Selective non-genius – Differentiating the art from the person

 

Last week, I attended a lecture by the journalist Uri Misgav on the subject of the songs of Mati Caspi, an Israeli musician, singer, arranger, and producer responsible for over 1000 songs over several decades. I am familiar with his songs as are most people in Israel but was less than enthusiastic about this lecture because I find his performances unexciting at best because of his persona on stage. Specifically, he looks and acts like a dead fish. In his case, I find it difficult to ignore the person and fully appreciate his work. However, in many art forms, fans can and do ignore the person beyond the work. They are able to relate to the art form and ignore the character of the artist behind it even when the character is particularly loathsome in some ways.

Many gifted writers were unpleasant people. Dostoevsky was a virulent anti-antisemite and misanthrope in general. While those characteristics may have had a positive role in creating his literary characters, I would not have wanted to meet him (nor the other way around, I assume). Leo (not Alexei) Tolstoy, for all his literary and philosophical heights, abandoned his wife and eight children so he could consider more mystic thoughts. George Simenon, the creator of amazing Jules Maigret detective stories, told his wife in the middle of the German occupation that if she did not like him sleeping with the maid, she could go to the Germans and complain. How charming and sensitive! Many Académie française writers, notably Louis-Ferdinand Céline, were fervent Nazis and virulent antisemites. In the UK, Rudyard Kipling was an unapologetic supporter of colonialism long after its warts had begun to show. Yet, it is possible to read the books of these writers with undiminished pleasure and ignore their political views, possibly because we do not actually see the person.

Artists in other media have also shown a mean streak. Among the musicians with a spoiled reputation (at least among some people) is Roger Waters of Pink Floyd fame due to his anti-Israel and antisemitic calls and political action. In Israel, a certain famous singer is infamous for alleged aggression against women and those critics that dare raise those allegations in public. Some actors also exceed the bounds of acceptable behavior. Many French are not thrilled by Gérard Depardieu leaving France for Russia to avoid French tax, not to mention his alleged sexual offenses. In the United States, Charlton Heston may have starred in some famous movies but he was also president of the National Rifle Association, whose agenda is not exactly mainstream. Personally, I find it difficult to separate the person from the art in these cases, again possibly due to the artist's actual presence on a stage.

The saying is that the way to hell is paved with good intentions. Maybe the way to heaven is filled with sharp pebbles. Depending on the level of clash between the audience and the artist as well as the genre of art, many people can overlook the unpleasant aspects of a creator and focus on the result itself. In other cases, the leakage or linkage is too strong to ignore, significantly reducing the greatness of that artist in some way. Ultimately, each person chooses to focus narrowly on the genius or include the whole character.

Bonne route – Process, pleasure and AI

 

[Painting by Dina Levin]

In one of La Fontaine’s fables, a pig, sheep and goat are on a wagon on their way to the market. The pig squeals in fear (justified in the case) but the sheep and goat prefer to enjoy the view. I cannot say who is more correct or whether this fable applies to AI. However, after listening to my engineering students make oral presentations about processes pre- and post-AI, I definitely understand that there is a certain pleasure in the actual process independent of the result as I will demonstrate with three examples provided by my very talented engineering students.

Among the many lectures were presentations on the revolution in  travel planning, translation and image creation. Specifically, before AI, travel planning necessarily involved either consulting a travel agent or spending hours finding appropriate flights, assessing hotels and investigating potential tourist sights. With AI, a series of prompts with follow up questions can theoretically create a complete vacation plan in minutes. Likewise, as I know too well, human translation involves a significant investment of time and effort to reproduce a given text into another language. With AI, this same process can take less than a minute and involves almost no effort at all, leaving plenty of time and energy to edit and improve the created text. Even more extreme, AI makes it possible for the artistically-limited to create any image, real or imagery, without any skill  in graphic arts or software. AI can take over the process of creation, benefiting people by saving time and effort.

Granted, at least at this point, AI often produces a flawed product, sometimes to the point of non-relevancy. For example, the AI engines I tried for finding flights failed to identify the most convenient flight of a given route (Tel Aviv, Israel to Portland, Oregon) , which I was able to find. It may be a matter of the nature of the prompts or the type of AI but the results do not seem sufficiently exhaustive. In language, AI translations of specialized texts exhibit far too many serious terminology and syntax issues. This tendency means that a skilled human translator must invest time and energy in reviewing the text before the text is relevant. AI images quite often look artificial, which can be a detrimental feature in many of their uses, especially commercial. Furthermore, humans creates images that are much more individual and unique. Thus, AI is not yet capable of  fully replacing the process of human creation.

For me, the greatest issue is that I enjoy the challenge of creation both despite and because of its challenges and investment. It is strange but one of the greatest pleasures of traveling is planning it, including finding the “best” flight. My father took great pleasure in that art as do I. It is my trip as I have invested in it. Similarly, translation is an act of writing and creation just as much as writing the original version. The transformation of a text from one language to another can be challenging but that aspect is precisely what I seek, at least up to a certain degree. It is the pleasure of learning and testing oneself. As for pictures, I find an artist’s rendition of a scene in pencil, oil, watercolor or even using a digital photograph is far more impressive than any AI image. The reasons may be that I have no talent in that direction and find the process magic or that I seek the privilege of seeing the scene exactly how the artists viewed it. Human creation has a far greater impact on me regardless of whether the creator is someone else or myself.

It is clear that there are solid economic reasons for adopting AI processes whether on an industrial or smaller scale. However, as a matter of personal taste, I tend to focus on the experience of the process more the result. In fact, I wish myself and others what Serge Reggiani sang in “Ma fille” (admittedly in another context): “Bonne route” – a good journey.

Shocking art

 

[cubist fish*]

Most art in any form is commercially successful in its own time because it is line with current tastes. At the same time, some artists of all genres choose to take the road not taken and produce a creation whose raison d’être or, at minimum, its selling point is that it is shocking. Granted a few choose their form of expression due to a personal vision with minimal external influence. Yet, clearly, most such revolutionaries are quickly forgotten if even noticed. The interesting question is which of these pioneering works are actually appreciated by future generations.

Some artists turned their sails into wind and chose to challenge accepted taste. Henry Miller’s Tropic of Cancer and Tropic of Capricorn are examples of deliberate breaking of accepted limits specifically on discussing sexuality. Almost a century earlier, Andrei Beli wrote a symbolist novel, Petersburg, in complete rejection of the classic Russan writers that preceded him, notably Tolstoy. In theatre, Victor Hugo produced Hernani knowing full well that the critics and public would find it overly extragenetic and absurd. Likewise, Ionesco in The Chairs wrote a tragic farce that went far beyond the capacity to appreciate of most theatre viewers of his day. In music, aside from the humoristic elements, P.D.Q Bach and Spike Jones shattered the serious intellectuality of classical music, albeit in rather different ways. Thus, every action does have a reaction even in art.

Admittedly, some artists created their own style mainly  because of their unique internal vision, not necessarily commercial interests. Clearly, James Joyce in Ulysses and Marcel Proust in In Search of Lost Time felt a need to express their reality whether or not anybody would appreciate it or even understand it. In theatre, Mother Courage and her children by Bertolt Brecht and Rhinoceros by Eugene Ionesco reflect the political view of their writers. Clearly, the first rappers sought self-expression, not riches. Thus, the seeds of some world-changing works came from the artists themselves.

Regardless of the motivation, most of these shocking works have lost their glean and are probably considered as impressive and appreciated as the collected works of Stalin (does anbyody still have a copy?. Which of these shining stars is still remarkable today is a matter of personal taste. Would you rather read On the Road by Jack Kerouac or Travels in Spain by Alexander Dumas? Would you rather see Sammuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot or Oscar Wilde’s Salome? Would you prefer a painting by Andy Warhol or Monet in your living room. At minimum, it can be said that at least these shocking artists are still known while most of their more popular peers have almost completely disappeared from the stage (or book store, if you will). Since fame is a fickle, as Oscar Wilde said, "the only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about."

 

 

* Picture captions help the blind fully access the Internet.

Picture credit

Superior culture

Many nations, especially those with a strong economy and world position, feel that that their culture is superior.  A short list of countries that have viewed themselves as the beacon for others include ancient Greece, Rome, Persia, France, English, America, Japan and China.  This point of view can also be expressed by the use of its opposite, i.e., all other cultures are primitive by comparison and, consequently, need to evolve in the direction of the supreme leader, whichever country that may be.  The pejorative descriptions include primitive, simple, naïve, barbarian and undeveloped.  Thus, this world view is that our culture is the true path while the others were never or are no longer valid.

Alas, this perspective is highly inaccurate. First, national culture is not an equally distributed or identical set of values. While most societies have an elite with the education and financial means to enjoy the fine arts, below this niche is a mass of people with little time, energy and knowledge to enjoy those pleasures. Instead, they tend to relish the simple pleasures of life, often linked with alcohol and violence, verbal and physical.  Coliseums, stadiums, bars, brothels and Internet are their venues for release.  Given a choice between watching a concert or a local football (either American, British or Australian, as relevant), the latter is by far the more popular choice.  As part of the festivities, abusing the opponent in the most crude and primitive terms is an essential part of the fun. It is no fun to be a Yankee outfielder standing in the grass of Fenway field taking constant abuse from the fans without any limit of good taste or respectability. So, no matter how high the high culture, the lowest common denominator is ever present.

Moreover, until the age of the Internet, an extremely short period of 30 years, most people knew nothing about the vast majority of other cultures. What did the typical English or French citizen know about the complexity of Japanese ink drawing?  What did the average Chinese know about Leonardo de Vinci?  What did the American in the Midwest and even on the coasts know about Debussy?  As my mother would say, they knew gournicht, nada. So, how can a collective culture decide that it is superior to others?  The answer, to quote my mother again, is chutzpah, sheer gall. As in many matters, a feeling of superiority is often the result of ignorance, not merit.

Even if cultural merit could be discussed in an objective, civilized manner, superior and inferior are extremely difficult words to be defined.  In terms of visual art, complexity of process seems to be one criterium. A painting by Titian is more intricate than an African mask. Yet, a print by Andy Warhol is less. So, mere sophistication is not sufficient.  Possibly, time investment is a factor.  While the paintings on the Sistine Chapel by Michelangelo may have involved thousands of hours of backbreaking work, so did the making of a totem by West Cost Indians. Multiplicity of instruments or media does not measure the level of music as the harmony of a Beethoven symphony is matched by the subtlety and beauty of a Chopin piano prelude or an Arabic oud performance. Objectively, better and worse are hard to define objectively.

Culture, like religion, should be approached with modesty and a sense of perspective.  Every person has preferences, which is quite legitimate. However, to reach the conclusion that ours is better ignores the ambiguity of ours, our lack of knowledge of others and the intrinsic problem of defining high culture. Instead, it is possible and desirable to be proud of your own culture while seeking the beauty in others, no matter how “primitive” they are.

L’imparfait de subjective

Perfection is a concept that is useful for comparison but futile for satisfaction.  An example is the mythical concept of a perfect translation. Like Nadia Comaneci’s perfect 10, there is a belief that a flawless version in another language must exist. Alas, the path of improvement never ends. It is always possible to find a better word or phrase the sentence just a bit better.

The explanations for this inevitable failure to reach perfection in translation include the lack of skill by translators, the uneven quality of the original text and the nature of the improvements themselves. Depending on the case, any or all may be relevant. However, I see a bigger problem: Perfection in the case of translation is an impossible level to define and reach.

First, the ideal, the modal of perfection, is subjective. There many ways to translate a phrase. Each is different but each has its charm and strength. The assessment of better and worse quickly approaches the level of a matter of taste, referred to as preferential in the profession.  Pick up a few different translations of Don Quixote or War and Peace and compare. Can any specific one be qualified as the absolute transmission of the original?  The answer is explicitly negative as each translation both subtracts and adds to the original merely by the nature of target language.

However, even if the masterpiece did exist, few if any translators have the skill to reach that Mt. Olympus goal. Good translators have thorough knowledge of the target language, generally their native tongue, great familiarity with the target language and culture, two inseparable elements, impeccable work and quality control techniques and mastery of the technical means to apply all those. Clearly these skills are not incompatible with each other. Yet, few of us can honest claim to be experts in all. Most of strive for improvement to become solid and hope for excellence in one or more of those skills.

Assuming that the translator has these skills, one of the great difficulties of reaching perfection in anything is the lack of proper conditions. Most translators work at home, are female and freelancers. This means the translators have to balance many time demands, including cooking, cleaning, children, home repairs, friends calling and, last but not least, making a living. According to the 80/20 rule, the last 20% takes as much effort as the first 80%.  For an example, professional sprinters practice thousands or hours to reduce a tenth of a second from their time. So, in an ideal world, perfection is possible. Practically, there is a deadline for this project with more on the way.  Perfection is as far away as a week in Tahiti.

This leads to the fundamental conclusion, applicable to many fields besides translation. Perfection is not a required result in almost all cases.  In business, it is called good enough, a flexible term defined by customer needs and demands. A translation for internal consumption must be accurate and reflect the original; it does not have to be a masterpiece of literature.  It is generally clear a week later that the phrasing could have been improved here and there or another synonym would have been better. In practice, all the interesting parties were able to read the document painlessly and effectively and may even have not noticed the minor error. A webpage must be clean of all errors but does not have to be literature. Each case has its parameters.

That said, I do not intend to say that mediocrity is acceptable in anything. As the expression goes, anything worth doing is worth doing well. A mythical state of perfection spurs professional to strive and improve.  Yet, taken too far, the search for the ideal only frustrates people and makes them feel bad for no reason. The human language as the human body has countless forms, each with its own good and bad points. It is natural to strive to enhance the first and minimize the second. It is harmful to throw out the baby with the bath water, especially in reference to subjective concepts. It is the nature of the imparfait du subjunctive.

The death of 20th century culture

On my just completed visit to my parents, I had plenty of time to peruse their rather large collection of books.  They were born in the 1920’s and have always been interested in art and history. Their choice of books reflects that background.  There are biographies and autobiographies of painters, actors, generals, statesmen and business people. Books in French were intermixed with the classic novels of 20^th American writers.  My father’s World War II experience is reflected in the large mass of Battle of the Bulge books. At a glance of the eye, I could see all the major phenomena of the 20^th century.

Sharing many of their interests if not all of their experience, I am interested in and had read many of those books. Thus, the titles and subjects on the shelves were familiar and far from alien.  I appreciate more than ever the rich background of knowledge my parents had conferred to me through their conversation and, of course, books. At the same time, I also experienced a strong sense of sadness: very soon, this rich corpus of knowledge will become forgotten and irrelevant. Nobody will know or care about the Spanish Civil War, General Eisenhower, Stillwell and the American Experience in China or the stories of Joseph Joffo, to name just a few.  The next generation will find them as interesting as the chronicles of the cities of ancient Greece.  I can already see this process in my engineering students in Israel, aged between 21 and 28, whose knowledge of the 20^th century events that shaped their country, not to mention the whole world, is so limited.  In teaching them English, I often find myself teaching them history.  I choose not to think what their children will know about “the ancient history” of the 20^th century.

On further thought and with great sadness, I realize that this process of cultural loss, even death if you will, is as natural as its physical equivalent. The people and events that shaped our world gradually and inevitably become ever more distant in people’s memory.  How many names and events of the 14^th or 15^th century, some 600 years ago, can even the most knowledgeable person recall?  What do know about ancient Mesopotamia or Rhodesian cultures? Their traces in the soil of human development have almost disappeared completely.  In that sense, cultural death is also sad and inevitable.  Likewise, we should strive to delay this result as much as possible, but learn to accept its inevitability. To paraphrase the call used for royal accession, the 20^th century is over; long live the 21^st century.