So I just decided to go for a walk to Tim Horton's to allow my brain gears to grind a little. I've been reading a book called Sophie's World, which is really all about the history of Philosophy. This fresh on the brain, my thoughts churned over a few topics. The one that slapped me in the face is that age-old question that made me laugh at it's stupidity when I first heard it in Grade 3.
"If a tree falls in the forest, and nobody's there to hear it, does it make a sound?"
Obviously the question is worded inadequately, since what we're meant to think about isn't what physically happens, but what we classify as sound.
The answer that used to be so satisfying: "Of course it does!" didn't satisfy tonight. I still don't really have an answer, but I've sort of constructed a mental framework, as it were, to build upon later.
I realized that when I was dissatisfied with my answer earlier, I was defining "sound" more as music than as physical vibrations. I decided to keep this definition, originally, meaning that somebody had to be present in order to listen to the sound for it to actually be sound. To interpret it, really.
Then I got thinking about music. What is music? It's obviously more than just sound. I got to thinking: What if somebody was singing in the forest, or perhaps, a solar-powered CD player that somebody forgot, and left on to play for all eternity. Would that still be music if there was nobody there to hear it? I mean, can there be music without what I've defined as sound?
Obviously that's a weird thought. So I've decided that there has to be sound when a tree falls. The vibration definition will have to do. But what about the music?
I got to thinking, and I really decided that there are two people that count in any art. The creator, and the observer, the creator being the absolute most important. After the creator leaves, a painting remains art, because it was the effort, the result of the Artist's action, that constitutes the piece, right? So if a painting was hung in the forest, with nobody to observe it, it would still be art. So it's the same for the CD player in the wilderness. The creator is not there, but it was the result that was the music anyways. Somebody could go listen to it, but even if nobody even knew of it's existence, other than the artist, it would remain music.
So I've concluded for myself that sound is a part of the physical world, if nobody is there to hear it, it's still there. Art is different, but has the same end result. Art is all about expression and interpretation, if one of those two actions takes place, I personally would constitute it art. So the song that nobody other than the songwriter's ever heard is still music.
But that leaves one final puzzle for myself: what about what I've always called "God's Art?" No human made it, so does it constitute as art? If we see it, then we can interpret or appreciate it, so would that make it art? Does that mean that the horsehead nebula, something I've always pointed to as "God's Art" wasn't "God's Art" before we saw it?
Obviously I need to realize that the definition of Art must lie in the creation of it. Thus, if it's art at the point of interpretation, it must have been art at the point of creation as well. It's a different art, divine art, I guess, but art none the same.
Which would mean that we're art. All of us. Because God created us. But a paper I write for school, I don't consider art, maybe God created us in that way.
Perhaps, but I don't think so. We're made in his image, and that thought makes me think "art." more than "assignment."
Ugh this philosophy crap is going to kill me. I hope anybody who decided to follow this through to the conclusion aren't demanding their half hour back. If so, just email me, and I'll take you out for Coffee, free of charge to make up for it (=P).
Unless, of course, you live in Oregon!
Maybe I'll blog soon what I wrote while I was at Tim Horton's. I 'observed' (read eavesdropped) on a conversation some strangers were having, and had some thoughts on it, which I promptly wrote down. A sort of map-drawing activity, in case I get lost in this realm of thinking.
And finally: everybody seriously go out, grab a philosophical question, and think on it. It feels so good to work this stuff through, even if you're 90% sure you've come to the wrong conclusion.
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3 comments:
You got me thinking about the Philosophy course I took a couple of years ago. The thing is, all presuppositions have to fall under one of 3 categories: Logically Necessary, Impossible, or Contingent Propositions. A proposition is logically necessary provided it is true regardless of how the world might be. It is logically impossible provided that it is false regardless of how the world might be. It is logically contingent provided that it is neither logically necessary nor logically impossible.
Therefore...I would conclude that your question of the tree in the forest would have to be logically contingent based on the fact that we, being the outsider, will never know if the tree made a sound. There are certain physical circumstances that could cause an imbalance in sound waves (i.e. piles of leaves or galing wind) and therefore the tree may not make a purely tree-colapsing sound. The human mind instinctively tends to think there would still be a sound, but in reality, the answer is neither truth or falsehood.
That is my take on it. Too bad I couldn't get a coffee in the process of deciphering these thoughts. Perhaps next time!
Yes, but I believe the point of the question calls into the spotlight the definition of sound. What that sound is exactly is impossible to determine, so in that way, it's much like Schrodinger's Cat (I didn't spell that right, I don't think).
But again, the point of the question, I don't think, is to question the sound it makes. The point is to determine what exactly it is we call sound.
Next time you come here, we'll have to do the coffee thing then. Or Don Cherry's again, or something.
It's a date!
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