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Part
3: Precision and Freedom
[Note: In Part
1, I quoted
this explanation of the central thing about conscience, from a lecture
titled, "Life Is Involvement" by Eli Siegel: "Aesthetic Realism says
what
we are most troubled by is the way we make the beauty of the world less
in order to give ourselves importance. That is what the conscience is
most
troubled by...Whenever we care more for ourselves than we do for
finding
the world authentically likable, our conscience is bothered."]
Lee Miller wrote in a
letter, "I
want the utopian combination of security and freedom." She didn't know
that the thing she cared most for in her life, photography, answered
this
large conflict in her life. Aesthetic Realism explains that art shows
it
is exactitude that makes for the true freedom we want.
Eli
Siegel says in The Right of
Aesthetic Realism to Be Known #46,
"The
Opposites Are There":
At this moment,
photographers go
after precision and suggestion in their work, and this includes
commercial
photographers. Precision here is order and suggestion is freedom.
In Lee Miller's best
photographs there
is precision and suggestion in a way that is important and moving. Here
is a photograph she took in Siwa, Egypt, which she titled "Portrait
of Space." We get a sense of the unlimited mystery of things that
is
more intense because this vast desert landscape is defined by a wild,
graceful
tear in the neatness of a rectangular screen. There is peacefulness
seen
through disorder.
In her life, Lee
Miller did not want
enough or know enough how to be exact. I think she did what Eli Siegel
describes in "Life Is Involvement," which as I read it I felt so
described
myself, and I felt so grateful for how Mr. Siegel understood people and
gave a true answer to our worst self-inflicted suffering:
We should all like
to think that
we manage our conscience: we know all about it and we are our own best
accusers. We are our own very often intense accusers...but we are not
our
best accusers...persons would rather say "I'm no good" than "On this
particular
thing I didn't do as well as I might." The tendency to reproach
ourselves
utterly is very popular. The tendency to get down to exactitude is very
unpopular... Everybody has had the feeling, "I'm no good, I shouldn't
have
been born; I shouldn't live tomorrow; I should have died yesterday; I
should
have enlisted in the Foreign Legion and been massacred"--that kind of
thought
is very popular.
What
Conscience Wants
I think there were
two reasons that
in 1942 Lee Miller became a war correspondent. One was because of the
feeling
Mr. Siegel described with such kind, deep humor: "I should
have
enlisted
in the Foreign Legion and been massacred." The other was a courageous
desire
to record reality as it was, and not leave things out. As a
correspondent
it was illegal for her to be in combat zones, but that is where she
went.
After D-Day, the invasion of Normandy, she went to France into the
midst
of battle in the once picturesque town of St. Malo. Vogue ran
her
pictures and description. Then she went to where troops from many
countries--Russians, Spaniards, Free French, the Foreign Legion,
Argentineans,
Hungarians, Americans--were pushing the nearly defeated Germans back
over
the Rhine. It was 1945, and
I think it is here she took
one of her best
pictures, of Moroccan
troops arriving to join the Allies. It has the precision and
suggestion
Mr. Siegel describes. There is mystery as we do not see any one face of
the men and they are covered by their robes and helmets, and there is a
sense of dignity and grandeur in the tall vertical trees disappearing
in
the distance, which are like the men and different from them. There is
disorder in the foreground, and the suggestion of an exact triangle
made
by the line of men. And there is strength and grace, humility and pride
in the man with his head
bowed in the foreground, standing before a
grave
he has dug.
Lee Miller went to
the concentration
camp at Dachau on the day it was liberated by the Rainbow Company. She
was, Penrose writes, at first numb and speechless with disbelief at the
horror of death and dying she saw; then in great anger she took
pictures
and cabled them to Vogue's
editor with the message: I IMPLORE
YOU
TO BELIEVE THIS IS TRUE.
It is hard to know
all that Lee Miller
felt at Dachau; I do not think I know. I respect her for wanting other
people's consciences to be moved by it. Over 20 years later when I was
travelling in Europe, I went to a very different looking Dachau, a
tremendously
important reminder of what was. That was 1968 and I was cold and
uninterested
in as large an evil being done by my own country--the tortuous, brutal
killing of thousands of innocent persons in Vietnam. If I and millions
like me had consciences that were fully alive and known, Vietnam would
not have been--had Aesthetic Realism been known and studied, I know the
Vietnam War would not have been.
Whenever we see evil
in the world
there is a choice that a person has, which Aesthetic Realism makes
clear,
about how to use it. Our conscience is asking that we use it to have
greater
feeling for the world, by
being passionately against
what
is evil in ourselves and others. We can also use it to justify our
desire
to have contempt for everything. For Lee Miller, the battle in herself
continued after the war was over; she was never able to be at ease with
her conscience. She didn't know how to clearly distinguish between
these
two choices. She didn't know what Eli Siegel describes in "The World,
Guilt
and Self-Conflict," a chapter of Self
and World:
In keeping
with notions
that have been present all through history, the human being does have
two
sides, just as he has a profile and a full face. These two sides, it is
true, make up a one; yet in the same way as you get a different
impression
from the side view of face from that got from a full view, so, though
these
two sides of self make up a one, they can have different effects.
It seems Lee Miller
wanted to mock the
best thing in her, and not have such large feeling. She suffered very
much
after the war, Penrose describes, from "self-laceration...she would
weep
alone in bed all day." She, a member of the press, was a victim of the
press boycott of Aesthetic Realism. Studying her life has had me
realize
in a new way how fortunate I am to be able to know what my own
conscience
is asking of me. Aesthetic
Realism
understands and
describes accurately the importance to every person's life of their
conscience--why
it is their friend. Eli Siegel showed every day of his life the power
and
beauty of ethics in how he was just to the world. He made people
believe
in themselves; he made me able to. He also described what is really our
enemy within--our desire to have contempt for the world--so we can
defeat
it. He was the world's conscience and its greatest friend.
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