S1: The whole reason why we tell stories. We imitate human
S1: action in stories and in art more generally, is because
S1: human life itself takes the form of a story. I
S1: don't want to say that a story is a completely
S1: artificial construct. It is artificial. It is a work of art,
S1: but it is imitating a narrative trajectory that's there in
S1: human life, in a much messier way, in a in
S1: a way that's much harder for us to get our
S1: heads around.
S2: Welcome to the Habit podcast conversations with writers about writing.
S2: I'm Jonathan Rogers, your host, Daniel McInerney, is associate professor
S2: and chair of the philosophy department at Christendom College in Virginia.
S2: He's also a novelist and a dramatist. His scholarship is
S2: directed toward reactivating Aristotle's understanding of art as imitation, an
S2: idea long out of favor among philosophers. His biggest step
S2: in that direction is his new book, Beauty and Imitation
S2: A Philosophical Reflection on the Arts. Peter Kreeft wrote of it,
S2: this is literally the best book on beauty that I've
S2: ever read, the most convincing, clear and comprehensive, the most
S2: eye opening and satisfying, the most insightful and delightful. It
S2: is a masterpiece. In this episode, doctor McInerney and I
S2: talk about why human beings take so much pleasure in imitation.
S2: We talk about the odd fact that an imitation can
S2: often afford us a better insight into a thing than
S2: does the direct experience of the thing itself. Also, we
S2: talk about Christopher Walken. Daniel McInerney. I'm so happy to
S2: have you on The Habit podcast. Thanks for being here.
S1: Jonathan, it's it's an honor to join you today.
S2: Yeah. Would you tell us. I just want to start
S2: where I often start. Give us the 92nd version of, uh.
S2: Of your book.
S1: Well. Thank you. I like a verb that one of
S1: my reviewers used when writing his blurb for the back
S1: of the book, he referred to my book as a
S1: re-activation of an Aristotelian and Thomistic understanding of what we
S1: typically call the fine arts. So what does that mean?
S1: It means that I am defending a notion of art
S1: as imitation. And that's a loaded word, because I think
S1: most of the times when we hear that word imitation,
S1: we think copying. Yeah. And it's not. It's a far
S1: richer notion than that. Uh, far from copying. It's a
S1: way of attempting to freshen our understanding of the reality
S1: of things. And so my book is, is developing that
S1: understanding of, of the arts as imitative, as mimetic, and
S1: therefore as related to our human pursuit of the truth.
S2: Ah, uh, truth also, uh, the human pursuit of happiness
S2: and pleasure. Uh, I think it's. Is that fair to say?
S1: Yes, yes. I mean, the the central truth that I
S1: think any work of art attempts to, to, to capture
S1: is the truth about the human quest for fulfillment, what
S1: we commonly call happiness. So we're trying, in short, whether
S1: it's a novel, whether it's a painting, whether it's a
S1: piece of music, a sculpture, we're trying to understand what
S1: is it saying about how human beings achieve or perhaps
S1: fail to achieve their happiness. And that means that that
S1: a work of art is, as we say, is trying
S1: to say something. It has a meaning. Or, as I say,
S1: perhaps more provocatively in the book, a work of art
S1: is trying to make an argument about what it means
S1: to live the happy life.
S2: Yeah, yeah. I um, when I ran across that statement
S2: that Art is trying to make an argument, uh, I
S2: pulled up short. I have to say, um, and I
S2: we'll get back. We'll get back to that idea of
S2: art as an argument. Um, and but I do want
S2: to talk about why mimesis, that is, imitation is pleasurable.
S2: It's an odd thing that that we just enjoy imitation.
S2: And you spend some time talking about a Christopher Walken impression,
S2: which is more entertaining than Christopher Walken. Yeah.
S1: Yeah. In his in his little book, The Poetics, Aristotle
S1: talks about imitation as absolutely fundamental to human nature. It's
S1: it's something that we do instinctively. We don't need to
S1: be taught us how to imitate. So I see my
S1: little grandson, who just turned three, but when he was
S1: still just two, when his father would work with tools
S1: around the house, he would sit down and start using
S1: his toys as tools. And I think I'll follow Aristotle here, too.
S1: I think it's again, it's connected to our natural desire
S1: for truth. It's our it's it's our chief way, I
S1: would say, of trying to make sense out of our world,
S1: trying to understand what's going on around us. My little
S1: grandson doesn't really understand what his father is doing, but
S1: he sees him kind of hitting things with objects. That's
S1: the best sense he can make of it. So he's
S1: going to imitate it to see if he can, if
S1: he can get his head around it. And we're still
S1: doing that as adults. When we read a novel, watch
S1: a film, or listen to a piece of music.
S2: Um, can you draw that? Can you draw the connection?
S2: In what way does, um, imitation, um, help us to
S2: figure out the world or, uh, in what ways is
S2: my experience of reading a novel, watching a movie parallel
S2: to your grandson's experience?
S1: Yeah. Good. It's it's certainly more complex. I think that's
S1: what you're noticing. But when I sit down to read
S1: a novel, I'll take, um, I'll take an example pretty
S1: much from random from my shelves here. A Jane Austen novel.
S1: I'm reading. Persuasion. What's being imitated in that work are
S1: human beings. Human beings doing stuff? They're acting. They're falling
S1: in love. They're falling out of love. As I said earlier,
S1: it's it's depicting the human quest for happiness. And so
S1: as I read the novel, I, with Jane Austen's help,
S1: am thinking about what does it mean to fall in love? Um,
S1: what does it mean to fall in love with the
S1: wrong person? With the right person? What makes for the
S1: best kind of marriage? What is real friendship? Uh, what
S1: is family life? I am, whether I'm completely conscious of
S1: it or not. I'm mulling those things over as I
S1: read the novel and to connect with an earlier thought.
S1: Jane Austen is making an argument about how we should
S1: answer the sorts of questions that I was just listing.
S2: Yeah. You you talk about the idea that, um. Well,
S2: you say stories aren't just packaging, but rather, um, they're
S2: a way of contemplating the narrative structures that are inherent
S2: to human life. And so, um, we don't, oddly enough. Um, a.
S2: A real, let's say, a realistic author who fails to, uh,
S2: imitate the way human beings actually act is less believable
S2: than a fantasy act, you know, fantasy author who's who's
S2: talking about orcs and elves, and yet those orcs and
S2: elves behave in ways that that that imitate the way
S2: people actually work in, in the real world. Um, and so, um, yeah.
S2: Can you say a little more about that idea of
S2: narrative structures that are inherent to human life?
S1: Yeah, there's there's at there's at least two big thoughts here.
S1: We should distinguish. First thing I would say is the
S1: whole reason why we tell stories. We imitate human action
S1: in stories and in art more generally, is because human
S1: life itself takes the form of a story. I don't
S1: want to say that a story is a completely artificial construct.
S1: It is artificial. It is a work of art, but
S1: it is imitating a narrative trajectory that's there in human life,
S1: in a much messier way, in a in a way
S1: that's much harder for us to get our heads around.
S1: So again, what someone like Jane Austen does is it
S1: is she, uh, she puts the events, the characters together
S1: into a plot that is far more compressed than human
S1: life is and allows our minds and and our our
S1: delight to get around that story so we can contemplate
S1: it better. The other big issue involved in your question is, is,
S1: and especially if we're talking about fiction, is an author's
S1: ability to be persuasive. Uh, the imitation needs to persuade.
S1: That doesn't mean that the imitation needs to be super realistic,
S1: as we see with fantasy literature. Uh, it can be
S1: realistic in certain ways, even when it's not portraying, uh,
S1: human beings. But nonetheless, if someone like Tolkien is going
S1: to give us a hobbits and orcs and even talking trees,
S1: those characters have to be persuasive within that world. We're
S1: going to grant Tolkien that he's going to give us
S1: a fantasy world, but in that world it it has
S1: to have a certain logic that is compelling.
S2: Yeah. You know, I always say the that question at
S2: the start of so many, you know, fantasy stories or
S2: stories at all is, you know what? If you know,
S2: what if there was a world where, you know, there
S2: are ants and orcs and elves, but there's always an unspoken, uh,
S2: preamble to the question of what if? And that is
S2: knowing what we know about human beings. What if they
S2: lived in a world that was covered in water, or
S2: that didn't have water, or where gravity didn't work or whatever?
S1: Right, right. That's a nice way of putting it. I've
S1: never put it quite that way to myself before. But
S1: you're I think you're absolutely right. We always take our
S1: own knowledge of how human beings are into our enjoyment
S1: of the work. And I would even contend, even if
S1: the work does not contain any imitation of a human character.
S1: They're all just pure fantasy creation creations. We're still taking
S1: our understanding of human beings and our human quest for
S1: happiness into our understanding and enjoyment of that story.
S2: Sure, yeah, Peter Rabbit might look like a rabbit and
S2: he might go, but. But he's not a rabbit.
S1: Exactly, exactly.
S2: That's always the question of if you were in a
S2: position where you were that little and that vulnerable to
S2: a farmer. McGregor what would a person do? Not not really.
S2: What would a rabbit do?
S1: That's nice. Yes, I agree.
S2: Yeah. Um, you point out that a story pictures a
S2: human pursuit of some good, which is also, you know,
S2: Aquinas would say, and Aristotle would say that's what human
S2: beings are doing anyway. They're always in pursuit of some good.
S2: They may be wrong about what's good, and maybe they
S2: may be mistaken about what's going to make them happy, but.
S2: But that connection, the fact that we are always seeking
S2: what we think is going to be good for us. Um.
S2: That's a direct connection to how story works. You you argue?
S1: Absolutely. There's nothing that human beings do. That isn't in
S1: pursuit of some good. I hesitated there because you mentioned Aquinas.
S1: He does make some, uh, some exceptions to that. He
S1: talks about if someone scratches their beard, you know, or
S1: if you are, uh, jiggling your foot while you're watching
S1: television or something. Maybe you're not. If that's an action,
S1: it's not clearly in pursuit of a good. But every
S1: most everything in life, from flossing your teeth to taking
S1: out the garbage, to recording a podcast, to studying philosophy
S1: to enjoying art, It's all in pursuit of good. But
S1: it's not a disorganized array of goods. It's an ordered set.
S1: And so it is ordered to a first and most
S1: perfect good. It's ultimately going to be God that is
S1: going to fulfill our desire for happiness. And stories, in
S1: one way or another, are going to try to track
S1: a protagonist's pursuit of a good, and perhaps even explicitly,
S1: the highest good.
S2: Yeah. Uh, you draw a distinction that I thought was
S2: so helpful between purposes and ends. Mhm. Um, can you
S2: draw that distinction here?
S1: Yeah. It's good. I don't want to claim it's original
S1: to me. It's a wonderful philosopher. Francis Slade uh, introduced uh,
S1: that distinction in some writing of his. It's an it's
S1: a a crucial distinction for understanding how human action, the
S1: human pursuit of the good and happiness works and how
S1: that action is imitated in stories particularly. But I would
S1: still argue for any kind of art. So the distinction
S1: comes down to this. Ends are built into the very
S1: beings of things. They are the fulfillment of things. So
S1: the end of the acorn is the oak tree. The
S1: end of the newborn human baby is the fully flourishing
S1: adult human being. Purposes are are choices that we make.
S1: They are our projects or plans that we pursue in
S1: a given set of circumstances. So I imagine a little
S1: later on today, I'll decide to have dinner with my family,
S1: or I may answer an email or go for a walk.
S1: Those are purposes. They may harmonize with my end. Or
S1: they may diverge from my end. What stories do is
S1: they show us through the protagonist's adventure, the interplay of
S1: ends and purposes. We we watch the character's choices, and
S1: we're we're asking ourselves, is this character's or are the
S1: are this character's purposes aligning with the character's end? Uh,
S1: are these choices illuminating the end, or are his choices
S1: obscuring that end for for him? And that's a that's
S1: kind of a philosophical contemplation. Um, we do it there
S1: on the couch on Saturday night, perhaps as we watch
S1: the movie. But it's it's a very serious attempt to
S1: again to understand the human adventure through art.
S2: Yeah, I like your language of, um. Stories reveal meaning
S2: by showing us the purposes of a of a protagonist
S2: as being either adequate or inadequate to the human end.
S1: Yes. That's right.
S2: That's a really. You know, I think that's a really
S2: helpful way of talking about, um, the the moral weight
S2: of a story. Yeah.
S1: Exactly.
S2: That's that's works, I think, a lot better than what
S2: we typically think of as the moral of the story,
S2: you know.
S1: Yeah. I mean, this distinction is talking about the moral
S1: of the story, but I think it's a fresh way
S1: that I find very helpful, too, so that, uh, when
S1: I get to the end spoiler warning of the Divine
S1: Comedy and I and I see Dante there in the
S1: highest of the heavens, looking upon the very face of God,
S1: I see his purposes perfectly now, adequate to his end.
S1: That's the most perfect literary picturing of purposes aligning with
S1: the end. But typically you don't have story, really, not
S1: even the Divine Comedy. Unless, at least at the beginning,
S1: the protagonist's purposes are not aligned with with the end.
S1: And the whole story is about that character figuring out,
S1: oh my gosh, um, I'm not aligned with my end.
S1: What do I have to do, uh, to get there?
S1: Or sometimes you have a very dark tragedy where the
S1: character never really figures that out.
S2: Yeah. I mean, probably an overgeneralization, but, uh, but it
S2: seems like maybe comedy is a is a function of
S2: the character gets more aligned, their purposes get more aligned
S2: with their ends, and tragedy is a story in which
S2: characters don't get more aligned.
S1: Absolutely. Absolutely.
S2: Yeah. Um, and so to return to your idea that, um,
S2: a story tries to prove something, um, about the nature
S2: of happiness, I think maybe it was when I got
S2: to that part of the book about purposes and ends
S2: that I was able to say, okay, I can accept
S2: the possibility that that a story is making an argument.
S1: Yeah. And and hopefully it shows that the kind of
S1: proving that stories or works of art in general do
S1: is not the kind we we, we do in logic 101.
S1: So when I teach my freshmen the most basic, uh,
S1: form of syllogism, you know, all men are mortal. Socrates
S1: is a man. Socrates is mortal. That's a proof. And
S1: it follows with that conclusion. Follows with absolute necessity. You
S1: cannot deny it on pain of of being illogical. Uh,
S1: art doesn't work like that, Of course it's it's a
S1: kind of proving that works through through imagery, through imitation,
S1: through drawing us emotionally and also intellectually and through our
S1: will toward a pleasing resolution or even a lack of
S1: resolution in which purposes are not aligned with ends or purposes,
S1: are aligned with ends. But it's all put in the
S1: form of, of imagery. And so that makes it a
S1: far looser kind of proof. I in, in the book, quote, quote,
S1: Aquinas is saying poetry. What we would think of as
S1: literature has a defect of truth. It's the least of
S1: doctrines because its way of proving is so loose. It's it's,
S1: you know, you can you can get to the end of, uh,
S1: of of persuasion again. Spoiler warning. You know, the the
S1: the two young people in love, um, are going to
S1: get married at the end of Jane Austen's Persuasion. Jane
S1: Austen is arguing that that type of love, that type
S1: of friendship, is going to make for the best marriage.
S1: But there's there's no reason why a reader has to
S1: accept that in the way that they have to accept
S1: the syllogism. About Socrates, you can say, yeah, but I
S1: just don't believe these characters. I don't like these characters.
S1: You can imagine a young teenager, maybe a teenage boy, saying,
S1: these characters are boring, right? So the proof just kind
S1: of falls apart.
S2: Yeah. Well, I recently saw a show in which, uh,
S2: a husband left his wife of 25 years for a
S2: younger woman, blew up his family. Um, and his friends
S2: all said, hey, you're making a mistake. He found it inconvenient.
S2: Less convenient than he thought to be married to a
S2: woman who was 20 years his junior. Um, but you
S2: know what? At the end, more or less, he. He
S2: got happy. He. As it turns out, everybody. Everybody turned
S2: out okay. And, um. And his, um. He pushed through
S2: the discomfort of being married to me or not even married,
S2: being together with somebody 20 years his junior. And then
S2: turns out he was happier than he than he'd ever
S2: been before. And I, I don't know what to make
S2: of that in terms of I mean, I was thinking
S2: about that story with regard to purposes and ends and,
S2: and the way that you that that story makes a
S2: moral argument.
S1: Absolutely.
S2: It's one that I can't accept in the end. I
S2: find it really hard to believe that he ultimately found
S2: his found meaning in life as a result of those choices.
S3: Yeah, that's a great that's a great problem.
S1: And it shows. I've been talking, perhaps too glibly about
S1: the way in which art imitates the human quest for happiness. But,
S1: but as as your question, uh, makes clear, not everybody
S1: agrees on what happiness is. Yeah. We have different understandings
S1: of of fulfillment. We can have one understanding at one
S1: point in our lives, and 25 years later, that understanding
S1: can change, uh, what we think we could never live with,
S1: we can quite happily live with. So when we look
S1: at the broad array of works of art, we're really
S1: not just seeing one proof for the human end. We're
S1: seeing multiple and conflicting and sometimes quite tenaciously conflicting understandings
S1: of the human end. And this is one of the
S1: things I'm most interested in as a philosopher. As a
S1: philosopher of literature is thinking about how stories can argue
S1: with one another because they have different understandings of the
S1: human end. How is it possible that, I mean, obviously,
S1: the story you just described, um, is in conflict with
S1: Jane Austen's persuasion. It's in conflict with Dante's comedy. Could
S1: those three stories get into a kind of platonic dialogue
S1: with one another? Can we sort out what the human
S1: end is not in in more abstract philosophical terms, but
S1: in the terms of images? Can one story sort of
S1: win an argument over a very different kind of story?
S1: That's a really interesting question for me. But in any event,
S1: it's absolutely the case that artists as as mores change,
S1: as culture changes, they're going to give us depictions of
S1: ends and purposes that are going to conflict with rival understandings.
S2: So you said you have the the question of whether
S2: or not one work of art can win an argument
S2: with another work of art. Do you have an answer
S2: to that question?
S3: I took a.
S1: Stab at an answer in an article I just published
S1: earlier this year. Uh, in in the journal logos. Logos. Um,
S1: and it's it's, uh, the title of it is literature
S1: is Tradition Constituted Inquiry, and it draws upon the work
S1: of the philosopher Alasdair MacIntyre. It's, um, it's a complicated argument.
S1: I guess it all comes down to trying to show
S1: how certain images, in a sense, undermine mine, their own worldview,
S1: if that's if that's what I want to say or
S1: certain stories that is undermine their own worldview. They kind
S1: of subvert themselves. That's a tough argument to make, and
S1: it would be a very tough argument to make in
S1: regard to the show you were just describing, because the
S1: protagonist ends apparently quite, quite content. So how is it
S1: possible to show that that that moral understanding, that understanding
S1: of the human ends subverts itself, that that would be
S1: the task I would have to take up?
S2: Hmm. Daniel, I often, um, when I teach writing, I
S2: spend a lot of time talking about the importance of, um,
S2: staying on the surface, oddly enough, you know, and I
S2: got this from Flannery O'Connor, who points out that the
S2: the raw material for fiction, um, is not ideas, but
S2: but sensory images. Right. And so I'm always trying to
S2: to push writers to be a little bit more, um,
S2: to live in the world of the senses and resist
S2: the temptation to go off and, and, uh, and talk
S2: about ideas. What I'm really doing is trying to, to
S2: move the needle in that direction, because I know that
S2: the ideas are appropriate as well. But, um, that seems
S2: like a way into the question of the sensible and
S2: the intelligible. Um, which is something you you talk about
S2: a good bit. There's, there's that which we receive with
S2: our senses. And Aristotle and Aquinas are both very clear
S2: that that's where knowledge starts, right? And yet it's not
S2: where it ends.
S3: That's right. Yeah.
S1: We we we human beings were embodied spirits. So, as
S1: you just said, we we first encounter the world through
S1: our five external senses, through through our bodies. Right. And
S1: our sense organs. But we're we're we're spirits in the
S1: sense that we have these intellectual powers. And there's actually
S1: two of them. Intellect and will. Mind and will. Art,
S1: interestingly enough, is also a kind of embodied spirit. It's
S1: it's made of matter, right? But it has intelligibility or
S1: what we might say, meaning packed into it. Mhm. So
S1: what Flannery O'Connor is encouraging us. Yeah. She, she took this,
S1: this notion I think from Henry James I believe of,
S1: of too many writers have weak specification. That is as
S1: you were saying, they're not the writing isn't grounded in
S1: the senses in the particular. We're not getting enough of
S1: the material world, you know. So how people in Nashville
S1: speak as compared to people in Manhattan. We need to
S1: get the particulars and our. When we first engage with
S1: any work of art, we're picking up the particulars. However,
S1: we're always searching through those particulars with our minds to
S1: understand the meaning. So what is being said about the
S1: human person in this story of O'Connor's, for example, what
S1: is being said about the human quest for fulfillment in
S1: this story? That's our mind at work. But our mind, sure,
S1: in in studying philosophy or in talking philosophy, likes to
S1: think about those questions in a purely abstract way. One
S1: of the delights of art is that it suits our
S1: nature as embodied spirit so well by allowing us to
S1: think about meaning, the intelligibility of the human experience as
S1: it's embedded in particulars. That's as I tell my students,
S1: that's the perfect sandwich for us as human beings. You know,
S1: if I tell you, um, come on over Saturday night,
S1: we're going to read Kant's Critique of Pure Reason together.
S1: You're going to be a little daunted and a little hesitant.
S1: But if I say, come on over, we're going to
S1: watch a movie, you're like, okay, I can handle it.
S1: That's that's like a warm bath for us as embodied
S1: spirits that, that because it's going to fill up our
S1: senses but still allow us to be rational animals, still
S1: allow us to think about how the predicament of that
S1: protagonist shows us, that interplay between ends and purposes that
S1: we were talking about earlier.
S2: Yeah, yeah. Uh, I love it when you say I
S2: don't want to contemplate a universal. I want to contemplate
S2: a sensible particular, but the contemplation of the sensible particular,
S2: like a work of mimetic art, is possible because the
S2: intellect is able to take the essential knowledge of a
S2: thing and apply it back to the sensible particular.
S3: Yeah. Yeah.
S1: Don't tell my philosophy, colleagues I said that. But I mean,
S1: that's what philosophers do. We contemplate universals more or less
S1: in the abstract. We're happy to talk about justice and
S1: happiness and virtue and all the good things, uh, without
S1: with only sort of a very loose reference to particular people.
S1: We kind of fly away with the abstraction very quickly.
S1: But what art does. Perhaps storytelling most vividly is it
S1: is it puts that, that desire to think about human life, um,
S1: in the context of this, you know, character, say, a
S1: character of Flannery O'Connor. Um, you know, living on this farm, uh,
S1: with this economic status Us being visited by this Bible
S1: salesman on a day, and we see what happens from that.
S1: We just can't we just can't get enough of that
S1: as human beings.
S2: Yeah. Because it's what every day of every minute of
S2: every day.
S1: That's right.
S2: Our life.
S1: Is. That's right. Absolutely.
S2: It's meaning making its way out through the particulars of
S2: our existence.
S1: Yeah. I mean, we live in the particular and and
S1: abstraction is great, but but to kind of even philosophers,
S1: they're going to run into trouble unless they bring their
S1: abstractions back and ground them in particulars. And I think
S1: that's one of the great, um, the great benefits of,
S1: of our enjoyment of art. Is it it keeps us grounded, um,
S1: in the particular.
S4: Yeah.
S2: So you have used the word contemplation a few times
S2: in this discussion. Action. Um. What do you mean by contemplation?
S1: Yeah, I don't. It's certainly connected to sort of a, um,
S1: the religious sense of contemplation. You know, a monk or
S1: a nun might practice. It certainly connected with that. But
S1: I'm also using it in a more flexible, more everyday
S1: way so that, you know, we're on vacation and we're
S1: on the beach and we're looking at the sunset and
S1: just soaking it up. That's a form of contemplation. Uh,
S1: I would call watching a movie enjoying any kind of
S1: work of art contemplation. So what it is, um, it's
S1: it's the mind at work searching for meaning. Right? Inquiring.
S1: Inquiring into truth. That's what contemplation is. And and even
S1: at its best, it's the mind soaking up truth that
S1: it has achieved. But again.
S2: The mind has achieved.
S1: Yeah. That the mind is achieved. Now, of course, with
S1: the help of the senses and the imagination and the emotion.
S1: But ultimately the, the main contemplative act is, is going
S1: to be that of the mind. Uh, when the mind
S1: achieves meaning. But again, when it comes to art, we
S1: don't achieve that meaning apart from the particular. So another
S1: great phrase of Flannery O'Connor's from one of her essays,
S1: she says art or stories give us experienced meaning. So
S1: not abstract meaning, but but meaning in the experience of
S1: a character in a story. Um, but gazing at the
S1: action portrayed in that story is is the contemplative act
S1: and and simply soaking it up for the meaning that
S1: it has again, for the way in which it shows
S1: us the interplay of, of ends and purposes. And I
S1: tell my students, one way we can see contemplation at
S1: work in the and the enjoyment of art is in
S1: the fact that we read certain books and see certain
S1: movies again and again and again and again. We know
S1: the ending. We may have large swatches of the dialogue memorized.
S1: It's not about the initial surprise of what happens. It's
S1: simply about mulling over, uh, the argument, uh, that the
S1: author is putting before us.
S4: Yeah.
S2: You have been using the verb achieve, achieve truth. Are
S2: you using that in some technical philosophical sense or.
S4: No.
S2: What does achieving truth mean?
S1: No, I certainly no special technical sense. I think I, I,
S1: I gravitate toward that verb, um, because of my sense
S1: that it's difficult. Truth is an achievement. It doesn't come easily,
S1: not even when you're watching a movie or enjoying a painting.
S1: You can miss the point of the movie, especially if
S1: it's kind of challenging. Um, I know I've walked out
S1: of a movie theater thinking, what was that all about? Right.
S1: I didn't achieve. Um, the argument that the that the screenwriter,
S1: the director was trying to put before me, I certainly
S1: felt that way in front of certain modern paintings. Uh,
S1: what is the meaning? I miss it so. Truth is,
S1: is an achievement. It's hard won. Uh, and so I
S1: think that's that's the reason I use that word.
S4: Yeah, I.
S2: I'm a little bit surprised, insofar as, you know, Aquinas
S2: talks about the importance of receptivity of of receiving and beholding, um,
S2: and so that beholding doesn't, doesn't seem like an achievement.
S1: But that's the end of the process. I kind of
S1: slipped in a minute ago in my earlier answer about contemplation. Inflation.
S1: It's it's at its best when all the hard work
S1: of inquiry is over and you've got it and you
S1: can just soak up the truth. That's the beholding. Um,
S1: but you've got to there has to be some inquiry, uh,
S1: in order to achieve that state. We don't, uh, we
S1: don't get our minds around hardly anything in life or
S1: in art. Um. Right away. So we have to mull
S1: it over. We have to, uh, inquire at least a
S1: little bit. Uh, we at very least have to go
S1: through the experience of watching the film or reading the
S1: novel or or gazing at the painting in the museum.
S1: But when we get the point, the experienced meaning, then
S1: we behold. Then we simply take it in, as you
S1: rightly say.
S4: Listen. Yeah.
S2: Okay. Daniel, earlier on, very early in our conversation, I
S2: alluded to Christopher Walken impersonation, which I thought was a funny,
S2: a funny way of talking about mimesis. Um, can you
S2: kind of walk us through that? Sounds like I'm trying
S2: to make a lame pun, but, uh, walk us.
S4: Through the walking.
S2: Example.
S1: Right. And I'll spare the audience my own Christopher Walken.
S4: Thank you.
S1: But I start, I start, uh, the opening chapter of
S1: the book with the scenario of of a celebrity going
S1: on a late night talk show. And as they often
S1: like to do, the celebrity will do voice impressions of
S1: other celebrities. And I at least have often noticed they
S1: like to do Christopher Walken because he has.
S4: A very.
S1: Distinctive voice that's a very simple and homey and but
S1: delightful example of imitation. Um, and and what it shows
S1: us is that we delight in the form of something
S1: being put before us in a different medium.
S4: Yeah.
S1: So we we don't have Christopher Walken himself sitting there
S1: in the television suit. I mean, that's fun too. And
S1: you can kind of listen to his voice, but there's
S1: no doubt it's even a little more delightful to see
S1: some other actor sitting there doing his walk in impression.
S1: It freshens Walken's voice for us even more and allows
S1: us what to contemplate it. It's not the deepest contemplation. It's.
S1: It's not like reading, uh, The Brothers Karamazov, but it's
S1: nonetheless his voice is so distinctive. Its form is so unusual.
S1: The impersonation, the imitation gives us a chance to contemplate
S1: it because it's exaggerated. If Walken is sitting there, he's
S1: he's probably more prone to not sound like he does
S1: in the movies. You know, he's going to probably be
S1: a little more subdued than he ordinarily would be. He's
S1: not going to get into character. Not certainly not one
S1: of his own characters, celebrities, movie stars typically don't like
S1: to do that, but the other actor will. So he'll
S1: exaggerate the voice. And that's like, uh, that's like putting it,
S1: as I say in the book. It's like putting it
S1: on a on a slide that we can then put
S1: under a microscope. We can really examine that voice and
S1: delight in that voice. It's not all purely with the mind. Uh,
S1: we're able to delight in that voice even more.
S4: Well.
S2: You you alluded to this a minute ago, and, um,
S2: but you didn't use the actual the actual phrase, which I'm,
S2: which is from your book. You speak of the alien
S2: matter of a particular artistic medium? Yeah, I love that
S2: language of alien matter. We we take great pleasure in
S2: seeing the form of a thing.
S4: Right?
S2: Rendered in alien matter, you know.
S1: Yeah.
S4: I mean, like.
S2: What was it that Close Encounters of the Third Kind
S2: where the guy was making the Devil's Tower out of
S2: mashed potatoes, you know?
S4: Yeah.
S2: Alien matter. That's. He's making a little.
S4: Sculpture.
S1: And it was an imitation we figured out. We didn't
S1: know at first what she was doing when she was
S1: doing that. But as the story goes on, we see that. Oh,
S1: that's an imitation.
S4: Yeah.
S1: Um, or to switch to another example, I can look
S1: at a painted portrait of Winston Churchill. It's not Churchill,
S1: but yet it is, in a way, Churchill. It's his,
S1: his sensible forms. You know how he looked, his girth,
S1: his expression. Uh, it's there, uh, depicted on that canvas
S1: and and even something of his, of his character is depicted. Uh,
S1: I'm thinking of Graham Sutherland's famous portrait of Churchill. It's
S1: depicted in that portrait. Um, Churchill is there. His form,
S1: both sensible and intelligible, is there on that two dimensional
S1: painted canvas. But in an alien medium. And again, that's
S1: that's like the voice impression of Christopher Walken. We just
S1: delight in that. It freshens the world for us.
S4: Yeah.
S2: So alien matter. Um, can we talk about form for
S2: just a minute?
S4: Yeah.
S2: Um, because form does not mean the external form.
S1: It can. There are two senses of it. Let's go
S1: back to what we were saying earlier about art. I
S1: called it just like human beings. It's an embodied spirit.
S1: That is to say, any work of art has both
S1: a sensible material dimension, and it has a non-sensible intelligible dimension.
S1: There are forms on both levels. So when I'm watching, uh,
S1: someone do a voice impersonation of Christopher Walken. Uh, first
S1: of all, there's a sensible form being imitated. Simply kind
S1: of the timbre, the rhythm, the New York ease of
S1: his voice. Those are sensible forms.
S4: Yeah.
S1: You could also say, though, even with the voice impression,
S1: there is some intelligibility, there's an intelligible form that is
S1: something about that voice tells us something about a character,
S1: and I'm not sure I could say exactly what that is. Um,
S1: but there's something about being human that's also in that voice. Now, certainly,
S1: you go to a more complicated kind of imitation, like
S1: a portrait of Churchill. There are sensible forms on the canvas. So,
S1: I mean, the painter chose to use certain dark colours
S1: to depict Churchill's three piece suit. Right. So those browns
S1: or even blacks, those are sensible forms. And I pick
S1: those up through my sense of sight. But then there
S1: are intelligible forms. Forms of meaning. And that has to
S1: do with what I mentioned a moment ago. I, I
S1: discern Churchill's character as kind of coming through. The intelligible
S1: forms are embedded in the sensible forms, but they kind
S1: of come through them to my mind.
S4: Yeah.
S2: So what is the relationship to, uh, to form on
S2: the one hand and. Those aspects of a of a
S2: person or a thing that are necessary to its being,
S2: that person or thing. In other words, I can picture,
S2: you know, elephants are all the elephants I've ever seen
S2: are gray, but I can picture a pink elephant.
S4: Yeah.
S2: Um, and so that that grayness is not the essence
S2: of the the elephant. But there's something about the elephant
S2: that is an essence. I mean, once we start envisioning
S2: an elephant without a trunk, it feels like we're not
S2: talking about an elephant anymore.
S1: Exactly. So form is one of its synonyms is essence.
S1: So when so when my mind understands, in looking at
S1: this portrait of Churchill, something about his character. I don't
S1: know everything about Churchill's character. But one thing I know,
S1: if I look at Graham Sutherland's portrait, is this is
S1: a man. Even if I didn't know who it was,
S1: I would still pick up. This is not a man
S1: to be trifled with. Right. This is a this is
S1: this is a man with a commanding personality. Right? That's
S1: that's part of Churchill's essence as a person. If you
S1: don't get that, you don't get Churchill.
S4: Yeah.
S1: He might have worn a different suit that day. He
S1: might have been painted five years earlier. Those are accidents.
S1: Those come and go. But what's essential to his character endures.
S1: And so what I'm trying to pick up in terms
S1: of intelligible form when I enjoy a work of art
S1: is is what is the essence here. And that's another
S1: way of talking about what is, um, how are the
S1: purposes aligning with the end? Because that dynamic reveals what's
S1: essential and what's accidental.
S4: Yeah.
S2: Well, I feel like we could talk about this for hours, but, um,
S2: but I have I have standards, Daniel.
S4: We we try.
S2: To keep these things to, to relatively short. So I'm
S2: going to I'm going to, uh, not ask you any more, uh,
S2: philosophical questions. But I do want to ask you, who
S2: are the writers who make you want to write?
S1: Oh, I love that question. Well, uh, I'm a novelist myself. Uh,
S1: I get yeah, it's a great question because there's a
S1: lot of novelists I admire, but there's really only one
S1: who I read. And after a sentence or two, I'm
S1: itching to write myself. And that's Evelyn Waugh.
S4: Uh.
S1: And I, I don't say that I, I'm, I'm a Catholic.
S1: I'm not just saying that because while I was a
S1: Catholic novelist and their Catholic themes in his novels, that's
S1: that's great. That's that's that's a part of my attraction
S1: to him. But know what I mean? Are his sentences.
S1: I think he wrote the most beautiful sentences in 20th
S1: century English. Um, they are remarkable. I find them infectious
S1: to read. Um, I think one of his reviewers, who
S1: blurbed one of his books I saw recently, just said
S1: he never wrote a bad sentence. And I think the
S1: appreciation of war has to. It's not just, you know,
S1: the deathbed conversion in Brideshead. It's it's the sentences that
S1: I think are so beautiful.
S4: Yeah.
S2: Do you know about Evelyn Wall's, um, blurb he wrote for, uh,
S2: wiseblood Flannery O'Connor's book?
S1: I think I have heard that, but go ahead.
S2: He said something like, uh, if this is the unaided
S2: work of a young woman, it is indeed remarkable.
S5: Yes, yes.
S4: They didn't put it.
S2: On the back of.
S4: The. They didn't put it on the back of the book.
S1: And it sounds so incredibly condescending.
S4: Oh.
S1: He meant it as a compliment.
S2: That's a pretty Evelyn Wall uh.
S4: Thing there.
S1: Yes. Yeah. Don't. Yeah. You don't get more from him
S1: than that. So I appreciate that. And I think she did.
S2: All right. Well, Daniel McInerney, thank you so much for
S2: being here.
S1: Jonathan. Thank you. It's been been delightful.
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