Countless lives inhabit us. I don’t know, when I think or feel, Who it is that thinks and feels. I am merely the place Where things are thought and felt.
I have more than just one soul. There are more I-s than I myself. I exist, nevertheless, Indifferent to them all. I silence them: I speak.
The crossing urges of what I feel or do not feel Struggle in who I am, but I Ignore them. They dictate nothing To the I I know: I write.
Edited by Aaron Meskin (University of Georgia) and Alex King (Simon Fraser University)
A recent New York Times Magazinearticle caught my eye because of its original title: “‘Aesthetics’ Are Not an Identity. Teens Deserve Better.” I thought, wait a second, ‘Aesthetics,’ in the sense in which I use the term, is crucial to my identity, and teenagers talking about the standard of taste is pretty great. But the author, Mireille Silcoff, meant something different by the term. She’s talking about internet “aesthetics” like Dark and Light Academia, Royalcore and Seapunk (see the picture above).
Silcoff argues that aesthetics like these do not offer much for today’s youth. True subcultures—punk, metalheads, skaters, club kids—Silcoff argues, are able to provide community and a robust sense of identity. Internet aesthetics don’t do a good job with these. Or so Silcoff says. Is she right? Alex and I thought we better check with the kids. So we reached out to some Gen Z and Millennial students and faculty for their thoughts.
But before we turn it over to the youth, this old Gen Xer wants to say one thing about subcultures. Back in my day, most teens did not belong to them! There were not—in fact—that many punks, skaters, and goths. They were subcultures. (Note that even being a fan of punk or goth was never enough to be part of those subcultures. I listened to a lot of punk and went to hardcore shows in my teens but was never a punk.) What about preppies? Maybe there was a preppy subculture at one time. If so, I’m not sure it’s one that deserves to be remembered fondly. But back in the 80s and 90s, preppy was—at least for most people—a fashion choice (i.e., an aesthetic) rather than a subculture. So I’m a bit skeptical of Silcoff’s nostalgia for subcultures. They might have offered some people a sense of community and identity, but for the vast majority of teens they did no such thing.
The seven authors of the pieces below provide a nuanced view of the role of aesthetics and subcultures in contemporary youth culture. They give us reason to think that the kids are alright.
— Aaron Meskin
Fisher Benson (he/him), college student in Philosophy, Knox College
Lola Chamberlain (she/they), college student in English and Philosophy, Knox College
Celia Gentle (she/her), Masters student, Simon Fraser University
Alice Harberd (she/her), PhD student in Philosophy, University College London
Nava Karimi (she/her), college student in English and Philosophy, Simon Fraser University
Evan Malone (he/him), Assistant Professor of Philosophy, Lone Star College
Angela Sun (she/her), Assistant Professor of Philosophy, Washington and Lee University
‘Tis the season for year-end recommendations! So some of our staff are bringing you one thing that we experienced this year* that’s worth telling others about.
From all of us, thanks for another great year. Hope you enjoy these, and we’ll see you in 2024!
*Although not necessarily from this year!
Roy T. Cook (he/him), CLA Scholar of the College and Professor of Philosophy, University of Minnesota – Twin Cities
Anthony Cross (he/him), Assistant Professor of Philosophy, Texas State University
Alex King (she/her), Associate Professor of Philosophy, Simon Fraser University
Matthew Strohl (he/him), Professor of Philosophy, University of Montana
Mary Beth Willard (she/her), Professor of Philosophy, Weber State University
When Jason Allen’s Théâtre D’opéra Spatial (2022) won the blue ribbon in the Colorado State Fair’s annual art competition in the category for digital art or digitally manipulated photography, there was a very strong outcry in the media that this signified the ‘end of art’. Allen himself was quoted in the New York Times saying “This isn’t going to stop. Art is dead, dude. It’s over. A.I. won. Humans lost.”
In the past year, debates about artificial intelligence have taken over public discourse.
The use of AI in art and content creation raises moral issues. Because many AI are trained on human-created samples (including Aesthetics for Birds!), artists and other creators find it exploitative, some demanding compensation. But there are others who argue that AI will help artists, especially those with accessibility needs.
It raises aesthetic and artistic questions, too. Is AI art actually even art? If it is, could it ever be good art? AI rattles our existing concepts of artistry and creativity. It forces us to rethink the fundamental purpose of art. Perhaps it spells the end of art practices as we know them.
We asked eight scholars working in these areas to comment on the current state of art and AI. Their wide-ranging reflections, from Roland Barthes and Arthur Danto to Taylor Swift and LEGO pieces spilled on the floor, try to uncover what’s most human in art, and why we should care about that at all.
Our contributors are:
Melissa Avdeeff (she/her), Lecturer of Digital Media, University of Stirling
Claire Benn (she/her), Assistant Professor, Leverhulme Centre for the Future of Intelligence, University of Cambridge
Lindsay Brainard (she/her), Assistant Professor of Philosophy, The University of Alabama at Birmingham
Alice Helliwell (she/her), Assistant Professor of Philosophy, Northeastern University London
Adam Linson (he/him), Assistant Professor of Computing & Communications, Open University (UK) and Co-Director of the Innogen Institute (Open University & University of Edinburgh)
Elliot Samuel Paul (he/him), Associate Professor of Philosophy, Queen’s University, and Dustin Stokes (he/him), Professor of Philosophy, University of Utah
Steffen Steinert (he/him), Assistant Professor at the Ethics and Philosophy of Technology Section, Delft University of Technology
The nineteenth century pianist Franz Liszt inspired an abject frenzy in his fans so intense that people of the time had to make up a special term for it. When reflecting on (and coining) “Lisztomania,” the German poet Heinrich Heine wondered why people were going so wild for Liszt. After discussing some outlandish suggestions, he mused, “Perhaps the solution […] floats on a very prosaic surface. It seems to me at times that all this sorcery may be explained by the fact that no one on earth knows so well how to organize his successes, or rather their mise en scene, as our Franz Liszt.”
Truer words could not have been spoken about the current age of Swiftomania. No one on Earth knows so well how to organize their mise en scene—public image, social media, interviews, music, fashion, concerts—as our Taylor Swift.
What follows is a guest essay by Jeremy Davis (University of Georgia).
A few months back, I went to a New Found Glory concert (I have a soft spot for early-aughts pop punk; sue me). Midway through their set, I noticed that a woman a few rows in front of me kept looking at her phone. In my experience, when people are on their phones at shows, it is usually to send a text or post a selfie to their social media. But this woman was doing something I hadn’t seen before: she was looking up the band’s setlist on Setlist.fm.