Betsy asked: "Do you think that some, many, or most, of the individuals who utilize Role-Playing Games do so in a healthy or obsessive manner?"
First, we must clarify what we are talking about. Role-Playing Games can come in a variety of media. First, there is the table-top RPG, the most classic example of which being, of course, Dungeons and Dragons. Second, we have the single-player video game RPG, perhaps most famously the Final Fantasy series of games. Third, there is the more recent phenomenon of the Massive Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Game, or MMORPG, perhaps most famously (or infamously) associated with the game World of Warcraft. There is also, of course, LARP, or Live Action Role Play. I will not address this final one, as it is not something I have ever participated in.
To answer the question, I will draw on my experience with the first three types of RPG's I mentioned, as well as what I know of other players of these games. I think I can safely say that most people who play these games do so in a healthy manner. Table-top RPG's in particular provide a creative outlet for the players, allowing them to assume a new identity and think as their character while playing out the story laid out by the Game Master (GM). They encourage social interaction within a setting.
Single-player video game RPG's serve as both tests of skill (these games often include puzzles that challenge problem-solving skills, and a variety of creatures to battle that require one learning different tactics for each), as well as an interactive story, which can often include shades of moral grey areas. Playing through a well-written RPG can have a similar effect to reading a good novel.
The MMORPG plays a unique role. Most are, in essence, a table-top RPG put online, with the notable difference between the first two of a lack of an overarching story. MMORPG's typically have an open world setting with quests that can be undertaken(and repeated ad infinitum) by the player, often in groups of other players. Most players, from my experience, will either play the games to pass the time when they are bored or to relax after finishing work (be it school work or an actual job). These can have a social aspect, as through interaction, players can form friendships with other players.
This is not to suggest that there are not people who play these excessively. For example, I have heard numerous anecdotes of people failing out of school or losing jobs because of a pathological obsession with playing World of Warcraft, and there are plenty of parodies of people who take D&D too seriously. However, these obsessive players are not typical of the people who play these games. The actions of these few fringe elements do not reflect accurately upon the vast majority of players of these games.
To end with a question: Trading card games, such as Magic: the Gathering, often commission artists to create original artwork for their cards. Would these pieces, commissioned specifically to appear on a trading card, be considered works of art? Would the cards on which the artwork appears be considered works of art, themselves? Or the trading card game taken as a whole?
Sunday, November 22, 2009
"Negative" Emotions
Having just reread Gaut's article to refresh my memory for Monday's class, I would like to take a brief moment to examine his thesis.
Gaut's argument essentially comes out to the following: the so-called "negative" emotions are only unpleasant in their typical applications. Under atypical circumstances, they are not necessarily unpleasant, and even enjoyable. Thus, for example, we may legitimately find fear unpleasant when we are being robbed at gunpoint, when our lives are in very real danger, but we may enjoy fear when watching a horror movie, which is presented in a context in which no real danger, the "typical" circumstance of the emotion being felt, exists.
I feel that this argument not only provides a very powerful response to Carroll's article, but rings true to human emotions and mentality. This thesis can clearly apply not only to horror, but to tragedy. It successfully removes the seeming paradox of the enjoyment of these "negative" emotions by a critical evaluation of the circumstances under which these emotions are felt.
To end with a question: Gaut casually throws out, on page 320, that "the majority of horror works lack any serious artistic worth. They are pure entertainment." This seems to suggest that art does not entertain, or, at the very least, that something that is meant purely to entertain cannot have any artistic merit. Is this the case? Or have I misinterpreted this passage?
Gaut's argument essentially comes out to the following: the so-called "negative" emotions are only unpleasant in their typical applications. Under atypical circumstances, they are not necessarily unpleasant, and even enjoyable. Thus, for example, we may legitimately find fear unpleasant when we are being robbed at gunpoint, when our lives are in very real danger, but we may enjoy fear when watching a horror movie, which is presented in a context in which no real danger, the "typical" circumstance of the emotion being felt, exists.
I feel that this argument not only provides a very powerful response to Carroll's article, but rings true to human emotions and mentality. This thesis can clearly apply not only to horror, but to tragedy. It successfully removes the seeming paradox of the enjoyment of these "negative" emotions by a critical evaluation of the circumstances under which these emotions are felt.
To end with a question: Gaut casually throws out, on page 320, that "the majority of horror works lack any serious artistic worth. They are pure entertainment." This seems to suggest that art does not entertain, or, at the very least, that something that is meant purely to entertain cannot have any artistic merit. Is this the case? Or have I misinterpreted this passage?
Sunday, November 15, 2009
The Benefits of Fiction
Jacob asked: "Since we can suffer by exposure to certain fictions and non-fiction, can we equally benefit from others?"
I think the answer to this question is a resounding "yes." The Greeks performed tragedies for just this purpose. The audience would watch the play, and though they all know the story, they would feel for the characters. With this act of empathy, at the close of the play, the audience would experience a "catharsis," a cleansing of the emotions.
In my own experience, and the experiences of others I have talked to, reading fiction and watching movies does just this. They serve as outlets for us to come to grips with our emotions. Action movies appeal to the instinct for violence, and suppress it, allowing us to experience the carnage through the characters so we do not have to. Romance novels and movies stand as surrogates for passion, allowing us to experience with the characters the thrill of pursuing a lover, the bitterness of rejection, and the final sweetness of finding true love. Horror movies allow us to face our fears, give us license to be scared in a society where showing fear is seen as a sign of weakness.
These emotions that we feel are real, and the medium of fiction grants us a safe outlet through which to release our emotions so we are not overwhelmed by them. These emotions are real, and that, in part, explains why we enjoy them so much. They give us a sense of relief to have been able to express these emotions in a socially acceptable outlet.
To end with a (completely unrelated) question: Might video games be considered potential works of art?
I think the answer to this question is a resounding "yes." The Greeks performed tragedies for just this purpose. The audience would watch the play, and though they all know the story, they would feel for the characters. With this act of empathy, at the close of the play, the audience would experience a "catharsis," a cleansing of the emotions.
In my own experience, and the experiences of others I have talked to, reading fiction and watching movies does just this. They serve as outlets for us to come to grips with our emotions. Action movies appeal to the instinct for violence, and suppress it, allowing us to experience the carnage through the characters so we do not have to. Romance novels and movies stand as surrogates for passion, allowing us to experience with the characters the thrill of pursuing a lover, the bitterness of rejection, and the final sweetness of finding true love. Horror movies allow us to face our fears, give us license to be scared in a society where showing fear is seen as a sign of weakness.
These emotions that we feel are real, and the medium of fiction grants us a safe outlet through which to release our emotions so we are not overwhelmed by them. These emotions are real, and that, in part, explains why we enjoy them so much. They give us a sense of relief to have been able to express these emotions in a socially acceptable outlet.
To end with a (completely unrelated) question: Might video games be considered potential works of art?
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Dawn Phillips' Article
I did a bit of research this evening after I was reminded of the incredibly disappointing article by Dawn Phillips. I found this: http://www.dawnphillips.co.uk/Publications%20pdf%20files/Dawn%20M%20Phillips%20-%20The%20real%20challenge%20for%20an%20aesthetics%20of%20photography.pdf
I was rather surprised when I read this. The article included in our book is considered an "excerpt," but I do not think these two pieces are comparable. In the full version above, Phillips makes an actual (and, I think, rather good, if not complete) argument for photography actually being an art form.
Granted, the full article feels more like an outline for a potential argument than an argument in and of itself, but the full piece seems, to me, to be much stronger than the "excerpt" printed in our book (even if it is still lacking).
To end with a question: why do you suppose the authors of our textbook chose to print the version of Phillips' article that appears in our textbook, rather than the version presented above?
I was rather surprised when I read this. The article included in our book is considered an "excerpt," but I do not think these two pieces are comparable. In the full version above, Phillips makes an actual (and, I think, rather good, if not complete) argument for photography actually being an art form.
Granted, the full article feels more like an outline for a potential argument than an argument in and of itself, but the full piece seems, to me, to be much stronger than the "excerpt" printed in our book (even if it is still lacking).
To end with a question: why do you suppose the authors of our textbook chose to print the version of Phillips' article that appears in our textbook, rather than the version presented above?
Monday, November 2, 2009
Photographic Representation
One point I particularly took issue with from Scruton is his claim that photographs cannot represent anything. I submit, therefore, this photograph, paradigmatic of the Great Depression:
On it's face, it seems to be simply an image. But it is more than that. It is a representation of the spirit of the times. The woman's expression as she stares off into the distance, her abject depression, is representative of the feel that there was no end in sight of the hard times that had befallen America. The two children hide their heads from the camera, because there is no silver lining to the dark cloud of the depression. Their faces are hidden; they do not wish to look upon the dark prospects of the future.
This photograph, and it IS a photograph, is certainly representative. It was the photographer's intention to capture this spirit of the time. Therefore, Scruton's claim that photography "cannot represent anything" seems to fly right in the face of the truth in actual photography -- the truth that photography CAN, and DOES, represent things beyond the objects pictured, in the same way that a painting can and does represent something outside of itself.
To end with a question: Given this example against Scruton's definition of an "ideal photograph," and the fact that his argument was based entirely on his "ideal examples," does Scruton's argument still hold true?
On it's face, it seems to be simply an image. But it is more than that. It is a representation of the spirit of the times. The woman's expression as she stares off into the distance, her abject depression, is representative of the feel that there was no end in sight of the hard times that had befallen America. The two children hide their heads from the camera, because there is no silver lining to the dark cloud of the depression. Their faces are hidden; they do not wish to look upon the dark prospects of the future.
This photograph, and it IS a photograph, is certainly representative. It was the photographer's intention to capture this spirit of the time. Therefore, Scruton's claim that photography "cannot represent anything" seems to fly right in the face of the truth in actual photography -- the truth that photography CAN, and DOES, represent things beyond the objects pictured, in the same way that a painting can and does represent something outside of itself.
To end with a question: Given this example against Scruton's definition of an "ideal photograph," and the fact that his argument was based entirely on his "ideal examples," does Scruton's argument still hold true?
Scruton's Definition of Photography
Scruton takes a position that, I think, is self-defeating. It is such in that his definition of photography is too narrow.
Scruton claims that photography is simply the act of taking the picture. Anything that comes before or after that is the manipulation of photography, and thus not photography. The issue comes when he tries to draw his analogy to painting.
Before a painter can paint, there is some necessary prep work that MUST BE DONE. The canvas must be prepared, and perhaps primed. The paints need to be mixed while working, and even after, there is some fine editing to be done before a painting is truly complete. These, I think, would be the analogues to the preparation of a setting for a photograph and later editing on the image.
I would like to believe that Scruton does not confuse the final product of painting with the entire act of painting. If this is the case, than rejecting the analogues to the processes required to make a painting and calling this the "ideal photograph" is at best a blind mistake, and at worse manipulation of the facts, selectively ignoring facts to build a world view that is entirely independent of, and contrary to, reality.
I feel that his argument is the equivalent of comparing apples and oranges. Scruton writes off some properties of oranges, uses others to show that an orange is not an apple, and then concludes that an orange is not a fruit, but an apple is, based solely on the grounds that an orange is not an apple. This is a flawed argument to make, and discounts the properties that apples and oranges share, i.e. growing on trees, containing seeds, having an edible flesh surrounding the seeds, etc.
To end with a question: As mentioned in class, when trying to use an ideal to make a point, there is the real risk of using a wrong example and taking the essence of that as the ideal. Given this danger, is there any practical value in trying to use an ideal as the basis of an argument to discredit the real world?
Scruton claims that photography is simply the act of taking the picture. Anything that comes before or after that is the manipulation of photography, and thus not photography. The issue comes when he tries to draw his analogy to painting.
Before a painter can paint, there is some necessary prep work that MUST BE DONE. The canvas must be prepared, and perhaps primed. The paints need to be mixed while working, and even after, there is some fine editing to be done before a painting is truly complete. These, I think, would be the analogues to the preparation of a setting for a photograph and later editing on the image.
I would like to believe that Scruton does not confuse the final product of painting with the entire act of painting. If this is the case, than rejecting the analogues to the processes required to make a painting and calling this the "ideal photograph" is at best a blind mistake, and at worse manipulation of the facts, selectively ignoring facts to build a world view that is entirely independent of, and contrary to, reality.
I feel that his argument is the equivalent of comparing apples and oranges. Scruton writes off some properties of oranges, uses others to show that an orange is not an apple, and then concludes that an orange is not a fruit, but an apple is, based solely on the grounds that an orange is not an apple. This is a flawed argument to make, and discounts the properties that apples and oranges share, i.e. growing on trees, containing seeds, having an edible flesh surrounding the seeds, etc.
To end with a question: As mentioned in class, when trying to use an ideal to make a point, there is the real risk of using a wrong example and taking the essence of that as the ideal. Given this danger, is there any practical value in trying to use an ideal as the basis of an argument to discredit the real world?
Sunday, November 1, 2009
"Levels" of Art
Jacob asked the following: "Telfer attributed food as a minor art, and Scruton thinks that photography is a lesser art form. Are there levels of art? Are some forms inherently better than others or is all art, or rather, all artforms equal?"
The simple answer is, "no." For a longer answer... there are numerous difficulties with this idea of a "lesser" versus "greater" arts.
For one, it is presumptuous to pick out particular art forms and say that one is better than another. Each different art form has a different tradition, and look for different aspects, so in a sense, trying to categorize "lesser" and "greater" art is like comparing apples to oranges. They're both fruit, but there's no way to argue that one is "better" than another.
Another difficulty is that there is such variation within different artistic "types." For example, I would argue that John Cage's 4'33 is certainly less accomplished than, say, Vivaldi's Four Seasons. It seems ludicrous, therefore, to consider a "song" where the musician merely sits at the piano for 4 minutes and 33 seconds would necessarily be a better work of art than, say, a photograph, simply because John Cage's piece is "music," and thus a "greater" art than the "lesser art" of photography.
Given this large variation of skill, it is absurd to try to differentiate art forms as "greater" or "lesser." Rather, I would suggest that art works be judged solely on their merit, lest we mistake a poor piece of one type of art to be better than a great piece of a different type simply because of the types of art these works are examples of.
To end with a question: Is Scruton justified in his use of "Ideal examples" to build his case against photography?
The simple answer is, "no." For a longer answer... there are numerous difficulties with this idea of a "lesser" versus "greater" arts.
For one, it is presumptuous to pick out particular art forms and say that one is better than another. Each different art form has a different tradition, and look for different aspects, so in a sense, trying to categorize "lesser" and "greater" art is like comparing apples to oranges. They're both fruit, but there's no way to argue that one is "better" than another.
Another difficulty is that there is such variation within different artistic "types." For example, I would argue that John Cage's 4'33 is certainly less accomplished than, say, Vivaldi's Four Seasons. It seems ludicrous, therefore, to consider a "song" where the musician merely sits at the piano for 4 minutes and 33 seconds would necessarily be a better work of art than, say, a photograph, simply because John Cage's piece is "music," and thus a "greater" art than the "lesser art" of photography.
Given this large variation of skill, it is absurd to try to differentiate art forms as "greater" or "lesser." Rather, I would suggest that art works be judged solely on their merit, lest we mistake a poor piece of one type of art to be better than a great piece of a different type simply because of the types of art these works are examples of.
To end with a question: Is Scruton justified in his use of "Ideal examples" to build his case against photography?
NaNoWriMo
This will not be one of my two posts for the week for aesthetics. I just wanted to put in a quick advertisement for National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). Granted, it's already started, but it's not too late yet, if you can play catch up, and it's a fun experience for anyone (not just writers!).
http://www.nanowrimo.org/
The object of NaNoWriMo is to write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days, just to prove you can. I highly recommend you all look in to it. It's quite fun. I won in 2008, and am participating again this year. Good luck to anyone who tries this with me!
http://www.nanowrimo.org/
The object of NaNoWriMo is to write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days, just to prove you can. I highly recommend you all look in to it. It's quite fun. I won in 2008, and am participating again this year. Good luck to anyone who tries this with me!
Aesthetics of Nature
I feel that Jacob's post on aesthetics and the aesthetic appreciation of nature fairly well encapsulates my own view on the aesthetic appreciation of nature, so I will not go in to detail in that here. In sum, his argument is, "aesthetic responses are emotional responses to what we see," therefore when we have an emotional response to our perception of nature, it is an aesthetic response. I would like to use this post to suggest something that Carlson found problematic: we do not know what to appreciate aesthetically in regards to nature.
I believe that this question is a very simple one to answer. It can be answered thus: whatever sense is most useful at the time. This may seem vague, but a few examples should serve to illustrate the point.
Let us take the classic example of the waterfall to begin with. Part of the aesthetic experience would certainly be seeing it. The act of watching the water rushing ever downwards can be quite an emotional ride. It is compounded by the sound, the mighty roar of the water as it cascades downward. Feel, scent, and perhaps even taste may come in to play depending on distance from the base, as a result of the mist that sometimes rises up at the base of waterfalls.
For another example, take a walk through the woods. Part of the aesthetic experience is, again, visual, in terms of the flora and fauna that one may spot on the trail. Aural comes in to play through experiences such as the rustle of leaves by a breeze, or the song of birds. The air itself can provide an aesthetic experience, if it is clean. Feel can come through touching trees along the way, or simply from the act of walking on the often soft ground of a forest.
A favorite example of mine is lying in a yard cloud-gazing. The visual experience is, of course, looking up at the sky. Aural experience can be in the same vein as the forest -- breeze and birdsong, for example. The physical experience is the feel of the grass on one's back, perhaps the feel of bugs crawling across the skin, or the warmth of the sun's light.
In all cases, it is not particularly difficult to find which sense to use. It is simply a matter of being open to receiving the stimuli that nature has to offer. There need be no "set in stone" way to aesthetically appreciate nature.
To end with a question: Do we really need to "know" how to aesthetically appreciate something?
I believe that this question is a very simple one to answer. It can be answered thus: whatever sense is most useful at the time. This may seem vague, but a few examples should serve to illustrate the point.
Let us take the classic example of the waterfall to begin with. Part of the aesthetic experience would certainly be seeing it. The act of watching the water rushing ever downwards can be quite an emotional ride. It is compounded by the sound, the mighty roar of the water as it cascades downward. Feel, scent, and perhaps even taste may come in to play depending on distance from the base, as a result of the mist that sometimes rises up at the base of waterfalls.
For another example, take a walk through the woods. Part of the aesthetic experience is, again, visual, in terms of the flora and fauna that one may spot on the trail. Aural comes in to play through experiences such as the rustle of leaves by a breeze, or the song of birds. The air itself can provide an aesthetic experience, if it is clean. Feel can come through touching trees along the way, or simply from the act of walking on the often soft ground of a forest.
A favorite example of mine is lying in a yard cloud-gazing. The visual experience is, of course, looking up at the sky. Aural experience can be in the same vein as the forest -- breeze and birdsong, for example. The physical experience is the feel of the grass on one's back, perhaps the feel of bugs crawling across the skin, or the warmth of the sun's light.
In all cases, it is not particularly difficult to find which sense to use. It is simply a matter of being open to receiving the stimuli that nature has to offer. There need be no "set in stone" way to aesthetically appreciate nature.
To end with a question: Do we really need to "know" how to aesthetically appreciate something?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)