schweblog

Immanuel Kant’s aesthetics are some of the most interesting and developed theories in the field, which are outlined in his Critique of Judgment. They provided a foundation for the basis of aesthetic theory and are still arguably some of the best grounding ideas in aesthetic philosophy. Kant divided our sense of the aesthetic into two parts: the beautiful and the sublime.

The beautiful is something that appeals to us out of sheer appreciation for the object alone. We must be disinterested in the object and wholly impartial regarding its existence–in other words, its presence cannot satisfy one of our base biological desires or any other motives we have. It must stand alone, independent of our need or want of it. When we find something aesthetically pleasing in this “pure” form, it is beautiful. In short, it seems to possess a “form of finality”–that is, it seems to have been designed with a purpose, even though it must be purposeless if we can truly regard it with disinterestedness.

The sublime is superior to the sense of the beautiful in many ways, mainly because it helps us gain some sense of ourselves when we experience it, although we must be disinterested to the act that inspires this introspective process. Experience of the sublime is triggered by something outside of us–an event or spectacle–that is overwhelmingly spectacular, to the point of being scary (again, it must not be threatening, as that would force us to be “interested” in it). An avalanche, for example, observed from afar for the first time, is still arguably a frightening thing to witness even if it poses no threat to us. In witnessing this event or spectacle, we are overcome by a sense of the magnitude of nature’s ability: a removed fear.

Simultaneously, we realize that the event itself–however fearful it might be–is not that significant, in lieu of what we can imagine. The capacity of our imagination allows us to think of something that is far beyond the magnitude of what we have just experienced. As such, our feelings double-up: the fear, once incredible and magnificent, takes a backseat to our own capacity to imagine things far greater. Thus, our faculties and mental abilities become a source of amazement. The sublime, at its root, is a process of self-realization at our own imaginative potential.

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I’m finding myself struck by the sublime as of late. After discussing the current situation with Natalie, I realized that impartiality here was essential: she needs to go to France and experience it in whatever way necessary. Me pressuring her one way or the other is only going to hurt the long-term potency of her actions there, for better or worse. I can only hope that it is reflective of a sense of respect for my feelings, but cannot expect it, lay down conditions for it, or become wholly invested in what she does. Thus, I came upon the conclusion that she must act in a way that is unfettered by another person’s expectations. In releasing these expectations, I became impartial–not to what we have, which I appreciate and enjoy, but what would be. In order to fully appreciate what I possess at present, I must become disinterested in what I may possess in the future.

Simultaneously, that future is frightening, both in what it will require of me and the potentially epic reward that it could yield. She and I are both young and daring and brave. We can hurt each other on a grand scale…or we can go into something together that is euphoric, rich, and incredibly rewarding. Either way, it is frightening, both in its potential for beauty and its potential for harm. I am not actively fearing the future because it is not affecting my present self, but I am fearful of the future itself, however abstract and indefinite it may be.

In understanding how I must regard this and what looms ahead, though, I’m getting a sense of what could be. The things I can see and predict for the future include an element that I cannot predict completely–her–and thus the potential for possibilities is virtually boundless. This is the sublime, right here and right now. We are living what we imagined it would be like at the hands of an entirely different person. It is not just one imagination at work here–it is two: working, hoping, drowning, and breathing in the other. This is it. We are living the sublime.