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TM COiltelll)><>rnry designer w.ltethet he be an arti•t or an architect may look hack ldth $8ti.Uaction on <<'rent progre..s and forward with confideMe to rneet1ng the Jlrobl¢tit~ ul the future. The paU~t:n$ of lh.e arts continuall,)• change and publir taste •arie~~ ''' ith each cuh ure and period, so an)' pre>~entation of d.te current sitWilion in the arto is sure to be as momentary and Reeling as a television broadcast. Such a luminou~ picture cnn only capture • mohile g limpse of fl<"t:ting ~vents. Until the beginning o f our cenl\try all but an edvance guard believed that it was impossible to escape from the world w well recorded by , the. camera. Their art was representative first and foremost., and expressive of the.i'r own inner vis._iou a.ocl interpretation ou\y incidentally. They were orulnved by reality, not by the otrang~ new world of a1om• and moleeula which. 1he physie,ist describe&, bu.t by the familiar scene that we idcntif) in evcrr day life so readily that we scarcelr waste a s<leond g lam·e on it. f'ew JX'<>plc US<!d their eyes lo r observation. S<:eing hod •unk to a tnemory o f 1hc commonplace. No f...,.h examinati.on wa, p<>$sible under such circumet4ntes. The modccn artist did nol rebel agnin~t reality. He revolted ugain&l the kind of blirtdn ... that ~om.,; about when the mind usurps the funclions of lite eye. Re found himself in a socie1y thot had long since !orl!ollen how 10 observe freshly and c.n joy 6n1 hand viouol exp.1rienee. So he repudia~ this drab conventional world and sought a brillianl new one of his own. Since the scenes about him hnd grown timewotu and shabby, he looked wilhin, exploring the subjective panorama of his o wn inner experience. flere he found 1o his delight and to the annoyance of the literalist a lr~r realm which he could shape to his own satisfaction. 'fhe $urptioing thing about
Design
Dra11, Cnllege Qj A.rdtiutrure ami
Pl1ilip N. Y otttz
in an industrial age
architecture
and
art
wao by psythological suggeotion not by objective need. Tlte first half of the twentieth century has at len111h given us some insight into the visual configurations of our age. Loclc.iog a tradition we bavc created a patt~rn to •uit our ne.:ds. Our best design has
may have made the confines o( his rectilinear canvas drnamic. But thi$ relationship
Italian marble it would not recreate Venice. The contemporary designer has the problem of identifying the sig11ificant form• of his age. As industrialism has replaced t.h e crafts, ou r artifacts have changed and the shapes which cc:mdition our li ves have been transformed. Naturally, in the begin· ning we dung to the ancient fontlS. \Ve c<>nvcrted the candelabra first to gas and then 10 electricity. The motor car only gradua.lly evolved a form that was free from the lines of the horse drawn couch. f or the airplnne we fortunAtely had. no prototype b111 the •oaring gull. With such complete innovations it was ea~er to d~ign independently. At 6.-st the recognition of the typical fonns of our age was difficult. For a while we streamlined oil three-dimensional figures which Mls appr9priate lor those that moved but not for those that were static. In the ease of the painter, such flowiojf ~hopes
no one that the S(."e.ne is Venetian. Even i{ thi.s confectioner's art were executed in
pictorial •kills that enable one to reproduce a variety of pleasing scenes such as boulh, trees. figure!. ond buildings. The naive observer sees a oai lboat which he admirC9 and concludes quite erro11eously that the picture is good: The likeneM may be excel· lent, but the waten:olor may be dlechanicaJ and uui.oventive. The artist may have put none of himself into it. Similarly one .$CCS fnr example miles qf Veneilan style buildings of plaster or cement along l11e canals of a Florida city, But they convince
his own ar~y not on subject malter or pe:riod deeoration. It i$ very ea-s-y to acquire
When the modern talks about· hone!;ly he refers to this obligation to rely on
expression.
Our contemporary architecture has its roo!! in the present not in past history. lt is not an imitation or a reproduction, but on aulhenric or original expre!sion or curtenl social needs. Pericxl design has all but dioappeared in our day and has been replaced by living design. What has been gained by this revolution in the· arta of design? The gifted artist and architect have lound their talen~.o libented. The mediocre designer, however, has lost the· period costume which enabled hhn to maoquer&de as a creative architect or artist. Modem wo.rk glaringly reveals the artist who leans on the representation of a pleasing scene and the architect who relies 0 11 period embcllish•llent. The modern painter or architect must trust lo his own talent to produce an acceptable product. In this regard there is not much difference in the requirements for a good painting, sculpture, or building. They each require power of organir.al)on and imaginative
designer succeeds he adds to this utility and conw:nience. imagination and elegance.
Somewhat similarly, the architect was enslaved to the hi$lorical s tyle$. Though these belonged to handcraft ag"" and had Uttle to do with modern method& of eon· slruction or workmanship or materials, they long governed all deaigni11g. A student who didn't know the Roman orders was as badly off as a bumani•t who didn't know the Latin language. The various styles ol a.rchitecture po•se&sed great beauty and were widely understood. l n fact, they had been accepted as essential materials of a liberal education. But to appl)' them an architect had 10 forsake Ms hwn age- and become an archseologi.<t recreating the pa•l. Like an English judge he was obliged Ia wear a wig inherited from a period long since a part of history. \Vhethe.r or not su.ch a quaint practice impedes British justice may be a question Jolt unanswered, but certainly period styles destroy any possible originality in architochoral practice. Tcxlay the architect begiMing to ~>·ork on a new commission otarl! not ~>·it:h the paet but ' <ith nn analysis of present func:tions. He asks hirnse!J what the bu.ilding is to do. Then he develops his design arou"d this contemporary activity. Th.e modem building is thus not a monument bur a practical model of a living institution. U the
the new direction taken by modern artists is that so large a public followed theul a.n d accepted abstract art.
a purity of line or form that tusge.ts both engineering and arcbilflcture, draftoman· a!tip and art. A pre>l>lem e>f the contemporary dtsigner that hu received little comment is the need for communication with the public. The modern designer too often l!I$Urnts the attitude th.c he cre.ttt to amuee him.df. This is modesty or ab•~>rdity. All typea of art ~uire an audience. Ia art ..e may ~ two ekmentt; one oocial and lwloe trodi· tionol, ond oae individual and hen« otigmal. If the artiot iujecta none of the puc in his work, ht ~ his public. If he praelllll oaly historical moteriol, he IIUIJ be onder· Slood but hit work W:lo cre&tivily. So ;, the history of an OM ..,.,. the pendulum awins between the two exlremt$ of w~ il old enoush to be well Ubdentood by the audience, and of whot it new mou&h te> SUl1l ttnnge and <'len al\ocldng. Su«:eafol ttl mutt blend familiarity with ooveky. In conoidrri"g tile arc and orcbi~<eture of an industrial age, it is welt to remind ourselves chot oli ore wu once modern and therefore perplexins. Indeed, our new cxperlmenc. in dtsi8J1, if they are •ucceasfu~ will become the da..ics of the future. Our preaent emphasis is more on the individual than on the social element• in design. That Ia, wt prefer what ia acrikingly new to what ;. comfortably familiar. Our e~t~ely aubjective art will no doubt give way for a future art that ;, more objective. But thit ebb and flow of the vogues in art is of far less importance than the quality of our art. Why I& tome are beautiful and •ome commonplace? By beautiful we do not mean the good and the beautiful of the Greeks. Nor <lo we imply any absolute excel· lence by the term. For u• beauty means the supreme ta•te of our particular age. Beauty is dated. h refero to the forms which ~t utisfy a given socie\y. Having thua defined thit eluaive term, we may say that what is beautiful today ia what is functional in a aocial sense. Design which b<81 expreuu cur<ent aesthetic values ia beautiful.
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Our present concern with the problems of <:«ltive imagination is important becauoe we kn<>w oil t<><> linte 1bout thra oopec:t of hum1n culture and yd ""cannot ignore its importance in the edu~•tional proce,.., I think there is seneral agreement that you can teaoh the artiot the croft of his art, but you can't aupply him with genhze. At the very start we .b<>uld dialinguish the v1riouo phueo of creative tho~ght: the period of investigation, the period of blankneM when there tcem to be n<> ideas at all, the flash of inopiration, and then the long period of inteyating experiencet into a new c<>ncept <>r work. Moot creative work, whether In scienL-e or art, follow• sorne such pattern, not necaoorily in the order named and oi>Ylouoly not the sam~ lor every individual. Each episode deoen-e. r..pect and underwtonding as a part of the creative ptO<:es$. The flash of inspiration is the moat eenoationl, but inapiratlon does not always re•ult in creative work. The period of blanknON it hard to endure, hut it may be a m06t important procuo in clearing th~ mind. And '"~ly the proce88 that Sinclair Lewis has referred to as the "application of th~ t.at .,1 the pants to the seat of the chair" though not at all romantic, it equally important to creative work in all fields. The parent and the te~her con do a great d<al to stimulate creotive behavior, b"t neither the parent nor the ttacher can predict that ponem of gonet that reault& i11 creativity. Even the artist must accept hit innate gilt "" It is and proeeed from there to make the most that he f&n of it. However, to make the mo•t of a otudent'a gift 61111 leave• tonoid~rable latitude for tuching and brings one quickly to the ruliutlon of the inadequacy of curricu· lt~n~S; for while collrws may deal adequately with facta, they may ao euily stifle imagmation as encourage iL For this reaO<ln it ia well for the univenity to :!lop every now and the> and ask itself wlw it is really doing to encourag~ thi• moot indi.-idual port of the mcleftl's growth. rll'OC it ia important to undetotand the al;vt dlfferencea In creativity in areas of man's ~ with the object of improwin3 edactlional mtthocls.. It is obvioas that creatiYity and imagination are •• eoSC111iol and ao contributive in one area as ano~er. The miveroity is by u-aditi01> the gatherins place for creative minds ancl o - the year$ tlte univeraity hu proved itself fairly au<X<:IISful in duling witb this all·important aspect of human eult11re. It is human {railty that has tometi.,.. limited the •iti011 ol universities. When creative teclmica of biotory tended In lfte 19th C<!ntary to limit creotive method$ in scitlllc~, or in the 20th century, creative mttllods in the arts, tM university was not so much at loult ao the limitations of Insight on the pan t>f the facultieo. P<lrticulotly at t!Ua time when group activ1ty lo riven such accent it is encouraging to have faculties gather and ditcu.. tbe value of creative imagination in their various fields. I peroonally have never found a more cogent diocuMion of mon'a creative eapaei·
creative imagination in music
RoSJ Lee Fm-y ,.,.,,._. ~1 c~nw-u S.'-'1 of M.W, Ursir~~ni.11 '~I M"*•l.•
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tieo tho11 that given by F.rnst Co,.irer in A11 E:uay 011 Man. It is futile tu summarize hi• diocuosion by a few quou.tions, but perhaps one can l:ighlight the difference between imagination in the oriS a~d in ac;ience by doing so. Co.ssirer point.o out that "acicnce Si•ea Ul order in thOUj!hl; lrl gives U$ order in the apprehen•ion of Vioibie, tangihle, and audible oppeoranceo." Ht otatts further that: When the ocicntiot d-ribeo an object he choncterizeo it by 1 $el of num· hero. by h• pbyoital and chemical constants. Art has not only a different atm 1M o dilfertnt object ..• ond belona• to • much m<>re complex order than wr ordinary ~"~ perception. II is pregnant with in6nite poooil:oilities which rt111oio unrulired on ordinory ..,_ ~pti011. In the work of the art;,t these possibilitieo become actulitia; they ore hrouaht into the Opel! ond like un a dc6nite shape ... n., imagitaat>on of tbe artist does not a:biuuily in•cnt the forms uf thinso- It shows us tb ..... lonna in their true abape. ~nakins thwl vioible ond recogniaable. Tht arti11 choose:a o certoin upect of rcolity, but this proctSt of oeltetion is at the .. me time • proceu ol obj«'i· licotion. . . . Onoe reolity hu ~n di~ to us in this partieWir woy, we continue to- it in thlt shape. The•e remarks of C.etirer, token out of context, ere perhaps •n oveT·simplifieatioa, but they do point the -entill difference of c~ative imagination mthe atU. The artiol mw;t deal with hia own aubject.ive re&ction to reality, and of nee-ity we most ~ emOiiOfl&lly involved with the e~perience to which he givet concrete •hape. How<:¥er the compoott moy verbalize or •ymboli.e, hia music must be a subjective experience revealed entirely by muaicol oounds. A creativ~ statement in music is neither entirely expte88ion nor entirely invention-it i• a combination of the two. One without the c>ther would be uncrutive ond unimoginative. Even though the compMer might reduoe the order of mu.lcal nota to a numerical formula, this formula would not explain the etoeential subjective revelltion that male"' <>f the musical notes a work of art. This matter of emotionol involvement or identification f<eems to me worth exam· ining. It is perfectly obviout that all creative people are involved in their work. The question io. wh1t J"Uern doeo thlt involvement take. The view has been held that a comp..er•o muoic i.a a litenl refloctic>n of hi• emotional life: that he compo&eo a love oong only when he io in love and a lament when he i~ bertavecl. If on., but think of the chansing emotion•! sesture in a aingle piece of muoic one realizes how invalid this idea is, neverthel..o it pel'litta and i& partly respon.oible lor i8hotant idea$ about the arlo ifl the ICidemic environment. There i• another view to which I mu•t admit I c1nnot subscribe -that muaie hu no emotional meaning at all. This opposit~ extreme •iews the ct;!lti•e proc:eos 11 an almoot mechanical one. Surely the truth lies between theoe two utremes. The compootr doea not deal with hia own penonal etnolroml uperienc• oo much as he does with the pattern• and .&epa of general emotionol reoctionl -lhe 0\lb-tlratum of ""'otional feeling. H• e<fol•e~ a aymbolic "lenpase~ that le. oemblan« or emotion. Whote•er !Oj!ic he moy follow to integrate
his muoical material, in the end this material must lind emotional 11 wellu intellectual responoe. So while it is n<>t true that the compooer ia reflecting hie ~motional lift in his mll!ie. it io true that he must be <emotionally involved I• writing lt. It ia thia emotional envo!vemen.t that see-mi to me chuacreristic of creative imqination in the arta. Now dOO$ this emotionol involvement of identity dilfer !Tom crntl•t imaaiudon in oeience or history? I think perhaps it doea, though I •m perfectly certain that both the odentiot and the hi&torian have a certain type of =otional involvement in their work. Perhapo 1 e<~o make the dHfer•nce clear by conf. .iag a penonal nperience. I set vety exei~ wbeo I compoec mu.ie. end I uaed to keep the coffee pot contUotly at hand and ftoqueally pace the floot. One day I aeked myod( what good thia colree bruk was doin«, aad f realize that whde 1 WH rdievins perooaal tenaions, thio emotioN! excitemmc would have oo dl'ect on aa ndien~ ltearins my musk. I was emotioneU, itiVoind with the uperienee of workins, but I wu actually toeaping from the emotioool involvemellt of my music. The~ ;., in other wordo, a diflerence between being tmotiOJlally ~ed about workin,; and emotionally invol~ in the piece of ~e th111 one i$ ¢0111poeing. While I would be loath to genereliR, it ~etma to me poooible that the scientist io u emotionally excited about his work ao the artill, but that he ia trained to avoid emotional involvement in hit work ~~ it deti.Toy the accuracy and logic of his obatrva:ion. Archibald Maeleiah in a re;:ent lecture dedicating the Carleton Collf!e librory made the point that the word "objectivity" ie one of the «ood worde of our contempo·
rary vocabulary. Scientists arc objeclive about their 6ndinv ... The word raises a ettndatd to which our eeientificaUy-minded Jeneration con repair aa the men of the Nineties rt~ired to "paseion~ an the men of the Eighteenth Century to "atnoibility • • . It connotu a quality- 8 aupr.ruaion or peroonal com· mitment and pe1110n.! feeling- which is admirab e in a journalltt reporting the news of a scientiat oboerving on elCJl"Timent or a judge jud.:!n1 a caae, but which ie anything but admirable when there it • cauot. to Clefend or a battle to be fought. Objectivity it meaningless to the artist oinc<e the very quality of his eontributio11 ;..
tubjective.
If there it a difference in thio matter of emotional involvement, then it follow& that the proper environment for the artiot's work will differ. Indeed, except for the obviou• difterencea of technics, this difference in emotional in•olvement 'eems the moot fundamental, and a good d..l of insight into the problem& of e,...tlve ima&in&· tion could be. gained by otudying the dtmanc!t that eaeb area maka upon the emotional ayotem of the individuol. One cao trace in Beethoven'• sl<et<hea ~ way in wlli<:h he ~e emotionally ia~olved in tlte S"'.at theme of the lnt movement of
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the A-minor q1l&rtet. It is a common expnienee in teaching young compcoen to 6nd tltat notes have !>tea writtell withoot the slightest emotio11ol i11volvement. But I cannot rt<:ell o ~~tienriat ~ becau.. the 1tudent wa• 6nding no emotionol identlfieolion in his aperimeat. To apeak of the poyehology of tmotionol invol'l'emenl t n art te beyond my eopacity, but I ehould lilce to indicate a few pcinla where t.M• matter ~~«ms to me to touch upon the educational problem. The musical experimce i• baaically similar whethe. one U. eompoting, pufonn· ing, or lioteoi118. All three experiences may or may not be creative. If the emotional involvement is in the activity alone, then the experience is purely ~reatlonol. The Arte have a very high recreational value- a vAlue not to be minimlaed, but abo not to be confu.ed with creative activity. Creative activity, as I hove pointed out, dO!llando both inl.ellectual and emotional involvement- not the emotionol involvement of doing, but a genuine identification with the pattern• and meaning. of tho muelcal geswre. The listener often fails to identify himsell with the emotionol geotureo of the music, and he barely beara the <levieee that make up the geoture. He it awept along on the current of the music and excited by the recreational ..perienoe. The performer in a choruo or an orchestra may follow the creative direction of a condijctor without himself gaining more than a recreational ~perience. We have all beard mutieol perfo1111ancca that hove lac~ emotional involvelllenr., and on th- oecuiooa we willingly accept tbe word "play~ in relation to the performiiDCe. Yd we have al&o heard performances that in their revelation of the music have *n tntly crealivo. Let us not accept avtomatieally participation in m..,ictl group aper!oncca u development of creative imagination. Le! us recogniu that aueh development b much more likely to toke plll<'e individuaUy rother than in a group. We are abo likely to think of creatin ima!ination u developing later in the child's educati<>n&l experience. C.rtaimly in music the mo~ imponant clevelopmeot
talces pL.oe in the babbling age of ehildhood, between two aftd four. At thi.a tender
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08" childr<a oftea> find their eualive im.pu.tion fnt5trated by lack of pcre~~tol WKie<· etao~. We euwnte nrbel learuiDg at thia early age ond necf«t the child'e uperime:nlo wilb pitch and time and spate -!he subetanea of olher human expreo· aiooo. The pa.rent it anoyed by ehildW. e:tperimcnu in loud and aoft and hieh and low (the .-uy life sabetantt of ~e) bot when the child .. Y• "mamo" or "pepa"when tle firat verbol -e<:iation is made- the parent is deLighted. Many a child hoa beeo eo conditioned before he llarts achool that he h• a feelins that rauoical "lan· sua~" io 10111ehow naughty or funny, and not infrequently the whole muelcol training in school is built upon this inadtquate foundation. The child i& able to verl.aliu about art and perhope even get excited about lhe recreation.! activity of doing, but has built up reotrainbs that prevent his becoming emotionally involved in lhe "!.nguage" ofthe art.
Our confusion in this matter of envolvement may a4o lead to misunderstanding and (alae evaluation of the creative artist. I n1entioned earlier that the old faUacy that music was a refteetion of the «>m~r's emotional life die& slowly. The re&ult ie a criticism of the academic environment as a proper one for the compoeer. How can the college profe$SOr know anything about life? But more dangerou i$ tbe bohemian tradition that this faUacy encourages among shldents and faculty. 'The bohemian alwaya confuses peraonal experience with creative emotional involvem<:nl in art. This confusion leads inevitably to ineineerity and superliciality, and people often fail to distinguish between this undisciplined, uninvolved bohemiani•m and the courageous independence of the rea1 artist. The creative artist i& as sensitive to sueh distonion of aesthetic values and as able to ju.dge • student's work on these terms as the scientist is eensiti•e to di&tortion of fact. As a reaction, perbape, againot the superficiality of bohemionam in art, the theorist may deny entirely the nOCQ&ity of emotional involvement in tbe learning of crdt. It is not uncommon to !tear the argument that theoutical etudy should be premised on the concept of non·involvemerll. The idea $etmS to be that the creative penon can turn on and off his creativity. Even if it were convenient to be free from the questiona that a creative student will ask, can we be oure that after we have denied the etudt>nt the opportunity of emotiMal involvement in the learning of his croft that he will suddenly change in dealing with the mature e~p...,ive experience. There is even a tendency to eliminate theory aa a part of certain eurriculucn.s. If you are to teach music to children, do you need to know how to analyze or write music? It i& in the etudy of the theory of musie whether taught by the performer or the composer or the theory teacher that the student gaina insight into the Iogie and ordt>r of the ere· olive musical ge.ture. Without this insight his capacity may be limited to the recrea· tiona! experience. Having denied the baby his oonnal experiment with onuoica! "language," having discouraged in adole:!«nt years a ertative *ludy of mueical sub.t.anee, we then bope, often too late, for creative imagioation in maturity. An administrator of a fine scientilic institution once bewailed to me the fact that the chemist (to 1$ke on~ eumple} I08t the creative enthusiasm of hi! adolescent dayo during his undergraduate studies and at the time in his doctoral work when such imagination was moot needed it oeemed no longer to be there. 1s it possible that otudiea that allow no outlet for creative imagination dull tbe student'& vision and prepare him poorly for mature contribution? However that may be, l am sure that no curriculum in music that del'lie& the otudent the experience of emotional involvement in the learning of craft will ••~ in otimulating creative imagination. In conclu&ion, I 'hould like to .point out that the encouragement of the artist on the university faculty depends also upon our recognition of the demands that emo· tiona! involvement mak.., 1>pon his work. Any activity, wltetht>r it be academic or not, it dangerous to the artist if it interferes with the cootinuity of his thought. Any·
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thing that hinders emotiooal involvement in his worl< d ..troyo hio inopirarion. The ortiet seems to me to think on two levels: one conociou.o and the other aub-eontclouo. Hie con•cioua thought ruy often be directed into the various actlvltiet of tea.:hing not only without dornase to his creative work but often with ttimulation to it. Hit oub-eonacious thought, however, cannot be diverted from hit worl< without shattering the continuity of his creative activity. It seem• to me that it is the aub-eonoeiout mind that becomes so emotionaUy involved with hit expreooion and allow& hl.m to return day after doy to the continuing of the emotional geotureo in hio mutie. The artiot can ourvive in the univenity, providing he h.. time to work, as long •• h" can protect the continuity of thought below the conscioua level Other emotional otroins, therefore, ""' unusually di•torbing. l arn not u.lking about the peycholoslcal complex of bio penoulity with which he haa come to live more or leoe tu.,..,!uUy. All creative peopk h..e peraonal probkms that arioe from their poycholo61cal adj1Utment. What dioturbo ere the leasiom that dutter bia mUJd Ill nlsht. Artilta heve • wty of magni· fyins these t<msiona. ..,d ~tal Olllhu~ •~ • usual devlee for throwing them ••· 1'1use teooioDS iRternlpt the coDtirlwty of the artiot'o work becaute they in~errupt his capacity to be """oti"""IIT invo~ in his worlr.. He ""'Y bave the tim<: to woric end stiU fed the lult of im-olvemmt. I have an "old-wive'•" conviction that what hot been interrupted is the ~o... thouP· It it my bellef that the eon· scioua mind of the artist can throw of a certain amount of cmollonol tention and proteet oub-eonocious thought. When tension• <>< activiti.,. become ao great that the conscious mind cannot prote<:t the ~ub..:onacio~~a, theo the crutive worlr. of the mist ia in jeopardy. Many of the eccentricities of the anist come from an instinctive eftort to protect hia capacity to react to bis work. lm1ctivity (or lazine5t to the Jarman I may be the only way to repair dem~e that hu been done by emotional strain. lf hio eolleasul!l understood thie pr~ of work, would not the artist be freed from committee aetivi· ties and adminiatrative routines that are ao injuriou.o to hit crutive life? Surely the ertist'• contribution to •uch coU~ge allai\"3 is olight in comperiton to hit creative contribution. The arti•t is no more in need of time to work than the tclentl61. nnr i• the scientist u an individual free from penonal emotionol ttraina. Indeed. I am certain that creative inspiration in science comes aa myatetiou•ly from the suh· conscious mind. But d - eonlinuity of work in sdence oome as much from subton&cious thought u it does in art? hn't the artill who deals with perception on such a aubjective lev~) more at the mercy of hie emotional condition than the scientist or hiatorian who deals with more objective facts? Artislo are newcomen to the unive1:11ity faculty. If their creative imagination ia imporunt to the intell..::tual C<)rnrnuniry, their methods of worlting muot be better und~ntood and encouraged. Librarieo, cublcleo, laboratorl.., even &tudios under college beDs, will gi..., no aid. Their need ia for tranquiUity, aloofn- and routine.
nlD llt'llt•sa" IIU h1l.. Sl1oo!, Uwuca,
k>,.,.,
VI Hill
Kaotl,. • IlDlA tlll.ttlt • Jl. .totiiiW't • &IT W'OU • IUSIUJ1
The Yery fact that we are discuuing today the relation of Duign 1<1 Techniqu"" should prove the low .tandards of contemporary craft"' Theta tw~ element& which •r• the basic characteristic• of any good object ohuuld be i11aolubly connected with each other. That they actually could become &epareted In our tint"' would in itself prove the aboYe statement to
be true.
Dnign had always been the inherent quality of all well-made thing.. But it voas not a seJf-cons.ciou& charatteristic; on the contrary il was toMething thMt C.\lnte unnoticed from long and laborious trial and error, from an intimate knowledge of the material and all the proc.....,. of production, from the total "lent ~nd the daily <·oneentration and devotion of a man to his work. For ever since man has made objeca wllh his handa, there alway• wu the problem of "'Design" in ~lation to "Techniqueo." More or le11 primitive •• they may have been, as the ages changed, •o did also the techniqu.. and with them the dtoign and the form of the thing thai wu made. The machine of modern times could have been only another new t<>ol and would then not have changed buically the anitude towards workmanship, design and technique. But mankind got confused under the imp&N and the power of the industrial production. He lu&t bith in hi•n•tlf and what ~houtd l>e the main ;soue <>I Life. Ke in<tead fell htad·o•er-heels into )n •doration o! the machine ao such and o! the mass•produetion meth<>do. Tho craft•m•n let him.oelf be puohed into a quite hopeless r:ompetition with the machine and wa• almott ground to <><tinction in thet p<oc:cos. No wonder that in thai painful tramaction one thiJ>8 that had hcen hio pride and pleuure throughout rrno.ay centuries, namely the oneness of dealsn llDd technique in a well-made piece of hio hand. was the lint thing to disappear. wO..ign" had requiTed time and c~ but time became mOtley and there was none left !or those ,.eJI con· <CiYOd and excellently made obje..is of former centuriet. Wllat remai ned wao an empty, II hand..--k. mass-production. Obvioody il i• •rrg""t to «et bade to unity of design and t..:hnique, not only for the craftsmen themoelveo, hot also for the Industry •t tar~. Then is no real reaoon tn look at those two poles of human activities •• enemies. they no the two aideo of mankind and it is up to us to bring those two things together and to clear away the mi$under!tanding of lht" contemporar)' $ituation.
design and its relation to techniques
Margul!rite W ilJenluJin
Cood design, both in a unique hand-made piece end In one that io produced by the million• with the nuchine, will clepond on the basic qualitia. I name them quickly: l. Tbe fution ol material and object; that means ..tenain knowledge of what materialt are available ond suitable, how they can be t,..oted to produc~ lho bat technioal ,..uh and the m001t c:huacteri3tic oxpreoeioo. 2. The compotent u~ of tedmiqu.., process, method•, of tools or machine• for the one opeciel purpose. 3. The oolvlng adequately of all prob!emt of ... and function, noc only on the >uri- and roughly><>, but maoterfully and in all detail>.
••me
4. CMative use of liAe-, color, volume., texture) tension and decoration.
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5. Arti$tie integrity of the craftamon or the factory •• o whole. Why then is it so difficult t<> get rully go<>d products, both in the Crafts and in the lndu•try? Apparently there mu$1 be oomewhere alons the line of our "Arts-anciCrah$" and "Oeoign lor Industry" edut-ation something wronf!, oomethiag mi$$ina in the approach, oo thai neither good crofiSmon nor good industrial deoignen ore developod. What is it? Btfore I uy what I feel to be tho crux of the whole i10ue and .u tho root of our troubles, I would 6rot like to state that there io nothing anomalous for a UJtll·lrtJint<i craftsman to make mO<!eh for the induetty. The uoe of machines or maa-production m•thods in hit own ohop is rtl3onable too, if he wi&hes to go into a larger production than handwork can pto•ido. But it should be dear to all of ua that to have rnaehineo and to be able to use them dliciently does not in ;...,)f mean that we are partaking of a higher eivilintion or of a way of tile that is more cre.ti~ more opt to clear away cliches, nor that make$ 101' more enlightened, better and wiser men. If we agree that the means of production cannot •• such be the aim or • man's life, it should not be difficok to tee what •ort of place the machine should hold in our liv... It io o tool. not more. It It noceaoary to uoe the machine creatively and that should be the cr.Ct.man's and the Industry'• aim. It i• ob.ioue that we eaa1101 oehiove that o~rnight. Neither ean tho craftsman learn all tho flOCia required in the lnduatry juot by taking a coune in "Industrial O..ign," nor can the lndu&try 4rither f!OI good des~ by hiring n<>t·well-equippod
"O.:.igners" to m<>dernize or Mr.. mline their production. Neither situation to..dteo the basic problem that hu to be sol..ed first. We .,..;n b...., to slart >rilb a eomplotdy new approaeh and educate a new ~r• lion of cnfbmen thai wiU II<IC !;0 into niUO·prodaCiion befe><e they have thoroll&l!ly explored the ,...r1y unlimited po$8ibilitieo !hat handwork ~;i-.n, befo~ thoy have gone into .-.err alley aDd ensy depth of human expreuion that hud-proceeuo allow, which are far more di-.ersified than my machine can ever produ~. They will abo h••• to learn what form ~Mans, what lines con convey, what a r im or a foot on a pot can aptOS$, whet tension and volume are. what a ti!;hter or loooer, plainer or more elabo· rate handling of a detail can mean for the whole ; they will !\ave to undentand intimately what colon make possible, can change and exprett, wh111 white or bll(;k can mean, and hori•ontal or vertical lines do to the total character of an objotCt. They must have explored the neorly unlimited field of materiala, of textures, of decoration, and they must have beeome abk to develop into peroon&l and expreooive objeeto (a chair or a potl more or Jess basic and common one&.
The new craftsman will also b..e to lcnow the melhoda of rouo·production and will have to work in a factory for a cenain time. In tho contact with lht proceu of the lndu>try he will be able lo unde,..tand !he magnilude of the problema ahead of him and will hove to face !hem aquarely so as to bo ab~ to moke good MDesigns for the Jnduatry" in the future. This Craftsman of the fulure who knows hit crafta will have an uplimiced store of forms in hi> mind and hi• hand•, forms that h.ve evolved 0111 of long years of intimate C'lnt&ct with his materials and all the problems of hil craft. He will look at new materials, new machines and new production mothodo wilh the same c~etive thoughtfulness and with the deep, alert interet! that io the very eMence of bio life. His designs for the Industry will have o real relaticm to materials and techniques, to function, to efteecive u.. of melhodo of production and also an undcrotonding of the cost and the rime involved. All that hao been the sum 10181 of oll bia eftorta all his lile- and be will thus not have o dileuanlit approach. Nor wiD he foil for modish non-conformity in itoelf, lor his deeicno wiU be oolidly baaed and developed from sound craftsmanship and oni$tic ir\legrity. lie will abo 'not bec<>mt • supecficial contortionist nor oxhibitionisl only for lha sake of being di8ennt; on the contrary
C· •
he will hove o deep humility t owarde the things that he io mtkinl! and their live quality will become the very .....nee or hio <>wn life, too. This live quality requir., more than a eourse in design and it tllkeo more than o pmcil and some explorin5 superficially into the problems for mue·productlon. frinciplee of d..ign can of eouru be to~bt, but d.,igna tbot are really g<>od au much more than that. They are the human and arti>tic ruction of a gifted penon towards the totolity of moterials, formt, use, method•, tools, function. obj~t; they do not edst in thti'IINives detached from all these ~qeirements in some abotract pauern or rule. All thia the able craft.amon knows. But if we go into JllUS·production and intn industria! deaip! before we are tbot fuU·IIedsed, alert, &killlul and able craftsman, we will ju.M dooign bad objecto. May they be ever so well "acretmlined" they will be •• corny, superficial and disllonest and ready to be outmoded tomO<row, as those rose-budo·po'l&, for which we hove so much c">ntempl, ore today. Evory time ha.• it• own way of mokins corn, ours is relotively e8$y tnd could be celled "theap unconformity and streamlining." So, let u• beware of whet '""' be a very tempting pitfall, namely thio too euy •De.i•n for ln<lustry" for all those who have not gCII the necessary knowledae of the cralt6man nor che talent of a detigner of quality. Yes, wha we ore really ready to make models for ma...p<oduction let uo b<Jmbly see whethtr we have any1bing to give !hot is $OO<f enouah for aJJ of U5 tnd thor. is worth bei.na ~ated by the million!, but do not let U> think that every besin· ning acudent ean make ~oea!gn• for Jnd ...ny" before he know• anythina about his own field. And let us not uodereslimate the lodutuy, its intelligence and its talent. If so much bad otuf! '-still being IIUide, itls not beca111elhe lnduatry eanoot produce bellet things, but becaooe thee< are so ,,..ny people who lilce and buy the badly·dC$igned tltinga. Don't let us be adding to tbeir numbers by educatjng student• to design th().. bad objecu, may they be ever so elegantly "atreamlined" or "modern." Let •• rother educate tbe studenb to know what a good picee of craftsm111ship means, 10 thty will not help pl'oduce nor buy the junk and little by lillie the atandards of product~ wiD rioe ~ttordingly.
As I ace it, I see no belter woy of educating tloose fllture productft or buyers of mue·produeed tbogs than to ~ke them through the alwayo excelleD!, buio and instructive diocipl[ne of hond·worl. But this must be done in the most book and
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thoroup way, that will require yean of intcnae t.raining and not only a quick eourae eouated ill boon aod credits. ''Craun approach" does not neceuarily mean that you have to use new mouriob or new macbiaes, it is a melllal attitude not depending on thlnp only. So kt us bew~ of the dichts, an the 100re "" bec.uoe they are fashionable and bring ~- Not everylhing that has olood the leo! of centuria ia oboolete, not everytlting that man noaltes today is ol v~ far !rom iL Imide of that one buie pllltem of numkind, the« ia ample tw:ope for the saint and the criminal, the geni.,. and the idiot, the and the small. for all raea. lor ell form llr\CI for all grades of human d....elopment. To the ume way, man'o work and tbt objeeta he forms wiR change and evolve •lowly, not overnight and from the top down aoeording to a preconceived peuem, 1>"1 in the ume way as he matur.. and dOYelop. at a man. It seems to me thuo that we have to start at thit very point: change the need of man for bodly-deaigned object& to his request for wt/J-cl..,isntd onea and he will to itthot well-designed objects willl>e produced. Education is thu• the main and ultimotc·problem. For let'" beware of trying to change the outer-form of man'slife,the objects that surround him without doing anything to develop and raioe his deepeot human etsence. It has already ~ 11.$ !(> the following oituation that I quote from on induatrial puhli· cation: "We have not euceeeded in anawering all of our problema, . .. indeed we sometimes feel that we have not completely anawered any of them. The answers we hove found have only scrved to raise o whole new set of qutttion., in aomc way we arc as confused u ever, but we think that we are confused on a hlsher level and about more important things." Don't kt !hie be the only result of our Art Education I On the contrary let us resolve and pledge our$<lv.. to actually do what is needed to take the crafla out of their usual mediocrity and their dikttantie approach.' Let U$ build them up anew on a fundamental and competent basis, and that regarding both the techniques and the
tan
creative expression in their most varied imp]ication•.
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Sound cuflomansloip, honestly modern artistic: exp,..,..ion and "xeel~t deoisn for the induetry will he the natural resuh. I •ce no other way to brins the crafts and indu!lriol d..igl1 into a aound relationship.
r~IO
STIPH£NSON lUI Buker $11111, l>wrtoct, lt,.ta$ VI 2·1!11
lllHOUIKO. • MOD£\. .Uil.OJKG • tKOtOCit."''HY • .4tf WOIIC • OI'S.PUT$
T. S. F.li<>• rme
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tlut.Uion ,,f e dJut"''" '" ,.,
tnu\irl~ for tht" lint tim~.
md
th~c
tht
d1111C'1't
make.
•P-
lo -.hloh I can jump. Jumping end rollin~t on tht ~!()or do not par1ieularly toil my mode of npr...k~n. I am 1- in· ter<S~ed in hurling m.,vlf at ~ than I om In ~•tnlllitit'! of howrvtr r..t or "'""'·
The f"'rp<'ttdkular drAniti~n nl th• •~a in wbitll I ll'ltrk consi>t• nf the Ac>or lind tht hi(lhetl pqinl
dnn~.
il~
''ariou. timMt ~oo· •trg<: i!Jll> lht mam~nl oC t!tc
Ti.o'lt is what
rnavenle'ut
tnB\' he invMtrd wilh o new temporal rralih The Jon~t rt'A<h of In lml t·an N'Veal uena'"' uf rl~noil} - thr tum of a head <'In mirror ..-h.oo upon «"hi>S of r«<>lktti~n . Th<: dant<'t oontr"!. tim•. Thr danffl' real!) e~IN the mov~· ITW'Ol» c •hich rontAin itt imJijl~. Time can be prolong~; il eaod,.. arrtsted; it can be <kotroyed and then re-formed.
tion. In this IStrlm~u im~rvn.l, in th• curlous time o!tho dnnrt, fnmllln1
In R ria) th•rc arc thnu•ondo of wonh >~hi•h c:c:llo manifold lhuught.•. ond th~ t>lay of tlwvl(hl· ful ~peec-b lunru the ddl~htful limo of the thelltre. Thf" da.uct' i.. tnulf". Cnn~id,-r, that when I dan<~ I am •uddtnl) J,..r~ft of •p<Uh. eau~ht, •• in o dreont. in the falaluv uf m~ ~ tinn. Time i. thick and heavy, •ul· !~ ~<ith tl..- pon~nl ontl ur~tlll·) we lcnol'' nnly in tl~mot. h i• doorgcd ~nd fnu~tht ~<ith •U~R"'
u! tiJu,;-. lltl! thlff tn 6\e miuuteJ t)ul vf a lifetime. one nut-ti inn•kt Hn•;'• e.ntii ,. lwin,p-. Tim~ in the thoolt" i• reO.-·Ii'•·
olwrt-and "~"'" thi• pint>'•lnlinl'l
or
to • time
th,.
dant"l"
rtmot~ and di!<'i>H!r
lll(t~C' nn·aelf· u
40
flhJVt•utt'!nl
.,r
o simple JlO"'l'r-nntl JK"rhop$ to n . .
I want to find
ont" irnage.
plaotic orb, rJICh performanr" re· copitulut~ the ott ul crralion. The f<>JICopt is olhe and "Drkitlg, ..,,d confronts o1~c DiJ a llvmtc: prcsc~m:c:. How could we soy what living tblng lht donee <ymbolir...? Tho dam'tl it.,.J[_ t·vtn lho~.tgb thorough!) fabri,-arod. ami l"'f• bnpi bec:au!<! it ito ... a .. itled enatilln, cnnfronl.l une •• thr liviD~ thing. with lhr rnrntal 1'0D'<f•l and the •ibraut ""'""lit) rnt•rged into
~rmtiated ftt•w aoy of the
By lhe ,....,. na~ur~ of the clance,
Ifllt#l~
U/1/tU ~ iJ tNIYI~Ii1 ;~ N- YMi UM/tml 111fl licilfl C-e•t f<rfon!J-
ill•n• Mornum sr..tkJ biiiJtt <rit.6 Miclud Mor#H. .,, ,.,JM>~ IMtU< rrillr M~rtlu Cr•lwm. slu IUIJ&rmd Ju• """' J<Mol """ ,_,_, ;, ,.!.iJ#.
M el'le-Marsicano
lhe d•nce
our souls.
e11d )•I rttnin the &epornte,n""' of
deru.·ed to IJIU.Si(•t aocl T baw danced b> UUJ!ie. I think ,,f mua.ic a. an art of antnur·htd "hilf upun "loicb I mmt br.,athe for nl) ' " ) md<tonce, and ~tl lea\ r UlliOIWh'«f. jU<I , e tbr mU!it mu" fl""" thrnu~h *'>d k) ond m< "irhnul di•··~I<>Uri'lg the .. hire of 10) l.ting. We ruu~t bt.•<,ovme one
r han~
thr t'lpadt! tu -olidiiy or mrlt. It can t... hta')• rhrn rAriii.r d, or agitated ann be.:ahuecl. Sometim .... I h...- II> forrc mt way through if, end at other rimel I am dri•en hy it.
my fMt alone. The space &boot me, u f wlll il In do eo, can ,,.,_. lhr 01mr Uongiblc CC!!i>ltonre. The UJ"'rirnce of rn)' fe.t a.• thry prt"'l osain•t I~ weigh! of thr floor ~~~ be r.ranafel'Rd to m) banda • l.~y puoh tlrrou~ •poce. Th• handa then l>ecome the feet. I wont my movemento to isnite th<> tparc about me. ln different dant·ts, antl within rht space. of each dan~. I believe it i.• p<>Seihlll to evoke clifT,.rrlll ••~ of •pond to pia) with these identilieo. The •it •uluncl me ~~ to h.,.,.
aurac;tion. need nor oCcur undtT
au•pmded in alrabl above me. The fed of the floor. ita primarv
A• Cor thr Roor, I want to di .. tK>h·e rhc 6oor, I might pi- tho Rt><>r a!Hw• I'M, behind me, or AI rither tide. Sometim~ I fed that I Am detcending hdow the level of the floor, and 11 timeo I f~l
dane~.
point in •I"'~ mor~ ~lowly than my progre.• tuward it - tlnw~ than the rdurn of a jump woold allow - perh•p! thus i11'1p!yins ~attr diota~ and further limita than those lmpoied by phy•i.,., or o ooncept of reality outside the
tbi• ve"i~al utm.ion, I might wi.h to rec:over from •
rotn
STl,.[~SON
w• lafbf Slr11!, b . .m, (nUl
VI HUI
R•btl... • l!QW taa.lnl • tJHYCIUHl • .U.r •Oll • DUtUU
E 1:
••
Bec:ou.. of the very prevalence of il$ us~. many lallacic& regarding the camera hove penisted and grown; for instance, the uaompdon thot the c:amcra i• a ma<hine merely reeordins thot which is before the lens. This article rep,..,.,nto on auempt to ohow the baaie onooundnete of lim U$WDpdOD, to show "bot masic may lie hidden in enn the mOl( eommooplate objeets, and to indicate how m11<h the impenoaal camera (mKhioe) can respond to persons! ..Woi,. Conseqll<nlly, this arti<:le sumrMriz.. conduoions nol•ed by this writer since be began his photogrophH: work in 11)36 and prewonts variOIIS 1$pecl0 of the c:enlrd position which lie.a at the <ore of his work - a preliminory omline of a "philosophy of photogroplty." To clarify iuueo, it misJlt be well hl'$t to •-on•ider !he three basH: Indo of meon ins in on object and ccuaeqoently in a photograph : A. The nalt<ralitlic mooning of the e>bject, i.~.• the denotative'" praClkol n>eoning aacribed to it in doily life and correlatively the meaning of the photogroph as a record or document. This repreoents the documeDtory u.e of the carnert. B. The formal meaning of the object, i.e., its meaning in Ierma of properueo peculiar to itself •• a ching in itself; therefore, the mean ins of the pltotosraph in term& of de&ign, cexture, and tone. This repreoentl the purlet use of the camera. C. The •rmbolic meaning of the obje<:t, i.e., il3 mcaniDg in terms beyond itself; therefore, the meaning of the photograph in termt of its relation to human omotions and inner perception• and compulsions and to '" order or ~allty which exists only in the human mind and has nothing to do with the obje<:t as a thing-in-itself. This represent$ tht. •yrnbolic usc of the camera. Thia onalytis of the basic meanings in an object, and in a photosraph, apringJ Inherently from che central position mentioned above. Ita ideational basi& 1>r poatu• lat~ will be vory roughly outlined in che following paragraphs. 1. There is no ~ntial r.ason why the creative imagination cannot work with a ray of Hght uting on a sensitive surface in as true a sense as it can through a brush loaded with pigment, Bolh the bn.~•h and the camera ore merely vehicl" or tool• which can be animated by the living powtr of the imagination a. it flowa from the human mind into the object being employed in the porticulor medium being uted. The camera, lherefore, i$ a ma~bine only when it is used mechotli<olly. 2. Photot:raphy does not exist in •• impen-iout box, separate from all other orts. Design, bl.tck and white rtlationsbipo, space exploration, oQ relate phot911raphy to thr ucher srophit· arts or to pointing. 3. In tddition, tM inner iocenti....s thot lud to photouaphy, C41AnOI cxiot in the human mind iaolided from OYerytbios else. In the li•i•l! human mind nofhins is
the potentials of
creative photography Clarence John L4ughlin pl:otogr•ph.,.
N w.• Orle4nl
e.3
thot op into cfulinc:t compartmenla- aU thi~ interpenetrate and interact with one another. Photography. thet..tore, like any other art esp.._ton. ean grow from mODy lovels of man'• being, bntb con&eiouo and sul>eonaeious. This ;...eons that the photog· raplter can, and ah<>uld, draw upon <1U his experieru:e~ when making photogropMhis whole inoer world, the things he dreads •• well as the thing. that cause him to 10elt ~~auty". (See print number 2 •• an eJtBmple of this.) Thia truly creative pbotograpMr nev«r makes c:uual picture.- He never pbotograplu thi.,go unl•.. be haa a gen•ine and compel~ ruction to tbem. ThU ruction can. ...d ellould, iaYo!YO many aspects of his mind and his emotion•. Also, it may not neceaoarlly be a plea&ur· eble one. Therefore, he o{Un photograpM thing. be hate. or lean; mnreover, he bow, tho great sisnincanco of the "ugly". ~ause of hU. deep involvement with the inner life, photography becomes for him a way of life - not a hobby. not an amu..,.,ent, not o commen:ial purouit- but a part of life itself. His uoe of the camera becomes for hin> as n - r y e!ld inevitable as btuthins, .nd as nat1tt11l, becauae through it he n<>t or>ly tiea together all hi• other intere5tb, but more importantly, furthees his ~wn ability to m.Iy •ee the world around him; to render more proedoe, and more intense. his reaction• I<> thingo, t<> objec.._, to ideas. to the whole great web of beeuty and uglint$$ and horror which ourrouncl• him- &I eurrounda all others in the tenae and intricate world of today. Photouapby, therefore. hecamea involved witb every· thing he d""" ...d f~ls. 4. Since photography i.s related to some of the other arts, and ti~ the human imagination doeo no1 work in termo of compartmenlt, it followa that it is only by the fruitful interaction of photography with the other arte, that it is able to reacb ita highest level of expressiveneM. lin this writer's cue, it should be pointed out that no!WI of 1m pbotographa would h..e come into ~ing if it were not for his previous, tad conli,.ins, interttlt bt writing, pointit>g. poetry, P'yehology, au! archite«ur~) The creative photographer kn<>w• tomething not only about d...isn, but abolrt the other arts •• welL Often a concept whieh •tam out <>n a literary pion¢ t:&n end up by being translated to a photographic plane, with enrichment, if the photographer lcnowa how to make the tranolation in terms inherent in 1he photographic medium. The buic objedin of working in "'•m• of th... interactions, it to impart to the photograph more le-rd. of meeniog, and therefore, more points of reference to the k>tlll hWl'll:l ~ing. CExampleo of tills interminping of photouaphy, poetry, ...d paydtology can be round in printa 4 through 8.) 5. Reality, even •o·caUed "known" reality, is much more complex !han we o{len assume. Every object, even the moot commonplace. h11 mony level& of meaning. Some of tl!01e level$ Ire pTojections from the individual human mind or extorn•lizations of
individuality. In a ooci<ty which demando increuing conformity and which wanto us.,. &1\ on medium to moke them transferable. The c•m•r• C4n be used to e•plore and convey these level$ wlun it is used in conjunction with the imagination of lhe creative photographer. 6. The humon imagination hao tremendous importance; it lies at the very fe>undations of •lithe artt and odences; it gives the 6nol differenlU.tion to all human individuality. In a aociety which demmds ii'Hlreaaint; con£0<tllity, 18d which wonts to> make all men into J>$ydlo-pbysical rnadtn-, lhe import.,_ of tho imasinalion, aDd hence of the artiol, c""ooc be t"" greatly otr-.1. The signi6eance of photog· raphy. in thio eonneclion, io that beca•se of iu extremely widespread use, there -un on increue in the poo~ibility that it may expond oomewhat lhe averag<o level of lhe cre.atlve potenlials in m\!n- and the expansion of tht <:reative powen in man it the only hope againot toul rn""hanization. 7. No creative photograph can come into exiattnce wit/ww an act of imagina· tion. This act of imagination musr bridge the gap between the naturolistic meaning of the objtet and II$ pO<tic and symbolic meaninsa- ln e>tber wordo, it mu•t eo:prthe implications of the object nol muely in terma of a~Gr&u world- a world where the object may nol only baYe a more penonal and interior meanine;- but ukfmately, men. The - i t y o metming related to the bHic desires .,d eompubions of of th~ oct of imagination holds \rue n<Jt only for photography, but for painting and writing as w<oll and in its natu~ is e!lentially related in oil thrtt arl.S. (The eon«pt resulting from thla act of imagination mu•t then toke final form in terms of lhe techniques of the porllcular medium being used.) 8. This act of lma.f(ination, however, only """omeo pouibk {in painting and In photography I when the mind h.. become pre·eensiti.&ed ~fore the object is approached. This proceu of pre-sen•itization ia only another nam~ for a long and eompl6 proees& of imaginative evolution whicb toka place in the humon mind and which ....ullf in, special moanlnp being onached to .-.any objects, apecial rebtionahipo searched lor. opocial need., olld compulsions project.<d with every perception of the outer world. Almost everything that happenato an individual acto to color and shape thia imasinative evolution- and every other form of interest (euch •• the <>ther arts\. Ultimattly, ali of thi• determines whether the individual, in molting a
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&•5
photograph, iJ merely goins to loolc ot the object or i• going to truly set 11. If he merely k>oks ot it, then only its naturalistic meonins will be epp.rent (end it will oppear "commonplace''); but if he truly S<eJ it, then olher m.. ninga will start to shape themoelv~, and the object will become a cotaly&l, focel point, or projectioo for his inner world. It i• only in this way that the photographer can - the "~yond" in the object end it i• only in this woy, when the proper teehnique ensues, that the "mqic" of the object can ~ releuod. (For exompleo of tht "magic" of objects, - pri.ollllhrough 3.) Sometimes, the ereoriYe pnotot;rapher ean eonceive of integrations with whicll to expre11 certain them"' for photograph•, long bdore he can lind the thing. in the external world which corresponds to lhe.m. "fl-1e nature of the preceding proceos<!S glveo a real basis for feeling that the truly creotive photogrepher flike the true artist in any <It her medi•m) works from the inside out, ratbor than from the ou.lsidt In, II$ do m...et photographe.... 9. Photography is the only art medium which has truly grown out of the inttineic nature of our time. It bas evolved only u 1 result of the cli..,overiet of mode:n ~ch· nology oad the pr-ure of contemporary psychological needs. lt ia, therefore, one of the mo.ot authentic and integral mod .. of expr-ion posaible in the particular kind of world in whkb we live. 10. However, because of the very nature of this medium, the creative photog· rapber it forced to come to clooer grip• with hio eubjecl metter to w-t more bitterly with reality, and to extr8et from that 6ubject matter somethins which will ~ more th~n merely • document. He io, therefore, eopeciol!y liable to defeat. However, If he $UCCeeds - and he does thie partly by developing on aptitude for Kfuplng the multiple meaning of re1lity- then his !llcc... becomes peeuliarly eignilicant in terms of the role of the artist in our time. Moreover, it becomes especiaUy eignilieiJlt in terms of wh&t might be called, the evolution of modern aenoibility. II. In deoli•s with light, the photographer iJ de1ling with one of the most fundament.! and myetUioua thing. in the universe. It is related, on the one hand, to the haoic vital prO<'e..eo of all living !hinge, one! on the other, to the inner alllure of lime. All around uo, !n myriad and ine•haUilible ways, the magic of light revul•
il$elf. We are creatures of the li~t; photosraphy is nne of the m~t creative ways by which we can ...,.tllirm this ~lallonohip. Thio eompleles the list of postulates. I£ the creative photographer wishes to @.0 ever further than the exploration of the privt~ lbut communicable) meaning• of objecto, he can u.. a proc- of imoginativ<> tranomutation, whenby the most c<>ncrete object can become a rymllol - a tymbol, for in>tance, of the mental atm~phere of our time. Becauoe of ito complexity, thl• procett is not euy to describe; however, thi• writer h .. made an attempt to demonatrate thi• method, in practice, with a group of pictures begun in 1939 and now numbering ovu 200 print$. Here. by meons of complex integration• of human llguru I nearly alway• de-pers~nali....,d I with care· fully ..Jected background• aud with epecifically choaen objects. the writer has dealt with the inn•r reelity of our timo in aymbolic terms. Ultimately the pictures became image& of paychological aubatructuro of confusion, want. and fear whit.h have lr:d to two great World Wart. This alltmpl n~itated a more intricate relationing of interior ptr<:eption to the e•terior reality than would be involved in the method previously den<>ted u the rel...., of the object's "magic" (p<>Stulate number Rl. A precise analysis of the steps making this relationing pO>$ible would require an analy&i& of e.ach individual picture In the .-eries. Bri.,fly, the first step in the imaginative tran.mutatlon <>f a concrete object into a aymbol. is identical with that which mak•• the meaning of a picture - as a totality - different ond greater than the meaning of its pan.. Thi• 1\rst step is identical because the totality makes the midn ... rela· tionships which cnuld not exi•t separately In the pana. Henoe, in tbe photographs alluded to. the objocu become mort than concrete because they have Jdatioaships therein which they could not h&Ye had in thejr ori&{nol cont.,ltt•. further ~ is callt on the partkular ( ICiors involwcd in this pr~ o( i~ti•e tr8ltSMutation by the 1101es for the prinu herewith pr-..led. Prints 6 tbroo:IUo 8 are e:umpleo fr<>m thie series. Uted in terr.,. of all theoe potentiat., photography ~•• not only ttgain its dignity u "" an in ils own rJshl, but it con be made into a major art; an art that hu some· tbio11: ai&nifiC<~nt to .. y in ideational ond -betic terms; .,, an collffrned with more than merely "preny" piO'ur«• or factual reporting. In this way only, can the camera be rel..ud from ita aubaervience to n>eord·making, from its bondage to the salono, from itt. cunont liability to tho oneen of thooe who in$ist that it cannot be c,..,ative. Only thus <·an I he •·•mera deal - •• it has the ir•herent powt>r to d~al- with the wonder, ond tlle terror, of our own time.
•·6
T,iJtle Frighten~d Ghost a close-up of a seetion of trulfk of " gr-111t light,ingstrucJ. cypress tru in nonh Louisiana. from th1 b~dc shimmering world of the clum路ed cypress bM4, rises the m~~g~al little cre4tur-e, with timid ey<~s, who is fur/Ill of the world whi<;h it is suppoud to frighten.
1'he Sinister Window the w.sy so-c11lled inani,..,te objeets can lucome 11nmu.u with projected emotion, 11live with fHrs 4ttd des~es called up by their selective impmgt~m~nt on -past ex.pmemes stored in the obsn'1J41"s mind, is illustr4t8d h.,.e. while very depressed, the 'f>hotographw ch11ttc8d to m COtmter this ~ llnd instlltltly rellcted 10 it - it cOtft'Pletely externalized his mood. the ltll/8f'ed rag seems Jrying to nape the cwuh of the window; the slrektalsJ.n.b !u.s lu.d all iJs life bLuwJ- the integriJ路 lion expressmg " wry Jetuily ltind of futility. yet, the puture h..J significance aNi. -r:isual bHut:y; at1d thrJs becomes an eX<tfflple of the '""' tht~r 1h1 "'""" does 1101 need obvio...rly "beat~tiful" objects m ord.,. to crtMt8 effects of wlue 11nd p~er.
fRIO S'U,It(NSOM lUI h chr Sttttl, Uwmn, l!oor11 ' ' HHS llMOUINt • MOOt\. IIIU.DUIG • PMOJOIUtNf • .Uf WOU • biSfUtS
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thiJ pklf.,, «WS ,..J.e m11 f>IJrdy biU1UUI htnue m11 slam s1ctio, of N'"' Orluru- in • room fJJhw4 three uyers of wt~llP"P" wn'• ~elm: off. ..ou>.,. ,.,;, bl.mk-fautl fil"''• v:ith • tomtm:•rm, s1MnJ to , _ , , from the wt~ll, whil• tJround ittJr4 oth~r disturbin: ""d ~t~fg~tstiw sh•pes. tl"s' sltiJp1s, of COfU'Jtr, uri111 th#ir sil"ific"t~ee from th, mind's up«isy to t11111Ch .motUm.l, or cymbolic, ton110Uitiom to formJ prodt"ed ~~&citlentillly by th• slOf» ilti4 oftitlu.
here iJ ", im•g• of those tol>o, wuhu to !""' th11 rnlities ofthl!W 1~, il«om~ tr•~d the hous~ of lh4 fJIJSIIInd r«lc 1h1ir liws aw.y. they het:ome ghosts,
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th11 obieet (erownsng 1h1 hHd of 1M f'I'KUlel m4d11 phllnby 1h1 doub/1 exposu") b4eo•n~s " symbol of their eon/llli()fl. Wm4l
T h11 UnboNt
prim number 7
6ukground ;., which th4 fuling of btm'MJMSJ is intmsifl•ly lnlilt up, U/4 Je4 th<t figu,, with hM nettrotie Mfld1 u·ho 6~eomes a symbol of the QfWssl IJ
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now, 1n tit~U-h•unud •nd mystmous li:ht, we see zwo of thl lofl1ly columnr of 11n old Louisi11nt> f>UnstZsion
ho•mt, while between th4m rtrpos,s th4 nost•l[i& form of th1 a"'imt lnluy-the whole t>fcture becoming a viS'UIJl son: so the 11mbiguous mogi& of tim1 f>IJJt,
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womm ;, whom the d11ir1 for children is d•f.sted by ~:onditions within our s<Xi4''Y· note thtJr th4 tin-y h11Ja suggests at onc11 thl ltHd of a child, and '"at of an old man-sxpreuit~g th411nf4tJli:ud promis4s of tJn unborn gmeriJtiotJ.
A Mtmory of Undine this writer, 4S 11 chilJ,
print number 5 WtiJ
Undin• -1111 lO'IJely Wtlllr
f•slitWud by the legend of nymph who fted the morl4l
fiiOriJ, t.rown too strdnge IJnd hlrsh for her, b11cll. ;,to ;,., fnuntllin. l11rt the "neienr legmJ is #110lt1tl, 11 sort of r91h e~ntury guise, by meiJJJS oj11 Joub/1 •xposfR'e. th1 tn~~fic•l-t.r li:lw glum throu:lt the tirf's torso, wllil• lter1 eyes seem brighle'f still thin the s1:ue~ 11nd wnlum luminescence.
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The F1tad in thtJ W 11/l the brolcm op~nittg in 11 Sombed IH.ildmg, by • proceu of ,..ltU'iJl 6ecomts '"' horrible held of hil1;e& rhmg from thl ,.,.;n which jiiUs • society wltith c•nnot control 11s 011.... diS"'"trw fol'ces. a>ide from tht sym-
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