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The Meaning of Idealism: The Metaphysics of Genus and Countenance
Pavel Florensky’s treatment of Platonism in the present work is one of the most important studies on this subject ever written. The great scholar of antiquity, Aleksei Losev, called The Meaning of Idealism the most profound work on Platonism and Idealism produced in the 20th century. It is a from Plato and Aristotle to Neoplatonism, from Neoplatonism to Medieval theories of being and knowing, from these theories to Orthodox spirituality, from Orthodox spirituality to Vedic mysticism, from Vedic mysticism to astrology, from astrology to modern science—including relativity, the mathematical theory of invariants, and the multidimensional universe. In the course of this journey Florensky corroborates his theories with etymological discussions and analyses of modern art, including the works of Rodin and Picasso.The most novel dimension Florensky introduces in his interpretation of Idealism is his doctrine of genus and spiritual countenance ( lik in Russian, related to litso , face, and lichnost , person). Finally, Florensky links his understanding of the Platonic idea with images of the ancient gods and their use in the ancient mysteries. Arguably the greatest Russian theologian of the early 20th century, Pavel Florensky (1882–1937) also did original work in such fields as liturgical aesthetics, iconographic theory, the philosophy of names, theoretical mathematics, and even electrical engineering. He became a Russian Orthodox priest in 1911, while remaining deeply involved with the cultural, artistic, and scientific developments of his time. Arrested by the Soviets in 1928, he returned to his scholarly activities until 1933, when he was sentenced to ten years of labor in Siberia. There he continued his scientific work and ministered to his fellow prisoners until his death four years later.
108 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2012
About the author
Pavel Florensky
50 books70 followersPavel Alexandrovich Florensky (also P.A. Florenskiĭ, Florenskii, Florenskij, Russian: Па́вел Алекса́ндрович Флоре́нский) was a Russian Orthodox theologian, philosopher, mathematician, electrical engineer, inventor and Neomartyr, sometimes compared by his followers to Leonardo da Vinci.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pavel_Fl...
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Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
February 3, 2024
Whereas the poet, through his song, exhales the life of a language, thereby giving form to its inner life from within, it is the charism of the translator to breathe life into a language from without; to gift a people its own spirit back unto itself through a judicious and loving selection of words. The translator tenderly takes his beloved choice of word in the palm of his hand and breathes into it new life. In this way, every act of translation is an act of grace, an act of mercy. For a dying people – and the Anglosphere is a dying culture in artistic decline – it is a vivifying act of resuscitation, mouth-to-mouth, one tongue to the other.
The work of Boris Jakim is such a resuscitation. It is so unnecessary, so excessive, and it is such a gift. While it may take awhile for the readership to expand, and for the ideas of 19th century Russian religious philosophy to proliferate in America, when it does reach a saturation point, we will be a different country, and this would not be possible without Jakim’s hospitable tending to our words.
One such beloved selection that has struck me recently is the word “countenance”, which I first encountered earlier this past year revivified by another translator, Erik Butler, in his translation of the German text by Byung-Chul Han, Agony of Eros. In Han’s work, the countenance is contrasted with the face. Exemplified best by the selfie, the face is a still image, naked, overexposed, and lifeless. It is a pornographic false image of its living image-bearer. The countenance, however, is an encounter with life. The countenance has shadows, it turns away, obscures itself – it has a life of its own. Rather than knowing it definitionally, “on its face” as it were, one only comes to know it objectively, through experience, through time, through the ways in which it stands opposed to you, weighs against you, objects to you, the subject. Through this text, the word “countenance” has come to me, in my own idiom, to be symbolic of the inner life of ideas, of the mystery inherent to relational ontology, of the need for shadows in the Other and, as in a mirror, shadows in the Self. This mirror-like relationship between the Self and the Other is captured by yet another instance of a translated use of the word “countenance”, occurring in Alfred Corn’s translation of Rainer Rilke’s second Duino Elegy poem:
Joyous from the start, creation’s beloved companions,
upthrust heights, earth’s sierras tinged rose-red
at dawn, — pollen of flowering godhead,
cusps of light, hallways, stairs, thrones,
spaces made of Being, crests of rapture, cyclonic,
ravishing tumults, and suddenly, one at a time,
mirrors, each recreating itself in each while pouring
forth beauty into its own countenance.
Needless to say, when I encountered the word again in Boris Jakim’s translation of Pavel Florensky’s The Meaning of Idealism, I was immediately awestruck by the coincidence in the choice of word, made ever more sublime by the similarity of the word’s context in Byung-Chul Han’s philosophy and in that of Florensky. The Meaning of Idealism is above all else an exegesis on Platonic idealism. For Florensky, the attempts by scholars to pin down Platonic ideas definitionally as “principles” is entirely misguided. The “definition”, like Han’s “face”, is merely an idol, not an idea – it is indolent, inert, lifeless. According to Florensky, the only faithful rendering of Plato is one which retains his depiction of ideas as persons, with countenances all their own. In Plato’s Symposium, for instance, we come to know the lively figure Eros as his countenance is re-counted by each of the speechwriters, who one-by-one give their own ac-counting of their en-counter with this figure, thereby attesting to his various ways in the world and instilling in the audience a more vivid memory of their own experiences with this person, this idea. This understanding of ideas as persons paints all the more vividly the portrait of the philosopher as the man-in-love. Furthermore, the translator, with his choice of a word being an act of love, can be seen clearly to be just as much a philosopher, just as much a lover (philo) of Wisdom (Sophia), as the author whose work he translates.
I know I probably sound hysterical, and I probably always will. But there is something prophetic, something hopeful, about the arrival of this word - "countenance" - in this place, at this time. Each of these translators could have employed other words - ”face”, “visage”, “image”, “likeness” - but no choice would have been so serendipitous and poignant as “countenance.” In a culture of isolation, alienation, and narcissism; in a culture of idolatry and pornography; in a culture which confuses simulation with reality, discursion with immanence, seeking with arrival; more than ever before we are in a place to receive the blessing of an old word with a new promise, a word that, once imbibed, can renew in our spirits an admiration of the shadows and make lovers of us once again.
The work of Boris Jakim is such a resuscitation. It is so unnecessary, so excessive, and it is such a gift. While it may take awhile for the readership to expand, and for the ideas of 19th century Russian religious philosophy to proliferate in America, when it does reach a saturation point, we will be a different country, and this would not be possible without Jakim’s hospitable tending to our words.
One such beloved selection that has struck me recently is the word “countenance”, which I first encountered earlier this past year revivified by another translator, Erik Butler, in his translation of the German text by Byung-Chul Han, Agony of Eros. In Han’s work, the countenance is contrasted with the face. Exemplified best by the selfie, the face is a still image, naked, overexposed, and lifeless. It is a pornographic false image of its living image-bearer. The countenance, however, is an encounter with life. The countenance has shadows, it turns away, obscures itself – it has a life of its own. Rather than knowing it definitionally, “on its face” as it were, one only comes to know it objectively, through experience, through time, through the ways in which it stands opposed to you, weighs against you, objects to you, the subject. Through this text, the word “countenance” has come to me, in my own idiom, to be symbolic of the inner life of ideas, of the mystery inherent to relational ontology, of the need for shadows in the Other and, as in a mirror, shadows in the Self. This mirror-like relationship between the Self and the Other is captured by yet another instance of a translated use of the word “countenance”, occurring in Alfred Corn’s translation of Rainer Rilke’s second Duino Elegy poem:
Joyous from the start, creation’s beloved companions,
upthrust heights, earth’s sierras tinged rose-red
at dawn, — pollen of flowering godhead,
cusps of light, hallways, stairs, thrones,
spaces made of Being, crests of rapture, cyclonic,
ravishing tumults, and suddenly, one at a time,
mirrors, each recreating itself in each while pouring
forth beauty into its own countenance.
Needless to say, when I encountered the word again in Boris Jakim’s translation of Pavel Florensky’s The Meaning of Idealism, I was immediately awestruck by the coincidence in the choice of word, made ever more sublime by the similarity of the word’s context in Byung-Chul Han’s philosophy and in that of Florensky. The Meaning of Idealism is above all else an exegesis on Platonic idealism. For Florensky, the attempts by scholars to pin down Platonic ideas definitionally as “principles” is entirely misguided. The “definition”, like Han’s “face”, is merely an idol, not an idea – it is indolent, inert, lifeless. According to Florensky, the only faithful rendering of Plato is one which retains his depiction of ideas as persons, with countenances all their own. In Plato’s Symposium, for instance, we come to know the lively figure Eros as his countenance is re-counted by each of the speechwriters, who one-by-one give their own ac-counting of their en-counter with this figure, thereby attesting to his various ways in the world and instilling in the audience a more vivid memory of their own experiences with this person, this idea. This understanding of ideas as persons paints all the more vividly the portrait of the philosopher as the man-in-love. Furthermore, the translator, with his choice of a word being an act of love, can be seen clearly to be just as much a philosopher, just as much a lover (philo) of Wisdom (Sophia), as the author whose work he translates.
I know I probably sound hysterical, and I probably always will. But there is something prophetic, something hopeful, about the arrival of this word - "countenance" - in this place, at this time. Each of these translators could have employed other words - ”face”, “visage”, “image”, “likeness” - but no choice would have been so serendipitous and poignant as “countenance.” In a culture of isolation, alienation, and narcissism; in a culture of idolatry and pornography; in a culture which confuses simulation with reality, discursion with immanence, seeking with arrival; more than ever before we are in a place to receive the blessing of an old word with a new promise, a word that, once imbibed, can renew in our spirits an admiration of the shadows and make lovers of us once again.
May 29, 2025
What a gem. Very dense in content. Conceptually there’s not much timespace wasted! And usually when it’s like that you lack in style or inspiration. The writing instead is light and spontaneous. Different when it comes to the exploration of tangential redefinitions of identity. An area Henri Bergson missed out on paralleling.
Wow. I didn’t expect this to be so good. Although Florensky carelessly touts his religious beliefs by the end, and Bergson errs on the side of scientific mindedness if not secularism, I think both philosopher’s could definitely prosper from cross pollination.
I’ll read this again and update my review. Before getting carried away I plan to read more Florensky for a well rounded interpretation of his work in its totality.
Wow. I didn’t expect this to be so good. Although Florensky carelessly touts his religious beliefs by the end, and Bergson errs on the side of scientific mindedness if not secularism, I think both philosopher’s could definitely prosper from cross pollination.
I’ll read this again and update my review. Before getting carried away I plan to read more Florensky for a well rounded interpretation of his work in its totality.
August 11, 2021
The author tries to explain the intersection of metaphysics and art. This was difficult for me to understand. I believe he wrote another book that focuses on art and mysticism.
March 22, 2025
This is the first work that I have read by Pavel Florensky and my review is situationally contingent on that.
This short little book works as a series reflections on metaphysics and aesthetics. Floresnky writes (and Jakim translates) quite beautifully.
He starts with Plato and neoplatonist ideas of Forms and goes into art he likes (Rodin) and art he dislikes (Picasso). The book often feels more like musings than a structured in depth argument. There is some art criticism and a lot of etymology as he tracks ideas of genus and species.
I don't really have a background in Florensky or really Kant or that kind of philosophy at all to be honest. This was to my disservice when approaching this text. The translator does little to introduce Florensky and give a broad view of his project. Of course, he doesn't need too but I just felt a little left at sea. That is on me.
Regardless, I found the book to be more insightful than not. It's certainly given me some new directions to explore.
This short little book works as a series reflections on metaphysics and aesthetics. Floresnky writes (and Jakim translates) quite beautifully.
He starts with Plato and neoplatonist ideas of Forms and goes into art he likes (Rodin) and art he dislikes (Picasso). The book often feels more like musings than a structured in depth argument. There is some art criticism and a lot of etymology as he tracks ideas of genus and species.
I don't really have a background in Florensky or really Kant or that kind of philosophy at all to be honest. This was to my disservice when approaching this text. The translator does little to introduce Florensky and give a broad view of his project. Of course, he doesn't need too but I just felt a little left at sea. That is on me.
Regardless, I found the book to be more insightful than not. It's certainly given me some new directions to explore.
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews