The other day, my friend Es reposted on Facebook a fado tribute to Lisbon and Carlos do Carmo, with a line or two sung by twenty or so great contemporary fado singers. As my family will tell you, I love fado, the music is powerful, evocative, emotional, although I do not understand more than two words of Portugese. I think of myself as a fairly educated listener, but I had heard only a few of these amazing performers, and I could not help but ask what is the difference between someone interested in a broad range of things—music, art, books, science, sports, and a “dilettante”? Or does it matter? On a good day, I am a curious, engaged person with wide-ranging interests, while on a gray day, a dilettante, skimming the surface but without really committing to learn. Broad but not deep.
Let’s start with the definition. A “dilettante” is defined as “a person who cultivates an area of interest, such as the arts”—ok so far—“without real commitment or knowledge.” According to Miriam Webster, a “dabbler”—ugh! The “archaic” definition is given as “a person with an amateur interest in the arts.” Well, that can go either way, depending on the meaning given to the word “amateur”. Its origins are apparently in the mid-18thcentury, from the Italian, “person loving the arts”, “dilettare”, to delight, from the Latin “delectare”. There is even a Society of Dilettanti, established over 200 years ago by a group of aristocratic Englishmen, all of whom had been on the “Grand Tour”—that is, had visited Italy—and all of whom supported the arts in a variety of ways. The Society itself was instrumental in organizing and funding archeological expeditions to Greece and Turkey (and may have contributed to the appropriation of the Elgin Marbles, among other treasures). Or, as Horace Walpole, himself considered a dilettante of the first order (the Yale edition of his correspondence on a range of subjects is apparently comprised of 48 large volumes), said “[T]he nominal qualification [for membership of the society] is having been in Italy, and the real one, being drunk.” The Society still exists today, sixty members, by invitation only, including artists and art-connected people, some famous (for example, David Hockney), some not. Perhaps the qualifications cited by Walpole have changed.
Others, including Goethe, for one, have also considered the issue, contrasting the genius or professional artist with the amateur artist or connoisseur. Since at that time, it was common for people of means at least to take up painting, music, and other arts as a pastime, differentiating the genius or professional from the amateur makes some sense and need not necessarily have a negative connotation. Hence the “archaic” definition of the term. It seems to have become pejorative only in the late 18thcentury.
As fascinating as this is, I did not start this with the idea of spending hours on research. So what do you do if you love a lot of things but have neither the time nor inclination to really drill down on any of them? Not limit yourself to in depth knowledge of one thing when you can experience, albeit without true dedication or commitment, many things. Many genres of music, books, art, dance, politics, food, wine, or sports for that matter. Is it a blessing or a curse? I have spent the better part of forty years doing one thing—mostly pretty well, I think—and spent an inordinate amount of time on that. But luckily for me, and for my relationships with the people I care about, my interests do not stop there. I read across genres, I listen to a wide range of music, I enjoy dance and art and food and wine. I love sports. Some things I know better than others; some I just have accumulated knowledge over the years, but in all of these things, I want to know enough to understand and enjoy what it is I am experiencing. And to have a halfway intelligent conversation about it, just in case the opportunity arises. I think at the core of it you have to know enough to be an intelligent consumer.
I have loved music my entire life, as did my father, and both my brother and I grew up playing instruments. My brother was and is talented and still loves to play. I enjoyed playing and was happy to learn how music is built. In college, I decided that I did not really like opera, and that the reason must be I did not know enough to appreciate it. I took a course—taught by Jack Beeson, best known for his 1965 opera Lizzie Borden. As part of the course, we were required to attend a handful of operas at the Met—on student discount tickets. I never really developed a great appreciation for the recitative portions, and many of the singers could neither act nor dance, but the singing itself, the arias, were breathtaking and I have loved listening ever since. I think the same could be said about painting, poetry, or curling for that matter. Some things you just love from the get-go, while others you have to learn enough to at least appreciate. And once you do, you can sit back and enjoy and not worry about being a leading expert on the subject.
By happenstance, as I was writing this post, my wife pointed me to a column in the Sunday Review section of the September 30 New York Timesentitled “In Praise of Mediocrity”. Written by Tim Wu, a law professor at Columbia, he begins by expressing alarm that so many people admit to having no “hobbies”. He views it as a “sign of civilization in decline.” In his view, the primary reason for this is not the lack of time or overwhelming obligations, but the fear of not being good at what we do—the expectation that we must be excellent at everything we do—and argues that such expectation threatens the freedom leisure time has offered us, “the simple pleasure of doing something you merely, but truly, enjoy”. It is well worth reading the entire article—it is articulate, thoughtful, and not too long.
So back to fado. I find the music really speaks to me—and not knowing all of those singers is okay. Particularly since I don’t understand the words in any event. So I say, read widely, listen widely, think widely. There is so much out there. And if you are lucky enough to feel passionate about something, follow your passion. Dilettante my a**!
