- Jul 14, 2010
To me, your two photos have the smooth and soothing qualities in the colors, tones and mood.1 a : smooth and soothing in manner or quality - a bland smile
b: exhibiting no personal concern or embarrassment : unperturbed -a bland confession of guilt
2 a : not irritating, stimulating, or invigorating : soothing
b : dull, insipid - bland stories with little plot or action
A fine suggestion, as always. I'd already cropped a bit out of the shot and I do like the vine framing the left side, so rather than crop it anymore and losing both the vine and some sharpness, I just retouched the electronic stuff off of the wall (and replaced the shot in the post above). You can see it if you look close, but its not something you'd probably look at closely unless you were looking for remnants. So, thanks for the idea!Ray, that photograph of yours is a thoughtful, quiet portrait. I think you're wrong - it is one of your best. Since this is not a W/NW thread, I'm going to ask if you have tried cropping in from the left in order to remove the electronic controls. I know it will cut off the vine, and the small potted plant, too. Your call, obviously. This portrait could be of Picasso, from times past. The tones of black and white are lovely and it has a real sense of place, weight and time. Very painterly and strong in it's quiet way.
Mayank, what can I say? So soft and subtle cloaked in natural beauty. I am a huge fan of the way you distill landscapes to their essence.
I'm sure there are better explanations, however even by reading this, I think one can come away with a much better idea of what this blandness is about. The book sounds very thought provoking. I may have to buy it for myself sooner, rather than later. Thank you Christian!Review
"Blandness is a sub rosa self-help book and a map to the sublime."
— Village Voice
Already translated into six languages, François Jullien's In Praise of Blandness has become a classic. Appearing for the first time in English, this groundbreaking work of philosophy, anthropology, aesthetics, and sinology is certain to stir readers to think and experience what may at first seem impossible: the richness of a bland sound, a bland meaning, a bland painting, a bland poem. In presenting the value of blandness through as many concrete examples and original texts as possible, Jullien allows the undifferentiated foundation of all things--blandness itself-- to appear. After completing this book, readers will reevaluate those familiar Western lines of thought where blandness is associated with a lack--the undesirable absence of particular, defining qualities. Jullien traces the elusive appearance and crucial value of blandness from its beginnings in the Daoist and Confucian traditions to its integration into literary and visual aesthetics in the late-medieval period and beyond. Gradually developing into a positive quality in Chinese aesthetic and ethical traditions, the bland comprises the harmonious and unnameable union of all potential values, embodying a reality whose very essence is change and providing an infinite opening into the breadth of human expression and taste. More than just a cultural history, In Praise of Blandness invites those both familiar and unfamiliar with Chinese culture to explore the resonances of the bland in literary, philosophical, and religious texts and to witness how all currents of Chinese thought--Confucianism, Daoism, Buddhism--converge in harmonious accord.
About the Author
FranÃ§ois Jullien is Professor at the UniversitÃ© Paris VII-Denis Diderot and director at the Institut de la PensÃ©e Contemporaine. He is the author of Detour and Access: Strategies of Meaning in China and Greece, The Propensity of Things: Toward a History of Efficacy in China, and In Praise of Blandness: Proceeding from Chinese Thought and Aesthetics all published by Zone Books.
Depending on the complexity of the background, it can be extremely quick and easy (as with this shot) or a bit laborious. And, in some cases, almost impossible. But with something like this, its about a 10-20 second adjustment in Aperture. If I'd done it to the clean image before applying any other processing, I could have probably made it totally invisible. Because it was a non-critical part of the shot, I just went ahead and applied it on top of the image that had already been processed in Silver Efex Pro and already saved back to a jpeg. And you can see the outline of the change. Like I said, VERY quick and easy. I have one landscape type shot that I did a couple of months ago that I was able to remove a power line, two power line poles (fairly prominent ones at that), and a car and, if I didn't know where to look, I'd never know the difference. That took about 10-15 minutes worth of messing about though.Wow, that was fast! I don't know how to do that magic, Ray - wish I did.
P.S. Mayank - many thanks for that death defying image of those two young kite flyers! The subtle image doesn't betray the real danger involved in their child's play.Jullien’s decision to translate dan with a single French word fadeur, which is faithfully rendered into English as “bland” by his translator, contributes to the homogenized, essentialist account that I have criticized above. Why, though, should we assume that there is any adequate single-word translation for words like dan? Of course, there may be, and translators have a prima facie duty to look for good single-word translations of such terms. However, this duty is defeasible; it can be overridden by the imperatives to make sense of and be true to the texts we are working on. Terms of art excavated from the history of philosophy—e.g. eudaimonia—often introduce new meanings or senses into their home traditions; even when we attempt to find equivalents, we spend time qualifying and seeking to embellish the sense we choose and noting the dissimilar ways different thinkers understood and made use of such terms. We should expect the study of other cultures to offer at least as many opportunities to expand and enrich our conceptual repertoire. Examples are easy to come by. Who translates dharma or karma? The latter term has become an English word. Would it be wise to translate wabi or sabi? Shouldn’t we just transliterate and explain such terms rather than translate them? The process of enrichment works equally well in either direction, though given the nature of the Chinese written language, the expression of adopted words has distinctive features. There is no adequate single-word translation for words like “rococo” into Chinese, but with a little explanation, anyone can come to understand what the transliteration of this word (luokeke 洛可可) means.
Dan is used in an irreducibly diverse variety of ways throughout the history of Chinese thought, within as well as across individual traditions. There is no one concept, notion, or experience in play, and so we should not even attempt to provide a single-word translation appropriate for all contexts. Jullien’s book offers good evidence for regarding the word dan in this way. He and his translator go to considerable pains explaining how dan actually has a diverse and complex range of meanings that are very hard to pin down. They must and do spend a good deal of energy and time explaining that their preferred translation should not be taken as implying a negative quality or state. However, the simple truth is that “bland” means not just the absence of flavor or taste but a lack or inadequate amount of flavor or taste. It is like words such as ill or impoverished; there is an evaluative as well as descriptive dimension to the senses of these terms. With this in mind, it is clear that “bland” is a poor translation in cases where dan is used to describe things like the character of a sage. Sages are understated, unassuming, unpretentious, mild, subtle, etc.; they are not lacking in good and desirable qualities. Contrary to what Jullien claims, “perfect character” is not “without character”; it simply does not make a show of itself. (Jullien seems to sense this but obfuscates things with phrases like “plentitude inseparable from platitude.”) Bland does not work very well for the most widely employed analogy used to describe dan: the contrast between water and wine. The sage is like water; his more popular competitors are like wine. When I read such lines, I am reminded of what I keep telling my young son (my daughter is now old enough to decide for herself): that a good glass of water is better than the bubbly, sugar-laden soda he finds more attractive. When I say this, I am not saying that water lacks adequate flavor; I am saying that it has a pure and subtle taste not found in soda. I also am saying that water is good for you and that soda is not; that the latter is seductive but misleading and that the former is honest and reliable. The Way may seem insipid and without relish, but this is only apparent, not real. Most people rush to the wrong judgment, but only because their palates have been corrupted by the saccharine, syrupy, ornate, pretentious, and florid fare to which they are addicted.
For reasons such as those I have endeavored to sketch above, Jullien’s work falls short as a study of some quintessential Chinese quality; it is not a careful account of the notion or experience of dan and no work could be, because there is no single, unified notion or experience underlying the different expressions of Chinese culture that Jullien explores, much less all of Chinese culture. The book does succeed in conveying Jullien’s knowledge of, devotion to, and enthusiasm about Chinese culture, and that is most admirable. It also manifests his impressive command and creative readings of large expanses of Chinese and Western cultures. I can recommend the book not as a scholarly study of “the bland” in Chinese culture but as the meditations of a learned and creative intellectual who has been inspired by and reflected upon various aspects of Chinese and Western culture and synthesized a novel view of his own. The impressions his reflections leave upon one are anything but bland.