After the life of a philosophical story teller

I was asked to write a short story on a specific subject, by an old mischievous friend, who  remains,  still to this day, a perennial magician of great elusiveness. Who reveals nothing, and only operates on the planes of appearance. His soul, known to be neither black nor white, shudders along the parameters of this breathing organism. But I hate arbitrating stories around themes! As a rule, I do not allow any morsel of matter to provoke my bones into the motions of a story teller.  Any story written thus far has only been, seemingly and spontaneously, electrified by a force that reveals itself through me. And I write!

Alas, for some time now, I have not been stirred in this way. The magician reminded me that this is so, when he beckoned me to  write on a subject nearly as tricky as he; the afterlife. So what does a philosopher have to say today about this great, unexplorable subject and for what purpose has he beckoned me to do so? I am led to believe this is to engage the modern reader with an ancient question in a philosophical way. Also, that this activity may give me a sense of purpose. And already here,  there is something being said about life, that it can be, perceived to be,  purposeful.  The next question might be that, if life may be purposeful, is the afterlife, perhaps, purposeless? To explore the afterlife, one must clearly know what life is, in order to distinguish when it has ended, and what occurs after. To begin,  one may ask, can life be without purpose, or is purpose a defining feature of life? If purpose is a defining feature of life, and there exists something without purpose, but perhaps once had it, we may say that this thing is of the afterlife.

Wherever people walk, when asked,  they may articulate why they are walking.  The answer usually consists of the connective 'to'. For example, ''I am walking 'to' the king's castle'', I am walking 'to' my impending doom'', or ''I am walking 'to' firm up my bipeds''.  You could argue that you are walking 'away' from something, or someone, but away necessitates 'to'. People orientate their actions towards some goal. But what about other life forms?

Are other life forms actions purposeful? Plants move! Indeed, they may wilt and wither under an immense temperature, or gracefully spiral towards a lustrous light.  Although we may not suspect that plants know  or can articulate sentences with the connective 'to' or 'away', it may be argued that plants nonetheless move with purpose. However, we can think of other peculiar instances.  Some people may walk, not because they aim 'to' or 'away'. Rather, they may say that they walk with no aim, to get nowhere. Here, it may look as though walking is aimless, yet the aim is within the activity itself, and  internal to it. Sometimes, one just wants 'to' walk.  We are here trying to understand what are the essential characteristics of life, so we may distinguish life from what is after it, and purpose appears to be, thus far, a defining feature.

Unfortunately, upon further reflection, I am getting into a pickle. If I am unsure what the essential defining characteristics of life are, how am I citing instances of life? There is a presupposition being made of what life already is, when I evoke such instances. I could go with such presuppositions, and take the modern scientific view of life. Something is living if it expresses a number of basic functions such as, breathing, excreting and moving.

What is 'afterlife' is then what becomes of that thing when it ceases to express said functions. That is on what is life,  but we can still ask further, what has that thing become when it no longer carries out those particular functions?

Alas, even if we admit of  some scientific assumptions on the defining features of life, there is another presupposition; namely that there exists a hard and fast distinction between life and the afterlife. After all, they may indeed not be opposites. Nor may the afterlife be the negation of life. So what if there isn't such a stark distinction?

What comes after life, could be a lot like living; with only one or few features to distinguish it from life.  Blurred lines, matrices and overlapping qualities and quantities  could interweave into something which is beyond life and the afterlife. Beyond the binaries of barbarian thought! A mystical force that spontaneously excites the nerves into the motions of a writer that keep us on the cusp of banality and creativity. 

Yet there are many maybes, speculations and postulates for an unenthused story teller. And one simply cannot begin to tell tales on such a tall subject without the invisible force that communicates through me, as I am stricken to the world of appearance, with the tricky magician who too is hiding within it. Oh when will I see again and be able to illuminate life?

Regrettably, this will be my first non-story, as I cannot summon the ability to write on what is such an impenetrable subject in a philosophical manner, unless I enter the realms of pure fancy and then I will be in the realm of  fiction. But that was never the aims of this philosopher.

One day, soon, I shall return to transcribing  The Philosophy Tales. 

Ellese Elliott

The goodness of bad art - By Selim 'Selim' Talat

The goodness of bad art

    We might say that for art to be good, it requires time and effort on the behalf of the artist. We might also say that the artist must have succeeded at expressing an intended emotion, or an attitude, or a reaction, in order for us to call her a successful artist.

   I would argue that nothing could be further from the truth! The success of an art can be down to the skill of the artist, but let us also give random chance its due.

    Generally speaking, I should think that most people know what they are getting into when they visit a certain art gallery, or movie theatre, or watch a video on the internet. The observer of an art has an intentionality; they want to experience a certain feeling and that is why they choose to observe an art. This intentionality is understandable; when you are feeling down you will want to experience something that uplifts you, or something that allows you to wallow in self-pity; the end goal of your intentionality may vary, but ultimately you are seeking out 'X' art to feel 'Y' emotion.

    With this intentionality in mind, we risk being disappointed: You have had a terrible day at work and you go to watch 'Action Battle hero XVIII: Slaughter of the Two Dimensional Badguys - Reloaded'. The purpose of watching Action Battle Hero XVIII is to relieve yourself of stress and to put yourself in the shoes of Jack Skullblaster, the insanely masculine, gun-toting hero. There is now a risk of being disappointed by the flat dialogue, the appalling acting and the ludicrous survivability of Mr.Skullblaster. In effect, the art is bad, it has failed to fulfil its intended function, and you the observer are grossly let down by it.

   Yet this is a negative attitude to take. To only be satisfied by the intended function of an art is to miss out on a whole different world; the realm of failed art. We would live in a hellish world indeed if every piece of art crafted by our creatives fell short of the mark, but fortunately this will never be the case; there will always be good art. When we do encounter bad art, rather than be disappointed, we should learn to appreciate it for reasons different to its intended function. If we do this, Action Battle Hero XVIII becomes an out-and-out comedy rather than an action film.

   The intention of the artists creativity can easily be missed by the varying nature of human tastes: you may have created a painting to express your sadness, but someone observing it can bring their own intention to the piece; they may not be of a mood to appreciate your work. We appreciate (or fail to appreciate) art only as much as we have adjusted our own lenses to do so – if we widen our focus, we can learn to appreciate everything, regardless of what the artist intended (although sometimes, we will want to submit to the artists intentions, especially if she is a capable craftswoman.)

    

    Finally, bad art has another advantage; lack of polish. Terrible poetry is often more truthful than a well constructed poem, if only because the true meaning of it isn't contained in the actual poem, but in the fact that the weak writer was trying to create a work of art (bless them!). The real message of a bad piece of art is the pathos, the sheer tragedy of the artists failure, which resounds as strong as the emotions exhibited by the best art. Again, the outcome of the art is not what the artist intended, but that does not mean we cannot appreciate badness on a level that suits us evil-types who find the terrible terribly amusing. And perhaps the creator of bad art should embrace the fact that they have failed to meet their intention on this occasion and develop themselves beyond where they presently are.

  The goodness of bad art lies in its ability to accidentally amuse, entertain or inform, with its raw lack of polish. It is for this reason that we should avoid saying that art requires the observer appreciating the artists actual intentions in order to contain some 'goodness'.

By Selim 'Selim' Talat