The ideal critic does exist: he who understands, explains, criticises the master adequately and perfectly. A weak critic, though having the best intentions, may actually harm the reputation of the master. EJ, however, prefers to the labour of critics the selective effect of works of art being handed down from generation to generation and continuously reconsidered and revalued. So far, these are the arguments and the tone of a sober theorist of art and literature, like, say, T.S. Eliot. But at this point EJ again unfolds powerful poetic imagery from the mere rhetoric metaphor of important and less important works of art being (like) stars of different magnitudes. It is EJ's conviction of the divine origin of art which is the driving force behind this unfolding of the image: those works of art which are disregarded or forgotten return to the "glory" from where they originated. "Glory" (Herrlichkeit) introduces a new emphatic, or poetic, tone and a different idea. It is the idea first touched upon in ##1 and 2 of DIE SCHERE: art and religion are of the same origin. The second paragraph elaborates both this idea and the image of the starry sky. There is an infinite number of dark stars that do not emit any light, there are countless humans that do not produce works of art. Those who did and do, however, are revered but might be (at least the Ancients believed so, and EJ obviously regards their belief as worth considering) like mere tiny holes pricked into the firmament that protects us from the blinding light of the divine. An image of great beauty indeed –– but why does it suggest that each of us might be a genius? From what EJ has said in the previous aphorisms of DIE SCHERE the answer must be: it is because only the universally recognised creators of great art manage to pass on the light which we all are exposed to but which our contemporaries are unable or unwilling to see in the rest of us. Günter Rebing
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