I am writing in response to response
to the article “Protecting our public spaces” in issue 14, published this
spring in it, the author claims that “all graffiti is public spaces.” I would
like to point out that many people believe that graffiti is an art from that
can benefit our public spaces just as much as sculpture, fountains, or other,
more accepted art forms.
People who object to graffiti
usually do so more because of where it is, not what it is. They argue, as your
author does, that posting graffiti in public places constitutes an illegal act
of property damage. But the location of such graffiti should not prevent the
images themselves from being considered genuine art.
I would argue that graffiti is the
ultimate public art form. Spray paint is a medium unlike any other. Though
graffiti, the entire world has become a canvas. No one has to pay admission or
travel to a museum to see this kind of art. The artists usually do not receive
payment for their efforts. These works of art dotting the urban landscape are
available, free of charge, to everyone who passes by.
To be clear, I do not consider
random words or names sprayed on stop signs to be art. Plenty of graffiti is
just vandalism, pure and simple. However, there is also graffiti that is
breathtaking in its intricate detail, its realism, or its creativity. It takes
great talent to create such involved designs with spray paint.
Are these creators not artists
just because they use a can of spray paint instead of a paintbrush, or because they
cover the side of a building rather than a canvas?
To declare that all graffiti is
vandalism, and nothing more, is an overly simplistic statement that I find out
of place in such a thoughtful publication as your magazine. Furthermore,
graffiti is not going anywhere, so might as well find a way to live with it and
enjoy its benefits. One option could be to make a percentage of public space,
such as walls or benches in parks, open to graffiti artists. By doing this, the
public might feel like part owners of these works of art, rather than just the
victims of a crime.
Based on its use in paragraph 4,
which of the following accurately describes something that is intricate?
Recent advances in science and technology have made it
possible for geneticists to find out abnormalities in the unborn foetus and
take remedial action to rectify some defects which would otherwise prove to be
fatal to the child. Though genetic engineering is still at its infancy,
scientists can now predict with greater accuracy a genetic disorder. It is not
yet an exact science since they are not in a position to predict when exactly a
genetic disorder will set in. While they have not yet been able to change the
genetic order of the gene in germs, they are optimistic and are holding out
that in the near future they might be successful in achieving this feat. They
have, however, acquired the ability in manipulating tissue cells. However,
genetic mis-information can sometimes be damaging for it may adversely affect
people psychologically. Genetic information may lead to a tendency to brand
some people as inferiors. Genetic information can therefore be abused and its
application in deciding the sex of the foetus and its subsequent abortion is
now hotly debated on ethical lines. But on this issue geneticists cannot be
squarely blamed though this charge has often been leveled at them. It is mainly
a societal problem. At present genetic engineering is a costly process of
detecting disorders but scientists hope to reduce the costs when technology
becomes more advanced. This is why much progress in this area has been possible
in scientifically advanced and rich countries like the U.S.A., U.K. and Japan.
It remains to be seen if in the future this science will lead to the
development of a race of supermen or will be able to obliterate disease from
this world.
Which of the following is true regarding the reasons for
progress in genetic engineering?
At the time Jane Austen’s novels
were published – between 1811 and 1818 – English literature was not part of any
academic curriculum. In addition, fiction was under strenuous attack. Certain
religious and political groups felt novels had the power to make so-called
immoral characters so interesting that young readers would identify with them;
these groups also considered novels to be of little practical use. Even
Coleridge, certainly no literary reactionary, spoke for many when the asserted
that “novel-reading occasions the destruction of the mind’s powers.”
These attitudes towards novels help
explain why Austen received little attention from early nineteenth-century
literary cities. (In any case a novelist published anonymously, as Austen was,
would not be likely to receive much critical attention.) The literary response
that was accorded to her, however, was often as incisive as twentieth-century
criticism. In his attack in 1816 on novelistic portrayals “outside of ordinary experience,”
for example. Scott made an insightful remark about the merits of Austen’s
fiction.
Her novels, wrote Scott, “present to
the reader an accurate and exact picture of ordinary everyday people and
places, reminiscent of seventeenth-century Flemish painting.” Scott did not use
the word ‘realism’, but he undoubtedly used a standard of realistic probability
in judging novels. The critic Whately did not use the word ‘realism’, either,
but he expressed agreement with Scott’s evaluation, and went on to suggest the possibilities
for moral instruction in what we have called Austen’s ‘realistic method’ her
characters, wrote Whately, are persuasive agents for moral truth since they are
ordinary persons “so clearly evoked that we feel an interest in their fate as
if it were our own.” Moral instruction, explained Whately, is more likely to be
effective when conveyed through recongnizably human and interesting characters
than when imparted by a sermonizing narrator. Whitely especially praised Austen’s
ability to create character who “mingle goodness and villainy, weakness and
virtue, as in life they are always mingled. “Whitely concluded his remarks by
comparing Austen’s art of characterization to Dickens’, starting his preference
for Austen’s.
Yet, the response of
nineteenth-century literary critics to Austen was not always so laudatory, and
often anticipated the reservations of twentieth-century literary critics. An
example of such a response was Lewes complaint in 1859 that Austen’s range of
subject and characters was too narrow. Praising her verisimilitude, Lewes added
that, nonetheless her focus was too often only upon the unlofty and the
commonplace. (Twentieth-century Marxists, on the other hand, were to complain
about what they saw as her exclusive emphasis on a lofty upper middle class.)
In any case having being rescued by literary critics from neglect and indeed
gradually lionized by them, Austen steadily reached, by the mid-nineteenth
century, the enviable pinnacle of being considered controversial.
It can be inferred from the passage
that Whately found Dickens’ characters to be
