[Don't] Lose Yourself

One of my classes, Benjamin and Adorno, focuses on the era of Enlightenment, which was succeeded by 19^th century Romanticism. Romanticism is one of my absolute favourite eras to explore within literature, and I might write about a few particular poems in future, but today I wanted to look into an aspect of Enlightenment we covered in class today: nature. This post will probably be nonsensical and personal, as I connect elements of the subject to my own life in a way that barely serves any purpose.

The topic, Enlightenment versus Romanticism was introduced with an overview of Benjamin’s The Concept of Criticism in German Romanticism, a hefty read detailing the significance of reflection upon reflection upon reflection of art, which forms the basis of art. As we encounter art, we devise a reflection of that piece; this reflection is followed by another reflection, and the cycle continues limitlessly. The infinite nature of reflection is therefore an act, according to Fichte, to which we can attribute a conscious awareness. Its infinite nature is also apparent in the number of objects we observe; each different object will have its own various reflections, rendering the cycle unending. I resonate with this pervasive thought of reflection, as do so many others, in the form of overthinking. How many of us overthink into the night, dampening our own sorrows by focusing on sad memories and anxiety-inducing fears? It gets tiring, fast.

Reflection of art won’t exist without criticism. In its intentions, criticism isn’t about judgement – it’s about a completion, or a systemisation of the work coming into effect – its resolution of the absolute. Reflection, acting as a medium, allows us to discover and examine art, turning it into an object of conscious awareness, thus transforming them into relative limitations. The simplest thought I had was that as human beings, arguably built to create and criticise, we ourselves are art. We will continuously create and destroy ourselves, criticising the sequence along the way, and to escape this can depict Enlightenment as an emancipation from nature, the very concept we come from.

Only, this has become dominated by technocracy and positivism. Adorno and Horkheimer in The Dialectic of Enlightenment focused on culture industry, which forms the argument that mass production in a capitalist society destroys the unique nature of art and induces passivity in us. To induce passivity in us, as we fail to reflect on the homogenised art, limits any reflection and any existence as art. Society becomes easily manipulated into passivity by stamping out the beauty of individual art, including our own existence, which always hurts the consumer.

Is detaching ourselves from nature worth it? If we all end up as passive consumers of lookalike commodities, the progressiveness of our lives is halted. In other words – creating is persevering. Creating is living. Creating is reflecting, criticising and becoming art.

I wouldn’t describe myself as an artist, although I hoard a slew of art projects that I abandoned time again and again. I can, however, describe myself as someone who wishes he could create admirable art. As much as I write poetry and sometimes paint, mental illness and self-doubt holds me back. I barely manage the basic notion of creation, but creation in its earliest form does continue to inspire me. Nature, whether it be mountain scenes, the smell of grass or the roots of trees tripping me up, always remind me that creation doesn’t have to be so otherworldly or avantgarde. I don’t think I have the capacity to create anything spectacular, I lost the will long ago, but appreciating nature allows me to create on a scale that is agreeable to me. I hate the idea of losing my identity in its entirety to capitalism, or even mental illness alone, so I try to hold onto any semblance of creativity that continues to exist within me.

The point I’m tying to get at, I suppose, is to avoid abandoning the basis of creation, that is nature. There’s something so harmonious about nature and its simplicity that it compels me to exist. A huge part of me doesn’t want any part of capitalism tainting the world, but the rebellion against it is refreshing.

I'd been worrying during my absence on the blog about this, about failing to create, and it made me more depressed to think I couldn't access any creativity or imagination to write something. I was having the same thoughts today, as I sat down with a blank Word document facing me. I was forcing myself to stop resisting and to finally complete the task I'd set myself - posting. I did the bare minimum, which was poorly articulate a version of my reflection on my class today. It took a lot of effort, as a migraine is currently destroying my sanity, but I did it. Start somewhere, create.

Zack