What Barfield Thought
in respect the co-extension of mind and world, and art as epiphany and edification
In Saving the Appearances, Barfield convincingly argues that the “view-from-nowhere” ideal of modern science is a chimerical notion and that it is impossible to refer to “the world” or to “reality” outside of our experience of it. This is not to be interpreted in a pseudo-solipsistic way because the mind should not be understood as something outside of reality to begin with. It is remarkable that this line of thinking appears to have enjoyed such widespread affirmation over the last centuries (i.e. since Kant or Descartes, or perhaps Ockham). After all, it borders on a priori incoherence to assert that the mind—whose existence is attested to be the very act of assertion—is not real. How can this be understood coherently, given that “reality” is taken, by definition, to encompass existing things?
To say that the world is not separate from experience of it is also not to be interpreted as a doctrinal or axiomatic statement, but as an observation that can be made by anyone who reflects upon his own process of perception. Perspective then, is not, as the scientific ideal would suggest, a source of bias that blinds the researcher to reality. Nor is perspective a transcendental threshold that forever estranges him from it, as the critical philosopher might have it. Objective reality is not contrary to perspective; instead, perspective is the only window through which he may perceive it. As J.G. Fichte observed, “We should not desire to see without eyes, but neither should we assert that it is only the eye that sees.” If you want to learn about the world through observation, you cannot at the same time insist that it be observed from nowhere and by no one. Of course, if you do not care about observation, then no observer is necessary. But in that case, it is difficult to see how such a method could meet any of the general criteria of “knowledge.” And if it did, then it would have met these criteria by recourse to what is, in essence, the very thing which it had ostensibly rejected.
All knowledge is “first-person” knowledge in that it depends on a knower to be known and to be at all. A perfect theory of everything would be useless to someone who could not understand it. Given that when we say “reality,” we are not referring to something entirely separate from the activity of our own minds, and given that this is so difficult for modern people to grasp, Barfield is perhaps justified in the following admonition:
We should remember this, when appraising the aberrations of the formally representational arts. Of course, in so far as these are due to affectation, they are of no importance. But in so far as they are genuine, they are genuine because the artist has in some way or other experienced the world he represents. And in so far as they are appreciated, they are appreciated by those who are themselves willing to make a move towards seeing the world in that way, and, ultimately therefore, seeing that kind of world. We should remember this, when we see pictures of a dog with six legs emerging from a vegetable marrow or a woman with a motor-bicycle substituted for her left breast.1
“Art” is perhaps best understood as an intentional stance of participation than by any specific feature of its product. After all, when cultured critics ensured us that Duchamp’s “Fountain,” was not just a porcelain urinal, they were arguing on the basis of something other than its formal and material causes. Instead, they were reporting an experience of participation that characterized their perception of the object. This stance of participation describes both the artist and the viewer or audience.
The artist participates the archetype with his imagination and forthwith sets about to raise his medium to participate it as well. In this way, the original medium is transfigured into a work of art. As a result, it may serve as a sort of invitation to any viewer to participate the same archetype. And this participation shapes us, “Or do you suppose there is any way in which someone can consort [ὁμιλεῖ] with what he admires without becoming like it?”2
This much cannot be denied: art serves to instruct our imaginations and in this connection, the thrust of Barfield’s warning can become clear. Through the experience of art, we rehearse given forms in our perception. As a result, our experience of the world is stamped with a given inflection which the artwork conveys. But our experience is, itself, a part of, and not apart from, the world. Hence, the world is inflected in the same mode as the artistic imaginary. In this way, an understanding of the simultaneous active and receptive processes in the experience of art can disclose the same elements in ordinary perception. The world is not simply lying around waiting to be perceived. Instead, the world calls forth something from our minds and our minds, in turn, actively imbue their response upon the world which we perceive. And this process is, itself, not apart from the world but rather an integral part of it. Once the co-extension of mind and world is grasped, it will be clear that bona fide art can be both edifying and epiphanic.
Barfield’s express concern in the passage above is over the Chimera and I have often experienced a similar one over the Machine. In fact, these two impulses have already inseminated the imaginations of some futurists with the result that the vision of the Cyborg has been born—the Cyborg, of course, representing a hybrid of the Chimera and the Machine. The technocratic vision was first fostered tacitly by the collective unconscious before emerging explicitly from the conscious imaginations of a select few. Further reflections on this theme are welcome.
Barfield, Saving the Appearances, 137.
Plato, Republic 500c.
I agree. "All knowledge is “first-person” knowledge " Good Writing.