Joyce's characters are meant to represent real people, to reveal the truth about Dublin in 1904. What is found, when examining the people of history, is often that they are strikingly similar to modern people, in any region. Differences of language and custom truly come to nothing when faced with the question of human nature. Therefore the truth Joyce contemplates in his relationship between characters and art is a universal one. Humans, no matter their age, era, occupation, or area, want to feel special. We all believe that we are unique. That, of course, is true from a purely biological standpoint: we have variances in our bodily makeup and affinity for disease or personality traits that make us not the same as one another, but still similar.
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Through art, we are searching, ironically, to relate to some external entity that is unique in the same way we are unique. To compare oneself with a work of art is to be understood by the artist or the interpreter (usually this is simply oneself) even if the rest of the world can't comprehend how extraordinarily special one is. Perhaps we feel a relationship to the subject--a portrait of a sombre-faced woman by the window may spark empathy in the wife of a soldier--or to the artist themself--maybe there's someone else in the world who sees the night sky as a swirl of yellow, orange, and blue, and feels affirmed in their perception when they analyze Van Gogh's work. In “The Dead,” Gretta feels a connection between …show more content…
Gabriel begins to realize this at the end of the story, when he feels that he has never known the woman he calls his wife. She cannot be boiled down to a song, though that is how she sees herself, and he feels that no one can ever completely know anyone else, even by knowing the art which they associate with, as that is just a minute part of them. Each person is their own separate entity, but by confining oneself to a physical token, including one so complex as music, we don’t allow ourselves to be anything else. If we were to break out of the homes we’ve built in art forms, we could be greater than what we are now, and become the idols that others strive to be. Joyce would like us to use art, not as an escape or a model, but as inspiration to move forward amid the dark confusion of living. Only those that operate as themselves and not a representation reach truly great heights in this world. None of the party guests will amount to more than small business owners, singers, and columnists owing to the fact that they do not experience the world first-hand, instead letting someone else show it to them through a frame. Those Parisian singers Mr D’arcy admires and the great writers of Britain who face the bitter hatred of Dubliners are all breaking free of their constraints by creating the new works of a new era. They rely on the old art for inspiration, but not guidance, while the
Through art, we are searching, ironically, to relate to some external entity that is unique in the same way we are unique. To compare oneself with a work of art is to be understood by the artist or the interpreter (usually this is simply oneself) even if the rest of the world can't comprehend how extraordinarily special one is. Perhaps we feel a relationship to the subject--a portrait of a sombre-faced woman by the window may spark empathy in the wife of a soldier--or to the artist themself--maybe there's someone else in the world who sees the night sky as a swirl of yellow, orange, and blue, and feels affirmed in their perception when they analyze Van Gogh's work. In “The Dead,” Gretta feels a connection between …show more content…
Gabriel begins to realize this at the end of the story, when he feels that he has never known the woman he calls his wife. She cannot be boiled down to a song, though that is how she sees herself, and he feels that no one can ever completely know anyone else, even by knowing the art which they associate with, as that is just a minute part of them. Each person is their own separate entity, but by confining oneself to a physical token, including one so complex as music, we don’t allow ourselves to be anything else. If we were to break out of the homes we’ve built in art forms, we could be greater than what we are now, and become the idols that others strive to be. Joyce would like us to use art, not as an escape or a model, but as inspiration to move forward amid the dark confusion of living. Only those that operate as themselves and not a representation reach truly great heights in this world. None of the party guests will amount to more than small business owners, singers, and columnists owing to the fact that they do not experience the world first-hand, instead letting someone else show it to them through a frame. Those Parisian singers Mr D’arcy admires and the great writers of Britain who face the bitter hatred of Dubliners are all breaking free of their constraints by creating the new works of a new era. They rely on the old art for inspiration, but not guidance, while the