I do not aim to be unkind but Andrew Scott's performances —in this video and in Sherlock— strikes me as sentimental. Like he is in love with his performance more than he is interested in delivering a character. I don't find his executions honest.
Great essay. Of course there is a right way. But the desire to make no one feel bad, to avoid discriminating totally means everyone has to pretend to eat shit and love it.
May I interest you with my essay "On The Taste of Wet Cement"?
Good to read a writer who understands, unlike the commenter ("mike") to your essay, that taste is, by definition, a matter of personal reaction -- some people like to be whipped. But whipping causes pain and disfigures nonetheless -- that is its invariable objective. Art, which is really Art (I do not write of art, small cap), is the discovery and expression of the ideal, Truth which is covalent with Beauty. The capacity to see it is so rare that those without the facility, such as the commenter, presumably, deny it at all. This is sad for them, but perhaps they might come around -- and that is a very good reason for writing about the matter, as we do.
I agree. Once I saw Mike's comment on my essay, I couldn't be bothered to respond. We can only hope they see it someday.
By the way, I read your Conversation On Beauty, nodding along all the time with your part of the dialogue. I thought it was all too familiar; like I was reading a kin. Then I saw you reference the good Sir Roger Vernon Scruton (RIP) and I knew I was in good company.
Supposing you might be interested, I would like further private correspondence with you: it helps to alleviate the intellectual loneliness. And good company is vital; to cite Shakespeare (Cassius in Julius Caesar), "it is meet, that noble minds keep ever with their likes; for who so firm that cannot be seduced?"
I never met him, but having read and watched him for many years, I wept when Sir Roger died, and I had wept only once before in perhaps two decades. I think you can email me somehow through my Substack page. Happy to correspond. BTW, never let an opportunity to refute — with the intent to help the commenter understand. Then, if, despite the attempt, you see recalcitrance or an inability to perceive what you have seen, you can just let the idea gestate — some may still come around later.
By the time I first read Sir Roger, he was already one year gone. It was painful. Up until this morning I lamented his death. I got to learn of him because I was irritated by all the reductionism the human person has come to suffer in the hands of Scientism experts. I have to make do with his books and videos now.
Concerning refuting the particular commenter, I realised it would take me into philosophical terrains on knowing and all those. I can only hope he listens to both of the songs I referenced in the essay and let that work on his mind.
I do not aim to be unkind but Andrew Scott's performances —in this video and in Sherlock— strikes me as sentimental. Like he is in love with his performance more than he is interested in delivering a character. I don't find his executions honest.
Great essay. Of course there is a right way. But the desire to make no one feel bad, to avoid discriminating totally means everyone has to pretend to eat shit and love it.
May I interest you with my essay "On The Taste of Wet Cement"?
https://busyminds.substack.com/p/on-the-taste-of-wet-cement?r=89l9f
Good to read a writer who understands, unlike the commenter ("mike") to your essay, that taste is, by definition, a matter of personal reaction -- some people like to be whipped. But whipping causes pain and disfigures nonetheless -- that is its invariable objective. Art, which is really Art (I do not write of art, small cap), is the discovery and expression of the ideal, Truth which is covalent with Beauty. The capacity to see it is so rare that those without the facility, such as the commenter, presumably, deny it at all. This is sad for them, but perhaps they might come around -- and that is a very good reason for writing about the matter, as we do.
I agree. Once I saw Mike's comment on my essay, I couldn't be bothered to respond. We can only hope they see it someday.
By the way, I read your Conversation On Beauty, nodding along all the time with your part of the dialogue. I thought it was all too familiar; like I was reading a kin. Then I saw you reference the good Sir Roger Vernon Scruton (RIP) and I knew I was in good company.
Supposing you might be interested, I would like further private correspondence with you: it helps to alleviate the intellectual loneliness. And good company is vital; to cite Shakespeare (Cassius in Julius Caesar), "it is meet, that noble minds keep ever with their likes; for who so firm that cannot be seduced?"
Cheers.
I never met him, but having read and watched him for many years, I wept when Sir Roger died, and I had wept only once before in perhaps two decades. I think you can email me somehow through my Substack page. Happy to correspond. BTW, never let an opportunity to refute — with the intent to help the commenter understand. Then, if, despite the attempt, you see recalcitrance or an inability to perceive what you have seen, you can just let the idea gestate — some may still come around later.
By the time I first read Sir Roger, he was already one year gone. It was painful. Up until this morning I lamented his death. I got to learn of him because I was irritated by all the reductionism the human person has come to suffer in the hands of Scientism experts. I have to make do with his books and videos now.
Concerning refuting the particular commenter, I realised it would take me into philosophical terrains on knowing and all those. I can only hope he listens to both of the songs I referenced in the essay and let that work on his mind.
I will send you a message.
Thank you for saying this — that which needs to be said — so civilly, poignantly, and elegantly.