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A review by laurasanblor
The Critic as Artist by Oscar Wilde
5.0
sólo el título (el crítico como artista: con alguna observación sobre la importancia de no hacer nada y discutirlo todo) vale las 5 estrellas. pero es que además, el propio ensayo es maravilloso. ojalá todo el mundo lo leyese para entender la importancia de ser y crear y criticar y razonar y la belleza. oscar wilde te quiero <3
os quiero dejar alguna frase de esta lectura porque si por algo es famoso oscar wilde, es por sus frases ingeniosas:
When man acts he is a puppet. When he describes he is a poet.
It is difficult not to be unjust to what one loves.
It will give us the peace that springs from understanding.
There are two ways of disliking art. One is to dislike it. The other, to like it rationally.
There is nothing sane about the worship of beauty. It is too splendid to be sane.
Man is least himself when he talks in his, own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.
An idea that is not dangerous is unworthy of being called an idea at all.
además, por si acaso no lo leéis (ojalá poder obligaros) al menos os dejo aquí algunos fragmentos del libro:
And it is for this very reason that the criticism which I have quoted is criticism of the highest kind. It treats the work of art simply as a starting-point for a new creation. It does not confine itself - let us at least suppose so for the moment - to discovering the real intention of the artist and accepting that as final. And in this it is right, for the meaning of any. beautiful created thing is, at least, as much in the soul of him who looks at it, as it was in his soul who wrought it. Nay, it is rather the beholder who lends to the beautiful thing its myriad meanings, and makes it marvellous for us, and sets it in some new relation to the age, so that it becomes a vital portion of our lives, and symbol of what we pray for, or perhaps of what, having prayed for, we fear that we may receive.
He has "nothing to say". But if he had something to say, he would probably say it, and the result would be tedious. It is just because he has no new, message, that he can do beautiful work. He gains his inspiration from form, and from form purely, as an artist should.
It is only about things that do not interest one that one can give a really unbiased opinion, which is no doubt the reason why an unbiased opinion is always absolutely valueless. The man who sees both sides of a question, is a man who sees absolutely, nothing at all. Art is a passion, and, in matters of art, Thought inevitably coloured by emotion, and so is fluid rather than fixed and, depending upon fine moods and exquisite moments, cannot be narrowed into the rigidity of a scientific formula or a theological dogma.
The critic will certainly be an interpreter, but he will not treat Art as a riddling Sphinx, whose shallow secret may be guessed and revealed by one whose feet are wounded and who knows not his name.
Rather, he will look upon Art as a goddess whose mystery it is his province to intensify, and whose majesty his privilege to make more marvellous in the eyes of men.
It is only by intensifying his own personality that the critic can interpret the personality and work of others, and the more strongly this personality enters into the interpretation the more real the interpretation becomes, the more satisfying, the more convincing, and the more true. (...) If you wish to understand others you must intensify your own individualism.
That is what the highest criticism really is, the record of one's own soul. It is more fascinating than history, as it is concerned simply with oneself. It is more delightful than philosophy, as its subject is concrete and not abstract, real and not vague. It is the only civilized form of autobiography, as it deals not with the events, but with the thoughts of one's life; not with life's physical accidents of deed or circumstance, but with the spiritual moods and imaginative passions of the mind.
os quiero dejar alguna frase de esta lectura porque si por algo es famoso oscar wilde, es por sus frases ingeniosas:
When man acts he is a puppet. When he describes he is a poet.
It is difficult not to be unjust to what one loves.
It will give us the peace that springs from understanding.
There are two ways of disliking art. One is to dislike it. The other, to like it rationally.
There is nothing sane about the worship of beauty. It is too splendid to be sane.
Man is least himself when he talks in his, own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.
An idea that is not dangerous is unworthy of being called an idea at all.
además, por si acaso no lo leéis (ojalá poder obligaros) al menos os dejo aquí algunos fragmentos del libro:
And it is for this very reason that the criticism which I have quoted is criticism of the highest kind. It treats the work of art simply as a starting-point for a new creation. It does not confine itself - let us at least suppose so for the moment - to discovering the real intention of the artist and accepting that as final. And in this it is right, for the meaning of any. beautiful created thing is, at least, as much in the soul of him who looks at it, as it was in his soul who wrought it. Nay, it is rather the beholder who lends to the beautiful thing its myriad meanings, and makes it marvellous for us, and sets it in some new relation to the age, so that it becomes a vital portion of our lives, and symbol of what we pray for, or perhaps of what, having prayed for, we fear that we may receive.
He has "nothing to say". But if he had something to say, he would probably say it, and the result would be tedious. It is just because he has no new, message, that he can do beautiful work. He gains his inspiration from form, and from form purely, as an artist should.
It is only about things that do not interest one that one can give a really unbiased opinion, which is no doubt the reason why an unbiased opinion is always absolutely valueless. The man who sees both sides of a question, is a man who sees absolutely, nothing at all. Art is a passion, and, in matters of art, Thought inevitably coloured by emotion, and so is fluid rather than fixed and, depending upon fine moods and exquisite moments, cannot be narrowed into the rigidity of a scientific formula or a theological dogma.
The critic will certainly be an interpreter, but he will not treat Art as a riddling Sphinx, whose shallow secret may be guessed and revealed by one whose feet are wounded and who knows not his name.
Rather, he will look upon Art as a goddess whose mystery it is his province to intensify, and whose majesty his privilege to make more marvellous in the eyes of men.
It is only by intensifying his own personality that the critic can interpret the personality and work of others, and the more strongly this personality enters into the interpretation the more real the interpretation becomes, the more satisfying, the more convincing, and the more true. (...) If you wish to understand others you must intensify your own individualism.
That is what the highest criticism really is, the record of one's own soul. It is more fascinating than history, as it is concerned simply with oneself. It is more delightful than philosophy, as its subject is concrete and not abstract, real and not vague. It is the only civilized form of autobiography, as it deals not with the events, but with the thoughts of one's life; not with life's physical accidents of deed or circumstance, but with the spiritual moods and imaginative passions of the mind.