I've been trying hard to reach an understanding about art criticism and philosophy, and I think I can finally put it into words. Forgive me for this long entry. I've tried to make this concise and sacrificed much of the nuance, yet its still many paragraphs long. This should show that I am only now starting to understand this.

Before, I was not a believer in the Death of the Author. I figured art is communication, therefore intention must be central to art. Messages are meant to be understood. However, I understand now why the Death of the Author is important, and that like Socrates said about the artists of Athens, art is not just a deliberate process of logic, but instead a sort of spiritual divining. In this way, art pieces are machines from which interpretations can be made. Seldom are the messages a clever viewer extracts actually baked into the piece with the same intention the viewer perceives.

I've been taken in by the loving arms of Daoist philosophy this year. It's been wonderful for my personal development, and this wisdom found within the Tao Te Ching and the Chaung Tzu is true wisdom, as Yamamoto Tsunetomo would say for its boundless compassion. Central to this wisdom is acceptance. The world is a perfect place, and all things are an emanation of the formless Dao. Because of this, there is nothing to despise, no good or bad - only the way things are. It fits perfectly with the western Stoic philosophy I've studied this year. I'm still a beginner, so my understanding is shaky.

Daoism, like most eastern philosophy, is concerned with the ego. The concept of self is what defines you - your preferences, hobbies, fears, likes and dislikes - but this keeps you proportionately from understanding and accepting things as they are. Your disliking of spiders blinds you to their natural beauty, your fondness for sugar keeps you from tasting the sweetness of bread, and more. This conviction goes incredibly deep, even to the idea of attachment to things at all.

If you want to become whole,
let yourself be partial.
If you want to become full,
let yourself be empty.
...
If you want to be given everything,
give everything up.

I bring these up for their relationship with art criticism. I was once quite the critic myself; I wrote an entire video that likely wont see the light of day which describes how I once was. My criticism of things was simply pointing out what they were, and not appreciating them for that. I distanced myself from things with an almost moral righteousness because it did not fit my tastes, and all the logic and haughtiness in my analysis stemmed entirely from that shaky foundation.

As I've said before, art are machines for interpretation. Like the Daoists would say about the entire world, it is simply a blank canvas, and it is only yourself that you see when you look at it. As someone who hopes to reach the truth of things, I try every second to allow the boundless compassion of the Dao into my heart. By letting go, and accepting the perfection of the world, I can see the truth more clearly than ever.

Because of this, I retire the ego and I see clearly there is no bad art, and nothing to hate in art. It is all beautiful, perfect as it is, and worth celebration. The subjectivity of interpretation was the mirror which I saw my own insecurity, like I needed to control it, tell it how to be, tell it it wasn't good enough for me. After starting to realize this, I have not disliked a single piece of art. I can see sharply its qualities, how it inspires me, and what it says to me. To believe it is flawed is only to project your own failure to accept - your crticism is only an expression of your fear.

Recently I saw a very short conversation about unarmed fighting from a community member who does MMA. As a student of samurai philosophy, it was invigorating to see such a topic come up right before me. They were discussing the mental space of a fight, and how automating your action and lightening your mental load is the goal.

This is essential to the Way as described in the Hagakure. In fact, this principle goes so far that automating your entire life is the essence of "becoming one with the Way", the ultimate goal of bushido and most similar philosophy.

If one makes a distinction between public places and one's sleeping quarters, or between being on the battlefield and on the tatami, when the moment comes there will not be time for making amends. There is only the matter of constant awareness. If it were not for men who demonstrate valor on the tatami, one could not find them on the battlefield either.

Constant awareness and thoughtless immersion within the Way is the highest principle one can achieve. To be filial to humanity and your master, to live as though already dead, and to not show a moment's hesitation regardless of circumstance is the peak of samurai teaching.

Although all things are not to be judged in this manner, I mention it in the investigation of the Way of the Samurai. When the time comes, there is no moment for reasoning. And if you have not done your inquiring beforehand, there is most often shame. Reading books and listening to people's talk are for the purpose of prior resolution.

This quote relates well to the topic of thought during fights. This was the final thoughts on Tsunetomo's opinion on the Akō incident, or the revenge of the 47 ronin, which was a major event during his lifetime. He chastises them for their lack of immediacy.

Most beautifully is this quote directly regarding mental space during combat. It is this poetic thinking that is so endearing and truly artful, which keeps me fascinated with their wisdom.

In the Kiyogunkan one person said, "When facing the enemy, I feel as if I have just entered darkness. Because of this I get heavily wounded. Although you have fought with many famous men, you have never been wounded. Why is that?"

The other man answered, "When I have faced the enemy, of course it is like being in the dark. But if at that time I tranquilize my mind, it becomes like a night lit by a pale moon. If I begin my attack from that point, I feel as though I will not be wounded." This is the situation at the moment of truth.

If I cannot enjoy something deeply, often I do not bother. For example, I cannot enjoy a story or picture only because it is cute or fun. It must mean something, it must have deep artistry; or failing this, it must have some interesting history or story around its creation. With everything I enjoy, I can discuss the folding layers of its intricacies, whether intrinstic or extrinsic.

Yet so many people don't feel this way. People like ponies or fashion dolls simply because they are cute, and nothing further. They might know more about them, but they don't need to.

I admire this trait, and I lament not being that way. My own attitude - though it has driven me to great heights of understanding - comes in part from my neuroticism. It reveals an inner turmoil, and my failing in the Way. It makes me impatient, driven to always do and go deeper, pushing me away from the peace and truth of how things are.

Be content with what you have;
rejoice in the way things are.
When you realize there is nothing lacking,
the whole world belongs to you.

The Tao is mostly about simplicity. To accept something as it is and need nothing further, almost like a child, is what it teaches.

"Simple in actions and thoughts,
you return to the source of being.
Patient with both friends and enemies,
you accord with the way things are."

"The Master sees things as they are,
without trying to control them.
She lets them go their own way,
and resides at the center of the circle."

I've been enamored with the I have no enemies meme that has been going around. This sort of thinking is the most excellent and powerful virtue. All other teachings of philosophy and science pale in significance to this simple virtue of compassion. In the Hagakure, a book filled with killing, honor, war and such, the retired samurai Tsunetomo writes;

"What is called generosity is really compassion. In the Shin'ei it is written, 'Seen from the eye of compassion, there is no one to be disliked. One who has sinned is to be pitied all the more.' There is no limit to the breadth and depth of one's heart. There is room enough for all. "

"The wisdom and courage that come from compassion are real wisdom and courage. When one punishes or strives with the heart of compassion, what he does will be limitless in strength and correctness. Doing something for one's own sake is shallow and mean and turns into evil. I understood the matters of wisdom and courage some time ago. I am just now beginning to understand the matter of compassion."

That this stoic, gruff samurai traditionalist would say such a thing is compelling and shows his true understanding of good living. This is a fundamental teaching of most eastern philosophy, and part of its origin can be seen in the Tao Te Ching. Stephen Mitchell comments on this in his translation;

"The teaching of the Tao Te Ching is moral in the deepest sense. Unencumbered by any concept of sin, the Master doesn't see evil as a force to resist, but simply as an opaqueness; a state of self-absorption which is in disharmony with the universal process, so that, as with a dirty window, the light can't shine through."

Anybody can tell you that other people are just people too, who have their own issues, and even the most troubled and dangerous are this way. But to embody this understanding is true strength, which takes a lifetime to master. I tear up just writing this. I hope to have that strength some day.

I've finally watched all of Friendship is Magic, as I fell out of bronydom around season 6. Since Everfree Northwest is still active, I've started attending, and it has rekindled a fulfilling sense of belonging. It's funny seeing comments on brony songs and videos saying things like "Sad the good days of the fandom are gone" from 6 years ago - a time anyone in 2023 would kill to be in.

"It is said what is called "the spirit of an age" is something to which one cannot return. That this spirit gradually dissipates is due to the world's coming to an end. In the same way, a single year does not have just spring or summer. A single day, too, is the same.
For this reason, although one would like to change today's world to the spirit of one hundred years or more ago, it cannot be done. Thus it is important to make the best out of every generation. This is the mistake of people who are attached to past generations. They have no understanding of this point."

In the same way, to say ponies is dead in 2023 - when people still make songs, attend conventions, sell art - is just as funny.

"Everyone lets the present moment slip by, then looks for it as though he thought it was somewhere else. No one seems to have noticed this fact."

The following is an old post from the previous version of this website. Not every post is worth bringing back, but I think this one is.

I've taken up skateboarding in the past few months, and it's been very enriching. I love dexterity challenges, and riding around on a plank of wood with wheels is about as dangerous and demanding one can get. I've been practicing dropping in; the act of starting atop a ramp, skateboard hung over the drop, then mounting and descending on the board in one motion, shooting down the ramp and into the park with speed.

The lesson this teaches is about fear. The drop is scary, and you feel you will fall forward off the board and down the ramp. However, show any hesitation and you will undoubtedly fall backwards off the board instead - a far more dangerous way to fall. If you drop in, and lean very far forward despite feeling you will fall, you will find it incredibly easy and that there was nothing to fear at all; yet hesitation to fear spells a worse failure than you could have imagined. It's like the saying

"Nothing is as scary as it seems"

and conversely

"The only thing we have to fear is fear itself".