Obviously meant to be a beautiful, natural artifact, Tulip Town attracts (from what I could tell from the information plaques) thousands of visitors from around the world. Indeed, the scene is stunning, and almost seems to exist as a representation of the Kantian sublime. Just looking at this picture, one gets a sense of the grandeur and immensity of nature. To quote Kant: "That is sublime which even to be able to think of demonstrates a faculty of the mind that surpasses every measure of the senses" (433). Standing among the tulips, I looked across the valley at storming clouds as they moved across the mountains and far-off islands and felt totally overwhelmed.
Yet, one can easily notice a stark difference between the background of the scene (which I argue is where the sublime can be observed) and the foreground. The tragedy of this setting is that the tulips, with their systematized rows and flawless forms, are the essence of commodification. If we were to extend Horkheimer and Adorno's theories on the culture industry to this scene, it would be clear that their ideas are entirely applicable to Tulip Town. I'll quote a passage that, when read in conversation with this photo, is incredibly eerie: "Every detail [of products in the culture industry] is so firmly stamped with sameness that nothing can appear which is not marked at birth, or does not meet with approval at first sight" (1114). I believe this Marxist perspective is what caused me to feel so uneasy during my visit. For there is a great injustice, in my opinion, done to nature when we rip its sublimity from it, when our desire to participate in capitalist culture extends to the flora present in our environment.
You may be thinking at this point that my unease is a tad unwarranted. After all, the desire to commodify nature stems from a yearning to participate in beauty and take pleasure from its natural form. But consider the hundreds of years of genetic engineering that have gone into producing these flowers and you will realize that they are mimetic reflections created through human hands. Recognize what will certainly happen to these flowers: their bulbs will all be harvested to sell, a process that will leave the flower's roots intact (and allow for another harvest during the next season). Such is the mechanical life of these tulips, a commodity that is a perversion of nature and sublimity.
It is disturbing, but mostly because it has that tragic twinge in it. You're right about the commodification of nature.
ReplyDeleteQue interesante, Nick. I'm wondering whether one can appreciate nature without inherently commodifying it? That sounds awful, but if our interactions with beauty and art are always within the culture industry, that seems to be the implication.
ReplyDeleteAlso, I'm not sure we can take the sublimity away from anything. The nature of the sublime is beyond our comprehension, we are only able to apprehend what is in front of us. Perhaps it is a manipulation of the sublime that somehow diminishes it's sublime qualities. Who knows. Tulip Town seems like a bright nightmare.