Beauty, Truth, and the Grotesque in Art and Philosophy

The Classical Roots of Beauty and Truth

If one goes back to Plato and examines what the Greek philosopher had to say about beauty and truth, one discovers the foundation of the transcendental spirit in the West. The Greek philosophers — Socrates, Plato, Aristotle — more or less constructed the philosophical lens for how to portray ideals such as unum, bonum, verum — the one, the good, and the true. Beauty was viewed from within this framework as another aspect of the transcendental quality of goodness and truth. Plato, through his Socratic discourse, sought a way to examine and define the sense of beauty and truth from a universal and transcendent perspective, a theme that Keats would echo centuries later when he stated that "Beauty is truth, truth beauty" in his "Ode on a Grecian Urn," a Romantic Era poem.

Thus, for centuries, this has been a topic that philosophers and artists have explored: How are truth and beauty related? What does it mean to be beautiful? And in the modern era, what does it mean to be grotesque?

The Rise of the Grotesque in Modern Art

In this day and age, the grotesque has evolved to become a predominant focus in art. From the twentieth-century stories of Flannery O'Connor to the paintings of the Dutch Baroque masters (Bosch and Grünewald), the Spanish painter Goya, the Gothic literature of the nineteenth century, and the street-realist photography of artists like Nan Goldin and Larry Clark, a fascination with the grotesque has materialized with a sense of vengeance in modern productions. This trend is apparent in contemporary films as well — the horror and slasher genres are replete with such visions. It is evident in literature and Gothic architectural works, and it is even evident in the "culture industry" that Adorno criticizes in his assessment of modern culture.

The central questions this inquiry seeks to answer include: Why are we interested in the grotesque? Why can't we look away from certain images? Is there something beautiful about the grotesque, or does it fascinate us for a different reason? What, in other words, is its attraction? Do we have to consider the ethics of looking at these images? Is there a moral principle that the grotesque undermines — a universal ideal somehow shredded by such depictions — a transcendental violation that occurs in its manifestation? Is viewing the grotesque akin to slowing down at a roadside wreck to get a better look? Is there something inherent in our nature that compels us to closely examine the grotesque?

The Ethics and Psychology of Looking

Could there be something beautiful nested within the grotesque that laments the fact that the subject is labeled thus? Goldin's images, for instance, may be said to be beautiful and grotesque for any number of reasons. If one assesses her self-portrait from the perspective of womanhood, one finds a certain bravery present, as the work engages an issue that women are encouraged to stay silent about — domestic abuse. While this may not be a necessarily pleasant subject, it is certainly one that needs to be addressed. In Nan Goldin's self-portrait, not only does she depict an image suggesting the consequences of such moral depravity, but she aptly displays herself as the victim of it. As a consequence of such boldness, there is something compelling about the image, something unflinching, that creates a space few women are able to enter by overcoming their own sense of fragility and humiliation.

There is an emotive beauty to such a confession, to the exposure of a suffering that is often marginalized because society deems it repellent, inappropriate, or too extreme to address. Yet the Dionysian side of humanity needs expression too, and Nietzsche would argue that through such an act, an understanding of existentialism is manifested in the sense that suffering in life cannot be made more palatable — because doing so misrepresents the nature of who and what we are, the essence of humanity, which can be adeptly addressed through expression in art.

Consistent with these ideals, artists like Goldin have focused on human nature at the peril of offending or alienating audiences who fail to comprehend the beauty in the grotesque. For example, in the photograph "Nan and Brian in Bed" (1981) from Goldin's The Ballad of Sexual Dependency (1986), there is a sense of nihilism and fatigue that the viewer picks up on when looking at the subjects. Here the grotesque is illustrated through the lack of fulfillment and the frustration that the lovers feel — a relationship with a looming inadequacy relative to their sense of being. Yet a more enlightened interpretation might sense the fulfilling and beautiful expression of something that many people will be able to identify with: a sense of unsatisfaction or deep longing in an existential capacity. Where does this longing come from? Why do we feel it?

Beauty Within the Grotesque: Goldin and Existential Suffering

Contemporary culture is more materialistic and consumerist in its orientation than in any previous era, as Adorno points out in his works. The modern world seems to prefer to sanitize the grotesque as a way to escape suffering and death, using the trappings of modernity to make such realities less salient in the collective consciousness. Yet, at the same time, the innate impulse to view the grotesque and the fascination associated with it can be revealing. It is as though, in our attempt to loosen our bonds to death and ugliness, we have buried some psychological and spiritual need within ourselves that yearns to identify with these images. Freud referred to it as the death instinct — one of mankind's two primordial instincts, the other being the life instinct — and his psychology compels us to view both holistically, potentially identifying the impulses that explain why we are drawn to images of the grotesque.

But if the grotesque is an exaggeration of character and form leveraged with the intention of creating shock, what then is the purpose of this shock? Shakespeare demonstrated in Hamlet the perspective that art should hold the mirror up to nature — that is, that art should show us who and what we are by nature. Thus, art can be an informative framework constructed to transfer knowledge, imparting upon us something revealing about ourselves, our beliefs, our humanity, and our culture. Furthermore, if the grotesque is preferred by artists in the modern era, perhaps there is a fundamental reason for this that we should feel compelled to evaluate.

It could be argued that since the beginning of humanity, people have been naturally interested in the grotesque due to cognitive predispositions imparted upon us by our existence. From images of the crucifixion to Diane Arbus's photography of social outsiders, the perceptible power inherent in such images is illustrated by the fact that the viewer paradoxically can neither look at nor look away from them, inviting a wealth of inquiries. How do these images redefine beauty? In what sense are they beautiful? How can photography be utilized as a medium that proves more powerful than alternatives when dealing with grotesque images? Is it ethical to call these images beautiful? In Nan Goldin's self-portrait with a bruised eye — a representation of domestic violence — the image can be shocking, perhaps even more so than the image of the crucifixion of Christ to some. But is this simply because we in the modern era have become desensitized to the impact of the Christian image through its ubiquitous repetition in culture?

The fundamental question relative to the grotesque is therefore situated in the purpose and meaning behind the image. The Christian image of the crucified Jesus is one meant to evoke sympathy, humility, and devotion — an image of the God of the Christians who sacrificed His life for sinners so that they might be redeemed. On the other hand, Andres Serrano's image Piss Christ — a photograph of a crucifix submerged in a jar of the artist's urine — can produce the opposite reaction, creating revulsion, disdain, and animosity; the work has actually been attacked when on display in museums. Similarly, Michelangelo's Pietà has also been attacked — a marble sculpture portraying the Madonna holding her dead Son after He has been removed from the cross. It is another Christian image meant to evoke sympathy and remorse, yet it too was targeted. Was it viewed as grotesque to the modern sensibilities of Laszlo Toth, the man who attacked it with a hammer?

Works Cited

Adorno, Theodor. Aesthetic Theory. Ed. Gretel Adorno and Rolf Tiedemann. Trans. Robert Hullot-Kentor. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1997. Print.

Araki, Nobuyoshi. Sentimental Journey. 1991. Print.

Goldin, Nan. 1987. Exhibit. Rencontres d'Arles.

Kant, Immanuel. Observations on the Feelings of the Sublime and Beautiful. Web. 4 Apr 2016.

Nietzsche, Friedrich. The Birth of Tragedy. UK: Dover, 1994. Print.

Plato. Ethics. MIT. Web. 4 Apr 2016.

Plato. The Republic. MIT. Web. 4 Apr 2016.

Sontag, Susan. On Photography. NY: Picador, 1977. Print.