JeanPaul_Sartre_JeanPaul_Sartre_Basic_Writing
JeanPaul_Sartre_JeanPaul_Sartre_Basic_Writing JeanPaul_Sartre_JeanPaul_Sartre_Basic_Writing
Writing271easily. They constitute, as we have said, the object of conjectures, and there is anexperience of the reader; but these conjectures are supported by the great certainty wehave that the beauties which appear in the book are never accidental. In nature, the treeand the sky harmonize only by chance; if, on the contrary, in the novel, the protagonistsfind themselves in a certain tower, in a certain prison, if they stroll in a certain garden,it is a matter both of the restitution of independent causal series (the character had acertain state of mind which was due to a succession of psychological and social events;on the other hand, he betook himself to a determined place and the layout of the cityrequired him to cross a certain park) and of the expression of a deeper finality, for thepark came into existence only in order to harmonize with a certain state of mind, toexpress it by means of things or to put it into relief by a vivid contrast, and the stateof mind itself was conceived in connection with the landscape. Here it is causalitywhich is appearance and which might be called “causality without cause”, and it is thefinality which is the profound reality. But if I can thus in all confidence put the orderof ends under the order of causes, it is because by opening the book I am asserting thatthe object has its source in human freedom.If I were to suspect the artist of having written out of passion and in passion, myconfidence would immediately vanish, for it would serve no purpose to have supportedthe order of causes by the order of ends. The latter would be supported in its turn bya psychic causality and the work of art would end by re-entering the chain ofdeterminism. Certainly I do not deny when I am reading that the author may beimpassioned, nor even that he might have conceived the first plan of his work underthe sway of passion. But his decision to write supposes that he withdraws somewhatfrom his feelings, in short, that he has transformed his emotions into free emotions asI do mine while reading him, that is, that he is in an attitude of generosity.Thus, reading is a pact of generosity between author and reader. Each one trusts theother; each one counts on the other, demands of the other as much as he demands ofhimself. For this confidence is itself generosity. Nothing can force the author to believethat his reader will use his freedom; nothing can force the reader to believe that theauthor has used his. Both of them make a free decision. There is then established adialectical going-and-coming; when I read, I make demands; if my demands are met,what I am then reading provokes me to demand more of the author, which means todemand of the author that he demand more of me. And, vice versa, the author’s demandis that I carry my demands to the highest pitch. Thus, my freedom, by revealing itself,reveals the freedom of the other.It matters little whether the aesthetic object is the product of “realistic” art (orsupposedly such) or “formal” art. At any rate, the natural relations are inverted; that
272Jean-Paul Sartre: Basic Writingstree on the first plane of the Cézanne painting first appears as the product of a causalchain. But the causality is an illusion; it will doubtless remain as a proposition as longas we look at the painting, but it will be supported by a deep finality; if the tree isplaced in such a way it is because the rest of the painting requires that this form andthose colours be placed on the first plane. Thus, through the phenomenal causality,our gaze attains finality as the deep structure of the object, and, beyond finality, itattains human freedom as its source and original basis. Vermeer’s realism is carried sofar that at first it might be thought to be photographic. But if one considers thesplendour of his texture, the pink and velvety glory of his little brick walls, the bluethickness of a branch of woodbine, the glazed darkness of his vestibules, the orangecoloured flesh of his faces, which are as polished as the stone of holy-water basins,one suddenly feels, in the pleasure that he experiences, that the finality is not so muchin the forms or colours as in his material imagination. It is the very substance andtemper of the things which here give the forms their reason for being. With this realistwe are perhaps closest to absolute creation, since it is in the very passiveness of thematter that we meet the unfathomable freedom of man.The work is never limited to the painted, sculpted, or narrated object. Just as oneperceives things only against the background of the world, so the objects representedby art appear against the background of the universe. On the background of theadventures of Fabrice are the Italy of 1820, Austria, France, the sky and stars whichthe Abbé Blanis consults, and finally the whole earth. If the painter presents us witha field or a vase of flowers, his paintings are windows which are open on the wholeworld. We follow the red path which is buried among the wheat much farther than VanGogh has painted it, among other wheat fields, under other clouds, to the river whichempties into the sea, and we extend to infinity, to the other end of the world, the deepfinality which supports the existence of the field and the earth. So that, through thevarious objects which it produces or reproduces, the creative act aims at a totalrenewal of the world. Each painting, each book, is a recovery of the totality of being.Each of them presents this totality to the freedom of the spectator. For this is quite thefinal goal of art: to recover this world by giving it to be seen as it is, but as if it had itssource in human freedom. But, since what the author creates takes on objective realityonly in the eyes of the spectator, this recovery is consecrated by the ceremony of thespectacle—and particularly of reading. We are already in a better position to answerthe question we raised a while ago: the writer chooses to appeal to the freedom ofother men so that, by the reciprocal implications of their demands, they may re-adaptthe totality of being to man and may again enclose the universe within man.
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272Jean-Paul <strong>Sartre</strong>: <strong>Basic</strong> <strong>Writing</strong>stree on the first plane of the Cézanne painting first appears as the product of a causalchain. But the causality is an illusion; it will doubtless remain as a proposition as longas we look at the painting, but it will be supported by a deep finality; if the tree isplaced in such a way it is because the rest of the painting requires that this form andthose colours be placed on the first plane. Thus, through the phenomenal causality,our gaze attains finality as the deep structure of the object, and, beyond finality, itattains human freedom as its source and original basis. Vermeer’s realism is carried sofar that at first it might be thought to be photographic. But if one considers thesplendour of his texture, the pink and velvety glory of his little brick walls, the bluethickness of a branch of woodbine, the glazed darkness of his vestibules, the orangecoloured flesh of his faces, which are as polished as the stone of holy-water basins,one suddenly feels, in the pleasure that he experiences, that the finality is not so muchin the forms or colours as in his material imagination. It is the very substance andtemper of the things which here give the forms their reason for being. With this realistwe are perhaps closest to absolute creation, since it is in the very passiveness of thematter that we meet the unfathomable freedom of man.The work is never limited to the painted, sculpted, or narrated object. Just as oneperceives things only against the background of the world, so the objects representedby art appear against the background of the universe. On the background of theadventures of Fabrice are the Italy of 1820, Austria, France, the sky and stars whichthe Abbé Blanis consults, and finally the whole earth. If the painter presents us witha field or a vase of flowers, his paintings are windows which are open on the wholeworld. We follow the red path which is buried among the wheat much farther than VanGogh has painted it, among other wheat fields, under other clouds, to the river whichempties into the sea, and we extend to infinity, to the other end of the world, the deepfinality which supports the existence of the field and the earth. So that, through thevarious objects which it produces or reproduces, the creative act aims at a totalrenewal of the world. Each painting, each book, is a recovery of the totality of being.Each of them presents this totality to the freedom of the spectator. For this is quite thefinal goal of art: to recover this world by giving it to be seen as it is, but as if it had itssource in human freedom. But, since what the author creates takes on objective realityonly in the eyes of the spectator, this recovery is consecrated by the ceremony of thespectacle—and particularly of reading. We are already in a better position to answerthe question we raised a while ago: the writer chooses to appeal to the freedom ofother men so that, by the reciprocal implications of their demands, they may re-adaptthe totality of being to man and may again enclose the universe within man.