Daily thoughts to go with your daily cup of tea.

Just another WordPress.com weblog

Breugel, and such February 27, 2007

Filed under: Art — quotidianzeitgeist @ 12:03 pm

Bruegel’s Landscape and the Fall of Icarus:

Exploring the Relationship between

the Individual, Society, and Nature


By introducing different subjects into his painting Landscape and the Fall of Icarus, Bruegel attempts to examine the relationship of the individual to society and the natural world around him. In the painting, the weaknesses and vulnerability of Icarus, the individual, become apparent. When he goes too far in attempting to establish his individuality, defeat inevitably befalls him, as evidenced by Bruegel’s depiction of a swirling puff of feathers which gently float above Icarus’ flailing body. Interestingly, no member of society notices Icarus’ drowning, instead remaining oblivious in his own pursuit of maintaining his established role in society. The peasant and the shepherd who have found satisfaction in occupying their appropriate social niche can peacefully function within the structure set down by society and nature. For the members of the great group of society let Icarus perish without great concern or regard because Icarus, in the grand scheme of things, does not interest them. Ultimately, Bruegel suggests that there is no room for the bold individual in the world that he paints; the only way that the individual can survive is by fulfilling his appropriate social function within the greater context of the society and natural world that he lives in. If he eschews this particular role, he will certainly be punished in an appropriate way, and society and nature will carry on with its own purpose and activities. But, society’s ignorance can prove to be unsettling and dangerous in its own attempts at controlling nature.

Bruegel’s visual treatment of the subject of Icarus suggests the unrestrained and frail nature of the man who actively seeks individuality. Bruegel chooses to paint mythological Icarus, the young man who challenges the advice of his father and defies the power of the sun. However, Bruegel does not paint Icarus’ daring flight that reaches higher and higher altitudes, but rather his dramatic and fatalistic plunge from the heavens in to the sea. The helplessness of Icarus, emphasized by the flailing legs and arms and the surrounding swirling sea-waves, suggests that the individual cannot survive in the world that Bruegel creates. Perhaps Icarus’ flight is an aspiration to escape from this society-driven world, but ultimately, it is one that he is brutally forced to return to. There is only so much that Icarus can do now, and that is to fight for his life, albeit in a scattered, pitiful way. This is the only part of the sea where the waters are troubled and turbulent; contrasted with the peaceful maneuvers of the society-constructed ships and their elegant full sails, Icarus’ lack of control is underscored. For Icarus does not dive into the water in a graceful manner, as suggested by the gentle spiral of feathers around him, but rather smacks onto it and flounders around. With Icarus, Bruegel suggests that with the bold pursuit of individuality comes a lack of control and poor decision. As such, it is important to examine the moment of momentous impact where Icarus becomes grounded (physically and mentally) and painfully realizes what he has done, while the suffocating water churns over him and the disorientation sets in. Only after the individual has gone too far in his challenge of society and nature will he realize the negative consequences of his actions.

Bruegel then places Icarus on a lower level in relation to society and nature. Icarus’ full body is not shown; only an odd assortment of two legs and a partially covered hand is visible. This does not fully humanize and complete the image of him as a strong, confident figure. Instead, we see him as disjointed, out of control, and doomed to death. The viewer can only imagine his look of horror and confusion on his face as he fights for his life. Bruegel further detracts from Icarus’ importance by contrasting him with the large-sized, serene, fully painted body of the peasant. Bruegel demotes Icarus from a position of importance to one of insignificance; as Icarus struggles for life in the sea, the peasant exists peacefully within his field.

This brings Bruegel to his next distinction regarding the individual and nature. The size of the region of the painting that Bruegel allots to Icarus undermines Icarus’ relative importance to nature. Although Icarus creates much tension and movement within his area of the tableau, his actions are restrained to a small area compared to the vastness of the sea. Placed within the greater context of the whole body of water, Icarus is tiny compared to the truly greater force of nature. The cruel relentlessness of the sea offers him no respite; its indifferent nature does not give Icarus a second chance to rethink his challenge to the sun. Bruegel indicates that in the grand scheme of things, the individual’s actions are puny and insignificant. Furthermore, it is almost comically tragic that Icarus is so close to the shore, and yet so far away from reaching it. Mother Nature seemingly taunts him with the possibility for survival that is almost within his physical grasp. Unfortunately, Icarus is so disoriented that he does not realize that land is attainable and close. Bruegel suggests that nature clearly has the upper hand in this relationship, for it controls the individual’s destiny. Thus, the frailty of the human species is contrasted with the great power of nature, which is sublimely indifferent to man’s puny activities. Any foolish attempts by the individual to challenge the authority of nature will result in failure and grave consequences. Without respect for the superiority of nature, the individual must perish, for he cannot function in the world that Bruegel describes.

Thus we arrive at what Bruegel suggests should be the focus of painting: quotidian life within the larger context of society. Notice how Bruegel refuses to adopt the subject matter that most Renaissance painters did at the time, instead opting for the more rustic peasant subject. It is apparent from the composition of the foreground that Bruegel paid close attention to detail in the study of this subject. The vibrant, round red sleeves of the peasant immediately catch the eye of the viewer upon first inspection, which directs his line of sight to the foreground of Bruegel’s painting. The strong, simple lines of the plowed earth smartly carve out the large space that Bruegel has purposely intended for the depiction of an individual performing his duty within the greater framework of society. The flexed back leg of the peasant, which is found similarly with the horse, seemingly necessitates that the tension in the leg must be released, and that the horse, the plow, and the peasant must move forward. Because this is impossible in the sense that that the picture cannot suddenly depict the next frame in this sequence of events, the viewer’s imagination and perception must work together to fulfill the desire to see the farming unit continue their task at hand. This wish to complete the cycle of movement briefly forces the viewer to involve himself within the context of this scene, to take part in what the peasant is working on. Thus, the viewer achieves what Bruegel implies as the ultimate goal of his society: to understand and become involved with the idea of social purpose, that of functioning not as an individual with his own intentions, but instead as a group intent on promoting the good of this group. As reminders, Bruegel paints examples of individuals who faithfully fulfill their societal duties. The downward glance of the peasant directed towards the earth focuses his sight not on Icarus, but rather the task at hand. Similarly, the blinders on the horse allow for it to move in a straight line ahead without having to think about where it is going. Both of these elements allow for the sole concentration on the necessary tasks of life: farming. The peasant, unlike Icarus, is grounded physically and mentally in his work. In broader terms, only by acting within the social parameters of acceptable actions can the individual function in the world painted by Bruegel. Thus, a harmonious and serene mood is evident in Bruegel’s depiction of the peasant, the shepherd, and the beautiful ships sailing on the sea, the result of all three’s ability to all function together in society.

But, society cannot function solely with itself; it must work within the framework of nature. For nature is the prime power in this tableau. The partition of the painting is dictated by the curve of the coast, the line of the horizon, the interrupting islands, and the lines of the plowed earth. It provides the basic stage and parameters for which society, the actor in this painting, must perform on. Society must deal with the world that is presented to it, but does not hesitate to control it. For the most part, society has accepted this fact and has benefited from it. Society has clearly understood how to operate the ship, whose sails are brilliantly full with air and whose sea wake is carefully controlled. Society has learned how to farm, for the peasant smartly guides his horse-drawn plow in the earth, and the shepherd employs his dog and crook to help him tend his sheep in the fields. Society has built great cities, which showcase picturesque red roofs and well-constructed ports. Thus, Bruegel intimates that society has learned to use technology which can function within the greater structure of nature. In the case of the ship’s captain, society has developed techniques for steering in the water and harnessing the power of the wind. In the case of the peasant, society has expertly fitted his actions to the variations of the seasons and the taken advantage of the nourishing power of the sun. In the case of the city-planner, society has constructed buildings that can accommodate some of the demands of foul weather. Thus, in giving these key examples, Bruegel suggests that when society learns to direct its actions within the framework of nature does it become supremely successful.

Finally, we have the appropriate ideas for understanding Bruegel’s devaluation of Icarus. Icarus’ opposition to nature and individualism (as a challenge to society) both reject him from importance in Bruegel’s painting. The other figures in the painting seem to acquiesce. The peasant’s head and body are turned away from Icarus, and the blinded-horse as well. The lone shepherd and his dog gaze in the opposite direction in oblivion of drowning Icarus. Men on the ship perform their chores in an unaffected manner. The character’s noninvolvement contributes to the serenity of the tableau, which contrasts sharply with the agitation of Icarus. Are the characters’ apparently unaffected manners necessary? Upon first inspection, yes, because sympathy for the individual cannot distract the characters from their tasks at hand. This would momentarily disrupt the relationship that they have established with society, and society with nature, and they could begin to question their own role in society and seek to become individuals themselves. Thus, Bruegel seems to caution one man’s rash and bold contribution is nothing to be concerned with in the grand scheme of things.

Yet, the overall feel of the painting, suggested by the dark earthy brown and foggy blue color scheme, does not sit well with the viewer. Could Bruegel be in fact celebrating whole-heartedly the achievements of society but at the same time introducing concern over the health of the society who chooses not to heed the lessons of Icarus’ story? The somber nature of the painting points to this very conclusion. In a sense, the juxtaposition of the peasant, shepherd, and ship captain’s attempts to control nature with Icarus’ downfall (which resulted from a similar effort to subordinate nature) is ironic because both parties attempt to achieve the same result, yet society is unwilling to admit this fact. It is precisely the devaluation of the myth of Icarus that society uses to allow itself to think that it can control nature. Are they not participating in the same defiance of nature as Icarus? Yes, but to a lesser degree. At any rate, Bruegel cautions at society’s unwillingness to learn from Icarus’ failures and the brazenness of man’s attempts to retain command over nature.

 

Asian? February 6, 2007

Filed under: Observations, Personal, Thoughts — quotidianzeitgeist @ 10:23 am

So today I did this survey for the psych department, and it asked me to rate my agree/disagree sentiments regarding how I identify with my race, and how it affects my life.

My answers mostly translated to that I don’t strongly identify with my race, nor do I think that it factors into my decisions heavily, such as making friends or relating to others.  But rather, on closer inspection, I see that this answer might be a result of the projection of my wishes onto my feelings. Maybe I want to eschew the Asian stereotype so badly that I blind myself to the reality that there are many things about this stereotype that I take part of. I want to rebel so much against this ingrained stereotype of the studious, anti-social Asian.

Who knows.

Actually, I don’t feel like I have enough information of Asian culture to say whether or not I strongly identify with it. Culture itself is permanently and constantly changing according to the definitions set by those of that race. I don’t feel like I have been concious of these changes, and consequently cannot definitely state that I belong to this identity.

Furthermore, I feel like culture is so amorphous and ambivalent that it is not worth trying to totally understand at one moment because at the next moment, it’ll be something different. Language neatly provides the opportunity to forgo this ambivalence with one word, that ties up the loose ends and cleanly contains all definitions and ideas in this one signifier. The problem is that its signifieds are varied, complexly related, and numerous.

I am me.

 

Tech, the world, yoga… February 5, 2007

Filed under: Health, Music, Observations, Personal, Thoughts — quotidianzeitgeist @ 11:42 am

I feel like I spend more time with my computer than I do with people. This makes me really sad, and it certainly doesn’t help that I’m using the medium of the blog to express my emotions.

When I wake up in the morning, my first impulse is to check what time it is. Then, it’s to check my email. Disgusting, I know. I really want to get out of this habit, but it seems like the messages in my inbox are leading my life.

I get my daily fix of news from bbc.uk, or cnn.com. I do my research using an online wiki. I compose my assignments in word doc’s. I chat online with my friends. I listen to music off of my computer.

Maybe the fact is that I don’t want to admit that I feel closer to my computer than anyone at Stanford. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I worship my computer as herald of world news, a source of inspiration, and an idol I should worship. On the contrary, it’s almost terrible how much I spend pecking at those darned keys and carressing the touchpad. It’s that I haven’t found someone that I feel close to.

Actually, it might be my violin. There was this moment today when I was practicing when I swear the violin was speaking to me, and I was speaking to it. Gosh, I’m pathetic, trying to substitute human interaction with musical actions. But it was so powerful. It might have to do with the amazing concert that my teacher played last Saturday. Playing Vivaldi’s Four Seasons in a beautiful acoustic space, she reminded me of the wonderful medium of music.

The ice crackled, and the storms rushed when she played Winter. And I could see the joyous nymphs prance around in Spring. I think that my relationship to music is changing. Right now, I have the most motivation ever to practice more, and to practice intelligently. To learn the intricacies of the music I am playing, and to understand the physical nuances of the mechanism of playing the violin.

I feel the contact of my middle finger of my bow hand on the stick of the bow. I notice the lightness of my fingers in my left hand as they execute a 32 note passage. I feel the string that passes through my head and spine magically draw me upright. I have this most amazing body awareness.

It must be the yoga/pilates fusion class that I’m taking. It feels so awesomely relaxing just to lay on the mat and feel the anchors in my sacrum, heels, lower ribs, shoulders, and head pulling me down to the floor, releasing all the tension in my body.

It’s during these moments where I feel alive. Despite the fact that there’s a huge black industrial sized fan hovering above me, and the fact that I’m in a building, rather than the outdoors, I can create my own sense of humanness, feeling, and relaxation in that room in Arrillaga Gym.

Then I return to the worries and stresses of everyday life. Like, losing my phone! Argh! This has been very frustrating. And learning about how scientists are more than ninety percent sure that global warming has been induced by human-produced carbon emissions. And Bush’s budget proposal which aims to reduce wasteful government spending by cutting Medicare by one percent, while simultaneously appealing to Congress for billions more money. And the interesting and unequal juxtaposition in the news of football-induced violence in Italy with bomb-induced violience in Iraq.

By golly, I think I need to go sit underneath a tree and meditate.