A short piece in the New York Times magazine exposes a common fear: that knowing how something works removes the mystery, or destroys the magic. In this case, the author is talking about recent advances in neuroscience in understanding the human brain:
The human brain is mysterious — and, in a way, that is a good thing. The less that is known about how the brain works, the more secure the zone of privacy that surrounds the self. But that zone seems to be shrinking.
Many have said the same for an understanding of any cultural production process: that seeing the plywood backing of a stage set destroys the illusion of the scene; that knowing the science of acoustics dissolves an enveloping sound experience into charts and graphs. Such fears have stopped many arts organizations from really exploring the processes of production with their audiences, and honestly discussing the mundane and tactical challenges of what they do.
Perhaps it’s just me (I doubt it), but I experience exactly the opposite. For me, every little detail I discover about how theater works, how visual art works, how musical instruments work, how the creative process works, brings with it a greater depth of awe and a more powerful sense of magic. Similarly, scraps of insight about the pieces of a complex process — of brain function, physics, social systems, the arts, and others — just bring more wonder at the whole.
The Times article ends with this perceived conflict of science and self:
The more that breakthroughs like the recent one in brain-scanning open up the mind to scientific scrutiny, the more we may be pressed to give up comforting metaphysical ideas like interiority, subjectivity and the soul. Let’s enjoy them while we can.
But how wonderous it is that all those chemical and electrical processes — no matter how much we know about them — accumulate into a sense of self, at all. Perhaps, instead of being contrary forces, discovery and wonder are part of a virtuous cycle, and we should never be afraid to keep that cycle spinning.
I agree. To find out that a musical instrument was made from a tree increases the mystery of the beauty of its sound. Knowing details of the process of its construction only accentuates the appreciation for what has happened.
I couldn’t agree more. I work in the philanthropic arm of a global company and have noticed the effect of backstage tours and conversations with artists about the art on myself and other funders. One becomes part of the club as a result of the treatment. Funders talk about the danger of becoming ”captured” by organizations as a result of this treatment.
The down side is that after too many trips we begin to think of art as artists do and less as a regular audience member, and so we view the shows less holistically and more analytically. It is a rarefied view of art.