Notes On "Camp"

by Susan Sontag
Published in 1964.
Many things in the world have not been named; and many things, even if they have
been named, have never been described. One of these is the sensibility
unmista!ably modern, a variant of so"histication but hardly identical with it that
goes by the cult name of #$am".#
% sensibility &as distinct from an idea' is one of the hardest things to tal! about; but
there are s"ecial reasons why $am", in "articular, has never been discussed. (t is not a
natural mode of sensibility, if there be any such. (ndeed the essence of $am" is its
love of the unnatural) of artifice and e*aggeration. %nd $am" is esoteric something
of a "rivate code, a badge of identity even, among small urban cli+ues. %"art from a
la,y two"age s!etch in $hristo"her (sherwood-s novel The World in the Evening
&19.4', it has hardly bro!en into "rint. /o tal! about $am" is therefore to betray it. (f
the betrayal can be defended, it will be for the edification it "rovides, or the dignity of
the conflict it resolves. 0or myself, ( "lead the goal of selfedification, and the goad of
a shar" conflict in my own sensibility. ( am strongly drawn to $am", and almost as
strongly offended by it. /hat is why ( want to tal! about it, and why ( can. 0or no one
who wholeheartedly shares in a given sensibility can analy,e it; he can only, whatever
his intention, e*hibit it. /o name a sensibility, to draw its contours and to recount its
history, re+uires a dee" sym"athy modified by revulsion.
/hough ( am s"ea!ing about sensibility only and about a sensibility that, among
other things, converts the serious into the frivolous these are grave matters. Most
"eo"le thin! of sensibility or taste as the realm of "urely sub1ective "references, those
mysterious attractions, mainly sensual, that have not been brought under the
sovereignty of reason. /hey allow that considerations of taste "lay a "art in their
reactions to "eo"le and to wor!s of art. 2ut this attitude is na3ve. %nd even worse. /o
"atroni,e the faculty of taste is to "atroni,e oneself. 0or taste governs every free as
o""osed to rote human res"onse. 4othing is more decisive. /here is taste in "eo"le,
visual taste, taste in emotion and there is taste in acts, taste in morality. (ntelligence,
as well, is really a !ind of taste) taste in ideas. &One of the facts to be rec!oned with is
that taste tends to develo" very unevenly. (t-s rare that the same "erson has good
visual taste and good taste in "eo"le and taste in ideas.'
/aste has no system and no "roofs. 2ut there is something li!e a logic of taste) the
consistent sensibility which underlies and gives rise to a certain taste. % sensibility is
almost, but not +uite, ineffable. %ny sensibility which can be crammed into the mold
of a system, or handled with the rough tools of "roof, is no longer a sensibility at all.
(t has hardened into an idea . . .
/o snare a sensibility in words, es"ecially one that is alive and "owerful,1 one must be
tentative and nimble. /he form of 1ottings, rather than an essay &with its claim to a
linear, consecutive argument', seemed more a""ro"riate for getting down something
of this "articular fugitive sensibility. (t-s embarrassing to be solemn and treatiseli!e
about $am". One runs the ris! of having, oneself, "roduced a very inferior "iece of
$am".
/hese notes are for Oscar 5ilde.
#One should either be a wor! of art, or wear a wor! of art.#
Phrases & Philosophies for the Use of the Young
1. /o start very generally) $am" is a certain mode of aestheticism. (t is one way of
seeing the world as an aesthetic "henomenon. /hat way, the way of $am", is not in
terms of beauty, but in terms of the degree of artifice, of styli,ation.
6. /o em"hasi,e style is to slight content, or to introduce an attitude which is neutral
with res"ect to content. (t goes without saying that the $am" sensibility is disengaged,
de"olitici,ed or at least a"olitical.
7. 4ot only is there a $am" vision, a $am" way of loo!ing at things. $am" is as well
a +uality discoverable in ob1ects and the behavior of "ersons. /here are #cam"y#
movies, clothes, furniture, "o"ular songs, novels, "eo"le, buildings. . . . /his
distinction is im"ortant. /rue, the $am" eye has the "ower to transform e*"erience.
2ut not everything can be seen as $am". (t-s not all in the eye of the beholder.
4. 8andom e*am"les of items which are "art of the canon of $am")
9ulei!a :obson
/iffany lam"s
;co"itone films
/he 2rown :erby restaurant on ;unset 2oulevard in <%
The Enquirer, headlines and stories
%ubrey 2eardsley drawings
Swan Lake
2ellini-s o"eras
=isconti-s direction of Salome and 'Tis Pit She's a Whore
certain turnofthecentury "icture "ostcards
;choedsac!-s !ing !ong
the $uban "o" singer <a <u"e
<ynn 5ard-s novel in woodcuts, "od's #an
the old 0lash >ordon comics
women-s clothes of the twenties &feather boas, fringed and beaded dresses, etc.'
the novels of 8onald 0irban! and (vy $om"ton2urnett
stag movies seen without lust
.. $am" taste has an affinity for certain arts rather than others. $lothes, furniture, all
the elements of visual d?cor, for instance, ma!e u" a large "art of $am". 0or $am"
art is often decorative art, em"hasi,ing te*ture, sensuous surface, and style at the
e*"ense of content. $oncert music, though, because it is contentless, is rarely $am".
(t offers no o""ortunity, say, for a contrast between silly or e*travagant content and
rich form. . . . ;ometimes whole art forms become saturated with $am". $lassical
ballet, o"era, movies have seemed so for a long time. (n the last two years, "o"ular
music &"ost roc!-n-roll, what the 0rench call y? y?' has been anne*ed. %nd movie
criticism &li!e lists of #/he 1@ 2est 2ad Movies ( Aave ;een#' is "robably the greatest
"o"ulari,er of $am" taste today, because most "eo"le still go to the movies in a high
s"irited and un"retentious way.
6. /here is a sense in which it is correct to say) #(t-s too good to be $am".# Or #too
im"ortant,# not marginal enough. &More on this later.' /hus, the "ersonality and many
of the wor!s of Bean $octeau are $am", but not those of %ndr? >ide; the o"eras of
8ichard ;trauss, but not those of 5agner; concoctions of /in Pan %lley and
<iver"ool, but not 1a,,. Many e*am"les of $am" are things which, from a #serious#
"oint of view, are either bad art or !itsch. 4ot all, though. 4ot only is $am" not
necessarily bad art, but some art which can be a""roached as $am" &e*am"le) the
ma1or films of <ouis 0euillade' merits the most serious admiration and study.
#/he more we study %rt, the less we care for 4ature.#
The $e%a of Ling
C. %ll $am" ob1ects, and "ersons, contain a large element of artifice. 4othing in
nature can be cam"y . . . 8ural $am" is still manmade, and most cam"y ob1ects are
urban. &Det, they often have a serenity or a naivet? which is the e+uivalent of
"astoral. % great deal of $am" suggests Em"son-s "hrase, #urban "astoral.#'
F. $am" is a vision of the world in terms of style but a "articular !ind of style. (t is
the love of the e*aggerated, the #off,# of thingsbeingwhattheyarenot. /he best
e*am"le is in %rt 4ouveau, the most ty"ical and fully develo"ed $am" style. %rt
4ouveau ob1ects, ty"ically, convert one thing into something else) the lighting
fi*tures in the form of flowering "lants, the living room which is really a grotto. %
remar!able e*am"le) the Paris M?tro entrances designed by Aector >uimard in the
late 1F9@s in the sha"e of castiron orchid stal!s.
9. %s a taste in "ersons, $am" res"onds "articularly to the mar!edly attenuated and to
the strongly e*aggerated. /he androgyne is certainly one of the great images of $am"
sensibility. E*am"les) the swooning, slim, sinuous figures of "re8a"haelite "ainting
and "oetry; the thin, flowing, se*less bodies in %rt 4ouveau "rints and "osters,
"resented in relief on lam"s and ashtrays; the haunting androgynous vacancy behind
the "erfect beauty of >reta >arbo. Aere, $am" taste draws on a mostly
unac!nowledged truth of taste) the most refined form of se*ual attractiveness &as well
as the most refined form of se*ual "leasure' consists in going against the grain of
one-s se*. 5hat is most beautiful in virile men is something feminine; what is most
beautiful in feminine women is something masculine. . . . %llied to the $am" taste for
the androgynous is something that seems +uite different but isn-t) a relish for the
e*aggeration of se*ual characteristics and "ersonality mannerisms. 0or obvious
reasons, the best e*am"les that can be cited are movie stars. /he corny flamboyant
femaleness of Bayne Mansfield, >ina <ollobrigida, Bane 8ussell, =irginia Mayo; the
e*aggerated hemanness of ;teve 8eeves, =ictor Mature. /he great stylists of
tem"erament and mannerism, li!e 2ette :avis, 2arbara ;tanwyc!, /allulah
2an!head, Edwige 0euilliGre.
1@. $am" sees everything in +uotation mar!s. (t-s not a lam", but a #lam"#; not a
woman, but a #woman.# /o "erceive $am" in ob1ects and "ersons is to understand
2eingasPlayinga8ole. (t is the farthest e*tension, in sensibility, of the meta"hor of
life as theater.
11. $am" is the trium"h of the e"icene style. &/he convertibility of #man# and
#woman,# #"erson# and #thing.#' 2ut all style, that is, artifice, is, ultimately, e"icene.
<ife is not stylish. 4either is nature.
16. /he +uestion isn-t, #5hy travesty, im"ersonation, theatricalityH# /he +uestion is,
rather, #5hen does travesty, im"ersonation, theatricality ac+uire the s"ecial flavor of
$am"H# 5hy is the atmos"here of ;ha!es"eare-s comedies &&s You Like 't, etc.' not
e"icene, while that of $er (osenkavalier isH
17. /he dividing line seems to fall in the 1Fth century; there the origins of $am" taste
are to be found &>othic novels, $hinoiserie, caricature, artificial ruins, and so forth.'
2ut the relation to nature was +uite different then. (n the 1Fth century, "eo"le of taste
either "atroni,ed nature &;trawberry Aill' or attem"ted to rema!e it into something
artificial &=ersailles'. /hey also indefatigably "atroni,ed the "ast. /oday-s $am" taste
effaces nature, or else contradicts it outright. %nd the relation of $am" taste to the
"ast is e*tremely sentimental.
14. % "oc!et history of $am" might, of course, begin farther bac! with the
mannerist artists li!e Pontormo, 8osso, and $aravaggio, or the e*traordinarily
theatrical "ainting of >eorges de <a /our, or Eu"huism &<yly, etc.' in literature. ;till,
the soundest starting "oint seems to be the late 1Cth and early 1Fth century, because of
that "eriod-s e*traordinary feeling for artifice, for surface, for symmetry; its taste for
the "ictures+ue and the thrilling, its elegant conventions for re"resenting instant
feeling and the total "resence of character the e"igram and the rhymed cou"let &in
words', the flourish &in gesture and in music'. /he late 1Cth and early 1Fth century is
the great "eriod of $am") Po"e, $ongreve, 5al"ole, etc, but not ;wift; les pr)%ieu* in
0rance; the rococo churches of Munich; Pergolesi. ;omewhat later) much of Mo,art.
2ut in the 19th century, what had been distributed throughout all of high culture now
becomes a s"ecial taste; it ta!es on overtones of the acute, the esoteric, the "erverse.
$onfining the story to England alone, we see $am" continuing wanly through 19th
century aestheticism &2umeBones, Pater, 8us!in, /ennyson', emerging fullblown
with the %rt 4ouveau movement in the visual and decorative arts, and finding its
conscious ideologists in such #wits# as 5ilde and 0irban!.
1.. Of course, to say all these things are $am" is not to argue they are sim"ly that. %
full analysis of %rt 4ouveau, for instance, would scarcely e+uate it with $am". 2ut
such an analysis cannot ignore what in %rt 4ouveau allows it to be e*"erienced as
$am". %rt 4ouveau is full of #content,# even of a "oliticalmoral sort; it was a
revolutionary movement in the arts, s"urred on by a Ito"ian vision &somewhere
between 5illiam Morris and the 2auhaus grou"' of an organic "olitics and taste. Det
there is also a feature of the %rt 4ouveau ob1ects which suggests a disengaged,
unserious, #aesthete-s# vision. /his tells us something im"ortant about %rt 4ouveau
and about what the lens of $am", which bloc!s out content, is.
16. /hus, the $am" sensibility is one that is alive to a double sense in which some
things can be ta!en. 2ut this is not the familiar s"litlevel construction of a literal
meaning, on the one hand, and a symbolic meaning, on the other. (t is the difference,
rather, between the thing as meaning something, anything, and the thing as "ure
artifice.
1C. /his comes out clearly in the vulgar use of the word $am" as a verb, #to cam",#
something that "eo"le do. /o cam" is a mode of seduction one which em"loys
flamboyant mannerisms susce"tible of a double inter"retation; gestures full of
du"licity, with a witty meaning for cognoscenti and another, more im"ersonal, for
outsiders. E+ually and by e*tension, when the word becomes a noun, when a "erson
or a thing is #a cam",# a du"licity is involved. 2ehind the #straight# "ublic sense in
which something can be ta!en, one has found a "rivate ,any e*"erience of the thing.
#/o be natural is such a very difficult "ose to !ee" u".#
&n 'deal +us,and
1F. One must distinguish between na3ve and deliberate $am". Pure $am" is always
naive. $am" which !nows itself to be $am" &#cam"ing#' is usually less satisfying.
19. /he "ure e*am"les of $am" are unintentional; they are dead serious. /he %rt
4ouveau craftsman who ma!es a lam" with a sna!e coiled around it is not !idding,
nor is he trying to be charming. Ae is saying, in all earnestness) =oilJK the OrientK
>enuine $am" for instance, the numbers devised for the 5arner 2rothers musicals
of the early thirties &-.nd Street; The "olddiggers of /011; ... of /012; ... of /013;
etc.' by 2usby 2er!eley does not mean to be funny. $am"ing say, the "lays of
4oel $oward does. (t seems unli!ely that much of the traditional o"era re"ertoire
could be such satisfying $am" if the melodramatic absurdities of most o"era "lots had
not been ta!en seriously by their com"osers. One doesn-t need to !now the artist-s
"rivate intentions. /he wor! tells all. &$om"are a ty"ical 19th century o"era with
;amuel 2arber-s 4anessa, a "iece of manufactured, calculated $am", and the
difference is clear.'
6@. Probably, intending to be cam"y is always harmful. /he "erfection of Trou,le in
Paradise and The #altese 5al%on, among the greatest $am" movies ever made,
comes from the effortless smooth way in which tone is maintained. /his is not so with
such famous wouldbe $am" films of the fifties as &ll &,out Eve and 6eat the $evil.
/hese more recent movies have their fine moments, but the first is so slic! and the
second so hysterical; they want so badly to be cam"y that they-re continually losing
the beat. . . . Perha"s, though, it is not so much a +uestion of the unintended effect
versus the conscious intention, as of the delicate relation between "arody and self
"arody in $am". /he films of Aitchcoc! are a showcase for this "roblem. 5hen self
"arody lac!s ebullience but instead reveals &even s"oradically' a contem"t for one-s
themes and one-s materials as in To 7at%h a Thief, (ear Window, 8orth ,
8orthwest the results are forced and heavyhanded, rarely $am". ;uccessful $am"
a movie li!e $arn?-s :rLle de :rame; the film "erformances of Mae 5est and
Edward Everett Aorton; "ortions of the >oon ;how even when it reveals self
"arody, ree!s of selflove.
61. ;o, again, $am" rests on innocence. /hat means $am" discloses innocence, but
also, when it can, corru"ts it. Ob1ects, being ob1ects, don-t change when they are
singled out by the $am" vision. Persons, however, res"ond to their audiences. Persons
begin #cam"ing#) Mae 5est, 2ea <illie, <a <u"e, /allulah 2an!head in <ifeboat,
2ette :avis in %ll %bout Eve. &Persons can even be induced to cam" without their
!nowing it. $onsider the way 0ellini got %nita E!berg to "arody herself in La $ol%e
4ita9'
66. $onsidered a little less strictly, $am" is either com"letely naive or else wholly
conscious &when one "lays at being cam"y'. %n e*am"le of the latter) 5ilde-s
e"igrams themselves.
#(t-s absurd to divide "eo"le into good and bad. Peo"le are either charming or
tedious.#
Lad Windemere's 5an
67. (n na3ve, or "ure, $am", the essential element is seriousness, a seriousness that
fails. Of course, not all seriousness that fails can be redeemed as $am". Only that
which has the "ro"er mi*ture of the e*aggerated, the fantastic, the "assionate, and the
na3ve.
64. 5hen something is 1ust bad &rather than $am"', it-s often because it is too
mediocre in its ambition. /he artist hasn-t attem"ted to do anything really outlandish.
&#(t-s too much,# #(t-s too fantastic,# #(t-s not to be believed,# are standard "hrases of
$am" enthusiasm.'
6.. /he hallmar! of $am" is the s"irit of e*travagance. $am" is a woman wal!ing
around in a dress made of three million feathers. $am" is the "aintings of $arlo
$rivelli, with their real 1ewels and trompe:l'oeil insects and crac!s in the masonry.
$am" is the outrageous aestheticism of ;teinberg-s si* %merican movies with
:ietrich, all si*, but es"ecially the last, The $evil 's a Woman. . . . (n $am" there is
often something d?mesur? in the +uality of the ambition, not only in the style of the
wor! itself. >audM-s lurid and beautiful buildings in 2arcelona are $am" not only
because of their style but because they reveal most notably in the $athedral of the
;agrada 0amilia the ambition on the "art of one man to do what it ta!es a
generation, a whole culture to accom"lish.
66. $am" is art that "ro"oses itself seriously, but cannot be ta!en altogether seriously
because it is #too much.# Titus &ndroni%us and Strange 'nterlude are almost $am", or
could be "layed as $am". /he "ublic manner and rhetoric of de >aulle, often, are
"ure $am".
6C. % wor! can come close to $am", but not ma!e it, because it succeeds. Eisenstein-s
films are seldom $am" because, des"ite all e*aggeration, they do succeed
&dramatically' without sur"lus. (f they were a little more #off,# they could be great
$am" "articularly 'van the Terri,le ' N ''. /he same for 2la!e-s drawings and
"aintings, weird and mannered as they are. /hey aren-t $am"; though %rt 4ouveau,
influenced by 2la!e, is.
5hat is e*travagant in an inconsistent or an un"assionate way is not $am". 4either
can anything be $am" that does not seem to s"ring from an irre"ressible, a virtually
uncontrolled sensibility. 5ithout "assion, one gets "seudo$am" what is merely
decorative, safe, in a word, chic. On the barren edge of $am" lie a number of
attractive things) the slee! fantasies of :ali, the haute couture "reciosity of
%lbicocco-s The "irl with the "olden Ees. 2ut the two things $am" and "reciosity
must not be confused.
6F. %gain, $am" is the attem"t to do something e*traordinary. 2ut e*traordinary in
the sense, often, of being s"ecial, glamorous. &/he curved line, the e*travagant
gesture.' 4ot e*traordinary merely in the sense of effort. 8i"ley-s 2elieve(tOr4ot
items are rarely cam"y. /hese items, either natural oddities &the twoheaded rooster,
the egg"lant in the sha"e of a cross' or else the "roducts of immense labor &the man
who wal!ed from here to $hina on his hands, the woman who engraved the 4ew
/estament on the head of a "in', lac! the visual reward the glamour, the theatricality
that mar!s off certain e*travagances as $am".
69. /he reason a movie li!e ;n the 6ea%h, boo!s li!e Wines,urg, ;hio and 5or
Whom the 6ell Tolls are bad to the "oint of being laughable, but not bad to the "oint
of being en1oyable, is that they are too dogged and "retentious. /hey lac! fantasy.
/here is $am" in such bad movies as The Prodigal and Samson and $elilah, the
series of (talian color s"ectacles featuring the su"erhero Maciste, numerous Ba"anese
science fiction films &(odan, The #sterians, The +:#an' because, in their relative
un"retentiousness and vulgarity, they are more e*treme and irres"onsible in their
fantasy and therefore touching and +uite en1oyable.
7@. Of course, the canon of $am" can change. /ime has a great deal to do with it.
/ime may enhance what seems sim"ly dogged or lac!ing in fantasy now because we
are too close to it, because it resembles too closely our own everyday fantasies, the
fantastic nature of which we don-t "erceive. 5e are better able to en1oy a fantasy as
fantasy when it is not our own.
71. /his is why so many of the ob1ects "ri,ed by $am" taste are oldfashioned, out
ofdate, d?mod?. (t-s not a love of the old as such. (t-s sim"ly that the "rocess of aging
or deterioration "rovides the necessary detachment or arouses a necessary
sym"athy. 5hen the theme is im"ortant, and contem"orary, the failure of a wor! of
art may ma!e us indignant. /ime can change that. /ime liberates the wor! of art from
moral relevance, delivering it over to the $am" sensibility. . . . %nother effect) time
contracts the s"here of banality. &2anality is, strictly s"ea!ing, always a category of
the contem"orary.' 5hat was banal can, with the "assage of time, become fantastic.
Many "eo"le who listen with delight to the style of 8udy =allee revived by the
English "o" grou", /he /em"erance ;even, would have been driven u" the wall by
8udy =allee in his heyday.
/hus, things are cam"y, not when they become old but when we become less
involved in them, and can en1oy, instead of be frustrated by, the failure of the attem"t.
2ut the effect of time is un"redictable. Maybe Method acting &Bames :ean, 8od
;teiger, 5arren 2eatty' will seem as $am" some day as 8uby Oeeler-s does now or
as ;arah 2ernhardt-s does, in the films she made at the end of her career. %nd maybe
not.
76. $am" is the glorification of #character.# /he statement is of no im"ortance
e*ce"t, of course, to the "erson &<oie 0uller, >audM, $ecil 2. :e Mille, $rivelli, de
>aulle, etc.' who ma!es it. 5hat the $am" eye a""reciates is the unity, the force of
the "erson. (n every move the aging Martha >raham ma!es she-s being Martha
>raham, etc., etc. . . . /his is clear in the case of the great serious idol of $am" taste,
>reta >arbo. >arbo-s incom"etence &at the least, lac! of de"th' as an a%tress enhances
her beauty. ;he-s always herself.
77. 5hat $am" taste res"onds to is #instant character# &this is, of course, very 1Fth
century'; and, conversely, what it is not stirred by is the sense of the develo"ment of
character. $haracter is understood as a state of continual incandescence a "erson
being one, very intense thing. /his attitude toward character is a !ey element of the
theatricali,ation of e*"erience embodied in the $am" sensibility. %nd it hel"s account
for the fact that o"era and ballet are e*"erienced as such rich treasures of $am", for
neither of these forms can easily do 1ustice to the com"le*ity of human nature.
5herever there is develo"ment of character, $am" is reduced. %mong o"eras, for
e*am"le, La Traviata &which has some small develo"ment of character' is less cam"y
than 'l Trovatore &which has none'.
#<ife is too im"ortant a thing ever to tal! seriously about it.#
4era< or The 8ihilists
74. $am" taste turns its bac! on the goodbad a*is of ordinary aesthetic 1udgment.
$am" doesn-t reverse things. (t doesn-t argue that the good is bad, or the bad is good.
5hat it does is to offer for art &and life' a different a su""lementary set of
standards.
7.. Ordinarily we value a wor! of art because of the seriousness and dignity of what it
achieves. 5e value it because it succeeds in being what it is and, "resumably, in
fulfilling the intention that lies behind it. 5e assume a "ro"er, that is to say,
straightforward relation between intention and "erformance. 2y such standards, we
a""raise The 'liad, %risto"hanes- "lays, /he %rt of the 0ugue, #iddlemar%h, the
"aintings of 8embrandt, $hartres, the "oetry of :onne, The $ivine 7omed,
2eethoven-s +uartets, and among "eo"le ;ocrates, Besus, ;t. 0rancis, 4a"oleon,
;avonarola. (n short, the "antheon of high culture) truth, beauty, and seriousness.
76. 2ut there are other creative sensibilities besides the seriousness &both tragic and
comic' of high culture and of the high style of evaluating "eo"le. %nd one cheats
oneself, as a human being, if one has respe%t only for the style of high culture,
whatever else one may do or feel on the sly.
0or instance, there is the !ind of seriousness whose trademar! is anguish, cruelty,
derangement. Aere we do acce"t a dis"arity between intention and result. ( am
s"ea!ing, obviously, of a style of "ersonal e*istence as well as of a style in art; but the
e*am"les had best come from art. /hin! of 2osch, ;ade, 8imbaud, Barry, Oaf!a,
%rtaud, thin! of most of the im"ortant wor!s of art of the 6@th century, that is, art
whose goal is not that of creating harmonies but of overstraining the medium and
introducing more and more violent, and unresolvable, sub1ectmatter. /his sensibility
also insists on the "rinci"le that an oeuvre in the old sense &again, in art, but also in
life' is not "ossible. Only #fragments# are "ossible. . . . $learly, different standards
a""ly here than to traditional high culture. ;omething is good not because it is
achieved, but because another !ind of truth about the human situation, another
e*"erience of what it is to be human in short, another valid sensibility is being
revealed.
%nd third among the great creative sensibilities is $am") the sensibility of failed
seriousness, of the theatricali,ation of e*"erience. $am" refuses both the harmonies
of traditional seriousness, and the ris!s of fully identifying with e*treme states of
feeling.
7C. /he first sensibility, that of high culture, is basically moralistic. /he second
sensibility, that of e*treme states of feeling, re"resented in much contem"orary
#avantgarde# art, gains "ower by a tension between moral and aesthetic "assion. /he
third, $am", is wholly aesthetic.
7F. $am" is the consistently aesthetic e*"erience of the world. (t incarnates a victory
of #style# over #content,# #aesthetics# over #morality,# of irony over tragedy.
79. $am" and tragedy are antitheses. /here is seriousness in $am" &seriousness in the
degree of the artist-s involvement' and, often, "athos. /he e*cruciating is also one of
the tonalities of $am"; it is the +uality of e*cruciation in much of Aenry Bames &for
instance, The Europeans, The &wkward &ge, The Wings of the $ove' that is
res"onsible for the large element of $am" in his writings. 2ut there is never, never
tragedy.
4@. ;tyle is everything. >enet-s ideas, for instance, are very $am". >enet-s statement
that #the only criterion of an act is its elegance#6 is virtually interchangeable, as a
statement, with 5ilde-s #in matters of great im"ortance, the vital element is not
sincerity, but style.# 2ut what counts, finally, is the style in which ideas are held. /he
ideas about morality and "olitics in, say, Lad Windemere's 5an and in #a=or
6ar,ara are $am", but not 1ust because of the nature of the ideas themselves. (t is
those ideas, held in a s"ecial "layful way. /he $am" ideas in ;ur Lad of the
5lowers are maintained too grimly, and the writing itself is too successfully elevated
and serious, for >enet-s boo!s to be $am".
41. /he whole "oint of $am" is to dethrone the serious. $am" is "layful, antiserious.
More "recisely, $am" involves a new, more com"le* relation to #the serious.# One
can be serious about the frivolous, frivolous about the serious.
46. One is drawn to $am" when one reali,es that #sincerity# is not enough. ;incerity
can be sim"le "hilistinism, intellectual narrowness.
47. /he traditional means for going beyond straight seriousness irony, satire seem
feeble today, inade+uate to the culturally oversaturated medium in which
contem"orary sensibility is schooled. $am" introduces a new standard) artifice as an
ideal, theatricality.
44. $am" "ro"oses a comic vision of the world. 2ut not a bitter or "olemical comedy.
(f tragedy is an e*"erience of hy"erinvolvement, comedy is an e*"erience of
underinvolvement, of detachment.
#( adore sim"le "leasures, they are the last refuge of the com"le*.#
& Woman of 8o 'mportan%e
4.. :etachment is the "rerogative of an elite; and as the dandy is the 19th century-s
surrogate for the aristocrat in matters of culture, so $am" is the modern dandyism.
$am" is the answer to the "roblem) how to be a dandy in the age of mass culture.
46. /he dandy was overbred. Ais "osture was disdain, or else ennui. Ae sought rare
sensations, undefiled by mass a""reciation. &Models) :es Esseintes in Auysmans- >
(e,ours, #arius the Epi%urean, =al?ry-s #onsieur Teste.' Ae was dedicated to #good
taste.#
/he connoisseur of $am" has found more ingenious "leasures. 4ot in <atin "oetry
and rare wines and velvet 1ac!ets, but in the coarsest, commonest "leasures, in the arts
of the masses. Mere use does not defile the ob1ects of his "leasure, since he learns to
"ossess them in a rare way. $am" :andyism in the age of mass culture ma!es no
distinction between the uni+ue ob1ect and the mass"roduced ob1ect. $am" taste
transcends the nausea of the re"lica.
4C. 5ilde himself is a transitional figure. /he man who, when he first came to
<ondon, s"orted a velvet beret, lace shirts, velveteen !neebreeches and blac! sil!
stoc!ings, could never de"art too far in his life from the "leasures of the oldstyle
dandy; this conservatism is reflected in The Pi%ture of $orian "ra. 2ut many of his
attitudes suggest something more modern. (t was 5ilde who formulated an im"ortant
element of the $am" sensibility the e+uivalence of all ob1ects when he
announced his intention of #living u"# to his blueandwhite china, or declared that a
door!nob could be as admirable as a "ainting. 5hen he "roclaimed the im"ortance of
the nec!tie, the boutonniere, the chair, 5ilde was antici"ating the democratic esprit of
$am".
4F. /he oldstyle dandy hated vulgarity. /he newstyle dandy, the lover of $am",
a""reciates vulgarity. 5here the dandy would be continually offended or bored, the
connoisseur of $am" is continually amused, delighted. /he dandy held a "erfumed
hand!erchief to his nostrils and was liable to swoon; the connoisseur of $am" sniffs
the stin! and "rides himself on his strong nerves.
49. (t is a feat, of course. % feat goaded on, in the last analysis, by the threat of
boredom. /he relation between boredom and $am" taste cannot be overestimated.
$am" taste is by its nature "ossible only in affluent societies, in societies or circles
ca"able of e*"eriencing the "sycho"athology of affluence.
#5hat is abnormal in <ife stands in normal relations to %rt. (t is the only thing in <ife
that stands in normal relations to %rt.#
& 5ew #a*ims for the 'nstru%tion of the ;ver:Edu%ated
.@. %ristocracy is a "osition visJvis culture &as well as visJvis "ower', and the
history of $am" taste is "art of the history of snob taste. 2ut since no authentic
aristocrats in the old sense e*ist today to s"onsor s"ecial tastes, who is the bearer of
this tasteH %nswer) an im"rovised selfelected class, mainly homose*uals, who
constitute themselves as aristocrats of taste.
.1. /he "eculiar relation between $am" taste and homose*uality has to be e*"lained.
5hile it-s not true that $am" taste is homose*ual taste, there is no doubt a "eculiar
affinity and overla". 4ot all liberals are Bews, but Bews have shown a "eculiar affinity
for liberal and reformist causes. ;o, not all homose*uals have $am" taste. 2ut
homose*uals, by and large, constitute the vanguard and the most articulate audience
of $am". &/he analogy is not frivolously chosen. Bews and homose*uals are the
outstanding creative minorities in contem"orary urban culture. $reative, that is, in the
truest sense) they are creators of sensibilities. /he two "ioneering forces of modern
sensibility are Bewish moral seriousness and homose*ual aestheticism and irony.'
.6. /he reason for the flourishing of the aristocratic "osture among homose*uals also
seems to "arallel the Bewish case. 0or every sensibility is selfserving to the grou" that
"romotes it. Bewish liberalism is a gesture of selflegitimi,ation. ;o is $am" taste,
which definitely has something "ro"agandistic about it. 4eedless to say, the
"ro"aganda o"erates in e*actly the o""osite direction. /he Bews "inned their ho"es
for integrating into modern society on "romoting the moral sense. Aomose*uals have
"inned their integration into society on "romoting the aesthetic sense. $am" is a
solvent of morality. (t neutrali,es moral indignation, s"onsors "layfulness.
.7. 4evertheless, even though homose*uals have been its vanguard, $am" taste is
much more than homose*ual taste. Obviously, its meta"hor of life as theater is
"eculiarly suited as a 1ustification and "ro1ection of a certain as"ect of the situation of
homose*uals. &/he $am" insistence on not being #serious,# on "laying, also connects
with the homose*ual-s desire to remain youthful.' Det one feels that if homose*uals
hadn-t more or less invented $am", someone else would. 0or the aristocratic "osture
with relation to culture cannot die, though it may "ersist only in increasingly arbitrary
and ingenious ways. $am" is &to re"eat' the relation to style in a time in which the
ado"tion of style as such has become altogether +uestionable. &(n the modem era,
each new style, unless fran!ly anachronistic, has come on the scene as an antistyle.'
#One must have a heart of stone to read the death of <ittle 4ell without laughing.#
'n %onversation
.4. /he e*"eriences of $am" are based on the great discovery that the sensibility of
high culture has no mono"oly u"on refinement. $am" asserts that good taste is not
sim"ly good taste; that there e*ists, indeed, a good taste of bad taste. &>enet tal!s
about this in ;ur Lad of the 5lowers.' /he discovery of the good taste of bad taste
can be very liberating. /he man who insists on high and serious "leasures is de"riving
himself of "leasure; he continually restricts what he can en1oy; in the constant
e*ercise of his good taste he will eventually "rice himself out of the mar!et, so to
s"ea!. Aere $am" taste su"ervenes u"on good taste as a daring and witty hedonism. (t
ma!es the man of good taste cheerful, where before he ran the ris! of being
chronically frustrated. (t is good for the digestion.
... $am" taste is, above all, a mode of en1oyment, of a""reciation not 1udgment.
$am" is generous. (t wants to en1oy. (t only seems li!e malice, cynicism. &Or, if it is
cynicism, it-s not a ruthless but a sweet cynicism.' $am" taste doesn-t "ro"ose that it
is in bad taste to be serious; it doesn-t sneer at someone who succeeds in being
seriously dramatic. 5hat it does is to find the success in certain "assionate failures.
.6. $am" taste is a !ind of love, love for human nature. (t relishes, rather than 1udges,
the little trium"hs and aw!ward intensities of #character.# . . . $am" taste identifies
with what it is en1oying. Peo"le who share this sensibility are not laughing at the thing
they label as #a cam",# they-re en1oying it. $am" is a tender feeling.
&Aere, one may com"are $am" with much of Po" %rt, which when it is not 1ust
$am" embodies an attitude that is related, but still very different. Po" %rt is more
flat and more dry, more serious, more detached, ultimately nihilistic.'
.C. $am" taste nourishes itself on the love that has gone into certain ob1ects and
"ersonal styles. /he absence of this love is the reason why such !itsch items as
Peton Pla%e &the boo!' and the /ishman 2uilding aren-t $am".
.F. /he ultimate $am" statement) it-s good ,e%ause it-s awful . . . Of course, one can-t
always say that. Only under certain conditions, those which (-ve tried to s!etch in
these notes.
1 /he sensibility of an era is not only its most decisive, but also its most "erishable, as"ect. One may
ca"ture the ideas &intellectual history' and the behavior &social history' of an e"och without ever
touching u"on the sensibility or taste which informed those ideas, that behavior. 8are are those
historical studies li!e Aui,inga on the late Middle %ges, 0ebvre on 16th century 0rance which do
tell us something about the sensibility of the "eriod.
2 ;artre-s gloss on this in Saint "enet is) #Elegance is the +uality of conduct which transforms the
greatest amount of being into a""earing.#