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David Mayernik
Donna alata, & vestita di bianco, che guardi indietro, tenga con la sinistra mano un libro, sopra del quale mostri di scrivere, posandosi col piè sinistro sopra d’un sasso quadrato, & a canto le sia Saturno, sopra le spalle del quale posi il libro, ov’ella scrive. A winged woman, dressed in white, who looks backward, holding in her left hand a book upon which she is shown writing, resting her left foot on a square stone, and next to whom is Saturn, on whose back is set her book where she writes. historicism noun:
WHY IS THE IDEA OF HISTORY so problematic for classicists today? Many seem unaware of any historiography after the early twentieth century, when cultural history still labored under those nineteenth century prejudices that eventually engendered twentieth century modernism. Those classicists who choose to chafe under the modernist’s “historicist” tag try to defeat it by denying the very existence of a Zeitgeist—that belief in the “spirit of the age” that underpins all modernist polemics. At the same time they cannot deny, indeed they loudly decry, the plain fact that the modernist spirit holds absolute sway in the art world, in public architecture, even in sustainability circles. Certainly there is a dominant cultural ethos today, a hegemonic worldview that may, admittedly, depend for its existence on a conviction that it must exist and should be shaped. If the Modern Zeitgeist didn’t exist there would be no need to rail against it; what classicists no doubt mean to rail against instead is the notion that the zeitgeist has been predetermined, and they’ve been left out of its determination. Lacking a solid grasp of history, classicists slip into historicism. But historicism is in fact a roadblock for both modernists and classicists. The trap of avoiding historicism for modernists is their self-delusion of continual reinvention; the trap for classicists who flatten historical discourse is the trivial quotation of period styles. The former fault is certainly harsher to live with, as it kills the past and offers nothing equivalent in its place; but the latter is more insidious and facile if perhaps comforting, but ultimately eviscerating to anything of substance within the classical tradition. Each way of disengaging or engaging history in its own way prevents us from fully recovering the richness of a past that humanist culture enjoyed before the Enlightenment. There is first the archaeological impulse downward into the earth, into the past, the unknown and recondite, and then the upward impulse to bring forth a corpse whole and newly restored, re-illuminated, made harmonious and quick.[1] Within the idealized nineteenth century to which many a modern classicist would like to retreat, belief in historicism—the notion that history has its own trajectory, that History itself is an independent agent, and that its phases can be labeled and distinguished—drove all sorts of stylistic movements as architects sought to define what their age’s geist should be: from the Greek Revival to neo-Gothicism to Beaux-Arts Eclecticism, the difference between nineteenth century historicism and that of the twentieth seems to be that the former age saw history as a mine of styles to draw upon self-consciously in order to shape their own, while the latter saw all preceding styles as dead ends to be avoided. Both views, in fact, are isolated from the approach to the past known by all preceding centuries and cultures. For the world before Hegel, History did exist—but she had a muse named Clio and a very different agenda; the past in the pre-modern world was both more alive and more remote than it has been since our self-imposed crisis of historicism. In order to reject the pitfalls of modern historicism in all its guises, therefore, the humanists’ more complex and fruitful understanding of history offers the best critical alternative. Naturally, we need modern historiography to unearth the pre-modern world’s understanding of their place in history. Indeed, now that modernism (beginning in the eighteenth century; vide Joseph Rykwert’s The First Moderns[2]) has severed the continuity with the past we once enjoyed, we absolutely need historians to help us understand how things once were, to look at the world of Bramante and Borromini like they themselves might have seen it; as they themselves would have said, we need to know the causes of things in order to understand them. There is no contradiction in this; objective historiography divorced from a modernist agenda is the only way to recover the past. And without a credible understanding of why artists and architects of past did what they did, we are doomed to merely mimicking their results, not their process; mimicry of form can only generate simulacra, whereas imitation of process can generate new, living work. For an abbreviated list of historical writings that offer a wealth of inspiration to modern classicists, please see the appendix. There is much good scholarship on the pre-modern understanding of history, and being only an amateur I cannot pretend to synthesize all of it. What I would like to offer instead are some conjectural characteristics of the pre-modern world’s understanding of history and of the past; hopefully it is self-evident how they distinguish themselves from modern historicist notions.
HISTORY IS NOT AN AUTONOMOUS AGENT, nor does it have an agenda or proceed according to its own laws; instead, History can be a muse, and as our primary doorway to the past it is essential that we who would like to see classical humanist culture live again develop a fuller appreciation of what we have lost, in order to avoid the trap of historicism—Clio’s nemesis.
APPENDIX Leonard Barkan, Unearthing the Past, Yale
[1] Thomas H. Greene, “Resurrecting Rome: The Double Task of the Humanist Imagination,” Rome in the Renaissance: The City and the Myth, Binghampton, NY: Center for Medieval and Early Renaissance Studies, p. 41
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