“Prove to me that Bach is better than Lil’ Wayne,” My friend challenged, grinning at me over his beer. He leaned back in his chair, waiting. I thought for a moment. My mind was blank. Why is this so difficult to respond to, I thought. It was difficult because my friend was asking me to provide empirical evidence proving an objective rubric for determining aesthetic value. And all of this over a beer!
“Classical music is boring, man,” he went on. “I mean, if you like it, whatever. But it’s boring to me.”
“Are you serious?” I asked, not knowing how else to respond.
“Dude, you’re missing out. Most people listen to classical music because of, like, how it affects their image. I mean, if I’m a German king in the 14th Century, then whatever. I’ll listen to Bach. But that’s because there wasn’t anything else to listen to back then, besides wandering minstrels or whatever. But music has come so far. Have you ever actually listened to Lil’ Wayne? Give it a try, man. His music that makes you feel amazing.” He tapped his cigarette in the ash tray. “Or, whatever. Listen to Bach if you want. You’re entitled to your opinion, man.”
Well, there you have it. It’s hard to argue with that. After all, taste in art is subjective, right? And yet, despite my subjective aversion to Lil’ Wayne’s work, I was still burdened that his art was objectively failing in some way. I’m not so much talking about an objective rubric for art (though I will do that later.) Today, I’m talking about an objective function of art. In this post, I will demonstrate the importance of our Lil’ Wayne vs. Bach debate.
We have to evaluate issues like this because art is not only the product of the imaginative human; art forms and trains the human imagination toward particular visions of how life can and should be. It even shapes us toward that end.
It was Christianity (ironically the same Christianity that is currently renowned in many circles for producing the world’s worst art) that taught me appropriate reverence for what art can do. It all clicked when I read a book on educational theory by James Smith, a Christian college professor. Entitled Desiring the Kingdom, Smith argues that all people are liturgical creatures, being formed most dramatically (and most subtly) by their day-to-day routines. This view indicts most popular views on what it means to be human (we all have an anthropological theory, though most of the time it is subconscious).Today’s most popular anthropological theory maintains that we are fundamentally cognitive creatures, or thinking creatures. This idea began with Plato, was rebirthed by Rene Descartes and the enlightenment thinkers, and has been _______________________.
I realize that, by venturing into the history of anthropological theory, I may lose some of you. I am not a philosopher either, and yet I can clearly see how Rene Descartes’s anthropology has shaped the way I understand myself, and my understanding of how I might grow into who I want to be. This applies to you!
Descartes was a French philosopher, mathematician, and scientist who has been dubbed the father of modern philosophy. While trying to prove the eternality of the human soul, Descartes one day realized, “All of my previous hypotheses have been false! Though utterly convinced, I was actually deceived… How can I be sure of anything?” It was in this moment of despair that Descartes discovered a lone island of solid philosophical ground.
“If I can be deceived,” he reasoned, “then I must exist. That which does not exist cannot be deceived!” It is here that we can see the beginnings of Descartes’s famous maxim, “I think, therefore, I am.” But this epiphany begs the follow-up question, “Therefore you are what, Rene? Just what is the nature of this thinking thing that we now know exists?”
Descartes philosophy, having cast aside the senses and the body, reasons that human nature is primarily cognitive. In other words, you are essentially a mind driving a flesh machine. Human formation is directed and governed by our own rationality. Yet this anthropological theory (ubiquitously accepted today) is dangerous. Overemphasizing the formative nature of our minds under-emphasizes the formative power of so many other modes of human formation. To name a few, we must recognize that we are formed by our faith, experiences, families, imaginations, and our affections. Identifying cognitive anthropology as absurdly top heavy, Smith refers to it as “bobblehead anthropology.” The proliferation of bobblehead anthropology saw the subjugation of art, music, literature, poetry, and religion to the children’s playroom while the grown-up human achievements of science and philosophy dominated the stage.
James Smith offers an interesting alternative to bobblehead people. He claims that we are liturgical people. By that, Smith means that we are trained and formed most dramatically through simple day-to-day ritual. It’s our simple daily routines that most dramatically shape our understanding of ourselves and our world; not our cognitive strategizing.
Before explaining this theory more thoroughly, I’ll issue a warning: failing to recognize the formative power of daily routine allows outside forces to govern and train our hearts. So many people find themselves surprised with their lives, wondering, “how did I get this way? I thought I would be better than this by now.” So many people are formed into people they don’t like because they fail to recognize that there are no neutral practices.
Here’s what I mean: All rituals and routines contain particular visions of “the good life.” Most of the time this vision is precognitive (beginning to form us before we begin to consider its formative effect). Leo Tolstoy provides us with a helpful analogy.
“Art forms your imagination in very much the same way that food forms your body,” he explains. In other words, “You are what you eat” can be paralleled with “You absorb what you are immersed in.”
Food can kill those who treat it primarily as a source of pleasure. To those who treat food as a source of nutrition, however, food is a lifelong blessing that strengthens and enriches lives, offering pleasure along the way. Understanding and training our bodies to cooperate with the proper function of food can save lives, and make them wonderfully rich lives as well. Food is not purposed primarily for pleasure. Neither is art is merely purposed for entertainment. Like food, art is dangerously/wonderfully formative.
I wish I had said to my friend at the bar, “We are not so neat as minds driving bodies around, enjoying what we will without consequence. We are far more messy than that! We are more like sponges, soaking in and absorbing visions of the good life where ever we are. All art surreptitiously entrenches a vision of the good life in our hearts and imaginations. Lil’ Wayne’s work is not innocuous. We absorb it. What kind of vision of the good life is Lil’ Wayne training in you? How is his music training your heart?”
If art trains our imaginations and our desires, then it is imperative that we interrogate the visions of the good life in the art we immerse ourselves in. Consider the vision of the good life expressed in music, films, sitcoms, books, the news, storefront advertisements, etc. They all have one.
Sometimes the vision is easy to discern. Try discerning it in Katy Perry’s music video:
She doesn’t make it too difficult, nor does she make her vision of the good life difficult to condemn. But sometimes discerning a vision is a little more difficult. Try it with Chopin:
This one is much more difficult! Don’t worry, we can successfully identify vision of the good life in this piece. But it takes practice. With practice you can train your ability to identify even the most surreptitious visions of the good life, leaving you more shrewd as you grow into the person you want to be.
So, is Bach’s music better than Lil’ Wayne’s? In all the most important categories of aesthetic worth, yes. But one step at a time. In next week’s post, I will define good taste, why one ought to develop it, and how to develop it.
Jonathan H Dockery 