In her chapter “Models of knowledge in the Zhuangzi: Knowing with chisels and sticks,” Karyn L. Lai ponders Confucius’s conversation with the cicada catcher in the Zhuangzi. Lai asks, “What does the cicada catcher know that Confucius doesn’t?” The knowledge that Confucius and his disciples seek may be precisely what they can never have. I explore the epistemological rift between ways of knowing by applying Karen Amimoto Ingersoll’s distinction between “seascape epistemology” (based on Native Hawaiian, Kānaka Maoli, ways of (...) knowing) and Western epistemology (framed as girding neocolonialist expansion on the Hawaiian Islands). (shrink)

This paper looks at the themes of nature, humanity, and military and industrial development in the nineteenth century American painter Winslow Homer through the lens of the Hegelian theory of art. Robert Pippin's After the Beautiful has recently put the Hegelian framework to very fruitful use in understanding pictorial modernism. This study of Homer follows a similar approach but argues that Homer's canvases represent a development in the modern spirt which, in many ways, goes beyond the canvases of Manet – (...) a very tight modernist contemporary of Homer's. Homer communicates a presentment of the immense and, in certain profound respects, horrifying power of humanity's growing industrialization. I trace the development of this idea over the course of his career, from this early Civil War canvases to his final seascapes and argue that an understanding of Homer's work is important for understanding the modern spirit of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. (shrink)

In this paper, I provide a cross-cultural comparison between the life and work of the English land- and seascape painter, J.M.W. Turner, and the conception of aesthetic experience and artisanship f...

Western society is steeped in a legacy of white supremacy and colonialism--a worldview that pits humans against nature and that has created numerous pressing social and environmental challenges. So great are these challenges that many of us have come to believe that our species is fundamentally flawed and that our story is destined to be nasty, brutish, and short. In Finding Our Niche I explore these tragedies of western society while offering the makings of an alternative: a set of metaphors (...) and examples that can guide us in reconciling our settler-colonial histories in favor of a new and more sustainable vision for humanity and our natural world. Drawing on a variety of compelling stories from my personal life and research experiences around the world, I bring the reader through the difficult journey of reconciliation, a journey that leads to a more optimistic understanding of human nature and the prospects for our future. Drawing from my fifteen years of experience as an anthropologist and ecologist working with people around the world, I share exceptional stories of local people rejecting the oppressive, industrial logic of progress and creating win-win scenarios, where both people and nature thrive together. These stories include cattle ranching on the Burren in Ireland, clam gardening in coastal British Columbia, and the conservation of an accidental wetland in Northwest Mexico. I structure my telling of these stories with a series of ecological metaphors--including keystone, engineer, and sentinel--that collectively provide a basis for more sustainable ways of living. In tandem with these stories, I weave a series of personal vignettes, drawing from my own struggle to reconcile my identity as a white settler on stolen Indigenous lands. As a whole, the book develops a thesis about how we can reimagine our nature and identity, and in so doing, address issues like climate change, biodiversity loss, and food insecurity by building more healthful and fulfilling relationships with our neighbors and the land- and seascapes around us. Finding our Niche is a timely piece that offers confidence in a time when the realities of ecological disaster are becoming a daily reminder that something has to give. It engages with the critical but thorny problems of sustainability, white supremacy, capitalism, and colonialism in a fresh and productive way, making it a perfect fit for Fernwood's portfolio and critical readership. At once a primer on paradigm shift, it is an accessible and personal book that seeks to offer tangible examples of hope to the countless people who are concerned about the sustainability and future of our societies and planet. (shrink)

In this essay, I discuss a potential nexus for comparison between Hawaiian and Chinese philosophies grounded in what I call “terrestrial identity”. I bring Fei Xiaotong’s description of the formation of social identity in China, which is historically agrarian and inalienably place-based, to meet contemporary Hawaiian philosophical perspectives of personal responsibility, genealogical consciousness, and “seascape epistemology” to flesh out a new theory of relationality, one that includes the ontological, historical, and ethical relationship of humans to the land on which (...) they orient themselves and that defines the circumstances of their lives. The concept of terrestrial identity is inclusive in terms of types of relational entities, accommodating place, space, and memory into a comprehensive social ontology. It also opens onto discussions of contemporary social problems in a way that centres place and contextuality. I will conclude this essay with such a discussion, regarding homelessness among Kānaka Maoli. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Experience or Interpretation:"What You See Is Not What You Read"Klaus OttmannMuseums of modern and contemporary art are growing at an unprecedented rate. New museums are being founded and existing ones are expanding exhibition spaces and acquiring more and more works of art. Concurrently, cultural institutions compete with a growing number of art fairs, biennials, galleries, and public collection spaces.Since the 1980s the focus of museums increasingly has been on (...) education and interpretation, which among other things has created a boom for audio guides and scholarly exhibition catalogs at the expense of the unmediated experience of works of art. Perhaps what is needed are exhibitions that present art again primarily as "experience," with minimal curatorial and didactic intervention. [End Page 13]I have borrowed the title of my essay from a lecture that was given by Nicolas Serota, the director of the Tate galleries in London, in 1996. His lecture was subtitled "The Dilemma of Museums of Modern Art."But the question of the presentation of art, and specifically, that of experience vs. interpretation, by no means originated in the last decades. It is at least as old a question as modern art itself, going as far back as the nineteenth-century French intellectual dispute on the museum between the poet Paul Valéry and the novelist Marcel Proust, as recounted with a sympathetic voice by the German philosopher and cultural critic Theodor Adorno in a short essay with the minimalist title "Valéry Proust Museum."There is much to be learned from reading this small text. Paul Valéry criticized the museum of his time (the Louvre) for creating confusion in the mind of the spectator by reducing the experience to the level of information only. No one would want to listen to ten orchestras at once, he argued, yet we are forced to apprehend, at the same moment, a seascape, a portrait, and a still-life, or worse, painting styles completely incompatible with each other. He warned that excess of information would lead to impoverishment of the senses, as art was becoming a matter of education. Valéry's view could be regarded as the conservative position.Marcel Proust's view was more modernist: he regarded the museum as the best place to view art. Devoid of décor and other commonplace distractions, its galleries symbolized for him the inner spaces into which the artist withdraws to create works of art.Both Valéry and Proust emphasized that art should be enjoyed. But while for Valéry art lost its vitality in the museum and effectively "died," Proust saw an afterlife of art in the museum and in the subjective stream of consciousness of the viewer.For Adorno, both views were too one-sided and extreme. Valéry's absolute unwavering contemplation of pure art takes the risk of neutralization, unless the work can point beyond itself toward a social context. Thus, a work of art is neither an embodiment of a Platonic idea, as Valéry believed, nor is it exclusively a reflection of the soul, as Proust understood it. Rather, in Adorno's view, art is a "force field" between the art and the viewer, both passive and active.In his 1931 lectures on "Art as Experience," the American philosopher John Dewey said:The trouble with existing theories [of art] is that they start from ready-made compartmentalization, or from a conception of art that "spiritualizes" it out of connection with the objects of concrete experience. The alternative, however, to such spiritualization is not a degrading... materialization of works of fine art, but a conception that discloses the way in which these works idealize qualities found in common experience.1 [End Page 14]In my book The Genius Decision: The Extraordinary and the Postmodern Condition, I describe the creative act as an active-passive leap that the artist is impelled to make and the viewer is challenged to repeat.Wittgenstein often spoke about the inexpressible, that which is beyond the limits of language. He called it "running against the boundaries of language." It is something any poet, musician, or painter is familiar with; they all run against boundaries of language, sound, or color... (shrink)

In the chapter on multiplicity and unity, the affective or anthropological motifs are both more complex and more interesting. Wölfflin’s initial distinction is between “the articulated system of forms of classic art and the flow of the baroque” . Imagery of fluidity pervades the chapter, for water, according to Wölfflin, “was the period’s favourite element” . “Now, and now only,” he says, “the greatness of the sea could find its representation”, and as if to inculcate this affinity he places the (...) reproduction of a baroque seascape by Jan van Goyen at the head of the introduction to the book and a riverscape by Peter Brueghel at the head of this chapter, even though neither painting is discussed where it is reproduced. In fact it is worth observing that Wölfflin does not discuss any water paintings in this chapter, though of course he does so elsewhere. Where fluidity becomes the meaning of his category, it is absent from the contents of the paintings. Wölfflin’s procedure, as I have argued, is both objectively analytical and subjectively interpretive, and in this chapter he seems careful to preserve the distance between the forms he describes and the significances he reveals. Were he to treat water paintings here, he would obscure the fact that his analyses are always the prelude to translations.Though he conceals the fact, Wölfflin has here effected a translation of the baroque into itself, of water painting into fluidity. Baroque art has declared its true meaning, which is to be an art of flux—of time and, throughout this chapter, of momentariness. Suddenly here the baroque comes into its own, with a surprising reversal in Wölfflin’s categories. Until now he has associated the baroque with lawlessness and confusion, and classicism with the unifying force of symmetrical organization around a center. Unity is repose—the equation had been made explicitly in the discussion in Classic Art of Michelangelo’s Medici Madonna —and clearly in Principles of Art History Wölfflin seems to say that the unification achieved in Leonardo’s Last Supper was later lost Tiepolo’s version.21 As Wölfflin says in the first sentence of chapter 4, “The principle of closed form of itself presumes the conception of the picture as a unity.” But as the baroque now comes into its own, it appears that the unity of classicism is an illusory, “multiple unity,” whereas the true or “unified unity” actually pertains to the baroque. It is the usurping baroque, rather than the deposed classic, that now has “a dominating central motive.” And So Wölfflin returns in this chapter to the two Last Suppers in order to rescind his earlier position. He still claims that Leonardo’s painting is unified, but he offers Tiepolo’s version to illustrate the “possibility of surpassing this unity” . In becoming itself, baroque art has overthrown classicism.21. “Tiepolo composed a Last Supper which, while it cannot be compared with Leonardo as a work of art, stylistically presents the absolute opposite. The figures do not unite in the plane, and that decides”. (shrink)