EDITORIAL

A completely virtuous individual, Plato teaches us, does not fear death nor grieves that of loved ones. In Plato’s ideal nation, individuals learn to rid themselves of fear; they learn never to display publicly grief or any sign of suffering or discomfort, as this may cause an imbalance in society.

Yet, pain, grief, struggle, rejection, identity, and hope are some underlying ideas presented through art in this issue of The Pasticheur.

Plato thought the poet and artist were lesser than the philosopher because the former is an imitator who appeals to emotion, the inferior part of the spirit, while the latter appeals to reason. Unlike him, a piece of writing that drives me only to think, does not interest me. Such writing is just an intellectual exercise. The same goes for paintings, photographs, films, music, or other texts. If I don’t feel and only think, I find the work to be just a display of artistry or impeccable technique, like executing flawlessly a violin piece without feeling.

But feeling is a subjective issue, I hear you say. And so is everything. To assume that logic or mathematical language, for example, is founded purely on objectivity is a mistake.

The young writer SOPHIA COLLIER is very attuned to grief, rejection, and identity matters. Her poetry touches my core and makes me feel part of the “celestial soup” through her direct and unapologetic questions. Sophia also moves effortlessly between English and Spanish in some of her poems, and I feel the poetic voice speaking directly to me. And it isn’t until the end that I realize the piece is written in two languages. But the reader doesn’t need to understand a foreign language; the poet’s arrangement fuses language, sound, music, feeling, and meaning.

The “Everyday Saints” series by ANGELIKA KOLLIN immediately moves me to hope. Yet, my intellect causes me to lose that hope based on my experiences living in a sophisticated society (and I use the word sophisticated in all its meanings). Her collages help me identify with humanity and learn that I am, too, a collection of texts: all the places I’ve ever lived, all the languages I speak, all the books I read, all the people I know, and even a bit of you, reader. And through Angelika’s “Maps of Grief”, I can feel the pain hot stones cause on my naked skin, while at the same time, the women portrayed in Silverstone and under certain light help me see that I will never fully comprehend the female grief, nor how much of it I may have caused.

MELODY TUTTLE’s figurative paintings, all of women engaged in ritualistic activities, make me want to be part of their solitude, loneliness, strength, and hope. But they push me away; they exclude me while inviting me to participate under certain conditions of respect, interest, distance, and reflection. Melody’s work teaches me through metaphors, revealing, at times, sides of me I wish were different.

And AMI VITALE’s body of work, encompassing many nations, languages, cultures, and backgrounds, is much more than the work of a photojournalist; it becomes an ethnographic study in which the ethnographer shows her findings through emotions that drive my intellect to want to learn more about each culture. Ami’s pieces are, to me, informed by her clear understanding of differences, with a desire to show not only beauty but resilience, hope, and brilliance while at the same time underscoring the consequences of privilege and ignorance in the privileged.

In Plato’s ideal society, citizens must learn never to show grief or emotions to perpetuate virtue. Virtue in society, as I see it, includes seeing the other through an attempt to understand the differences and different backgrounds that reason alone cannot depict. This understanding leads to ethical decisions that will benefit the most and not the few. Difference, I heard once, is richness; after all, we’ll be all the same when we are six feet under.

Jorge R. G. Sagastume

Editor