"What is Art?" asked Tolstoy.
Today’s passage is from one of Tolstoi’s later philosophical and polemical writings, “What is Art?”. This book contains so many beautiful proses reflective of Tolstoi’s opinions on what art during the period in which he lived was versus what he believed it should be: the transferring from the realm of reason to the realm of feelings so as to discover that truth and love are the highest aim of human life.
“What is Art?”
“I arrived when the first act had already begun. To enter the auditorium I had to pass backstage. I was led through dark underground corridors and passages of the enormous building, past immense machines for the changing of sets and lighting, where in darkness and dust I saw people working at something. One of the workers, his face grey and thin, wearing a dirty blouse, with dirty workman’s hands, the fingers sticking out, obviously tired and displeased, walked past me, angrily reproaching another man for something. Going up a dark stairway, I came out backstage. Amid piled-up sets, curtains, some poles, there were dozens, if not hundreds, of painted and costumed people standing or milling around, the men in costumes closely fitted to their thighs and calves, and women, as usual, with their bodies bared as much as possible. These were all singers, male and female chorus—members, or ballet dancers, awaiting their turns. My guide led me across the stage, over a plank bridge through the orchestra, where sat about a hundred musicians of all sorts, and into the dark stalls. On an elevation between two lamps with reflectors, in an armchair with a music-stand in front of it, baton in hand, sat the director of the musical part, who conducted the orchestra and singers and the overall production of the entire opera.”