The Philosophy of Fine Art, volume 3 (of 4): Hegel's Aesthetik — Georg Hegel — John Shaqi
The Philosophy of Fine Art, volume 3 (of 4): Hegel's Aesthetik
Georg Hegel · en
(_γγ_) Despite all this similarity, however, the art of tones moves
to quite as large a degree in a sphere wholly opposed to that of
architecture. We find, no doubt, in both arts as a basis quantitative
or more accurately measure relations; the material, however, which
in each case is informed, agreeably to such relations, is totally
different. Architecture attaches itself to the heavy sensuous material
in its tranquil juxtaposition and external form in Space. Music, on
the contrary, lays hold of the tone-spirit[391] as it rings freely out
of the spatial material in the qualitative distinctions of musical
sound and in the flow of a movement subject to the condition of time.
For this reason the works of both arts belong to two entirely distinct
spheres of spiritual activity. The art of building places in an
enduring form its colossal constructions for external contemplation in
symbolical forms. The swiftly evanescent world of tones, on the other
hand, directly penetrates through the ears of man to the depths of his
soul, attuning the same in concordant emotional sympathy.
(_β_) And if we, in the second place, consider the closer relation
of music to the two other plastic arts[392], we shall find that the
similarity and distinction, which attaches to such a comparison, is in
some measure founded upon the truths already enunciated.
(_αα_) Of these music is furthest removed from sculpture; and this is
not merely so in respect to material and type of configuration, but
also in that of the completed coalescence of its ideal and external
aspects. There is in short a closer affinity between painting and
music. In part this is due to the predominant ideality of expression
exemplified in both; in part it is referable to treatment of material,
in which, as we have already seen, it is permissible for the art of
painting to approach the very boundary of music itself. Painting has,
however, for its aim in common with sculpture the representation of
an objective form in Space, and is restricted in its material to the
actual form of things already present outside the sphere of art. It is
unquestionably true that neither in the case of the painter nor the
sculptor do we accept a human countenance, a position of the human
body, the outlines of a mountain, the leafage of a tree precisely in
the forms they present to us as here or there in Nature; in both cases
we are bound to justify what we have before us under the conditions of
the art in question, to adapt it to a particular situation, no less
than to employ it as a means of expressing the inevitable artistic
result of the entire content of the work. We have, therefore, in both
cases on the one hand an independently recognized content, which has
to receive artistic individualization, and, on the other, we are
confronted with the forms of Nature as they are similarly presented
in isolation; and the artist is bound, if he be truly an artist, and