we need to talk about Donald.

Clinton v Sanders is important. they have crucial differences and those differences are worth litigating in the public square by passionate advocate-types and dispassionate referee-types. further, the resurgence of socialism as a legitimate political philosophy in american discourse is a development as surprising as it is inspiring, and worthy of its own discussion.

today, though, we need to talk about Donald.

i will not catalog his total disregard for the truth, which has been extensively covered elsewhere. he would also be the first major party presidential nominee in american history with zero political or military experience, but that's not what we need to talk about. the experience he is running on--managing real estate holdings, creating a celebrity persona, and licensing his name to various enterprises--is a parade of failure, fraud, and government bailout, but that's not the real issue.

Donald Trump is a gun to the head of Democracy. while his primary opponents continue under the delusion that they are running for president, Trump is appointing himself General and raising an army. he is drawing the support of the desperate and the frustrated, who believe themselves politically and culturally outnumbered. no conversation, no negotiation or compromise, will turn the tide in their favor. the only course of action is to smash their enemies to bits.

violence erupts regularly at his rallies, violence which he refuses to condemn, and in most cases actively encourages. in this he is clever but deeply unwise--the ghosts he summons have more power than he can possibly hope to control. conventional political constraints do not seem to apply: since the 60s, a vague awareness of the judgment of history has tended to check the racial pyromania of all but the most fringe politicians. Trump, however, appears unconcerned at his historical role as a warrior for white supremacy in the age of the first black president in a nation founded on black slavery. he is the political equivalent of a suicide bomber, an enemy you cannot defeat politically for political death is meaningless to him.

it's the violence that unsettles me most, for political violence is the death of Democracy. Democracy can best be understood as a concession to a rather bleak reality: that any group of people will necessarily disagree on questions large and small. when governments are founded on force and violence, it is the faction with the strongest and most ruthless army that will rule over the rest of us. disagreements are settled with blood. the winners are not the most righteous or deserving or persuasive or intelligent, but simply the most heavily armed. Democracy is the only governing system in human history that acknowledges the inevitability of our disagreements and devises a system to resolve them without violence. in theory, the weakest have as much voice as the strongest. this is the ideal, and while it has never fully been achieved, it is an ideal that we have tried to get closer and closer to as our own democracy has matured over the past 235 years. i am not a religious person, but the ideal of Democracy is as close to a sacred ideal as i hold.

Democracy is also very hard work, infuriating and unsexy work, full of half-loaf compromises and concessions to dastardly opponents. partisans of all stripes can easily find themselves daydreaming of a strongman who will bulldoze the opposition and enact our personal political wish list. the problem remains that there are 320 million of us and not one of those wish lists is alike. Democracy requires our acceptance of the fact that none of us will get exactly what we want, but each of us will have a say in the laws that govern us. the right of self-government was purchased with the blood of patriots from Lexington to Gettysburg to Selma. this right is precious, and it is not inevitable.

i don't believe Trump will win. i believe a majority of voters are embarrassed by the grossness of his racist and sexist persona, and do not wish to be represented on the global stage by his words and actions. what worries me is that the seal has been broken, that future politicians will be tempted to open the same poisonous toolbox when building their ladder to power. Trump, i believe, is not the end of a chapter but the beginning of one.

more on the monist and dualist aesthetics

i've been thinking through what exactly it is i mean by the "monist" and "dualist" aesthetics (see previous post here). it's important to clarify the distinction between aesthetic dualism and philosophical dualism, which i guess i could do by clarifying what i perceive to be the differing missions of art and philosophy.

philosophy is concerned with explaining reality (and the systems of thought that determine our perception of reality), while art attempts to describe our experience of reality. they appear similar, but in practice are so opposed to one another as to be almost incompatible. another way of putting it: a philosophical argument can be logically disproved, but a painting or a play cannot; a work of art is not considered to be "right" or "true" (or "wrong" or "untrue"); instead, we make the distinction between the works of art that come closer to describing what it feels like to be a person, and works that don't come as close.

philosophically, the notion of dualism--the mind existing as its own entity separate from the body--has been logically discredited; it is considered a fallacy (for now, at least). but fallacy is where art lives; you might even make the case that the whole point of art is to illustrate our illusions.

the dualist aesthetic describes not dualism as a philosophy, but dualism as an experience. it says: to live is to feel separated, from one's body, from the natural world, from other people. logically, we know this separation is not real, but we feel it anyway. i believe that in certain eras this feeling is much more prevalent than in other eras, and this manifests itself in our cultural record. we project our feeling of separation in all directions: it is in the sleek symmetry of an Apple product and the quantized percussion of EDM and hip hop. it is in the explosion of modernist art and architecture following the mechanization of the industrial age, and it is in the revival of classical ideals that flourished in the european renaissance and enlightenment eras. sometimes it celebrates this feeling of separation as a triumph over nature (as in classical art and architecture), and sometimes it condemns this feeling as a sort of curse (as in modernism's alienation), but the hallmark of the dualist aesthetic is that the feeling of separation is acknowledged.

i've also been wondering if this feeling of dualism might be built into christian and post-christian western culture. the fundamental christian myth is a story of humanity's separation from god; the expulsion from eden and the personhood of jesus christ are probably the two best illustrations of this motif. i fall into the camp of those who believe that the people make the myth and not the other way around, so i'm inclined to think that the rise of christianity as a world religion described some sort of budding awareness of this feeling of separation. (i haven't studied eastern religion or philosophy enough to make any authoritative statements here, but my general impression is that this feeling of separation is much more a feature of western religion and philosophy than eastern religion and philosophy. i'm not sure why this would be so, and i'm interested to learn more.)

so if the dualist aesthetic describes the fundamental human experience as one of separation, then the monist aesthetic does the opposite: it describes the fundamental human experience as being in balance with oneself and one's surroundings. it describes life's journey as something inevitable, rather than something strange. it contains an implicit criticism of the dualist perspective, effectively saying that dualism is nothing more than an illusion.

more on all this as i keep unraveling my thoughts.

The history of art is a dialectic between monism and dualism.

[Below are some thoughts on aesthetics I’ve been developing for a little while, and am still fleshing out.]

The history of art is a dialectic between monism and dualism; virtually all art falls into one of these two aesthetic categories. I use the terms “monism” and “dualism” in a slightly different way than they are commonly employed; I’ll explain below.



On Monism:

In traditional western philosophy, the term “monism” refers to a unity of mind and body. From an aesthetic perspective, monist art therefore describes the human experience as being contained within and part of the world around it, and especially as being subject to the laws and forces of nature (including human nature).

Realism, naturalism, romanticism, tragedy – these all traditionally reflect a monist perspective. Works featuring themes of interconnectedness, wholeness and unity, works that are built around archetypal or mythological motifs, works that emphasize instinct and human emotion (for good or for ill), fundamental unchanging truths (for good or for ill), tend to be works from a monist perspective.

Ironic distance is nowhere to be found in monist art, and is in fact the antithesis of it, as irony immediately creates a separation, simultaneously depicting the object and the critique of the same object: a dual perspective. Monist works do not seek to place the viewer/audience at a distance; instead, the goal is immersion, the suspension of disbelief. The monist work does not “wink” at the audience, it is played straight, intended to be taken at face value. This is not to say monist works are not often complex; in fact, monist works often operate at multiple levels simultaneously. However, the monist artist will take care to “hide the brushstrokes,” literally or figuratively, so that the viewer/audience does not necessarily have to be consciously aware of the many layers of meaning beneath the surface (in fact, it’s usually preferable for the deeper themes to remain at the level of unconsciousness, rather than calling attention to themselves). Genre storytelling—western, sci-fi, crime drama, romantic comedy—is traditionally monist, depicting a familiar moral universe that follows an agreed-upon set of rules in which the world is made balanced and whole by the end. Most popular and folk art (though certainly not all) is fundamentally monist as well; country music and folk music, for example, are prime examples of monist art, with organic, traditional instruments and familiar stories of fundamental human truths.

This description of monism can sound deceptively traditional; however, a monist perspective can be seen in many contemporary works of art. The second half of the 20th century witnessed a partial return to monist artwork: notably, the minimalist music of Glass, Reich, Adams and their contemporaries, which turn repetitive ostinato figures into immersive rituals; also, too, the action painting of Jackson Pollack and the later Rothko paintings, while abstract, could arguably be called monist, as they seem to depict the fractal patterns of the natural world (in Pollack’s case) or the pure sensation evoked by deep, saturated colors (in Rothko’s case). What these musical and visual works all share is an emphasis on art as something pre-logical and pre-intellectual, something to be felt physically as an emotional and intuitive experience.



On Dualism:

In western philosophy, “dualism” is the opposite of “monism” – the notion that the mind and body are separate entities (Rene Descartes is one of the most famous dualists). From an aesthetic perspective, dualist art therefore emphasizes, through form or content or both, the experience of feeling oneself, or even all of humanity, as something separate from the natural world; it often describes the self not as an organic whole, but as a fractured and fragmented construction.

Dualist art emphasizes the artificial, the manmade, the unnatural structures and symmetries that civilization has imposed upon the world. Both Modernism and formal Classicism are prime examples of dualist art; Classicism by celebrating humanity’s achievements as breaking away from the primal state of nature, emphasizing smooth shapes and ideal forms, and Modernism as Classicism’s shadow, emphasizing the alienation of existing in a machine-haunted environment, even to the point of resembling a machine. In dualist art, the presence of humanity is always felt – grids and straight lines, visible brush-strokes, irony or “self-awareness” that calls attention to the artifice of the work itself (as in Brecht’s “alienation” technique); these are hallmarks of art expressing a dualist perspective. Picasso’s famous definition of art as “the lie that tells the truth” is a classic dualist statement, not only because it contains a paradoxical dualism in and of itself, but because it describes the goal of making the viewer aware of the artifice, awareness of the artifice being the quintessential dualist description of the experience of reality.

The dualist perspective, especially in modern works, often places the viewer/audience at a critical distance from the work, signaling that the viewer/audience should not be “fooled” by emotionally manipulative techniques often employed in works of art from a monist perspective. The fracturing of perspective itself is a dualist trait, as in Cubism, conceptual art, and a great deal of modernist and postmodern literature (e.g. metafiction). Most popular art is monist, but a notable exception is hip hop music: its mechanized grid-like beats and frequently-ironic use of musical quotation through sampling reflect a strongly dualist perspective.

personal guidelines for creating a musical

i liked this post from Peter J Casey; most of his advice is about making sure form follows function, which i totally endorse. he also appears to recommend having a show planned out from first to last before the writing begins; i'm not as sure about that. i've found that writing from an outline constrains my story and characters before the writing begins; i usually don't really know who these people are or how they will act until i've written from their perspective for a period of time. i like to have a vague sense of how things start and how they will end, and maybe i'll have a few key moments envisioned, but also i like to have some freedom of movement when the actual writing is happening.

still, there are some questions that i know must be answered before too long; if i'm halfway through a draft and still don't know the answers, it's probably not going to work. here are a few, in no particular order:

musical questions

- what does the show sound like? generally, what world am i trying to create sonically? specifically, what are the instruments and what are the genres i'm using to create that world? i like to narrow in on a suite of sounds that stays consistent; after i've written a few songs, this usually comes into focus. the question of genres is tougher, but just as crucial (and i use the word "genres," plural; there had better be a wide range of genres referenced over the course of the evening, or else the songs will wash together and numb the audience with predictability). i've lately thought of it in terms of putting together a band: great bands can evoke multiple genres within the framework of their particular set of sounds and instruments. so i start to wonder - what's the band? what types of rhythms do they like? do they draw on traditional forms but use modern instruments? do they do the reverse? are there enough contrasting sounds in the band to create a wide palette -- unpitched percussive instruments (drums, straight percussion, for pure rhythmic functions), bass of some kind (bass is its own category, obviously, but has a rhythmic and a harmonic function, though normally not a melodic one), pitched percussive (like a piano, guitar or banjo, or pizz strings, to create rhythmic lines that also function as melodic or harmonic lines), and sustained-note instruments (string, brass or wind instruments, or their electronic equivalent, to create sustained harmonies and melodic lines)? those four categories need to be all covered, i've found, especially when you're writing music that is driven by rhythm, as i believe musical theater mostly needs to be (you might note that three of the four categories involve rhythm, and i've found rhythmic counterpoint should involve a minimum of 3 parts unless i want the arrangement to sound really boring).

- what does each character sound like within the world of the show? this is partly about genre, and i really try not to have only one genre happening at a time; again, it gets too predictable. what usually happens is the instruments are each suggesting a slightly different genre -- for example, maybe the piano is playing a philip glass-style ostinato, while the strings are slurring and bending notes like bluegrass fiddlers, and the bass line is on a low synth in straight quarter notes, evoking new wave or EDM, while the drums play some version of the traditional "be my baby" phil spector girl group beat. so, with those four sounds all rubbing up against one another, what is being said about the character? what information do those four genres communicate to the listener about the person and the situation? what sort of conflicts are built into those contrasts? sometimes i start with the music, and let the music tell me who the character is, and sometimes it's the opposite, depending on how the writing evolves. by about the halfway point, though, i need to have a good sense of how the character sounds musically. genres will tell us other things about the character, also -- for instance, does the character wear their heart on their sleeve? are they guarded? are they tortured by something deep? are they blissfully unaware? are they always trying to "sell" something (a car, a point of view, a religious or political doctrine)? do they only express themselves ironically? again, there should be a contrast -- some characters reveal themselves and some work to conceal, and the music should reflect those differences. i find that no one should be too simple as to be reduced to one particular genre (this guy sings springsteen anthems! this woman only sings 12-bar blues!) but should evoke several at once, preferably in ways that the audience won't really have an immediate reference for. i've seen plenty of shows in which the book is doing a ton of heavy lifting with character development, only to have the music start and tell us from the opening bars that the song is going to be like a thousand others i've heard before, obliterating any uniqueness and specificity that i'd come to associate with the character. predictable music tells me i'm watching a predictable person.

story questions

- what is the point of the show? what about the human experience is being illuminated by the show? what makes this show necessary? a musical takes years to bring to fruition, and i don't want to invest that time and energy if i can't answer the question of why this show should exist in the first place.

- am i telling the audience what they want to hear, or am i getting as close to the truth as possible? this one doesn't require much elaboration, but is a question that i am constantly posing to myself, throughout the writing process.

- why am i drawn to this story? what am i wrestling with that is working itself out on this script? i find that i need to constantly interrogate my own perspective, and be brutally honest about why i want to write a particular story. i just finished a draft of a piece that is ostensibly about slavery and the civil war, but is, on a much deeper level, about loss of historical memory. i was about three quarters done before i realized that i was being pushed along by unresolved anger at a piece of family history that was swept under the rug for a number of years and only recently came to light. this realization helped me to focus that theme and bring it out as much as i could; it became the burning emotional center of the whole show.

- what is the dialectic? this is a fancy way of saying, what are the opposing principles or points of view that battle amongst one another? this doesn't need to be intellectual; it can be as simple and fundamental as, one character believes in the interconnectedness of all things while another believes we are each ultimately alone in our existence. the dialectic should be what i think of as an unsolvable riddle; the show isn't going to present an answer or declare a winner.

practical questions

- is this show about an event that happens to a community of people? if it's not, it probably won't work as a musical. there are exceptions (Hedwig comes to mind) but normally a musical is about a group of people going through some sort of change event -- a small town in Iowa, a small town in Oklahoma, tenement residents of the west side of manhattan, tenement residents of the east village. it's rare that a show can work that doesn't involve a community dealing with some kind of disruption.

- is the story in some way archetypal? if not, it probably won't be a good musical. musicals have one foot in the real world and one foot in archetype - i can't really think of a classic show that becomes part of the repertoire that isn't telling an archetypal story. this is what's tricky; it can be hard to create an archetypal story without becoming predictable.

more questions to come as i think of them...

about me

i am a texas-born brooklyn-based writer/composer/lyricist working mostly in the theater. my music incorporates both traditional instruments and electronic composition techniques, including samples, with a strong emphasis on fusing various "American" genres and framing older forms in a contemporary way. i'm obsessed with the mythology of the United States. and with rhythm. and with post-minimalist music. and with the fuzzy line between "high" and "low" art. i write a whole lot about race and the legacy of white supremacy in America. and sometimes about robots.

my shows have been performed in New York in various concert performances, and in full production at the New York Musical Theatre Festival (STREET LIGHTS, 2009; WHITE NOISE, 2006). after winning a Summer Theater Award for best score, WHITE NOISE was optioned by Whoopi Goldberg for Broadway. it almost made it there, but closed out of town. all my songs had been cut by that time. i'm not suggesting those two phenomena are related, just giving you guys the information. STREET LIGHTS got picked up by the Old Globe Theatre in San Diego for a production, but the creative team fell apart in rehearsals so it never quite happened. we all learned so much, though, you guys.

i studied composition for a year at Berklee College of Music in Boston, but left after a year. the tuition was too damn high. but mostly i just wanted to get to New York as fast as i could.

other interesting tidbits: i worked as the primary speechwriter for Howard Dean's failed presidential campaign in 2003, and got to write a number of great speeches, several of which Dean actually delivered. i didn't write the one you're thinking of. but i did get to write this one, which a prominent African American periodical called "the most important statement on race in American politics by a mainstream white politician in nearly 40 years". i also got to write a 5,000 word essay on poverty in America for Vanity Fair magazine. under the name "Howard Dean", of course, but it was still pretty sweet.

ABC Primetime also did a segment on WHITE NOISE in 2006, so i can credibly say that my music has been featured on national television.

my first musical, SKY'S END, was produced when i was 18 at the Blank Theatre Company in Los Angeles. i got nominated for an L.A. "Robbie" award for Best Music and Lyrics. Back Stage West published a scene from the show, so i can credibly call myself a published playwright.

snippets of music to come...

On the Creation of Art versus the Creation of Porn

what is art? as one who considers myself/aspires to be an artist, i've lately felt compelled to answer this question. i've always had a vague, "i know it when i see it" approach to determining artistic merit (a standard once famously applied to pornography; more on that below). i've come to believe that this approach is not sufficient, and after some reflection, i've hit upon the beginnings of my own understanding of the term as i use it. the breakthrough happened when i hit upon what i believe to be the opposite of what i mean by "art": namely, porn.

i should note here that i'm approaching this as a practicing artist, not an academic; i have read some aesthetic theory, but am by no means an expert on aesthetics, so i'm sure that some of what follows is not original to me. however, i'm eager to hear about any academic writing that has been done along these same lines, if only to sharpen my ideas, so please feel free to enlighten me if i'm treading on familiar ground.



PART ONE: DEFINITIONS.

a definition of "art". my broadest, most comprehensive definition is this: art is the conscious attempt by an individual, or coordinated group of individuals possessing a singularity of vision, to comment on some aspect of human existence through the use of non-literal representations.

breaking the definition down a bit:

"...the conscious attempt..." this is to say that art is not simply anything we observe which inspires a revelation; art must be created with deliberate intent. a sunset or a flower or even the bustle of commuters at grand central station observed from above may be beautiful, may arouse emotion, may even trigger a breakthrough in awareness, but the end result is not enough. if these phenomena are art, then the definition of "art" can be applied to any and all aspects of reality, according to the subjective experience of the observer. if art simply means anything that inspires someone, the word becomes meaningless. art must be created intentionally, as it must contain a "comment" (more on this below).

"...by an individual or coordinated group of individuals possessing a singularity of vision..." see above re: deliberate intent. it is obviously possible to create a work of art through the collaborative process, but the difficulty lies in the singularity of vision, since individuals are very likely to have different and conflicting goals, either with regard to the substance of the "comment", the best techniques for achieving the "comment", or the goal of creating art in the first place.

"...to comment on some aspect of human existence..." the crux of my definition is this word, "comment". to be art, it must "say something". the substance of whatever is being "said", along with the artist's success at "saying" it, is what makes some art better than other art, but the comment is required. i'm not talking about anything political or pedantic here; in fact, any "comment" that can be reduced to rhetoric falls into the category of art's opposite (see below), due to its predictability. the perfect symmetry of a bach fugue or a da vinci painting, the multiple perspectives of cubism or "the rite of spring", the dada of duchamp's "fountain" or the absurdism of a kafka story -- all these are departures from reality which create a comment on reality in the audience's mind. bach's music--or da vinci's painting--says, reality is more beautiful and symmetrical than you realize. "the rite of spring" or "les demoiselles d'avignon" says, there are more perspectives existing simultaneously than you realize (and they can crash into one another with great force). duchamp's urinal sculpture says, art itself is more than you have previously envisioned. kafka says, life can be as ridiculous and inexplicable as the experience of waking up as a cockroach one morning. (these are obviously simplistic reductions of the effects of these works of art, but you get the point.)

"...through the use of non-literal representations." art must depart from a literal depiction of reality, and by doing so, draw attention to that particular aspect of reality. non-literalism is how the comment is achieved. a reproduction of reality, in other words, is not art, even though it may be created using the same techniques. it contributes no new information, it contains no comment. like the spontaneous phenomena discussed above, reproduction of reality may coincidentally inspire some sort of breakthrough or awareness, but it does so only by accident. art must depart from reality, and this departure is where the "comment" happens, as it is this departure from reality, this non-literalism, that catches the attention of the audience. (even duchamp's "fountain" discussed above, while seemingly plucked from reality, is a deliberate departure from the reality of an art exhibit, forcing the audience to reckon with a new notion of art itself.)

the opposite of art is porn. porn is faux-art, often produced with the identical techniques as art, but which does not go beyond pure gratification (which includes intellectual gratification – i.e., flattery of the audience’s assumptions and prejudices). i believe that most of what humans create, even in the guise of creating art, is actually porn. its goal is to satisfy, to gratify.

i will note there that these two distinctions -- art and porn -- are not hierarchal. one is not superior to another; both are necessary in their own way. gratification is a wonderful experience, and we long for it, as surely as we long for the revelation produced by art. that being said, the creation of art is a far more difficult task, as there are so many traps which the artist can fall into and in so doing, create porn instead. i would even venture to say all artists create porn sometimes, and some even do so most of the time (however, no one who is intending to create porn can create art, since the intent is not there, and therefore any comment is accidental). incidentally, i don't exclude myself from this category; most of what i have created in my lifetime would be categorized as porn. part of the reason for me writing this essay is to bring the distinction to light in my own mind, and apply it to my own process, so that i understand what it is that i am creating. there is nothing wrong with creating porn, i just don't want to create porn while deluding myself into believing i was creating art.



PART TWO: GUIDELINES FOR THE CREATION OF ART VERSUS THE CREATION OF PORN.

this is not a comprehensive list; it is a continuously updated work-in-progress.

first guideline: art is a form of communication, and therefore requires an audience. artwork with no audience is self-gratification, i.e. porn.

second guideline: art presents a point of view; it cannot be value-neutral. a work of art, by definition, takes a stand with regard to its subject. it presents a way of looking at the subject that says, in effect, it is this way, and not some other way. art that strives not to offend by not taking a stand on its subject defers to the gratification of the sensibilities of the audience; it is porn.

third guideline: the tension in art is between the fulfillment of the audience’s expectations and the subversion of those expectations; art ultimately must never err on the side of fulfillment. all art sustains its tension and momentum by maintaining a balance between the fulfillment of the audience's expectations and the subversion of those expectations, but if the ultimate effect errs on the side of fulfillment, what has been created is not art, but porn.

fourth guideline: art uses aspects of porn, but does not succumb to them. since it requires the engagement of the audience, much effective art uses the techniques of porn in service of the larger goal of the comment. "art" does not mean "boring" -- the artist must hold the audience's attention, often fooling the audience into thinking that they're watching porn by creating moments of gratification. incidentally, porn, too, may use the techniques of art (mostly to flatter the audience into believing they have had the experience of artistic revelation rather than a pornographic gratification).

fifth guideline: the subversion of expectations is how the comment is achieved.. this is related to the discussion of non-literal representation above. it is only by subverting the audience's expectations that art can call attention to itself and its intent. fulfilling the audience's expectations simply gives them information they already have.

sixth guideline: a work of art communicates that which is beyond the power of description and cannot be fully explained, only experienced. if the point of it is only to communicate an idea that can be explained rhetorically, it is pedantic, and ultimately predictable (ultimately fulfilling expectations), i.e. porn.

seventh guideline: a "good" work of art reveals something new to the audience. A "great" one forces the audience to acknowledge a reality which already exists, but which the audience has been concealing from themselves.This is what makes the creation of a "great" work of art so difficult; its intentions are almost indistinguishable from the intentions of porn (which is why attempts to be "great" are so often so bad). the task of revealing something already known to the audience is almost exactly the same as fulfilling their expectations; the difference here is that the artist is able to identify that which is being concealed, and know how to force an audience to admit it. this, for example, is the essence of tragedy in theater: with, say, death of a salesman, the title tells us the ending beforehand, but the audience has a hard time believing that either (a) willy loman will die or (b) if he does, that it will be not because he broke the rules and conventions that he is supposed to live by, but because he followed them. the greatness of the play is that the audience knows the truth -- that the conventions of the "american dream" can be a lie and a trap -- but hopes against hope that what they know to be true is not in fact true.

eighth guideline: with art, the artist is the ultimate dictator. In porn, the audience is the ultimate dictator.

ninth guideline: art exposes, and makes the audiences aware of, the gap between our personal or cultural illusions and the realities of our existence. as indicated above, the primary tool for exposing this gap, and creating the audiences awareness of it, is subversion of expectations. porn, on the other hand, works to conceal the gap between our cultural illusions and the realities of our existence. that is its goal -- to assure the audience that all is right with the world, and that the illusions they walked in with will not ultimately be shaken.

tenth guideline: the expectations of the audience are a constantly-shifting target; what was "art" yesterday is "porn" today. this is perhaps the most frustrating aspect of being an artist, to continually adapt his/her tools and techniques to stay one step ahead of the audience's expectations at all times, since today’s audience will be wise to yesterday’s subversions. a replica of yesterday’s "subversive" techniques produces today’s porn.

more thoughts as they arrive...

UPDATE:

eleventh guideline: all art is, by definition, experimental. if art requires comment, and comment is achieved through subverting expectations, it follows that every new work must be, in some sense, an experiment. if there is no part of the work that is an experiment, if it is using techniques in ways that have already been proven to "work", then the piece comes with a set of pre-existing expectations that will be fulfilled. this is porn.

twelfth guideline: most of the experiments required in the course of making art will fail. this does not push the experiments into the category of porn; however, it means that the artist is constantly running the risk of having his/her experiments fail to connect with audience in the way that the artist intends. repeated failure is often the price of attempting to create art. this is also what makes porn so seductive; any experiment risks failure, whereas sticking to a tested formula is more likely to create (temporary) "success".

this

TNC:

I don't have any gospel of my own. Postwar, and the early pages of Bloodlands, have revealed a truth to me: I am an atheist. (I have recently realized this.) I don't believe the arc of the universe bends towards justice. I don't even believe in an arc. I believe in chaos. I believe powerful people who think they can make Utopia out of chaos should be watched closely. I don't know that it all ends badly. But I think it probably does.

I'm also not a cynic. I think that those of us who reject divinity, who understand that there is no order, there is no arc, that we are night travelers on a great tundra, that stars can't guide us, will understand that the only work that will matter, will be the work done by us. Or perhaps not. Maybe the very myths I decry are necessary for that work. I don't know. But history is a brawny refutation for that religion brings morality. And I now feel myself more historian than journalist.