“The attempt to reach the public directly through ‘popular’
art assumes that criticism is artificial and public taste natural. Behind this
is a further assumption about natural taste which goes back through Tolstoy to
Romantic theories of a spontaneously creative ‘folk.’ These theories have had a
fair trial; they have not stood up very well to the facts of literary history
can experience, and it is perhaps time to move beyond them. An extreme reaction
against the primitive view, at one time associated with the ‘art for art’s
sake’ catchword, thinks of art in precisely the opposite terms, as a mystery,
an initiation into an esoterically civilized community. Here criticism is
restricted to ritual masonic gestures, to raised eyebrows and cryptic comments
and other signs of an understanding too occult for syntax. The fallacy common
to both attitudes is that of a rough correlation between the merit of art and
the degree of public response to it, though the correlation assumed is direct
in one case and inverse in the other.”
From “The Anatomy of Criticism” by Northrop Frye
I find myself in the strange situation of disagreeing with
Frye in the first insistence. There are many instances of folk art being the
creative inspiration for high art. Classical composers would take folk melodies
and turn them into symphonies. Two of
the four big, fat Chinese classic novels were collected from folk stories about
the Monkey King and the rebel bandit Song (China’s Robin Hood). The superhero
movies work as well as they do because comic book writers and artists
experimented with these characters for a century before movie technology caught
up enough to capture them. I am not saying that all high art comes from folk
art, only that enough does that the theory is useful.
As for art as a mystery, here I agree that the idea is
overblown PR for artists who don’t wish to, or perhaps cannot, explain
themselves. All minds collect data about our universe, correlate that data, and
express their conclusions. People express those conclusions in different ways
and specialize in different subject matters, but the basic brain anatomy is the
same. I’ve read thousands of books and had uncountable experiences from the
dull as dirt to the rare and wonderful, and they are all grist for the mill of
my muse. The inspiration of an artist is little more surprising than that of a
scientist.
Emerson had a different take on this question. He believed
in the creativity of the common folk, and that poets were simply those brave
enough to go around telling everyone what everyone quietly worried about. Emerson
and the Transcendentalists wanted a philosophy, a literature, and even a
religion suitable for democracy. All other philosophies, arts, and religions
had been born in a state of monarchy, and assumed a top to bottom status, while
Emerson wished for a reverse, which is why his educational system stressed the
release of students’ creativity…it is troublesome that our government now wish
to establish an educational system based upon testing, much like that of China
and Japan (whose system of education is originally based upon China’s
pre-Communist educational philosophy).
What Frye wants is a system of art that is neither
mysterious nor democratic, but a system of experts. This makes perfectly good
sense, and not just because it keeps academics like him employed. I do use book
reviews to help me figure out what books to read, almost as often as friends’
recommendations, and I trust my friends’ judgment because I trust their taste
and critical judgment; taste might be to critical judgment what intuition is to
rational thinking: a subconscious, quick and simple version of the latter.
I do enjoy reading books more if I understand them, and if a
book is too far from my personal experience some expert help is useful (the
first time I purposely read criticism was to understand Sylvia Plath). But
unlike Frye, I accept the fact that this system of experts, as useful as they
are, will always be an overlay over the hustle and bustle of writers inspired
by the culture around them, the bubbling folk art from which high art and
commercial art alike arise.
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