Essay I sent for the freepress competition-critique
Shakespeare prods at the humanistic conundrum of conditions in existence. Humans are fortunately organized carbon atoms forged in the sun. Our fiber of existence is the fiber that happened by luck to make a self-aware life form instead of a tree, a CO2 atom, coal, or anything that is not a human. This reality can be taken as either belittling or empowering. Renaissance men would argue that insignificance empowers and invites one to explore possible realities. The Medieval Church would argue that humans must respect their presence here as he or she respects the presence of God. The reality of existence is that there is a lingering question of what [we are], and, more daunting, why [are we so aware of this question]. “Hamlet” shrewdly and poetically articulates the human condition and the foundation of humanism as we know it: “What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving, how express and admirable in action, how like an angel in apprehension, how like a god: the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals. And yet to me, what is this quintessence of dust?”
Shakespeare, being a Renaissance man, held the virtues of “rebirth” (the literal translation of “Renaissance”) as it applies to the emerging perception of the individual. It had been established by the incontestable Church that man was made in God’s image, and therefore man had the rights and responsibilities of “gods”. These rights were flagrantly exercised by society in the middle ages, but as the Church came into question in the 15th and 16th century, so did its teachings. Hamlet states this pithily, almost mockingly, “What a piece of work is man…how like an angel in apprehension, how like a god: the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals.”
This theme can be carried across creative outlets. Questioning importance of existence can also be seen in Michelangelo’s David. Arguably the most acutely sensed human form for its time and even of today, the David statue stands as an embodiment of human doubt in humanism. This holds true even in the face of its reference to the man-propagating Bible. David stands nude, vulnerable and exposed. This is the state of man as he stands against a Goliath. His nervousness accentuates the vulnerability shown by his bareness. Also a Renaissance man, Michelangelo displays the garish reality of inherent fear, even when God is assisting us. David illustrated humans, “how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving, how express and admirable in action,” are yet so aware of their “quintessence of dust.”
This helplessness can be directly extracted from the dwindling faith during the 1300s, while the plague was first raging in Europe. If followers were pious, why did God allow infection and filth to rampantly infest ostensibly innocent lives? Supporters of the Church grappled for salvation, calling upon priests when having contracted the plague, and essentially paying off God with Indulgences. These followers found respite in faith, while others, whom went on to spearhead the Renaissance, saw the Church as a human invention. Being a human invention to these individuals, the Church simply afflicted human truth, and did not provide any deictic gateway.
Shakespeare, then, is a somewhat portentous writer, ridiculing the Church provided condition of man, then the perception of this condition by the individual, and finally the fear that this perception rouses. The confusion of the conscious knowledge, subconscious knowledge, and incidental fear can be recognized in sufferers across Europe toward the end of the middle ages (fighters in the crusades, those living with the plague, those in poverty, etcetera).
A film I found to be most insightful on the malaise of the 13th century indulges in contemporary satire and cinematic artistry beyond content. Biblical metaphors and embodied innocence aside, “The Seventh Seal” had an obvious theme. Confusion and fear manifest after one has been exposed to the knowledge of a new reality. The knight returns home after having seen battle for the sake of his God, but returns to find a vacancy of the modest and merciful God he’d defended. The condition he returns in is that of shattered faith. His and his society’s conscious and objective minds have been taught to cherish a God that may become evident in forms of both punishments and rewards. The flagellants arrive at a conclusion that God has a quota of punishment to fill for all of man, and so they punish themselves to end the plague sooner. This conclusion muddles with the knight’s unwillingness to concede that God is present in the crusades or in the plague-riddled villages.
The knight found that he had proliferated mankind’s righteousness in his own mind in the name of a God he no longer could identify. The notion evolves in culture, at this time, that man has godly faculties, but no longer for the sake of God. It is now for the sake of man. Man becomes his own savior and his own convolutes in the new actuality of inexplicable evil/luck. Man is both “the beauty in the world” and, when in the light of the crusades, “dust.”
Shakespeare could be considered a philosopher. His writings were more controversially opinionated and introspective than some of the most revered theorists. In a short excerpt, he manages to encapsulate the disdainful vanity of man and his own creation, and the masochistic self-doubt resulting from this mass-minded vanity. Man is both everything and nothing at the same time. Man is fortunately organized carbon atoms. “What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving, how express and admirable in action, how like an angel in apprehension, how like a god: the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals. And yet to me, what is this quintessence of dust?”
Shakespeare, being a Renaissance man, held the virtues of “rebirth” (the literal translation of “Renaissance”) as it applies to the emerging perception of the individual. It had been established by the incontestable Church that man was made in God’s image, and therefore man had the rights and responsibilities of “gods”. These rights were flagrantly exercised by society in the middle ages, but as the Church came into question in the 15th and 16th century, so did its teachings. Hamlet states this pithily, almost mockingly, “What a piece of work is man…how like an angel in apprehension, how like a god: the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals.”
This theme can be carried across creative outlets. Questioning importance of existence can also be seen in Michelangelo’s David. Arguably the most acutely sensed human form for its time and even of today, the David statue stands as an embodiment of human doubt in humanism. This holds true even in the face of its reference to the man-propagating Bible. David stands nude, vulnerable and exposed. This is the state of man as he stands against a Goliath. His nervousness accentuates the vulnerability shown by his bareness. Also a Renaissance man, Michelangelo displays the garish reality of inherent fear, even when God is assisting us. David illustrated humans, “how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving, how express and admirable in action,” are yet so aware of their “quintessence of dust.”
This helplessness can be directly extracted from the dwindling faith during the 1300s, while the plague was first raging in Europe. If followers were pious, why did God allow infection and filth to rampantly infest ostensibly innocent lives? Supporters of the Church grappled for salvation, calling upon priests when having contracted the plague, and essentially paying off God with Indulgences. These followers found respite in faith, while others, whom went on to spearhead the Renaissance, saw the Church as a human invention. Being a human invention to these individuals, the Church simply afflicted human truth, and did not provide any deictic gateway.
Shakespeare, then, is a somewhat portentous writer, ridiculing the Church provided condition of man, then the perception of this condition by the individual, and finally the fear that this perception rouses. The confusion of the conscious knowledge, subconscious knowledge, and incidental fear can be recognized in sufferers across Europe toward the end of the middle ages (fighters in the crusades, those living with the plague, those in poverty, etcetera).
A film I found to be most insightful on the malaise of the 13th century indulges in contemporary satire and cinematic artistry beyond content. Biblical metaphors and embodied innocence aside, “The Seventh Seal” had an obvious theme. Confusion and fear manifest after one has been exposed to the knowledge of a new reality. The knight returns home after having seen battle for the sake of his God, but returns to find a vacancy of the modest and merciful God he’d defended. The condition he returns in is that of shattered faith. His and his society’s conscious and objective minds have been taught to cherish a God that may become evident in forms of both punishments and rewards. The flagellants arrive at a conclusion that God has a quota of punishment to fill for all of man, and so they punish themselves to end the plague sooner. This conclusion muddles with the knight’s unwillingness to concede that God is present in the crusades or in the plague-riddled villages.
The knight found that he had proliferated mankind’s righteousness in his own mind in the name of a God he no longer could identify. The notion evolves in culture, at this time, that man has godly faculties, but no longer for the sake of God. It is now for the sake of man. Man becomes his own savior and his own convolutes in the new actuality of inexplicable evil/luck. Man is both “the beauty in the world” and, when in the light of the crusades, “dust.”
Shakespeare could be considered a philosopher. His writings were more controversially opinionated and introspective than some of the most revered theorists. In a short excerpt, he manages to encapsulate the disdainful vanity of man and his own creation, and the masochistic self-doubt resulting from this mass-minded vanity. Man is both everything and nothing at the same time. Man is fortunately organized carbon atoms. “What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving, how express and admirable in action, how like an angel in apprehension, how like a god: the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals. And yet to me, what is this quintessence of dust?”