Poetry 2-Genus of Poetry

I began with calling poetry an art, in that poetry is an idealized creation of man. The definition of art is: a selective recreation of reality. A recreation of reality because art is not reality itself, yet reality is it's only subject. Selective because the artist does not portray reality exactly, he chooses which aspects to portray depending upon his values and idealizes those values. Please, don't ask me to define value, I thought about it and I can't do that yet. I have a working definition which I use to judge a value, for now, but I don't understand it well enough to defend the definition. Art is judged good to the extent of the artist's ability to idealize the value(s), and it is appreciated by an individual to the extent that that individual agrees with the value(s).

Then it occurred to me that I can narrow the genus further, poetry is expressed only in one particular medium. You can't paint or sculpt a poem: if you tried, what you'd end up with is a painting or a sculpture based upon a poem, but not a poem itself. At first I wanted to call this medium 'literature', and it's definition was: language arts. In other words, art which is expressed in language (written or oral). But after consulting a great friend, I think this is the wrong concept for this definition. Literature can include history/science/technical textbooks which aren't art, though it's written. But, whatever the label, the definition is correct; so poetry is a language art.

Poetry 1-Definitions

I am taking a class in Greek Literature this semester and we had a very interesting discussion in class recently about poetry. We were asked to define it. The professor wanted us to talk about it, and then think about it over the next fifty-years or so. But ... Lets do this now.

So, what is a definition, what are we being asked to do with poetry? A definition is simply identification, it means stating explicitly that this is this as opposed to that. So in defining something we first need to narrow down what we're talking about, and then we need to state how it is different than everything else. That is why I think Aristotle is correct in saying that a definition is both a genus and a differentiae. For example, when you ask 'what is man, how do you define it?' you first narrow down what you're talking about from everything that exists to a specific category of things that exist of which man is a part (similar/related to, but not wholly compromising). This is the genus, and in this case the genus is 'animal'. Man is an animal, but not the animal. I don't see why you couldn't use a more or less specific genus, why this is the certain level of genus that one must use, but it would take a more thorough study of concepts than is necessary now to answer that.

Anyway, now the important part is stating what it is that makes this animal, man, different than any other animal. This is called the differentiae, and I think it is the most important, most difficult part of a definition because you must identify the causal trait, or as I call it 'defining characteristic', that makes it this and not that. For every individual object there are many numerous ways to describe it, characteristics, but it is the job of the definer to identify which one causes it to be a part of this concept and not another. For the concept 'man' the defining characteristic is reason, ergo --> man is the reasoning animal, it is an animal which reasons as opposed to any other animal.

So far this is my understanding of definitions and I do not think it is yet complete.

Intelligence

Has this ever happened to you:
You're arguing with someone who doesn't agree with you on some aspect of reality, maybe a priest. After you've presented your argument and are waiting for his reply, he begins by complimenting your intelligence, then proceeds to deny what you've just said.

This is an irritating pet peeve of mine. Beyond being baldly obsequious (ie. the person with whom you're arguing doesn't have the balls to flat-out state he thinks you're a moron), I've always found it oddly disconcerting; it stops me in my mental tracks. But it's simply a compliment, and such compliments from certain people I can take graciously. So I've been wondering what it is about this particular type of situation, this particular compliment, that bothers me.

Now to the 'ah-ha' moment...

What exactly is intelligence? Intelligence is the ability to abstract (if anyone disagrees with my definition, speak now and we'll talk about it). But anyone can abstract, it is a (if not the) defining trait of humans. What makes the difference between a petty mystic and great genius, is whether or not your abstraction corroborates reality. Take Plato for example, his theory of forms is a complex and interesting abstraction ... which has nothing to do with reality. I'd admit he's intelligent, but I still think he's a rat-bastard.

This person with whom I'm arguing obviously doesn't think my abstraction models reality (because he's disagreeing), yet he still calls me intelligent, as though it is supposed to mean something significant (ie. "I agree with your model of reality and congratulate you on abstracting it") when it so blatantly doesn't. He may as well congratulate me on not having brain damage; because, whether or not I'm correct, by Jove I have a functioning human brain. Think about that for a minute, how would you feel if something, very seriously, walked up to you and said, "Wow. You know, you really are good at not being brain damaged." What could you possibly say to such a person? "Thank you, I practice being human every day."