Preface (Cantos I-III)

I noted, how the sequel of his words
Cloak'd their beginning; for the last he spake
Agreed not with the first. But not the less
My fear was at his saying; sith I drew
To import worse perchance, than that he held,
His mutilated speech.

Canto I

"What is spoken is never, and in no language, what is said."

Heidegger, The Thinker as Poet

Every act of communication effects both an intended and an unintended meaning. There is no reason that the intended should be given priority in the metaphysics of meaning. Why should intention be appointed the godhead of meaning? Why should we think that the unintentional has no role to play in the comprehension of meaning? Should the accidental be less meaningful, simply for want of an intending mind?

There is meaning in the unintended, for only that meaning may be discovered. For the counter-movement of intention is attention, which minds nothing for what the mind imbues into meaning, but rather attends to discover the essentially new. To paint a complete picture of what meaning is, we must admit a place for both attention and intention, for both play a role in the advent of meaning. Not only is intending responsible for the advent of meaning, but so also attending, for only an attendant is responsive to the coming of meaning and therefore capable of its discovery.

Canto II

"Are designations congruent with things? Is language the adequate expression of all realities?"

Nietzsche, On Truth and Lie in a Nonmoral Sense

The obsession with the distinction between form and content has been as much a hindrance as an aid to the progression of philosophy. We speak of form and content as if the whole world were composed of nothing but so many jugs of wine. But the content of a thing cannot so easily be emptied of its form. Like so many distinctions that are made, in both philosophy and our daily lives, the line dividing one thing from another is hazy at best, indefensible at worst.

Worst of all, these matters are so rarely thought of as they truly are, as convenient but imperfect analogies. We compare one thing to another which is dissimilar to it, such that each may appear in the light of the other and thereby be seen anew. Parallels are discovered while differences are forgotten, for the one appears in the light of the other.

It may be defensible to forget the differences which separate the object considered from its analogue, given the very purpose of such juxtaposition. But we must take care to remember that the object and its analogue are truly separate, and the light each casts upon the other is a light of utility and not one of essence. Even as they dwell together, the form and its content stand firmly apart.

Canto III

"Anything your reader can do for himself leave to him."

Wittgenstein, Culture and Value

Every art has something of art and something of artifice. There is no artifice without art, and no art without artifice. Without both, neither would be possible.

What is the relationship between intention and meaning in art? The artist speaks most clearly those truths which he does not intend. Intending to speak a message, he rarely ever succeeds in communicating it affectively. But if the artist surrenders himself wholly over to his craft, he may potentially become the conduit for truths which surpass his own understanding. In so creating, the artist must renounce his pride altogether, praising instead the divine muses, and crediting them alone for the merit of his work.

As a general rule, the more an art is based in artifice, the easier it is to effectively communicate a meaning intended. But just as the accidental is not inessential or subordinate to meaning, so too is artifice not without its art. The art of artifice is its technique. Since artifice is artificial, it is superordinate to its content. As method, it structures that which is without form. As technique, it works upon dead matter so as to present it in a certain light, which is to re-present it as what it is not. A diamond as itself will not sparkle, and gold of itself does not shine. Only when it has been worked upon can it be seen for what it is, that is to say, for what it is not.

At the same time, the essence of art is something wholly other from technique. It is that power which moves us in music; soaring as our hearts soar, plummeting as our souls fall into the depths. It is that tear which rolls down our cheek as we are touched by the marvelous sensuality of flowing drapes locked forever into marble. But none of this should mistake us into thinking that the purpose of art is merely to move us to feeling. For true beauty is not grounded in the heart, but within the spirit. The purpose of art is not to move us to feeling, but to guide us to understanding.