Thinking Out Loud
This post at the blog Philosopher's Playground considers the problem of terminology and identity. C. Ewing writes,
Assuming that we use the simple "a painter is one who paints" definition, which seems passably insufficient, we have to also understand (in order to both comprehend and utilize the term properly) what it means to be "one who paints". One obvious explanation is that you are a painter when you are painting. But this is not consistent with usage at all.
C. Ewing explains that painters are still called painters when they are not painting, and sometimes when they've entirely given up painting forever.
Painter doesn't just indicate the activity, but rather an identity-quality that we associate with a given person. ... I'm not sure how to properly divide the terminology from the identity question here. It seems like how we identify the person largely determines how we use the term, and indeed, what the term actually means in a given case.
These inconsistencies in language tell us how much we want there to be such a thing as intrinsic identity, as we speak of "painter" as if it were an intrinsic identity. Of course, in Mahayana Buddhism, there is no such thing as intrinsic identity. Anything that we call "identity" is always relative to something else. Usually "identity" is determined by function or position (see especially "Madhyamika").
My stinky Zen student answer to this conundrum is to say there is no painter and no painting (as a noun) but only painting (as a verb). Neither original nor helpful, but there it is.
In the relative sense, one could argue that painting is a vocation, and that a painter is still a painter when not painting in the same way a monk is still a monk when he's not doing, you know, monk stuff. But we put monks through ceremonies and give them robes, so they are invested with an identity. This is true even of Zen monks, who generally are way into the no-self thing.
Sometimes we say of someone who does a thing really well -- Wow, he's a real painter! She's some dancer! He is one good cook! The investing of identity is an acknowledgment of accomplishment. We also invest people with identity when they are able to get paid for doing something, even if they can't do it all that well.
"Painter," I would say, is nothing more than a flimsy social construct that falls apart when applied too rigorously.
Comments
a stinky Madhyamika student response:
Yes, but does even painting (as a verb) really happen? i.e Does it truly exist?
Seems to me that the logic of the first verse of chapter 2 ~ “An Examination Of Coming & Going” ~ of Nagarjuna’s Mulamadhyamakakarika, which examines whether movement really happens, can be applied here, to show that painting, as an action (a form of movement) does not ~ at the level of thorough analysis ~ truly exist.
(And the same reasoning can be applied to suffering, mental afflictions, and thoughts … including these
What is interesting is that the great painter is often the one who knows what not to paint, think of the negative space in a Klimt. The master writer knows what not to say because to write what you are writing destroys the magic, undermines the artistry. The artist must be in communion with the viewer and to express with when it is better to express without is to deny your connection with the other. True painting in some ways is to be found in the not painting, in the absence of painting.
Barbara:
Vocations and Investments are simply social constructions, nothing more. That’s certainly an acceptable criticism. Acknowledgment will ultimately be socially determined as well.
elizabeth:
I’m not convinced that’s an important criticism. The experience is self-evident. There is walking on the road, even if there is no road and no one to walk it. Maybe asking whether or not it “truly exists” is merely indicating a misunderstanding of what it entails? And surely conventional usage might indicate a misunderstanding as well.
Perhaps, the important thing is not to realize that you are not painting, but simply to have the right sort of understanding. In short, I’m not convinced movement is any more or less “real” than any other experience/perception and thus I’m not sure this holds as a special case. I admit to not being well-versed in Nagarjuna’s teachings (as perhaps I should be), but that would be my initial response. But you might as well dance with the tiger when you get the chance, eh?
SteveG:
To paraphrase Fripp, “The music is in the silence”. And like anyone is going to bother arguing with Fripp.
Who Am I?