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When John Ashbery entitles a poem of his about the Muse 'And Ut Pictura Poesis is Her Name,' he is quoting a phrase from Horace that means 'as painting is, so is poetry.' But the reality is not quite so straightforward, and the relations among the arts—visual, musical, linguistic—are both vexing and fascinating. Does all art aspire to the condition of music, as Walter Pater said? Can a bas-relief tell a tale 'more sweetly' than rhyme, as Keats feared? Is it helpful, in discussing a work of art, to use crossover language—the 'rhythm' of a painting, the 'legato' of a poet's line, the 'narrative' of a sonata—or are these metaphorical borrowings merely distractions? Does it make sense to take a term originating in art history, such as 'Baroque,' and apply it to Milton? Such questions continue to preoccupy both artists and critics: artists because they are eager to poach on any fertile territory for their material, and critics not only because they are obliged to find new ways to talk about aesthetic ventures, but also because they have firm, indeed almost religious, convictions about the nature of the art they discuss.
Review, 4592 words
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