Artistic Goals Research Articles

Restoring Facial Shape in Face Lifting: The Role of Skeletal Support in Facial Analysis and Midface Soft-Tissue Repositioning

Aesthetic analysis in facial rejuvenation has traditionally been subordinate to technical solutions. While concerns regarding correction of facial laxity, a reduction in the depth of the nasolabial fold, and improvement of both the jowl and the jawline are worthy goals in rhytidectomy, the aesthetic concept of restoring facial shape to a more youthful appearance is equally important. Restoring facial shape in face lifting requires an understanding of how the face ages and then the formulation of a treatment plan that is individualized for the patient. Re-establishment of facial contour is significantly influenced by the re-elevation of descended facial fat through superficial musculoaponeurotic system manipulation; it can be approached through a variety of technical solutions. Underlying skeletal support affects not only the appearance of the face in youth but also how the face ages and influences the operative plan in terms of the requirements for fat repositioning. Formulating a treatment plan that is patient specific and based on the artistic goals as influenced by skeletal support is the key element for consistency in restoring facial shape in face lifting.

Music and Mathematics

Music and Mathematics Ramesh Gangolli Quite often, during the course of the small talk thatwe all engage in at parties, I am asked about what I do. When I respond by saying that I am retired, they ask about what I did while I was working, and how I spend my time in retirement. I try to respond guardedly, but truthfully,that Iworked as amathematician professionally, but also had an interest inmusic, and that I continue to pursue both my interests at present. A common response from my questioner is along the lines of "Oh yes, of course music and mathematics are related, aren't they?" As is common with small talk, the subject is soon dropped, and I usually do not seek to pursue itmuch further.Once in a while, the conversation proceeds to a slightlymore detailed level, but often I find thatmy ques tioner is thinking that the supreme example of the connection between these subjects istied up with the process of counting matras^ in various talas,2 and its application in arriving accurately at the sam$ in a perfor mance. Usually the conversation ends there, but the exchange usually stimulates further reflection, and I have often tried to understand for 52 PerspectivesofNew Music myself, however tentatively, how the two subjects are related and why. What follows is a modest effort to share some of my thoughts, and I offer them humbly. As every student ofmusic knows, there is surely a connection between counting and musical performance, of the kind mentioned above: we undoubtedly need to understand the structure of the different talas, their divisions into the different vibhagas4 etc. in order to have a basic vocabulary and control ofthe material with which we work asmusicians, whether in theoretical study or inperformance. However, it seems tome that this connection is at best at a superficial level. Understanding the basis of this kind of counting, and acquiring the ability to use it in per formance is an important technical prerequisite, but no more. To think that one can become a good musician by mastering the technique of such counting is akin to thinking that one can become a good writer by learning all thewords in the dictionary, or a good painter by learning all the properties of various colors of paint. Acquiring these tools is a neces sary step, but much more is needed for reaching artistic goals. The connection between music and mathematics lies at a much deeper level, and ismuch harder to understand and describe. The two activities are similar in three respects: 1. They require substantially similarmental attitudes and intellectual processes for the acquisition of knowledge and skills. 2. The strategies used in the creative aspects of both activities are remarkably similar in spirit. 3. When one is engaged in either activity one is fundamentally oriented towards one's inner self (3i<-t^

The Spiral Journey Back Home: Brahms's “Heimweh” Lieder

ABSTRACT Considering Brahms's “Heimweh” Lieder (op. 63 nos. 7–9) together rather than individually is indispensable to their interpretation. In each song, Brahms conveys the protagonist's longing for lost childhood by introducing the folklike qualities of Kinderlieder within the frame of a Kunstlied. The expression of nostalgia also takes places across the minicycle as a whole. The recurrence and transformation of musical patterns and motifs enhances the retrospective nature of the three songs, which seem to reflect on childhood from successively greater temporal distances. Despite the overt despondency of the poetic speaker in each text, the musical settings together convey a positive message: Death is a welcome refuge from life's afflictions. In offering this consolation, Brahms draws upon the Romantic concept of Heimweh, including its characteristic spiral-like pattern of expression, but tempers it in accordance with the scaled-back artistic goals of the post-Romantic period.

Optics and Biologic Connectedness

“...I is this passion for beautiful colors that makes us paint as we do... and not the love of the ‘dot,’ as foolish people say,” wrote painter Paul Signac in his journal (1). He was defending the art movement started by his good friend and fellow artist George Seurat and built upon by Signac himself, Camille Pissarro, and others. This movement, divisionism or pointillism, was Seurat’s artistic contribution during a brief but extraordinary life. Parisian from a middle-class family, tall, and handsome, Seurat enjoyed a comfortable life and proper education. He showed early talent for drawing, studied sculpture, and attended the prestigious Ecole Des Beaux-Arts. A competent photographer, he became interested in the workings of light, particularly in black-and-white images. This interest grew as he studied optics and the processes at work on the silver particles of photographic film (2). During his art studies, particularly under the tutelage of a student of Ingres, he came to believe in a systematic approach to art. Nicknamed “le notaire” (the notary) for his immaculate attention to his appearance, Seurat was temperamentally suited for a scientific approach to art (3). Idiosyncratically bent toward order and control and gifted with formidable observational skills, patience, concentration, and painstaking adherence to detail, he embarked on a style of painting based on color and structure that was cerebral and calculated. Like the impressionists, Seurat was interested in the relationship between natural light and the application of paint, only he wanted to create an impression not on the canvas but in the mind of the viewer. Influenced by the work of French chemist Michel-Eugene Chevreul (1786–1889), he believed that next to each other, colors appear as dissimilar as possible, both in optical composition and tonal value (4). Seurat’s color theory, in which the viewer plays a key role in perception, influenced the development of modern art. His artistic goal, Seurat once said, was to show “modern people, in their essential traits, move about as if on friezes, and place them on canvases organized by harmonies of color, by directions of the tones in harmony with the lines, and by the directions of the lines” (5). In his best known work, images are tightly structured as if on a grid, the figures systematically placed in relation to each other in permanent, non-negotiable arrangements. Pure color is used directly from the tube, in static “points” clearly separate but intended to merge in the viewer’s eye, producing a confluent image brighter than any achieved with brushstrokes. Like many scientific experiments, Seurat’s daring process had unexpected results. The points remained visible, akin to tesserae in a mosaic, but produced a shimmering translucent effect (5). A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte, on this month’s cover of Emerging Infectious Diseases, is Seurat’s masterpiece and one of the bestknown works of the 19th century. The placid scene in an island park on the Seine shows a local crowd during a moment of leisure outdoors. Seurat’s version of this commonplace event is revolutionary. As figures register in the viewer’s eye, they seem suspended in mid-moment, levitating yet permanently fixed. Prototypes rather than likenesses, they represent workers in shirt sleeves, fashionable couples, children at play, soldiers in uniform. Seurat did not dwell

"Wie ist mir wohl, daß ich ein Deutscher bin!": Le "Freischütz" à Paris (1841) et les doutes de Richard Wagner face au grand opéra français

The first Parisian stay (1839-1842) of Richard Wagner was a very important one. He arrived with the purpose of becoming a grand opera composer and leaved the city with the finished score of Der fliegende Hollander. The numerous articles he wrote in Paris for French and German newspapers give us an important testimony of his change of mind. For the 1841 production of Carl Maria von Weber's opera Der Freischutz (with the additional recitatifs of Hector Berlioz) Wagner wrote two papers: the first one before the performance for the Revue et Gazette musicale de Paris and the second one as a critic for the Abend-Zeitung in Dresden. These texts show us that Wagner begins to reject the universalist aesthetics he developed since 1834. The grand opera is no more considered as an artistic goal but depicted as an industrial art, a product of the modern civilisation. Wagner is becoming aware of the cultural difference and the different levels of perception between the French and the German assistance. In his two articles, he already asserts some of the arguments he will use ten years later to construct his critic of the contemporary opera and his theory of the musical drama. After this first Parisian stay, Wagner will continue to be at some level influenced by the grand opera but the articles on Der Freischutz show us clearly that a decisive turn occured in his mind.

Picasso and the invention of Cubism

This work seeks to transform our understanding of Cubism, showing in detail how it emerged in Picasso's work of the years 1906-13, and tracing its roots in 19th-century philosophy and linguistics. Linking well-known paintings and sculptures to the hitherto-ignored drawings that accompanied them, Pepe Karmel demonstrates how Picasso's quest to depict the human body with greater solidity led, paradoxically, to its fragmentation; and how Picasso used the archaic model of stage space to free himself from conventional perspective, replacing the open window of Renaissance painting with a new projective space. Rejecting the usual distinction between analytic and synthetic Cubism, Karmel shows how Picasso's changing artistic goals were realized in the crystalline Cubism of 1907-09, the gridded Cubism of 1910-11, and the planar Cubism of 1912-13. In other chapters, Karmel discusses the empiricist philosophy championed by Hippolyte Taine, which encouraged the breakdown of painting into its abstract elements, and laid the groundwork for an art of mental association rather than naturalistic figuration. Similarly, contemporary philology provided the model for a visual language employing both metaphoric and metonymic (but not arbitrary) signs.

Evaluating the impact of betrayal for children exposed in photographs

Elements of betrayal trauma theory (Freyd, 1996 ) are used to evaluate potential negative and positive consequences for children who serve as artistic models, particularly those who model for their artist parents. Several dimensions are considered in evaluating the likelihood of harm: nudity, motives of the artist, consent, external vulnerability, and objectification. Recommendations to artists include appointing an advocate for the child, discussing photographic sessions and allowing observers, and going beyond standard release procedures. Similarities to the domains of creative writing and research psychology are considered. Copyright © 2002 John Wiley &amp; Sons, Ltd.

Music, Metaphor, and Emotion in the Poetry of José Hierro

Music has had a presence in the poetry of Jos? Hierro from his first collection, Tierra sin nosotros, to his most recent Cuaderno de Nueva York. For the poet and scholars, music plays a pivotal role in the expression of emotion, an artistic goal that is central to the poet's concept of what poetry is and what it should do. While music is implicated in the expression of emotion, to date, there have been no studies that explain this relationship. The Symbolists' notion of music's inherent ambiguity as a model for poetic language, and Nieztsche's concept of musical dissonance help to contextualize Hierro's use of music as a metaphor and aesthetic model. As a metaphor signifying unlimited imaginative potential, music becomes for the poet a means for suggesting unnamed emotions, for conveying temporal existence, and ultimately, for negotiating the sense of Otherness that one may feel in foreign cultures. Jos? Hierro's literary career has spanned over half a century, and his work has brought him accolades from nearly every organization in Spain that recognizes literary achievement.l The publication of Cuaderno de Nueva York (1998), the poet's ninth collection of verse, and his recent anthology, M?sica (1999), underscore the notable presence of music in Hierro's writing. M?sica brings together for the first time in one volume all of his poems dealing with this subject from six collections beginning with his first, Tierra sin nosotros (1946), to the latest Cuaderno de Nueva York. Nineteen poems for the first edition were selected by anthologist Manolo Romero whose criterion was simply that each be concerned with music and musicians. Twelve of the nineteen poems were initially published in Hierro's latest collections, Agenda (1991) and Cuaderno de Nueva York, while the remaining poems were taken from four earlier books, Tierra sin nosotros (1946), Quinta del 42 (1953), Cuanto s? de m? (1958)2 and the Libro

‘Streaming Physical Love’

‘Streaming Physical Love’

The manipulation of audio dynamics toward both technical and artistic goals in recorded music

The musical dynamics of recorded sounds must be made to fit within the audio dynamic range of the recording and playback equipment. This constraint on dynamic range is presented track by track in the multitrack recording studio and at every stage of audio signal processing up to and including the end user’s system. Recorded orchestras must be made to sound good on clock radios. Audio compressors and limiters have been developed to help the recording engineer cope with this problem. Automatic, but careful, control of the signal gain during the course of music recording and playback is part of almost all music production styles, most notably pop music. In addition, these dynamics processors are used for purely aesthetic purposes. They shape the character, timbre, and emotional feel of a musical performance. These more innovative applications of compression become part of the music, creating effects that range from subtle to conspicuous. This paper reviews many compression techniques used in the production of recorded music and describes their technical and creative goals.

The Witches of Dürer and Hans Baldung Grien*

This study seeks to demonstrate that the timing, subject, and audience for the art of Dürer and Hans Baldung Grien all argue against the view that the witches in their prints and drawings were a reaction to actual witch-hunts, trials, or malevolent treatises such as theMalleus maleficiarum. The witch craze did not gain momentum until late in the sixteenth century while the witches of Dürer and Hans Baldung Grien belong to an earlier era. They are more plausible as a response to humanist interest in the poetry and satire of the classical world, and are better understood as poetic constructions created to serve artistic goals and satisfy a humanist audience.

The Removal of the Arms, the Recognition with Laertes, and Narrative Tension in the Odyssey

Previous articleNext article No AccessThe Removal of the Arms, the Recognition with Laertes, and Narrative Tension in the OdysseyRuth ScodelRuth Scodel Search for more articles by this author PDFPDF PLUS Add to favoritesDownload CitationTrack CitationsPermissionsReprints Share onFacebookTwitterLinkedInRedditEmail SectionsMoreDetailsFiguresReferencesCited by Classical Philology Volume 93, Number 1Jan., 1998 Article DOIhttps://doi.org/10.1086/449371 Views: 14Total views on this site Citations: 2Citations are reported from Crossref Copyright 1998 The University of ChicagoPDF download Crossref reports the following articles citing this article:Adrián Velasco Sainz La ironía cervantina en la aventura de los galeotes, Anales Cervantinos 53 (Dec 2021): 201–220.https://doi.org/10.3989/anacervantinos.2021.008Jesús Botello Los descuidos cervantinos del Quijote: entre la ecdótica y la imitatio paródica de los clásicos, Anales Cervantinos 51 (Dec 2019): 33.https://doi.org/10.3989/anacervantinos.2019.002

Corot in Italy: Open-Air Painting and the Classical-Landscape Tradition

Galassi, P. (1991). Corot in Italy: Open-Air Painting and the ClassicalLandscape Tradition. New Haven and London: Yale University Press. 258 pages. ISBN 0-300-04957-9 (Cloth), 0-300-06710-0 (Paper). Reviewed by Greg M. Thomas Purdue University This book is about much more than Camille Corot's work in Italy. In demonstrating his central thesis-that Corot's great innovations in landscape painting grew out of the conventions of his academic art education-Peter Galassi writes two other histories. First, his book is a sweeping survey of an entire tradition of landscape painting in oils around 1800, a tradition that laid the groundwork for many subsequent innovations of Modernism. Second, and of particular relevance for art educators, it is by far the most in-depth study to date of how men trained to become artists in the early 19th century. In re-creating the early history of outdoor oil painting, Galassi first explains, in chapter 1, the centrality of outdoor nature drawings in the theory and practice of the classical landscape tradition-the tradition established by the French painters Nicolas Poussin and Claude Lorrain working in Italy in the 17th century. Galassi then describes how, in the 1780s, Neoclassical painters from northern Europe made the outdoor oil study an essential component of academic training, particularly in Italy. The aim of such studies was established by Pierre-Henri de Valenciennes, the most influential teacher and theorist of Neoclassical landscape. In his treatise of 1800, Valenciennes explained in great detail how to capture the fleeting effects of light and atmosphere through rapid outdoor oil sketches of the kind for which his own superbly subtle and spontaneous studies could serve as examples. But Valenciennes saw such empirical analysis only as a tool for the elaboration of synthetic, artificial compositions that could carry noble classical meanings. Based on this theoretical interdependence of study and invention, Galassi argues in chapter 2 against the received idea of an opposition between progressive naturalism and conservative classicism in French art. He shows that around 1800, virtually all French landscapists imitated either 17th-century Franco-Italian models or 17th-century Dutch models, and he characterizes naturalistic outdoor painting as an inherent part of trying to revive these classical traditions. This Neoclassical impulse was further reinforced by a pervasive tourist culture in Italy, which is reconstructed in chapter 3. Empirical study became mixed up with view-making, and Galassi goes to great lengths to demonstrate that artists followed set itineraries and depicted canonical sites in an effort to realize the tourist desire to imbue every aspect of the Italian countryside with ancient associations. While thus reconstituting the artistic goals underlying early outdoor painting, the book also builds up a rich appreciation of how men learned to make art. Oil studies were part of student training, and the Neoclassical context of chapter one clarifies how students were inculcated with Neoclassical values and vision. Chapter 2 becomes more specific, rigorously documenting the surprising extent to which students alternated between copying prints of standardized views and copying actual sites. And chapter 3, focusing on Italy's tourist culture, emphasizes that the coherence and mutual reinforcement of the artist community in Rome was essential in advancing landscape skills. These first three chapters serve, as Galassi asserts at the outset, as a background to the fourth and final chapter. Here he draws on the contexts of the outdoor painting tradition and Neoclassical training to illuminate the book's ostensible main subject-Corot's oil studies from his first visit to Italy in 1825-28. …

Painters and Politics in the People's Republic of China, 1949-1979 (review)

REVIEWS Julia F. Andrews. Painters and Politics in the People's Republic ofChina, 1949-1979. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1994. xv, 568 pp. Hardcover $55.00. Julia Andrews' chronological survey ofthe practice ofpainting and closely related arts in Maoist China joins a body ofrecent work—books, articles, and catalogs— on twentieth-century Chinese art that is much richer than it was when she began her research. Happily, her work is praiseworthy not only because it is pioneering but also because it is clearly organized, convincing in its selection ofkey events and works, and painstakingly researched. As well as making excellent use ofwritten materials, Andrews was able to conduct interviews with an impressive number of artists. Her timely collecting offirsthand accounts of artistic life in the early decades of the People's Republic of China is a contribution in itself. The only disappointment here is that interviewees are identified by alphabetic code, rather than name, but given the political and personal sensitivities involved, this is understandable . Andrews introduces her project with the statement that after 1949, art in the People's Republic of China developed in ways that made it different in style and subject matter from the art both ofthe West and of other Chinese societies, so that by 1979, when China again became accessible to the outside world, art celebrated within China was judged to be either bad or incomprehensible by outsiders . For those who would like a fuller evocation ofthis particular moment, "The Ten Frustrations, or, Waving and Smiling across the Great Cultural Abyss," an account of a visit to China in early 1980 by the perceptive but frankly confused American art critic Lucy Lippard, comes to mind.1 Fifteen years later, the sense of shock and dismay has faded, but Andrews is right in reminding her readers ofthe distinctiveness of the cultural order she will examine. In order to clarify the critical standards and artistic goals ofMaoist China, Andrews chooses to focus on how governmental arts policies and bureaucratic structures—the art academy system , the Chinese Artists Association, and the art publishing system—shaped artists ' careers and guided the production ofparticular works. This approach is both© 1995 by University obvious and welcome, and it allows her to craft an account ofart in the Mao ofHawai'i Pressyears that will be accessible and useful to readers from a range ofbackgrounds and disciplines. 388 China Review International: Vol. 2, No. 2, Fall 1995 The first chapter gives a brief account of the Chinese art world in the 1930s and '40s, singling out "revolutionaries" and "academics" as the forces most influential after 1949. Jiang Feng (1910-1982), a left-wing woodcut artist who became a prominent arts administrator, is the paradigmatic revolutionary. Lin Fengmian (1900-1991) and Xu Beihong (1895-1953) represent the academics. Xu was vehemently antimodernist and wanted Chinese art education to follow the European academic realist tradition. His brand of realism was appreciated by the communists , and Xu was invited to stay on as head of the National Beiping Arts College after 1949. Lin, who supported both Modernism and traditional Chinese painting during his time as director ofthe National Hangzhou Art Academy, was marginalized. The second chapter covers the reform of the art world by the new government from 1949 to 1953. Jiang Feng was a central figure, serving as spokesman of Party policy and spearheading the reorganization ofthe art academy system. The Beiping Arts College welcomed the new regime and became the Central Academy of Fine Arts, flagship ofthe new art system. But the "reform" ofthe Hangzhou Arts Academy was less smooth. In all the academies, popularization was the main task. That is, staff and students were directed to create new art that would appeal to the masses by taking extant popular forms as their models. Andrews makes clear that even committed advocates ofpopularization did not see much intrinsic aesthetic value in these forms. Rather, Dong Xiwen's oil painting Founding ofthe Nation represented the high-status image of the early 1950s. Traditional Chinese painting , or guohua, neither "popular" nor "realistic," was believed to have little future. In the period 1953-1957, discussed in chapter 3, Andrews identifies three main trends: first...

Learning From McLuhan A New Play Story

It’s not an easy thing running a theatre company, balancing artistic and financial needs. Planning is essential to the process – establishing artistic goals, creating a realistic budget that fosters the artistic director’s vision, and maximizing revenues while bringing expenses in under budget. Of course, things do change and it’s the test of the staff, the artistic team and other decision-makers to respond to change without seriously compromising the process of page to stage.

The National Theatre of the Deaf and the Teatr mimiki i zhesta: Two Views on Theatre of the Deaf

The National Theatre of the Deaf and the Teatr mimiki i zhesta: Two Views on Theatre of the Deaf Samuel J. Zachary In the past twenty or so years the term "deaf theatre" has somewhat generically denoted theatre events which in one way or another feature deaf actors, appeal primarily to deaf audiences, or focus on deaf issues.1 All of these applications are acceptable. However, the formation and subsequent evolution of America's National Theatre of the Deaf and Russia's Teatr mimiki i zhesta, Moscow Theatre of Sign and Gesture, have rather sharply defined that branch of deaf theatre known as "theatre of the deaf."2 Simply stated, "theatre of the deaf" identifies play production made more or less equally accessible to hearing and hearing impaired audiences through collaborative efforts of signing deaf actors and speaking hearing actors. Beyond this cursory explanation, a multitude of unique characteristics have established the National Theatre of the Deaf and the Moscow Theatre of Sign and Gesture among the world's most accomplished and reputable theatres of the deaf. The purpose of this article is twofold: 1) to acquaint readers with particular characteristics of the National Theatre of the Deaf and the Moscow Theatre of Sign and Gesture (identified throughout the balance of the article as NTD and MTSG respectively) by comparing the companies' origins and artistic philosophies; their use of visual language and vocal interpretation of that language; their actor training programs, repertoires, and touring policies; and their social and artistic influences, and 2) to alert readers by example to the sometimes diverse.ways in which theatres of the deaf may be structured. Origins and Artistic Philosophies Before becoming instituted, neither the NTD nor the MTSG were intended to fulfill artistic missions. Social service agencies imagined each as a means by which society's awareness of deafness could be expanded and deaf people's talents could be exercised. Yet once initiated, each company matured quickly into a professional troupe with decidedly artistic goals designed to meet the needs of both deaf and hearing audiences. 53 54 Samuel J. Zachary The impetus for a deaf theatre in America came in 1961 when Dr. Edna Levine and members of the Vocational Rehabilitation Administration sought ways to deter the "abysmal ignorance of Americans about their country's deaf population and deafness in general" (Seism 1). At the Administration's invitation , Arthur Penn and Anne Bancroft, director and star of The Miracle Worker, along with Penn's associate David Hays, journeyed to Washington, D.C, to explore the proposition of developing a deaf theatre. While there, Bancroft visited Gallaudet College (America's only liberal arts college for the deaf) to study facets of sign language and deafness for her role as Annie Sullivan. She and her associates first witnessed the compelling intricacies of deaf theatre when they attended Gallaudet's production of Our Town. Although all three became immediately entranced by the artistic potentials of visual language, only Hays found opportunity to pursue the establishment of a professional theatre of the deaf. George C. White's creation of the O'Neill Foundation in 1965 supplied Hays with the long sought after financial and artistic base he needed. With the assistance of George Detmold, then Dean of Gallaudet College, the school's 1966 production of Iphigenia in Aulis was produced at the Foundation's summer playwright's conference. One year later, with the economic support of the Social and Rehabilitative Services, the NTD was formally instituted with Hays as Managing Director. A renovated two-story barn in the O'Neill Theatre complex in Connecticut became the company's first home. Currently, the NTD operates out of the Hazel E. Stark Center in Chester, Connecticut, and in the past twenty-six years has grown steadily in prestige and, as a result of many international tours, has become the most recognized theatre of the deaf in the world. Within the past year, it has become necessary for the NTD to add two additional artistic directors to assist Hays in the burgeoning task of administering the thriving organization. The genesis of the MTSG also was sparked by the interest of a nontheatre group, this time the All-Russia Society...

The Literature and Politics of Abe Kobo: Farewell to Communism in Suna no Onna

L r ITERATURE and politics are often closely intertwined in the social evolution of any given nation. Solznetsyn's work is a recent example of . {literary revolt in the '60s and after against the established government of the USSR. In the present post-cold-war era, it is ironic to find that some Japanese intellectuals and literati during the decade and a half after the Pacific War considered communism as the ultimate form of social justice and the Soviet Union as the first realization of that ideal. Such a union of art and politics, however, contained an inherent danger of dissolution. Although the goal of attaining a classless society was a utopian dream of those intellectuals, individual rights and freedom of speech were sacred to them as well. These avant-garde artists could not tolerate the literary censorship imposed by the leaders of the Japanese Communist Party, and there was a mass exodus of literati from the party in 1962. Abe Kobo % mR was among those who chose art over politics, to leave the party rather than compromise the fundamental right of artists: freedom of expression. Such an alliance and a subsequent dissolution of art and politics present an opportunity for literary critics to debate on the primacy of artistic goals: art or life? Without resorting to theoretical argument, however, two opposing views of Abe's works have emerged since the publication of Suna no Onna ;JeD (The Woman of the Dunes), written immediately after his expulsion from the communist party. Okaniwa Noboru rg values Abe's earlier works for their political ideology and condemns his later ones for their corruption and deterioration into popularism. Watanabe Hiroshi 9,37IY:i, on the other hand, sees literary maturity and artistic integrity in Abe's writings of the post-communist period. Suna no Onna is one of the best-known works not only of Abe but also of Japanese postwar literature. Although its popularity may partly result from its surrealistic film version, winning first prize for foreign films at Cannes, the

Toward an Ethics of Cultural Acts: the Jamesian Dialectic in "Broken Wings"

Toward an Ethics of Cultural Acts: the Jamesian Dialectic in "Broken Wings" David Golumbia, University of Pennsylvania There can be little doubting James's fascination with aesthetics, especially with considerations of literary form and prose style. Yet exactly what that fascination comes to with regard to James's broader artistic goals seems less clear. Certainly his position is unlike that popularly associated with Pater, Wilde, and the other Aestheticist and Symbolist writers of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries; whatever the slogan "art for art's sake" might mean precisely , it is clear that James shares neither its apparently overt resistance toward moral value in art, nor its apparently complete abandonment to ornate style (however his detractors might disparage James's late writing style).1 Indeed, the relationships between James's concern with ethical questions or moral imperatives, on the one hand, and his formal and stylistic goals on the other, have been difficult to characterize precisely. This difficulty, it seems clear, informs much critical writing on James. Studies that seek to systematically isolate the formal details of James's aesthetic, whether from his fictional or critical writings, often become tangled in a variety of ethical issues.2 And those that seek to isolate ethical ideas find problems just where they attempt to motivate either formal details of the fiction or stylistic comments in the criticism.3 The reason for these problems seems straightforward: in James, issues of aesthetics and ethics are closely tied together. The reader is never entirely sure whether to read "The Turn of the Screw" as a complex narrative device or as a parable about the governess's The Henry James Review 15 (1994): 152-69. © 1994, The Johns Hopkins University Press Toward an Ethics of Cultural Acts 153 manipulation of her "innocent" charges—whether to read "The Figure in the Carpet" as an experiment in ambiguity and self-reflexiveness, or as a heavily ironic or sinister tale of obsession, murder, and inhuman coldness.4 The solution to this conundrum, I will argue, involves what can best be characterized as a dialectic of aesthetics and ethics (in which each term of the opposition both depends upon and is defined by the other), though I will be able to do little more than sketch such a configuration here.s Whatever else can be said, James is clearly and persistently interested in issues of both form and function, and the dividing line between these issues seems pale at best. Even textual features that need to be viewed mostly in their moral light (such as the end of The Portrait of a Lady), as well as those that seem to call for primarily formal consideration (the sitters in "The Real Thing" or point-of-view in The Sacred Fount), demand consideration from the other perspective. In this argument, I use "aesthetics" to encompass what have been thought of generally as James's formal and stylistic goals. Of course a broader meaning of that term would include all of James's goals in composing his fiction and thus would obscure the dialectical issues at the heart of this investigation. I will thus use the term aesthetic to refer primarily to considerations of literary form and prose style; the term ethical to refer to the whole universe of considerations of human action and societal norms (thus in a generally Marxian form, rather than the more narrowly constrained sense of contemporary analytic ethics); and the term artistic to encompass the entirety of James's goals in composing fiction, including, at least in principle, those outside of both the aesthetic and the ethical. To James, I will argue then, for a work to be wholly artistically successful it must fulfill a number of interrelated aesthetic and ethical goals. The relationship between these two sets of standards is highly mediated, so that two related sorts of problems easily occur: it is both difficult to isolate the standard that motivates a given textual detail, and not possible to abstractly state the relative importance of the two sets of goals. As an example I will discuss James's "Broken Wings" (1900), not only because of its relative brevity, simplicity, likeness to much of James's...

Donatello and his world: sculpture of the Italian Renaissance

The Italian Renaissance is known to have been a golden age for the arts. This volume, which spans the years 1400-1490, examines early Italian Renaissance sculpture. While the author's central focus is on the work of Donatello, the author also illustrates the beginnings of Renaissance sculpture in Florence, its further development in Tuscany and the rest of Italy, the new artistic goals, and the relationships between patron and artist, convention and artistic freedom. Other sculptors included in the book are Ghiberti, Jacopo della Quercia, Nanni de Banco, Luca della Robbia, Francesco Laurana and Verrocchio.

Winnipeg Close-ups / 2, Paradigm Shifts at the Box Office

Winnipeg’s theatre community faces the beginning of a new decade with a sense of malaise. In the last few years, both of our major theatres have had problems with declining audience support and with confused and ambivalent artistic policies. Our most successful small company throughout the 1980s, Agassiz Theatre, has folded. The production of local plays has fallen off, and playwrights themselves seem uncertain of their own artistic goals. Although promising new groups are starting up, our hopes of a thriving body of “independent” theatre produced by small companies do not seem destined to be fulfilled. The major bright spot is Winnipeg Fringe Festival, which this summer more than doubled its attendance to 35,000 paying customers. But one week of vitality cannot make up for decline and uncertainty the rest of the year.