you must be so proud!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v =97CtEReZEaQ

I don't ask my cat what it thinks about Thoreau either...

The ‘art of memory,’ to begin with, was the ancient technique of imprinting ‘images’ or ‘places’ (topoi) on the memory in order to organize thoughts or ideas, and to make them reliably accessible to short term memory (remember, this was a time when writing tools were not as available to everyone, and even less were capable of both reading and writing). In ‘The Art of Memory’ Frances Yates explains the general principles involved:

The first step was to imprint on the memory a series of ‘loci’ or places. The commonest, though not the only, type of mnemonic place system used was the architectural type. The clearest description of the process is that given by Quintilian. In order to form a series of places in memory, he says, a building is to be remembered, as spacious and varied a one as possible, the forecourt, the living room, bedrooms, and parlours, not omitting statues and other ornaments with which the rooms are decorated. The images by which the speech is to be remembered – as an example of these Quintilian says one may use an anchor or a weapon – are then placed in imagination on the places which have been memorized in the building. This done, as soon as the memory of the facts requires to be revived, all these places are visited in turn and the various deposits demanded of their custodians. We have to think of the ancient orator as moving in imagination through his memory building whilst he is making his speech, drawing from the memorized places the images he has placed on them. The method ensures that the points are remembered in the right order, since the order is fixed by the sequence of places in the building. (Yates: 18-19)

Maybe I should point out that in coupling loci to specific notions about ‘thoughts,’ or ‘ideas,’ or in thinking of mnemonics as a tool for ‘[short-term] memory,’ we risk confusing the art of memory as it was practiced and experienced, or the function it was supposed to serve, with anachronistic notions about the cognitive relation between memory and phenomenological experience. For example, both Plato and Aristotle use the metaphor of the seal of wax to explain the relation between the role of memory – i.e. the gift of Mnemosyne, the mother of the Muses – and the ideas which represent our knowledge of things. However, whereas Aristotle believed the ideas to be formed by the images derived from sense impressions, Plato had also spoken of Ideas separate to sense impressions, yet which also imprinted their form on the soul. Hence true knowledge, for Plato, consisted in the recollection of the Ideas by the soul. By contrast, Aristotle speaks of artificial memory in order to illustrate the importance of ordering and the role of association in order to properly ‘recollect’ what has already been impressed by the senses.

Let me make the distinction more explicit. Frances Yates writes, in relation to Aristotle’s Topics, that “There can be no doubt that these topoi used by persons with a trained memory must be mnemonic loci, and it is indeed probable that the very word ‘topics’ as used in dialectics arose through the places of mnemonics. Topics are the ‘things’ or subject matter of dialectic which came to be known as topoi through the places in which they were stored.” But according to Plato, the mnemonics of the art of memory dealt only with artificial memory, and was therefore inferior to true knowledge. It is in this context that he attacked - in his famous dialogue ‘Phaedrus’ (which is about eros and rhetoric) - the rhetoric practiced by the sophists, which he considered as having failed in their true function: persuading men to knowledge of the truth, which is desecrated, or led astray, by the practice and use of artificial memory systems, including writing. For example, consider the scene in the Phaedrus (274c-275b) where Socrates paraphrases the old Egyptian king Thamus in reply to the god Theuth, who brought with him the gift of ‘letters’, saying that:

“the invention [letters] will create forgetfulness in the learners’ souls, because they will not use their memories; they will trust to the external written characters and not remember of themselves. You have found a specific not for memory but for reminiscence, and you give your disciples only the pretence of wisdom; they will be hearers of many things and will have learned nothing; they will appear to be omniscient and will generally know nothing; they will be tiresome, having the reputation of knowledge without the reality.”

The, after Phaedrus reacts to this story, Socrates continues:

“He would be a simple person, and quite without understanding of the oracles Thamus and Ammon, who should leave in writing or receive in writing any art under the idea that the written word would be intelligible or certain; or who deemed that writing was at all better than knowledge and recollection of the same matters.” (275c5-275d2)

I find the conceptual proximity of the ancient art of memory and the (post) modern hermeneutic problem very interesting, and think so would Kaufman, particularly the ‘layering’ of new meanings by older texts, myths, traditions, experience within a culture – including historical consciousness itself, and our awareness of how the development of writing has helped shape collective memories (or our modern notion of anthropological origins). For example, Gadamer writes that:

“In the nineteenth century, the hermeneutics that was once merely ancillary to theology and philology was developed into a system and made the basis of all the human sciences. It wholly transcended its original pragmatic purpose of making it possible, or easier, to understand written texts. It is not only the written tradition that is estranged and in need of new and more vital assimilation; everything that is no longer immediately situated in a world—that is, all tradition, whether art or the other spiritual creations of the past: law, religion, philosophy, and so forth—is estranged from its original meaning and depends on the unlocking and mediating spirit that we, like the Greeks, name after Hermes: the messenger of the gods. It is to the rise of historical consciousness that hermeneutics owes its centrality with the human sciences. But we may ask whether the whole extent of the problem that hermeneutics poses can be adequately grasped on the basis of the premises of historical consciousness.” (Truth and Method, 157-58; ed. 2004)

This modern problem of historical narrative (and consciousness) and embodied experience (‘Being’), understood in the context of the art of memory, would make a great subject for a movie (in Imax 3D maybe?), though it would require the considerable talents of a Kaufman to make both intelligible AND watchable (i.e. not as boring and pedantic as I made it out to be). I would also suggest that a proper (and less conventional) understanding of Plato’s so-called theory of Ideas would be helpful (namely his portrayal of ‘eros’ in the Symposium), considering how the dialogues are meant to mediate his teaching by means of synecdoche, metonymy, irony, and metaphor (all of which demonstrate an important relation between the ‘techne’ of writing and the ontological basis of being and experience which is so distinctive in western thought, all the way to the anxiety expressed by post-modern writers…).

Also, think about how more awesome Redbelt would've been had Kaufman written it.

Smart? I guess so... I always thought that it was a direct look at a Literate Obsessive Compulsive persons mind and in particular someone who is trapped in a few subjects they still haven't resolved. But what repressive obsessive does. After all, the writing is the therapy but it doesn't destroy the ranting or obsession.

I picture CK walking around his house. Having both serious and angry conversations with himself on subjects like existence, cognition, mortality, association, shit like that. Not sure sometimes if he's still talking to himself or that other part of us- That part that most people ignore.

I find the beauty, and difficulty, of any work of art is in being able to depict these inherently human moments in ways we can both recognize and share, yet in ways in which also open us to new insights about who we are. Though Kaufman seems impelled – like a true postmodernist – to depict this narrative act itself, which in the process confronts him with himself as both object (work of art) and creator (artist), this is no different from the desire of any person to understand who he is and how he does what he does. Another example is Alan Moore, who considers it a fundamental aspect of his work, particularly in his later stuff (viz. Promethea).

And that reference in ‘Adaptation’ to ouroboros (don’t remember it so I’m gonna have to watch it again) is more than apt. Plato used it to illustrate the cyclical nature of the kosmos, and hence the self-reflexive aspect of man in attempting to apprehend, and make sense of, the ‘Idea of the Good’ (which I would qualify has been the single most important occupation of western thought ever since) while Moore also refers to it in the Promethea series so as to remind us of its alchemical symbolism and how it represents the destructive yet self-fertilizing nature of the human soul. (Hegel, I might add, uses it to illustrate his system of Logic as a ‘circle of circles’…). So yeah, although ouroboros certainly works as a symbol of semiotics (the study or interpretation of signs) and as a symbol worth studying in itself, it is actually even more representative of the ‘hermeneutic circle’: the problem of interpretation, which lies at the heart of the whole ‘crisis of (post)modernity.’

It is this awareness, as I tried to point out above, that I find so compelling, and illuminating, about the Platonic dialogues. E.g in the Phaedrus Plato has Socrates narrate a story about Thoth, the inventor of writing and measurement), but which in fact serves to portray on a whole different level his true thoughts on the nature of philosophical rhetoric and its effect on the non-philosophically oriented. Another interesting example is the Cratylus, which deals (among other things) with the problem of writing, rhetoric, and the problem of language, viz. the ‘correctness of names.’ In fact, not only does it refer to Hermes, it also includes an interlocutor named ‘Hermogenes’ (i.e. ‘son of Hermes’). The dialogue eventually goes on to show how both interlocutors are unable to come to a proper understanding – or more precisely, knowledge – of names, which is why they ask Socrates to intervene.

Again, it is the problem of knowledge, and man’s desire to overcome these limits (which means being willing to scrutinize conventional wisdom, and hence the public opinions upon which social order is established [i.e. the ‘laws’ or ‘belief in the gods’]), that is being depicted. Plato, as he himself knew, understood that his own ‘Socratic dialogues’ were themselves the product and manifestation of his desire for beauty, which in itself was a product of his desire to overcome mortality. In other words, his written work, and his depiction of Socrates, was a conscious attempt to secure his teaching – heavily influenced by Socrates, but politically self-conscious in a classic sense (keeping in mind that Socrates was sentenced to die because of his philosophy) – through poetic depictions of Socrates.

It is this ‘poetic’ depiction – in the form of dialogues, not treatises – that ‘immortalized’ Socrates, and why he managed to captivate western thought ever since (compare this with another ‘poetic’ depiction of an influential figure: Jesus Christ). That said, whenever he talked about poets, or used myths (e.g. ring of gyges, the myth of the cave, atlantis), he was always talking on different levels, which differed according to narrative and thematic context.

In a way, I think that ‘Adaptation’, and now (it seems) ‘Synecdoche’, depict this aspect of authorship, though I would not go so far as call them platonic. That’s a label I would only be comfortable in using to describe the work of one artist – Kubrick - though I have no idea whether he would agree with that label. Maybe he’s more Socratic than Platonic. After all, although Socrates may have been portrayed (on the surface by Plato in his dialogues) and condemned (by the Athenian ‘demos’) as a philosopher – i.e. a lover of wisdom – there are some key parts in which Plato allows him to reveal his true ‘erotic’ nature. Particularly in the ‘Symposium’, Socrates refers to himself as an ‘erotikos’: he is therefore, in essence, a lover of beautiful things (e.g. the beautiful Alcibiades), though this is an ambiguous depiction, since he was also a lover of Athens (unlike Alcibiades, who betrayed it during the Peloponnesian war).

Furthermore, this ‘erotic’ nature was also a private aspect of his nature, and may be an important element of his ‘wisdom’. After all, he was not a teacher – i.e. he did not ask for money for sharing his wisdom, and only ‘taught’ those whom he felt were capable of receiving and understanding his wisdom – which is why his was always poor. This is similar to the depiction of the ancient Greek god ‘Eros’ narrated to us in the ‘Symposium’ by Socrates (as a story-within-a-story) whilst recollecting a conversation he’d had with the priestess Diotima when he was younger. The suggestion is made that, being the one who initiated Socrates into the ‘mysteries of love’, it was also she who served as the source of his ‘wisdom.’ However, it is the ‘poetic’ description that we, as the reader, should also take in consideration. Take, for example, Diotima’s depiction of Eros:

“As the son of Poros and Penia, his lot in life is set to be like theirs. In the first place, he is always poor, and he’s far from being delicate and beautiful (as ordinary people think he is); instead, he is tough and shriveled and shoeless and homeless, always lying on the dirt without a bed, sleeping at people’s doorsteps and in roadsides under the sky, having his mother’s nature, always living with Need. But on the father’s side he is a schemer after the beautiful and the good; he is brave, impetuous, and intense, an awesome hunter, always weaving snares, resourceful in his pursuit of intelligence, a lover of wisdom through all his life, a genius with enchantments, potions, and clever pleadings. He is by nature neither immortal nor mortal. But now he springs to life when he gets his way; now he dies—all in the very same day. Because he is his father’s son, however, he keeps coming back to life, but then anything he finds his way to always slips away, and for this reason Eros [Love] is never completely without resources, nor is he ever rich. He is between wisdom and ignorance as well.” [203c6-203e5]

In fact, Diotima’s depiction shows that Eros is neither a god nor mortal. By relating the genealogy of Eros; we find out that according to myth, Eros is the son of Poros (resource, or wealth) and Penia (poverty). In so doing, Diotima goes so far as to make Eros the mediator of ignorance and wisdom, which is related to his nature; i.e., the result of his lineage. Contrary to established opinion, Eros is not delicate but tough and homeless, both characteristics which he inherited from his mother, while from his father he inherited courage and wisdom. Futhermore, he is also desirous of what is beautiful, which is explained by how he was born on Aphrodite’s birthday, meaning that he came after the goddess of beauty. Furthermore, he is also in search of knowledge, or practical wisdom, which is in turn related partly to his homelessness, and to his birth in Zeus’s garden.

In other words, thanks to Diotima, young Socrates learns that the lover of wisdom is driven by need, i.e. that it is in his nature, for it is likewise in the nature of eros to seek immortality by procreating that which is beautiful and good. By the end of the Symposium, though, we will find another side of the older and wiser Socrates: moderation; a result of the purification of his eros. Paradoxically enough, it is this moderation – with regards to his own wisdom – that guides his hubris in placing in question the gods of the city, and which ends up leading to his demise (but, on the contrary, to his immortality thanks to his student Plato).

So, what does this have to do with mnemonics and the Hypnerotomachia Poliphili? Well, to begin with, Poliphilo, the main character, means “lover of all/many things” in Greek. He is in search of Polia, or the representation of that ‘all’ in the title. And the god Eros (Cupid) plays a prominent role throughout his erotic encounters, which not only depict in great detail the architectural landscape, but at times depicts the sexual union between the two (i.e. the desire for beauty and the images that are produced by it; an almost incestuous state of affairs). I’ll the rest to your imagination…