Before you begin, friends...
We recommend that you watch the video first (that's why we put it at the top). The whole thing is a bit past fifteen minutes. You'll get the whole entree in about fourteen. I stumbled across this and found that it stirred some thoughts I have had around this general topic: why is the modern world so damned ugly? It's a good question and a discussion worth having. So, what follows are my thoughts, for whatever they're worth. We would encourage you to visit Mr. Quirke's site, linked in his video.
I'll have to admit that I have often used this quote as, "Art exists that we do not go mad." To cite either of these as the actual quote is an imprecise translation. Nietzsche arguably expressed this idea in various ways and times in his life, but generally this quote is pegged to his 1888 work, Will to power. The proper translation is rendered as, "We possess art lest we perish from truth." These are eight words that speak volumes.
The overt suggestion of this phrase offers the idea of art as an object to possess, as a physical shield from truth. The more subtle, though no less profound suggestion being that truth may somehow be harmful, even unto death. The phrase becomes an allegory to support the broader thesis that truth is ugly:
"For a philosopher to say, 'The good and the beautiful are one,' is infamy; if he goes on to add, 'also the true,' one ought to thrash him. Truth is ugly. We possess art lest we perish from truth." (Will to Power; Section 822)
Ugly is one of those words, like art, which is generally subjective. The best we can do in assigning a definition is to arrive at a broad consensus as to what exactly constitutes "ugly". Sometimes, in fact most times, the best understanding of the meaning of a word is to go back to the word's origin. Ugly was born of Middle English, first appearing in the thirteenth century. It has an old Norse pedigree, from the word uggligr; to be dreaded. This descends from the verb ugga; to dread. According to the lads over at OED the prime definition of the adjective ugly is: unpleasant to look at. There is a tiny bit of nuance, but essentially the original intent shines through.
Without wading into the murky waters of personal opinions and preferences, we will err to the side of caution and operate with this as our definition. Nietzsche could have said those very words, not ugly, instead that Truth is unpleasant to look at. Everyone can grasp this idea, in any language. It is with this spirit of the word that we arrive at young Mr. Quirke's observations, beginning with the simple lamp post.
by their fruits ye shall know them
Ah, here is an oldie, but a goody! Remember this one from your Sunday School days? Matthew 7:16. Now don't get alarmed and go checking for other signs of the apocalypse. I have not been ordained by any religious order, nor do I plan to be. This is less a matter of an aversion to the faith, more a matter of not wishing to be in any club that would have me as a member. I cite this scripture because it is illustrative to this discussion. Good trees bear good fruit, while bad trees... bear bad fruit. Or none.
Early in his presentation Mr. Quirke makes an observation about lamp posts, lamp posts which are 150 years apart from one another. He then reminds us: "If you want to understand any society, don't listen to what it says about itself. Look at what it creates." What a society creates is the manifestation of those things which a society values.
The selection of the filming locations, as well as the filming itself, was brilliant throughout this feature. Quirke walks down centuries' old alleys, describing how that very space had once served as a canal of human waste and disease, a segue to his tale of Joseph Bazalgette's modern sewer system. We are given the visual of the place in it's modern iteration, though it is a look to the quaint Victorian past. The stark contrast captured between Victorian Era and modern London is quite striking. It hammers home the broader theme throughout. While Mr. Quirke's subject case is London, we can easily examine any modern city in the western world through the same lens.
Quirke observes that at the time of their initial lighting, in 1870, the lamp posts installed atop Bazalgette's embankment were the first public lighting project in London. It was a big deal, like the I-phone in 2007. For lights on a sewer embankment. Which are still in service today. Anyone still have a first generation I-phone? And, aesthetically, is there any difference from whatever number I-phone they are on to now?
We are further introduced to another piece of Bazalgette's legacy, the Crossness Sewage Pumping Station. Quirke reminds us that this was infrastructure, a facility dedicated to the sole purpose of processing human waste. It has long since been removed from service yet stands today as a museum. A sewage pumping station. We are also shown the replacement, which is by comparison certainly, at least, unpleasant to look at. Well, one should not expect that things dedicated to performing what is an ugly task to be attractive. Or at least we don't, but Quirke shows us that the Victorians thought differently. They valued craftsmanship. There was pride in even the mundane and ordinary. As Quirke concludes, echoing an earlier sentiment: "If you want to know what any society really believes in, look at how they design their sewers."
These artifacts are but a taste of the Victorian legacy. These are their creations, the fruit of their tree if you will. It is by their works that we may know them. Even something as unpleasant as sewage, something so ugly, still bears their aesthetic values. These things stand as a testament to the wealth and technological prowess of a society that could deliver such advancements, while still emulating a classical tradition. There is no good reason, technically speaking, for placing such adornments upon the management of waste, other than to demonstrate that such things mattered to them.
What then of our modern age? What do our creations tell about our society? Quirke starts with the ubiquitous air conditioning unit as the contrast. It's as good a place as any to begin, a post Victorian innovation manifested in our modern infrastructure. It cries out to the world that we have not only mastered the science of wastewater management in the ensuing 150 years. It projects a society that has mastered a technology of climate control, so much so as to have the capability of mass production of the technology for delivery to the masses. I don't know that the Victorians even had electric fans. If they did, I'm certain that it was a luxury only enjoyed by the upper strata of their society. With beautifully detailed, ornate design, no doubt. As Quirke notes, it might cost a little more, but we absolutely possess the ability to produce AC units that could at least attempt to be more aesthetically pleasing. But we don't. Instead, they are ugly and worse: they're boring.
It is profit over pretty. Quirke states it, and I happen to agree, that maybe that is okay. Profit is not a dirty word, as some might have you believe. Within our theme of trees and the fruit they bear, this model is best illustrated by an actual fruit tree. If one were to cultivate a fruit tree, let's say a pear tree for example, and the only goal was for the tree to bear the maximum amount of fruit, then this is surely done. With proper care and nurturing the goal may be achieved. What must be understood, however, is that one is not making better fruit, just more of it.
In a competitive marketplace, manufacturers have an incentive to produce a product that is superior in performance, thus providing their customers the incentive to choose their product as the best value. In a monopolized market, this dynamic vanishes. In the monopolized market one need only produce the most pears for the lowest cost. The decisions taken by a producer in such a market are based solely upon what is convenient for the producer. There is no consideration of the desire of the market, the convenience to the consumer.
There is no better example of a monopoly than the BMV. Their customers are compelled by law to purchase their "product". They have no competition. There is not another BMV that customers can go to. When one goes to a retail establishment, the closest parking is reserved for their customers, while employee parking is relegated to the back forty. Not so at the BMV! Front rows reserved for employee parking. The customer's convenience be damned. If your renewal is in January or February be prepared to hike one-hundred yards through the frozen slush. Much of our modern world has been relegated to the BMV model.
The creation of our society says that we are technologically advanced. Convenience is king. And that we are, in fact, rather dull, unimaginative and wasteful. Add lazy and severely compromised in attention span. Somehow all of that adds up to ugly. This ugliness has infected every facet of our modern society, even the arts. If we hold up a mirror to what our society has created, the image in that mirror will reflect the truth. This truth is too ugly for us to behold. Let us have art that we do not perish of our own reflection.
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