Category: Literature

Posted on

Can AI Create Art?

Intelligence

A flickering screen with words typed from

knowledge in a chip.

My mind’s  ability seems  obsolete

compared to its hip,

quick clicks, and artificial information

made of binary

synthesis, but machines will never learn

to write poetry.

I wrote this poem many years ago in college (2010 I think).  AI was already in use, but it was not nearly as prominent as it is today. AI can do a lot of things, including mimicking poetry and other art forms. But is it really writing poetry?  

There are many discussions on whether or not the use of AI is ethical. It takes jobs from human creatives. However, even apart from the ethical concerns, AI simply cannot create poetry or any other form of art. 

What is Poetry?

“Poetry”, according to romantic poet William Wordsworth, is “the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings; it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility.” (Lyrical Ballads, Preface) Poetic devices such as rhyme, alliteration, and meter patterns have fallen in and out of fashion over the years but, at its core, poetry is human expression.  The poet is expressing a piece of themselves to the reader or listener and the reader or listener finds something meaningful in sharing that experience with the poet.

Art is not merely an image or words strung together in a certain way. Art, from the Latin artem, is a skill or a craft. Skill and craft are both words referring to the process not the end result.  

This is why nineteenth-century French philosopher, Victor Cousin coined the phrase “L’art pour l’art” or “art for art’s sake”.  True art has never been about the end result.  It has always been about the process.  

There are many ways to define art, but intention and expression are always an integral element. The act of creation cannot be separated from the creation itself and the act of creation cannot be separated from human emotion. 

According to D’arcy Hayman, “Art is the essence of that which is human; it is the embodiment of the human experience and goal.”  (The Arts and Man, A World View of the Role and Functions of the Arts in Society).  Ultimately, Art reaches beyond the body and physical needs of the human race in search of a deeper existence.  It is the scream of humanity. Pieces of ourselves reaching out to be heard. 

To put it in simpler terms “We read to know we are not alone.” (Shadowlands, 1994) We experience art in order to experience one another. 

Can AI Create Poetry?

How then can a poem written by an unfeeling computer mean anything at all? There is no connection to another human being (or lifeform or even consciousness), no emotion pouring out from one soul to another.  It might have all the same pieces as a poem, but it is essentially meaningless. A computer cannot feel or express. It can produce a product, but it cannot create art

That isn’t to say a poem assimilated by AI cannot invoke emotion.  On the contrary, many do. A reader might not be able to even tell it apart from a poem by a living (or once living) poet. And if it is indistinguishable from art is it not art? 

In a way, everyone who experiences a piece of art is part artist because we each experience it in our own way and thus participate in its creation. We bring our own experiences to the art and interpret it accordingly.  In that sense, art is a catalyst for feelings and the reader, the viewer, or the listener, is the true artist.  Cannot art -poetry- by a computer be used in this way? A bridge that connects people without needing to be created by anyone at all? It still invokes feelings.  It still shows us that we are not alone. Could AI be the scream of humanity?  An imitation of ourselves that we now strive to imitate? 

Not every poem assimilated by a poetry program, however, can invoke emotions. The poems assimilated must be sorted through and gleaned for meaning. In that sense, they could perhaps be called pieces of found art. Something a human found meaning in and chose to showcase.  It can still connect us, and it can still enrich our lives, but the computer is never the artist.  It is only a tool like a paintbrush or a blender.

A computer can be programmed to imitate art but it will never be the artist.  It could be argued that the programmer is the artist but the programmer only assimilated the tool. The program itself requires the works of hundreds and thousands of past writers.  Anything created by AI was created by every single artist whose work was used to create the program. All it can do is mimic what has come before. It cannot create anything new. 

Creative Innovation and Imagination 

Art will suffocate if nothing new is added to the mix. According to Phillip Sydney and many other philosophers, Art is a teacher. We create from imagination in order to envision what could be.  This is both why art is so important to society and a big reason why it cannot be created by a computer. A computer can only copy patterns.  It can only mimic what is. It cannot innovate. It cannot dream of things that have never been. 

Art is an important tool to escape conformity and improve society ( Hayman) It is the genetic variation in the evolution of society.  True art is born of chaos. How then can an orderly program be expected to create it? Without innovation, it will only ever be a pantomime of art. 

AI might be used to help create poetry, but it cannot replace the poet. It has no investment in or comprehension of what it is assimilating. If the computer never feels or understands the words it is stringing together it cannot be true expression or creation. It cannot be poetry.  It cannot be art.

AI does not necessarily need to be abolished in the creative world, but it is important that we use, and more importantly consume, it ethically.  A computer does not need to be fed but an artist -a poet- does. An artist (or multiple artists) is still needed to create. There just isn’t a substitute for human emotion and imagination in creative work. A human (or feeling entity) will always be needed to create art.

Posted on

The Little Mermaid: A Tail of Belonging

Why Hans Christain Andersen’s Darker Version of the Fairy Tale May Be Better Than The 1989 Disney Adaptation

Portrait of Hans Christain Andersen

Hans Christan Anderson’s The Little Mermaid

In Hans Christian Andersen’s original dark fairy tale, The Little Mermaid, the unnamed little mermaid longs for a soul. She rescues a prince and leaves him at a temple to heal. Curious, she asks her grandmother about the lives of mortals and learns that the only way the merfolk can gain a soul is through marriage to a mortal. She decides her greatest desire is to marry the prince she rescued so that she can have a soul. 

The little mermaid bargains with a sea witch for legs so that she can woo the prince. In exchange, she must give up, not only her voice but her comfort and potentially her life. Every time she takes a step on her new legs, she feels pain like daggers shooting up her feet and if the prince does not marry her, she will turn into seafoam and die.

The little mermaid finds the prince, but he does not love her. He sees her as a cute, childlike friend rather than a potential bride and becomes engaged to another princess who had nursed him back to health inside the temple. On the day of the wedding, the little mermaid’s sisters bring her a magical dagger they bought from the sea witch with their hair. They tell her that if she kills the prince with the magical dagger she can turn back into a mermaid and return to the sea. 

The little mermaid cannot bear to harm the man she loves even after he has wed another. Instead of following her sisters’ advice and freeing herself from the sea witch’s curse, she throws herself into the sea, accepting her death. Because of her sacrifice, she is granted a soul. Her body turns to seafoam but her soul lives on forever. 

Meaning of The Little Mermaid

At its core, The Little Mermaid is the tale of someone who is willing to take risks to be true to themselves. It’s the story of a literal fish out of water, desperately wanting to belong in a world not meant for them. Any reader who has ever felt they didn’t quite fit in can relate to the little mermaid’s quest to belong. She longs for a soul — something her family doesn’t care to understand — and is willing to sacrifice her own comfort to obtain one. Hans Christain Andersen may have been writing about his own longing for acceptance when he crafted the fairy tale.

Hans Christian Andersen was bisexual. Living in the 1800s he would have often had to hide his liaisons with lovers. Hiding who he was may have felt like he was being forced to give up his voice and walk on knives. Meanwhile, the objects of his affection often saw him as a friend rather than a lover, and he would be required to attend their weddings. 

Hans Christain Andersen is also speculated by some historians to have been an undiagnosed autistic person. The mermaid heroine shows quite a few autistic traits. She has an intense interest in the human world and a lack of awareness of the danger involved in making a pact with the sea witch (Jessica Kellgren on Autism tropes). In this interpretation, the little mermaid’s loss of voice and dagger-sharp steps are an apt metaphor for autistic “masking” or hiding one’s true self in order to be accepted by society.

The story of someone longing to change their body in order to find their true self can also be a very elegant metaphor for being transgender. Unlike the other merfolk, the little mermaid is not satisfied with her life in the sea and is willing to risk the pain and awkwardness of transitioning to become her true self. (For a more in-depth analysis of the transgender themes in The Little Mermaid watch this video by Lindsay Ellis).

Whatever Hans Christain Andersen’s intent, anyone who has ever felt like an outsider trying to find acceptance can relate to the themes in The Little Mermaid. The almost universal craving to belong may be why it is still such a beloved fairy tale almost 200 years after it was written. 

Disney’s 1989 Adaptation of The Little Mermaid 

The intense feeling of longing in The Little Mermaid is beautifully expressed in the classic song “Part of Your World” from the 1989 Disney adaptation of the fairy tale. In this song, the little mermaid expresses her desire for more. For a world that accepts her the way she is. Despite its siren musical score, however, the 1989 Disney adaptation of The Little Mermaid makes a lot of changes to Hans Christian Andersen’s original story. 

Disney names the little mermaid Ariel and changes her desire for a soul to a deep curiosity for human life. She falls in love at first sight with the prince who Disney names Eric. In Disney’s version, the prince’s bride is actually the sea witch in disguise. Rather than sacrifice herself to the sea, Ariel rescues Eric from the sea witch’s deceit and marries him herself.

On the surface, this Disney adaptation appears to be much more satisfying. Everything is ultimately restored to the little mermaid. She lives happily ever after in wedded bliss instead of turning into seafoam. In Hans Christian Andersen’s original fairy tale, however, despite turning into seafoam, the little mermaid does obtain what she wanted all along — her soul. 

The Little Mermaid’s Sacrifice 

In Hans Christain Andersen’s original, despite the tragedy of her sacrifice, the little mermaid doesn’t need the prince to have her desire for a soul granted. She gives her life to save him, but obtaining her heart’s desire is dependent on her own actions rather than who will or won’t choose her as a bride. Her soul is her own, earned by her own innate goodness, not borrowed through marriage. It shifts the narrative from a love story to a story about finding one’s true self, which more accurately fits the themes of seeking belonging embedded into the story from the beginning.

The older, darker version of the fairy tale resonates with more hope than Disney’s “happier” ending because it is when the little mermaid is her truest self, regardless of the acceptance of others, that she ultimately transcends her pain and becomes all that she desires to be. She actualizes herself with her own agency rather than earning the love of others. Hans Christian Andersen’s little mermaid pays the ultimate sacrifice in order to be herself and, in the end, that was all she ever needed.

You can learn more about Taryn Tyler’s dark fairy tale retellings here

Posted on

The Cauldron of Story: Tropes, Cliches, Archetypes, And Tolkien’s Take on The Origin of Stories

Perusing a bookstore these days you are likely to see titles grouped by “Enemies to Lovers”, “Discovering Magical Powers”, or “Found Family”. More and more readers have been describing books by the tropes they contain. This trend is reflected in book recommendation sites, marketing strategies, and general conversations about books.

Categorizing stories based on well know story devices and patterns is not new. Folklorists have been keeping a catalogue of common patterns and motifs for centuries.

Carl Jung wrote about what he called Archetypes; types of characters that repeat, specifically in mythology. Joseph Campbell wrote about what he calls The Monomyth, a pattern he claimed all stories follow that is still used as a basis for script writers of major motion pictures. In his famous essay “On Fairy-Stories” J.R.R Tolkien speaks about The Tree of Story or Story Cauldron and how different elements of story are added to and expanded on over time, drawing from both history and the general human experience.

“The pot of soup,” Tolkien states, “the cauldron of story, has always been boiling, and to it have continually been added new bits, dainty and undainty.” (52)

Tropes are the brick and mortar of storytelling. A teller cannot lay the foundation of a story without them. Audiences often find comfort in a certain amount of predictability and familiarity. Even a subconscious concept of the structure of a story or type of character allows them to feel a sense of satisfaction and “rightness” when things follow the expected pattern. On the other hand established patterns and tropes also allow audiences to feel more surprise and satisfaction when a story deviates from them.

The “rule of three” is a common structure in western folklore that is also used in modern comedy. In this structure things happen in groups of three. The first two events set up a pattern but the third subverts it. In many folklore stories, for example, we follow two siblings who make the same mistake but the third sibling behaves differently and triumphs.

Most audiences enjoy this balance between the familiar and the unexpected. In order to subvert an audience’s expectations, a writer must first set up those expectation. Tropes can make this set up easier. Tropes by themselves, however, are not enough to carry a story. There must be enough texture and richness in the specific details to keep the audience engaged.

According to Tolkien “It is precisely the coloring, the atmosphere, the unclassifiable individual details of a story, and above all the general purport that informs with life the undissected bones of the plot, that really count.” ( 46) When those rich, intricate details are forgotten the trope becomes cliché.

A cliché is a literary device or phrase that is tired and overused. It is different than a trope because, while cliches should always be avoided, the use of a trope is, by itself, neutral. A trope can be used poorly or effectively just as an ingredient can be prepared well or not depending on the cook. A trope in the hands of an unskilled storyteller becomes cliché but in skilled hands it becomes part of a delectable meal.

Tolkien states that “It is easy for the student (of folklore) to feel that with all his labour he is collecting only a few leaves, many of them now torn or decaying from the countless foliage of the Tree of Tales, with which the Forest of Days is carpeted. It seems vain to add to the litter. Who can design a new leaf?” (76).

It may appear on the surface as if there are no new ingredients and that every story has already been told, but that is ultimately missing the point of storytelling. It’s in the richness and texture of the details that make a story enjoyable.

“We do not, or need not, despair of drawing because all lines must be either curved or straight, nor of painting because there are only three ‘primary’ colours.” ( 76) We may be able to recognize and name the pieces that make up a story but that does not mean every story that uses those pieces is the same. Two drawings are not the same because they both use lines or because they both use the color yellow.

The use of a specific trope cannot determine if a story is good or bad. The trope itself is simply an ingredient. What determines the quality of a story is how the ingredients are prepared.  Each cook has their own unique set of spices, their own voice and experience to breathe life into a story.

Tropes are only the bones of a story, not the story itself. No two books with the exact same set of tropes will ever be the same. Describing books by their tropes is a fun way to categorize them. It might even increase our chances of finding the kind of book we are in the mood for but it is a bit like describing a recipe by its ingredients alone. It can tell us its nutritional value and any allergens it may contain, but without knowing whether those ingredients are baked or simmered or fried or left raw we cannot know the full experience of the story we are about to enjoy. We can never know for certain if we will enjoy a book or not until we have begun to read it and experience all the rich texture and specifics the author is offering us.

Posted on

A Spirit of One’s Own -A Contemplation on Virginia Woolf and What One Needs to Create

Virginia Woolf is known for her contributions to feminist literature as well as her lesbian relationship with Vita Sackville-West. She has written many famous essays and novels, including her provocative magical realism novel Orlando, which chronologizes the life of an immortal gender-fluid writer throughout British history. In her 1929 essay A Room of One’s Own, Virginia Woolf writes about the conditions necessary to create works of art. ,

In this essay, Woolf is specifically concerned with why there have been so few women writers throughout history. According to Virginia Woolf, it is not, as some men of the time suggested, because women lacked talent or intellect, but because they lacked the material resources needed to create, specifically a steady income and a physical space to create in — a room of one’s own.

Creation requires a certain amount of leisure time. It is often when the mind is most at rest that it is able to be the most creative. According to romantic poet William Wordsworth poetry is “intense emotions recollected in tranquility”. Other types of art are much the same. Extreme conditions and traumatic experiences can inspire beautiful creations, but tranquility is needed to turn that experience into something to share with others. Leisure time is required — time that is not only free of hard work, but also free of worry and distress.

Productivity is highly valued in our modern society. We are addicted to being busy and constantly producing “results”. We have apps to track our “progress” and surveys to compare our stats. This constant need to be moving and doing as if one were a machine can be detrimental to anyone’s mental health, but it is especially detrimental to creation.

Creativity is not the same thing as productivity. Both require mental, emotional, and physical energy and self-discipline, but while productivity is about what a person does, creativity is about who a person is. Creativity cannot be manufactured. It cannot be reduced to a formula or measured on a chart. It cannot be replicated with AI nor can it ever be guaranteed. One might be able to force oneself to be productive despite poor energy levels, but one cannot force oneself to be creative. When the well is empty ideas become stagnant.

Creativity requires the reflection of oneself. It requires giving the mind the freedom to wander aimlessly from thought to thought. It requires letting go of the utilitarian desire to “optimize” or “utilize” everything and embracing the richness of the moment. Creativity requires experiencing things for the sake of the experience alone. It requires the luxury of being still — a luxury that is almost impossible to obtain without the basic necessities of life.

Those who do not enjoy much leisure time cannot create as easily or as often as those who do. Throughout A Room of One’s Own, Virginia Woolf stresses that physical needs must be met in order for the mind to find the time needed to create and imagine. Meeting physical needs gives creators the ability to preserve and protect the energy they need to create art. Mental, emotional, and physical energy can be drained in a variety of ways. While it may seem as if free time alone can give writers the pathway to creativity, that is not always the case.

Virginia Woolf states in her essay that “A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction.” These needs represent the physical necessities of survival as well as freedom from worry about how one is to survive. “Leisure time” is not simply time. It is time to be at leisure — time without worry or stress when one can be alone and reflect.

The iconic image of a starving artist has long been cemented in our minds. A poet alone with nothing but their pen and parchment, crouched beneath a leaking roof in their one-room apartment, using their last candle to create their greatest masterpiece. But does this iconic image hold up to fact? Virgina Woolf says not. The majority of successful writers throughout history, according to Woolf, have been university men. Men who were granted the time and means to study in an era when resources to do so were rare. These men did not have to cook or clean, or in some cases, even shop for themselves. Some did not even have secondary professions. Their minds were free to explore and wander, to weave fascinating stories and brilliant philosophies with paper and ink.

Women, on the other hand, were tasked with the more mundane duties of housekeeping and child-rearing. They were not given books to study. They were not allowed to hold most professions and could often not even inherit wealth from their brothers and fathers. Any money they did earn for themselves belonged to their husbands. They seldom had the time or energy to scribble sonnets and craft novels and discover great philosophical truths. The women who were able to create works of art in spite of these obstacles were exceptional and often privileged in other ways. Virginia Woolf herself was born into a family with money and highly privileged in comparison to many other women of her time. Despite her family’s wealth, however, she had little control of it, and was even denied entrance into university libraries if she did not have a chaperone.

Conditions for women are much better today, but many of Woolf’s observations are, unfortunately, still relevant. For many families, an unequal amount of responsibility is placed upon women in the home and, although a woman’s wealth no longer belongs to her husband, there is still a large pay gap between what a man is paid and what a woman is paid even when they are performing the same work. To this day a woman’s time is not valued as much as a man’s by most of society.

Women, of course, are not the only ones who have faced and still face such challenges. Many have struggled throughout history to obtain the basic necessities required to survive, whether because of their race, sexuality, gender, mental health challenges, or economic status. Meanwhile, the wealthy elite have enjoyed the luxury of time and resources to create works of art and shape the larger narrative of their time. A few outliers have managed to create despite these obstacles, but most of the classics we read today were written by a minority of privileged men.

The fact that so many struggle to obtain the resources required to create, means that many creative voices are not being heard. The drive to create can so easily be thwarted by a lack of finances or time and space to create in. No matter how passionate an artist is about their work it is still work and requires the use of mental, emotional, and sometimes even physical energy. A creative needs resources to protect that energy and keep their spirit alive.

Virginia Wool is correct when she says that in order to write one needs money and a room of one’s own. Income and time and space to one’s self is needed to protect one’s energy, but more than that, it cultivates a sense of agency and independence that allows for original ideas. Virginia Woolf is not stressing the importance of these material means for their own sake so much as for their ability to protect a creator’s spirit and independent thought. While it may be more difficult for a woman to procure these necessities, any creator be they man, woman, or anything in between needs to protect and cultivate a spirit of one’s own.

Protect your spirit, my creative friends. It is the most valuable thing you own. All of our voices deserve to be heard.

The links provided to purchase Virgina Woolf’s books are affiliate links for Bookshop. If you choose to use them, you will be supporting not only me and my creative endeavors, but hundreds of independent bookstores around the world.

Click here to join Taryn Tyler’s newsletter for updates on new articles and books, including her gothic lesbian fairy tale, Snow Roses.

Posted on

Keeping the Human Spirit Alive Through Romanticism

“The Nightmare” by Henry Fuseli

Romanticism. The word might inspire thoughts of roses and candlelight. Long walks in the countryside or lyrical prose. Perhaps it puts you in mind of someone who is out of touch with reality or who caves in to their emotions too readily.

Romanticism was an intellectual movement at the beginning of the nineteenth century that has greatly impacted our literature and media. It is often associated with idealism and “softening” harsh truths, but true romanticism invites us to embrace darkness right along with the light. It is a philosophy that seeks beauty and depth in all experiences and encourages us to embrace life with complete abandon.

Romanticism was birthed at the beginning of the nineteenth century right at the onset of the industrial revolution. Rural life, which had remained more or less the same for centuries, was turned upside down as people moved to cities for jobs in factories. The familiar world of tending the land gave way to standardized time and machines. People who were used to spending large amounts of time outside were now cooped up indoors for long hours completing repetitive tasks. Philosophies such as utilitarianism gained popularity as things -and people-were valued based on their usefulness and efficiency.

Romanticism was a counter culture to this new way of life. It emphasized nature and emotions and doing things for the sake of doing them rather than for a practical purpose.

The romantic poets, who  were the major forerunners of the movement along with painters and musicians, were like rock stars in their time. Most of them died early deaths from their passionate, aimless lifestyle but they were able to capture the intensity of the human spirit in their work and inspire not only the people of their own time but generations of people after their deaths.

There are several components to their philosophy that allowed them to capture this spirit. One of which was the celebration of nature.

Gothic novels from the romantic era, paintings, and romantic poems are littered with rich, elaborate depictions of lakes and trees and birds. The romantics believed that nature was a soothing and therapeutic source but they also celebrated the darker components of nature. Earlier generations often saw nature as a dangerous reality that must be conquered but to the romantics a deadly storm or hungry beast could still be beautiful.

Caspar David Friedrich’s “Wanderer above the Fog” is a perfect example of how the romantics depicted dangerous pieces of nature as beautiful and awe inspiring.

“Wanderer Above the Fog” by Casper David Friedrich

Monster’s, both real and supernatural, were also depicted as fascinating, awe inspiring, and sometimes even sympathetic. Both Dracula from Bram Stoker’s novel Dracula and Frankenstein’s monster from Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein are described in fascinating and tantalizing detail. Frankenstein’s monster (or Frankenstein Jr.) is even described with sympathy. He is not monstrous by nature but a tragic hero who is pushed into murder and terror by an ostrosizing society.  

This idea of romanticizing darkness is often misunderstood by today’s generation. Our minds are so trained to label things as “good” or “bad” that the idea of seeing beauty in something harmful is hard for us to comprehend. It is, however, the very act of embracing things that we fear that gives us the power to overcome them.

This is illustrated when Van Helsing, the man who studies vampires, is the only one with enough knowledge to defeat Dracula. Similarly, depicting Frankenstein’s monster as a tragic hero does not condone his murderous deeds. Rather it serves as a caution for us to consider the pain we inflict when we osterosize and be more aware of what path we may be heading down when we find ourselves ruminating against those who have harmed us.

It is in our nature to be drawn to frightening things. Romanticism acknowledges this. This is not the same as calling them “good” or pretending that these things are safe. On the contrary, the acknowledgement of the allure of darkness allows us to explore ourselves and our world with more depth so that we can understand them more. With understanding comes the tools we need to overcome.

Another way the romantics explore this need for acknowledging the darkness is through their emphasis on emotions. William Woodsworth called poetry an “overflow of powerful feeling.” (Lyrical Ballads) Some such contemplations feature happy, listless feelings but many feature dark emotions or, more frequently, a combination of dark and light emotions that more accurately represent the human experience.

Keats’ “Ode to a Nightingale” is one such poem in which Keats – who lived much of his short life knowing that he was dying of consumption- lauds the beauty of a bird’s song in comparison to his painful and fading life. The beauty of the song reminds him of his plight and serves as a wake up call to reality.

Forlorn! the very word is like a bell
To toll me back from thee to my sole self!

And yet the beauty of the song also reminds him of his own spirit. The piece of him that recognizes the beauty of the song and fills him with longing.

Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!
No hungry generations tread thee down

Emotion is not something that is regulated in romanticism. It is not controlled or fought against. It is embraced. Experienced. Chased. It is let loose in passionate declarations of love, perilous journeys through storms, and dark laments of despair. Emotion cannot be harnessed or manufactured by a machine in a factory. Rather it is a wild and beautiful part of the human experience that cannot and should not be tamed.

This belief in intense emotions was one of the ways the romantics manifested their belief in keeping the human spirit alive. Particularly the spirit of the “common man”. They were hearty supporters of the French Revolution because of their admiration of commoners who stood up to the aristocracy. This is depicted most clearly in Robbie Burns’ “A Man for A that”, a poem written in beautiful Scottish vernacular declaring that any man, no matter how poor, is still a man.

Is there for honest Poverty
That hings his head, an’ a’ that;
The coward slave – we pass him by,
We dare be poor for a’ that!

This unapologetic celebration of the common man is in direct opposition to one concept that is often mistakenly associated with romanticism: Idealism. 

We often associate the word “romantic” as being out of touch with reality or imposing unrealistic expectations on a person or situation. In actuality the idea that there is a perfect mean that should be conformed to has more to do with classicism than romanticism.

While the Greeks and Romans sought perfection and symmetry in their art the romantics sought to depict what is. To the romantics imperfections are beautiful because they are a part of the truth and truth, not appearance, is most valued. The reality of what is, not the ideal of what should be, is what they strive to embrace and understand. 

This is most succinctly expressed in Keats’ poem “Ode on a Grecian Urn”. In the ode he admires an ancient Urn from Greece. His admiration, however, is not for its perfect shape and pure white color but for how it cannot be altered by time. This unalterability is reverent to him in a world that is constantly changing. He ends the ode with the line

 “Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.”

The romantic ideal is to embrace reality, to revel in it and see the beauty in it. This is why they write so seductively of darkness and savor even their most brooding thoughts and emotions. Romanticism is not a glorification of darkness nor is it a blind belief in pretty ideals. Romanticism is to chase life with complete abandon, to embrace every moment of it and revel in the irrepressible fire of the human spirit. 

At the onset of the 21st century we find ourselves once again at a crossroads in how we live our lives. The digital age, like the industrial revolution, has greatly altered the ways in which we earn a living and how we interact with each other on a daily basis. Bars and public houses have given way to social media and online forums as sources of gossip, information, and social interaction. Large portions of our days are now filled with spreadsheets, org charts, statistics, averages, templates, and autocorrect. So much that cold, detached words like “longevity” are now used to describe our relationships with friends and family while we are constantly encouraged to look for ways to “optimize” our lives as if it were a computer program.

For all the conveniences and mobility this digital world has given us it can leave us feeling detached or  even deficient for not adhering to the statistics we read or being able to perform with the uniform precision of a computer. We stare at our devices, not living out the promise of possibility and connection, but out of touch with the reality around us. Numb. Strangers to ourselves and to each other and unable to face or acknowledge the inevitable darkness in our lives.

It is time for a new romantic era. Don’t let statistics and averages shape who you are. Chase the things that scare you. Explore your emotions without judgement. Look around you and appreciate, savor, and embrace the things that are. Find the beauty in each moment. Because you -the common man, woman, or anything in between-matter and your spirit deserves to be kept alive.

Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!

Click here to join Taryn Tyler’s newsletter for updates on new articles and books, including her gothic lesbian fairy tale, Snow Roses.