I have developed degrees of aesthetic appreciation and they being surface level of meaning, atheistic appreciation and interpretation.
On a Surface Level of meaning we find man with awkward posture, very stiff, very macho.
As an aesthetic artifact we appreciate the fine grandeur of the body resembling ancient Greek Gods, handsome, fierce, quite disturbing for the human eye.
Interpretation can be made culturally and philosophically. The Thinker is an art, defiant one, showing the brilliant triumph of reason, able to cope with any adversity, a superman (Zarathustra) described by Nietzsche, being driven recklessly to celebrate the age of reason and yet being passionate in a poetic way with beauty.
Without Bell and Brake
Without Bell and Brake means being reckless. His driving is without bell and brake.
Tried 18 Tricks
Tried 18 Tricks means, failing in something or something not working out. I hope I don’t have to encounter the trying of 18 tricks.
Art is passion ignited in making aesthetic artifacts. How can we appreciate art? There are some approaches. Here are they: Surface level meaning, Aesthetic admiration and interpretation. I would like to use: Dali’s persistence of memory.
Surface Level of Meaning
Surface level meaning is simply a gaze at art. For example I observe the melting of clocks on embryos.
One becomes fascinated or repulsed by the meaning. For example: Dali is an inspiration of bringing out the eerie mystery of the unconscious in the open light.
Interpretation of Art
When interpreting art we can ask the following questions: Is it a new work of art? What is the mystery embedded in it? What are its strengths and weaknesses?
The Persistence of Memory when brought out was new oeuvre of art. It’s art that merged fantasy with reality and is a precursor for the surrealist movement in art. While analyzing the mystery of the artifact we can look at it from a psychoanalytic point of view. Melting of clocks on the embryo shows an oedipal conflict and also does the melting of clothes reveal the consciousness of inner time.
The man asked him: ‘Who are you and what do you do’? He said I am an artist. The man asked: ‘Do you know Michael Angelo’. ‘No’ he replied. Then again the man asked: ‘Do you know Van Gogh’. ‘No’ he replied. Then again he asked: ‘do you know Salvador Dali’? ‘No’ he replied. ‘What you do paint’. He replied ironically: ‘I paint houses and walls’.
He was once upon a time a Math teacher. Now he has lost his senses. Every day I see him on the road with torn and tattered clothes mumbling nonsense. I have been wanting to help him, perhaps taking him to an asylum. But I don’t think I will agree. He is happy the way he is.
I am watching the sunset. The sun danced in a calypso of colors—light dazzled as angels of colors. All of art realism, impressionism, surrealism and pop art lay scattered in a dream. The muse of beauty visited me in passion.