328
PARTISAN REVIEW
worlds to conquer, we throw into their hands a sphere. Look at it!
In it you will see the limits of the new direction; the limits are those
of the process-structure of nature!" Nor are we given anything very
scientific
to
justify fifteen pages of depicted Biederman constructions
beyond the fact that he is developing an art form that can be mass–
produced to fit in every home. It still remains to be explained why any
one would rather look at a mass-produced Biederman-judging from
these examples-than at a switch-board or a towel-rack.
This brings us to the crux of the matter, which is possibly the most
important issue in creative work today--one for which neither science
nor the author seem to offer a very searching diagnosis. This is a sense
of Quality, which Biederman himself, judging from his caustic com–
ments on the artist's "precious sensibility," would probably be all too
glad to disown. I do not think it would take much exposition to show
him
that there have been other things in
art
both past and present, aside
from the superficial attributes that he discloses. There have also been
fine constructions, and will be many more; he may notice too that the
other (non-Biederman) examples that he reproduces, comparatively
sparsely-Domela, Gorin, Gabo, Vantongerloo--are by no means devoid
of "precious sensibility," that they might not respond favorably to mass–
production, and perhaps would not seem at home in a hardware–
basement.
George L. K. Morris
UNCLE
SAM'S
NEPHEWS TO CONFUSION
NEW DIRECTIONS 10. Edited
by
Jomes Loughlin. New Directions. $4.50.
Several respected critics have asserted that American avant–
garde writing suffers from the lack of a literary tradition. I can think
of no better documentation of their thesis than this anthology. In fact,
without recourse to some such theory, it would be impossible to under–
stand the amazing proportion of extraneous agitation in the work of
these thirty American writers.
On the positive side, a tradition means rapport with an audience.
A writer is prefaced by his tradition, and the reading public is condi–
tioned by it. In this way, a tradition gives the writer a valuable and
necessary kind of freedom. Since some things are predicated in his audi–
ence's expectation, he can leave them out of his work. He can build
cleaner structures; he can create surprise; he can edit or syncopate; he
can experiment with silence. In America, instances of this functioning
