Creating Order in Order to Create

William Barrett writes, in his book Irrational Man, of the “almost intolerable” classical Western form for music, or art of any kind, which used to demand a beginning, middle, and end. The Western perspective was caught up in the view that the universe – life – was rational. I think his argument is flawed because every work of art – every creation – has a beginning, middle, and end. It may not be structured so, but its existence proves it. Kids in the Hall performed a sketch in which Kevin MacDonald stepped forward to say he had not written much for the show lately, so he wrote a sketch with no beginning or end, just middle. It was humorous for its imagery, but it was nonsensical; there was no narrative. But the sketch was written; it had not existed before that. There was a time when Kevin began to write it, was in the middle of writing it, and finished writing it. The sketch, as it was performed, began when the lights came up and ended when the lights came down. Every creation, even the nonsensical, has rationale behind it. The artist has displayed his work in public for some reason. If the artist wants to convince people life is nonsensical or irrational, then his rationale is to persuade, or to reveal some truth. Barrett has some rationale for writing Irrational Man.

Barrett writes “The final intelligibility of the world is no longer accepted” (56). Why, then, study philosophy or poetry? Why create one’s own if we are not trying to make some sense of it all? Doesn’t every philosopher and every poet attempt alchemy – to create the philosopher’s stone? In order to create I must create some order. I must arrange the elements – my experience, my knowledge, the images, the language, the medium, etc. – to create the poem that did not exist before. If I believed the world had no order, had no intelligibility, I would not create, which I believe is a reflection of Divine Intelligence. I don’t expect to create the philosopher’s stone, but I will continue to attempt it.

The "Spiritual Poverty" of Modern Art

William Barrett writes of modern art that it stabs the "Philistine's sore spot, for the last thing he wants to be reminded of is his spiritual poverty" (Irreation Man 49). This is why so many Christians have little use for 'culture' of the past fifty years -- whether visual art, music, film, television -- not because it reminds them of their spiritual poverty, because they are not spiritually bankrupt, but culture is. If I am angered, as Barrett takes pride in prompting, it's because I may have paid for this art by taxation. Pity, or sorrow, is the more dominant feeling, for the artist is bankrupt. Christians still have the value for art that Horace and Sir Philip Sidney espoused: that it should delight and instruct. When both of these qualities are instilled or evoked, art reaches its zenith, and we are edified. It seems so much modern art has little to teach, other than to deconstruct what was once established, and there's little delight in disillusionment. The anger Barrett relishes is no longer in the audience, it's in the artist. The artist's message does not stab my sore spot; but I wonder why he is so proud to display his wounds.