Aisthesis: Scenes from the Aesthetic Regime of Art
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Composed in a series of scenes, Aisthesis–Rancière’s definitive statement on the aesthetic–takes its reader from Dresden in 1764 to New York in 1941. Along the way, we view the Belvedere Torso with Winckelmann, accompany Hegel to the museum and Mallarmé to the Folies-Bergère, attend a lecture by Emerson, visit exhibitions in Paris and New York, factories in Berlin, and film sets in Moscow and Hollywood. Rancière uses these sites and events—some famous, others forgotten—to ask what becomes art and what comes of it. He shows how a regime of artistic perception and interpretation was constituted and transformed by erasing the specificities of the different arts, as well as the borders that separated them from ordinary experience. This incisive study provides a history of artistic modernity far removed from the conventional postures of modernism.
the borders of China must be immediately and visibly united to the metal workers or the pedestrians of Nevsky prospect. Making the community visible means exposing two of its main features: one is the relatedness of all activity to all others; the other, their similarity. These two features do not necessarily go together. An economy can be shown as the global unity of heterogeneous activities. This is what the film does when it follows the paths that go from the breeders in the steppes and the
Antique: The Lure of Classical Sculpture, 1500–1900 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1981), p. 313. 3 Pierre-Jean Mariette, Abecedario, quoted in Thomas Kirchner, L’Expression des passions: Ausdruck als Darstellungsproblem in der französischen Kunst und Kunsttheorie des 17. und 18. Jahrhunderts (Mainz: P. von Zabern, 1991), p. 137. The artist Mariette is attacking is Coypel. Winckelmann similarly denounces figures with outraged expressions like antique masks meant to be legible for the
Charterhouse of Parma, transl. John Sturrock (New York: Penguin, 2007), p. 503. 10 Victor Hugo, preface to Marie Tudor, in Théâtre complet, vol. II (Paris: Gallimard, 1964), p. 414. 11 Balzac, Preface to Ferragus, chef des Dévorants, in La Comédie humaine, vol. V (Paris: Gallimard, 1977), p. 792; Preface to Ferragus, Chief of the Devorants. La Duchesse de Langeais, transl. William Walton (Philadelphia: G.B. & Son, 1896), p. 11. 12 Ibid. 13 Cf. Guy de Maupassant, ‘Promenade,’ in Contes et
is not the dance of a serpent. The ‘gyrating themes’ that the dancer ‘illustrates’ have nothing to do with the swaying of the chest or belly that one readily identifies with ‘oriental’ dance. Roger Marx insisted on this point: ‘No more contortions, no more hip swaying, no more circular pelvic movements; the chest stays rigid.’3 And it is not a matter of imitating some reptile. No doubt Loïe Fuller did dot disdain the accessory that the outline of an imitated form might make on a dress: snake,
lorgnettes, cases or reading lights: ‘ … a flock of swallows takes flight from the bottom of the gorse bush bent by a gust of wind …; swans silently crack the frozen enamel of the wave; bats cut across a diamond studded sky; through a hedge of tapered pines, the surface of the swamp sparkles and glitters; a swarm of bees keenly seeks its pasture’.10 Surely these pieces of furniture, chests and bottles only decorate high society salons and boudoirs, and the style of the speaker that describes them