Robert Mugge. Sonny Rollins: Saxophone Colossus. eOne Films, 2009.
Vincent Tovell. At Home With Glenn Gould. CBC Radio, 1959.
Wilhelm Worringer. Abstraction And Empathy. Ivan R. Dee, 1997.

Absolute Clarity

George Falconer













"A few times in my life I've had moments of absolute clarity, when for a few brief seconds the silence drowns out the noise and I can feel rather than think, and things seem so sharp and the world seems so fresh. I can never make these moments last. I cling to them, but like everything, they fade. I have lived my life on these moments. They pull me back to the present, and I realize that everything is exactly the way it was meant to be." (George Falconer).

Sources
Tom Ford. A Single Man. The Weinstein Company. 2009.

The Death Of Hilton Kramer

Abstraction And Empathy
Wilhelm Worringer
Introduction by Hilton Kramer
Elephant Paperbacks
1997

Abstraction And Empathy



















I am less interested in Wilhelm Worringer's classic book Abstraction And Empathy and more concerned with Hilton Kramer's introduction to it. However, my indirect interest is not a direct commentary on Worringer's worth. Much has been written about his psychology of style in modern art since it was first written in his 1906 doctoral dissertation, the year before Pablo Picasso painted his El Greco inspired Les Desmoiselles d'Avignon. Kramer's brief introduction is a noteworthy part of that written history, and evidence enough of the book's importance. The turn to the subject in modern art cannot be understood without it.

My interest centers around two concerns. First, Kramer's reading of this classic text is as classic as it is, and should therefore be read by anyone interested in an influential view on the psychological basis of abstraction in modern art. Second, Kramer's brief introduction presents us with a hermeneutic key for understanding much of his critical work written over a very productive twenty year period for the T.S. Eliot inspired literary journal The New Criterion: from articles like "The Eakins Retrospective" in 1982 to "Does Abstract Art Have A Future?" in 2002.

This key is the sine qua non for appreciating why Kramer was one of the most notable defenders of modernism in art during the latter half of the twentieth century. It also provides the interpretive basis for his idea that Pop Art was primarily a cultural, and not an artistic, assault on the entire pictorial tradition of modern art (an idea that conveniently renders it unworthy of any sustained critical response by those committed to Eliot's "common pursuit of true judgement"). He did not deny that Pop Art was a movement of note. He just denied it artistic merit, let alone influential longevity (despite the "Conde Nast" brand of media success that "the Warhol phenomenon" found within the art world, as Kramer so brazenly describes it). Accordingly, Pop Art should be summarily dismissed as merely "the fallout of the 1960s counterculture," and should be understood as such by the artistic aristocracy. The double entendre of Kramer's 1987 obituary "The Death Of Andy Warhol," therefore, is pretty difficult to miss.

One need only read Wayne Koentenbaum's Andy Warhol (let alone the recent scholarship upon which it is based) to experience serious pause when confronted with Kramer's hermeneutics of dismissal. Koentenbaum's smart biography contributes toward the convincing counterfactual claim that Kramer's Pop Art obit (written in response to the death of its chief representative on February 22, 1987) is a fallout of his own commitment to a conception of modern art that finds its basis in his reading of Abstraction And Empathy. And it is precisely this conception of modern art that Pop Art (especially in the work of Warhol) called into artistic question and left seriously wanting. I don't deny that Kramer's idea is noteworthy. I just deny it critical merit, at least as a criterion (old or new) used to dismiss Pop Art's aesthetic importance.

What is Kramer's key? Answering this question requires a brief description of the raison d'ĂȘtre of Worringer's book. Worringer argues that the history of modern art is the history of artists working within a dynamic tension between two volitional tendencies: the will to empathy, and the will to abstraction. To be empathetic is to experience a settled confidence between the human species and the phenomena of the external world. Empathetic artists derive their sense of the beautiful from being able to personally identify with the objects of their artistic representation, thereby gaining a sense of personal identity in the process. They are realists: they have read their space, felt at home within it, and have naturally rendered it in their paintings. Renaissance art is realist in precisely this sense.

In contrast, to be abstracted is to have experienced "the dread of space," to have felt alienated from it, and to have sought one's identifiable sense of the beautiful through less than realistic renderings (as exemplified by Egyptian, Byzantine, and Abstract Expressionist art). Worringer claims that the primal artistic impulse to abstract from perceptual reality is the result of the psychological need to achieve personal identity in the face of the subjective "confusion and obscurity of the world-picture." Worringer states: "The primal artistic impulse has nothing to do with the rendering of nature. It seeks after pure abstraction as the only possibility of repose ... It is the consummate expression, and the only expression of which man can conceive, of emancipation from all the contingency and temporality of the world-picture." Plato rears his mimetic head even here, in form(s) and in content: art is the existential process of producing an expressive product in response to the primal need to achieve identifiable certainty in an uncertain world.

While empathy and abstraction are, in principle, mutually exclusive tendencies, the history of modern art demonstrates a prolonged tension between them. You cannot understand Cubism as a movement, for example, without knowing about this tension. In fact, Les Desmoiselles d'Avignon is a first rate example of a painting that embodies it. Picasso confronts his own alienation of spacial depth by abstracting from the empathetic tradition of natural representation. He accomplishes this by using two-dimensional means to express three-dimensional dread. Cubism as therapy.

The significane of Jackson Pollock's Full Fathom Five (1947) can be expressed in similar fashion. Pollock painted it to satiate an artistic need that is "the deepest and ultimate essence of all aesthetic experience." According to Worringer, this is the need for self-alienation. And self-alienation, so the story goes, is a necessary stage on life's contingent way toward determining self identity. To describe this painting as the result of "creative accident" only serves to show the psychological impulse behind it (and in Pollock's case 'psychological' was cashed out in Jungian terms). It is also not without note that its name derives from the following line from Shakespeare's The Tempest: "Full fathom five thy father lies / Of his bones are coral made / Those are pearls that were his eyes." Abstract Expressionism as therapy.

The turn to the subject in modern art (from Picasso to Pollock), therefore, owes much to Worringer's psychology of style. It provides the basis for the claim that the difference between these two artists is only a difference in artistic degree, but not a difference in psychological kind: you abstract from scandalous space because it is something that cannot be empathetically faced.

Mildred's Tension














Much of the content of the preceding five paragraphs owes its existence to Kramer's penchant for sympathetic commentary. His introduction alone is worth the price of the book. In fact, it was his reputation as a modern defender of conservative high culture that initially motivated me to read Abstraction And Empathy. My thinking was that if someone like Kramer thought Worringer was worthy of his critical attention (at least worthy enough to write an introduction), then I was willing to put forth the effort to understand why "[f]ew doctoral dissertations have come to occupy as important a place in the history of modernist art and criticism" as it does, and why it has such "enduring importance" as one of the "classic texts in the literature of modernism." 

While reflecting upon how the relation between representation and abstraction relates to the question of whether abstract art has a future (especially in light of how the Minimalist movement determined its relative demise), Kramer writes the following in 2002: "As all of us know (but sometimes forget), abstract art - especially abstract painting - derives, aesthetically, from representational painting. Whatever the degree of purity abstraction can be said to attain, it cannot make claim to a virgin birth. If abstract painting could be said to have a genetic history, its DNA would instantly reveal its debt to ... the aesthetic vitality of representational painting." 

According to Kramer's reading, empathy and abstraction are "the two fundamental aesthetic impulses known to human culture." Hence the enduring importance of Abstraction And Empathy (at least for Kramer). His reading of this classic text, and the central place of these two impulses in that reading, is the hermeneutic key behind the genetic history of his vitality and influence as an art critic. In particular, this key not only explains his reason for thinking why abstract painting was representationally derivative, but more importantly why Pop Art gets summerly dismissed as nothing but a cultural by-product. 

How does Pop Art call this idea into artistic question and leave it seriously wanting? The logic behind Kramer's hermeneutics of dismissal is in the form of a disjunctive syllogism: art is either A or (or both). If art is P (Pop Art, say), then it is neither Abstract nor Empathetic. Therefore, Pop Art is not art (despite its name). It must be something else ("the fallout of the 1960s counterculture," say). The issue here is not so much Kramer's logic, but the semantic framework that gives it sense. If you reject Kramer's inclusive premise ("art is either A or E"), then the most that can be said is that Pop Art is nothing but the artistic casualty of Kramer's critical commitment to Worringer's psychology of style. Kramer's premise can and should be rejected, along with the idea that it produces and the framework within which it functions.

By rejecting the representational form and the psychological content of Kramer's modern framework, Pop Art replaces one hermeneutic key with another one. After Pop Art there are many-if-any keys (the more the merrier). You pay your money, you choose your key, and you open whatever door suits your artistic fancy. Kramer did not get Pop Art's aesthetic importance because he chose a key that assumes too much and delivers too little. It assumes too much by implicitly endorsing a subjectivist interpretation of modern art, despite postmodern critiques to the contrary (especially in the work of Martin Heidegger), and it delivers too little by not giving Pop Art the critical attention it rightly deserves (especially in the work of Andy Warhol). It lacks critical merit in precisely this sense. 

Kramer disparaged that the most distinguishing characteristic of the prodigious outpouring of "commentary, homage, and celebrity-worship" found in the obituaries written in response to Warhol's death was "the way it confined itself to the terms which Warhol himself had set for the discussion of his life and work ... It was as if no language but Warhol's own - the language of hype - could be expected to have any meaning when it came to explaining just what it was that made him important." This disparaging refrain can be found in Kramer's further observation of the general tendency of the obituaries to "take refuge in [Warhol's] fame, in his personality, in his business affairs and his entourage, even in his wig, and leave the art more or less unexamined ... It turned out that almost no one could bring any conviction to the task of specifying what that achievement had consisted of."

Warhol's achievement manifested itself in the very things in which Kramer finds fault. Arthur Danto correctly points out that one of Warhol's great artistic achievements was his creation of a "new kind of life for the artist to lead." To speak of his fame, his personality, his business affairs, his entourage, and even his wig, was the clearest instance of "specifying what [Warhol's] achievement had consisted of." By uniting art with a life stylishly led, Warhol overcame the historic tension between Worringer's volitional tendencies by simply ignoring them (with deep superficiality). Instead, he simply created a new criterion: art is what you can get away with. With this new criterion Warhol forced his friends and foes alike to use "the terms which Warhol himself had set for the discussion of his life and work." This is nothing new. The Philosophy Of Andy Warhol is as full of linguistic hype as Abstraction And Empathy. It all comes down to the brand of hype you use, and how much of it you can get away with. Like Pablo and Jack, Andy got away with much. 

Warhol was not the only "cultural" casualty of Kramer's hype. Jean-Michel Basquiat was similarly dismissed. Kramer's inability to make modern sense of Basquiat's work forced him to focus his attention on the "liberal left-wing types" who "needed to make a bow in that direction (the disadvantaged, minorities, and so on)" as the culturally correct basis for why people took Basquiat so seriously. Since his work was neither abstract nor empathetic, how else could you understand why people liked Basquiat so much? Kramer's modern modus operandi is as clear as it is consistent: when in doubt, use the hermeneutics of dismissal and go cultural. In fact, Kramer's assessment of Basquiat's work is less than dismissive: "His contribution to art is so minuscule as to be practically nil." It might be practically nil (Kramer obviously had no use for him), but it certainly is not financially nil. Basquiat's Dos Cabezes (1982) sold for just over 7 million USD ($7,082,500.00) on November 10, 2010 at Christie's in New York. This is a gigantic price to pay for something so apparently minuscule. At least when it comes to the buying habits of the high culture that Kramer so desperately sought to create and promote, Andy and Jean-Michel had the last laugh.

Dos Cabezes (1982)
Jean-Michel Basquiat


   
















   
The artistic aristocracy to which Kramer belonged is better served by interpreting Warhol as one of their own. It serves Kramer's cause to realize that his hyped dismissal of Warhol's significance for high culture makes his criterion not-so-new. If any criterion is new now, its the one that follows from the following argument: if you take care of artistic freedom by promoting the idea that democracy is for society but not for culture, then the market will determine the "common pursuit of true judgement" through the dynamic tension between two all consuming tendencies: the will to buy, and the will to sell. These tendencies are based on taste. Taste is context still, and the context continually changes.

By conflating fine and commercial art Andy created a new basis for an independent high culture, one that understands (and ultimately rejects) the modern assumption upon which the distinction between fine art and commercial art was based. He creates a new independence by by-passing the psychological component as a motivational impulse behind modern art, and replaces it with a capitalist one. If Warhol is right that good art is good business, then it follows that beauty is in the hand of the objective consumer, and not in the eye of the subjective beholder. Capitalism is an artistic ideal because it is a moral one. 

The question is not whether an independent high culture is possible after Warhol's work. The question is whether those who have long associated themselves with the old high culture are willing to adopt Warhol's work as a model for the new artistic aristocracy at the beginning of the twenty-first century. This new high culture does not reject "commercial entertainment" as something beneath it (as Kramer maintained). It celebrates the "commercial" within "entertainment," uniting art with economics as the new conceptual basis for an independent high culture in the postmodern art world. 

Hilton Kramer



















(Hilton Kramer: March 25, 1928 - March 27, 2012)

Sources
Andy Warhol. The Philosophy Of Andy Warhol: From A To B And Back Again. Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1975.
Hal Foster. "Andy Paperbag." London Review Of Books. March, 2002.
Hilton Kramer. "The Eakins Retrospective." The New Criterion. September, 1982.
Hilton Kramer. "The Death Of Andy Warhol." The New Criterion. May, 1987. 
Hilton Kramer. "Does Abstract Art Have A Future?" The New Criterion. December, 2002.
Hilton Kramer, Roger Kimball. Counterpoints. Ivan R. Dee, 2007.
Martin Heidegger. "The Origin Of The Work Of Art." Off The Beaten Track. Cambridge University Press, 2002.
Susan Sontag. "Fascinating Fascism." New York Review Of Books. February 06, 1975.
Tamra Davis. Jean-Michel Basquiat: The Radiant Child. Arthouse Films, 2010.
Tony Scherman, David Dalton. POP: The Genius Of Andy Warhol. Harper, 2009.
Wayne Koentenbaum. Andy Warhol. Weidenfeld, 2001.
Wilhelm Worringer. Abstraction And Empathy. Ivan R. Dee, 1997.