artistic temperament

hello hello! guys, I got the enotes pass online to all this Seagull information and the essays they have on here are so interesting and I can't wait to get to sharing all of them. This one first, I found it very helpful: in it the author examines the play and Chekhov's presentation of the artistic temperament. It talks in depth about Trigorin, Konstantin, Nina and Arkadina.

I particularity loved: "Arkadina's view of herself as attractive and eternally youthful is directly threatened by the presence of her grown son. By willing Treplyev into nothingness (‘‘nonentity’’) she is attempting to stop the flow of time itself—time that ages her and allows this boy to outgrow her to find a younger, more beautiful woman of his own, one who will replace her as a woman and as an artist."

I really liked the idea of this, that Arkadina isn't constantly attempting to get rid of her son, but she is fighting to keep him around. She needs someone to have their attention solely on her, whether he is praising her or complaining about her, she can't loose someone who has all this time to just think about her. She needs to be the one he compares everything too, she can't have someone new and like Nina around to steal this from her so she stops the play. Not to push him away, BUT TO KEEP HIM CLOSE. (??) Something to think on for me.
-caitlin
(oh, when they say Treplyov they mean Konstantin...)

The Seagull | The Artistic Temperament of The Seagull


In Natural Supernaturalism: Tradition and Revolution in Romantic Literature, M. H. Abrams characterizes a recurrent figure in romantic and modern literature—the suffering artist. He notes that the central character in many literary works of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries is ''the alienated and anguished artist whose priestly vocation entails the renunciation of this life and of this contemptible world in favor of that other world which is the work of his art.’’ In the nineteenth century, this figure first emerged in the romantic poetry of authors like Samuel Coleridge William Wordsworth Lord Byron, and Percy Shelley. At the turn of the century, playwright Anton Chekhov employed this dominant image in The Seagull and so encouraged a new generation of writers to construct realistic portraits of this enigmatic character. Through the play's penetrating study of several people who gather together at a Russian country estate, Chekhov explores the complex relationship between art and personal identity.

The Seagull focuses on intimate moments shared by four artists with varying degrees of devotion to their calling. Arkadina and her lover Trigorin have both enjoyed successful careers—Arkadina as a celebrated actress and Trigorin as a best-selling novelist. Yet neither are true artists. In her analysis of the play, critic Emma Goldman argues that Arkadina ‘‘is the type of artist who lacks all conception of the relation between art and life.''

Arkadina's shallow and self-centered nature emerges in her response to her son's play. Her negative reaction has little to do with the play's artistic merit. Treplyov understands that she will dismiss his play before she views it because she has not been included in the cast. He notes, ‘‘She's angry about my play because Nina's acting in it, and she's not.... She's angry in advance because, even though it's just on this little stage, it will be Nina's success and not hers.’’ While he admits she has talent, he notes that her focus is on herself rather than her art:

"You may praise only Mother, write only about productions that Mother's in, rave only about Mother's performance in Camille or The Fumes of Life. And since she finds no intoxicating adulation in the country—Mother's bored."

Her jealousy prompts her to disrupt the performance of her son's play with questions and jeers, which causes Treplyov to bring the curtain down during the first act. Later, while discussing the theatre with her, Treplyov concludes, ‘‘you won't recognize or tolerate anything but your own superficial notions. You sit on and suppress everything else.’’

Unlike Arkadina, Trigorin admits to his artistic limitations. He tells Nina during a discussion about his work, ''Yes, I enjoy writing, and reading proofs. But as soon as something's published, I hate it. I see it's not what I meant—and I feel angry, I feel bad.'' Trigorin acknowledges that his reading public appreciates the charm and cleverness of his works, but that they also consider them inferior to those of the truly great authors like Tolstoy and Turgenev. In an attempt to create classic works of art, he has focused on what he thinks are important themes, yet these ''hurried'' attempts received attacks ''from all sides,'' until he was forced to admit that he did not understand what he was writing about. As a result, he concludes, ''I think in the end all I can really write about are landscapes. About everything else, I'm false, false to the core,’’ and so has given up his dream of creating true art.

Trigorin continues to write best-sellers but would rather spend his days fishing than hone his craft. Goldman argues that ‘‘exhausted of ideas,’’ Trigorin finds that ‘‘all life and human relations serve him only as material for copy.’’ While talking about his stories with Nina, he admits, ''I've forgotten what it is to be eighteen or nineteen. I can't picture it. That's why young women in my stories and novels are unconvincing.’’ Chekhov suggests that Nina might be able to inspire him to write greater works when, after seeing the dead seagull Treplyov killed for Nina, he determines to write a story about the incident. However, Arkadina plays on his weakness, convincing him that only she truly appreciates him, and so pulls him away from the younger woman. As he leaves with Arkadina, Trigorin admits, ‘‘I've never had a will of my own. . .. I'm flabby and weak. I always submit.’’

When he was a young man, Trigorin insists that he had artistic sensibilities and suffered for his art, that his life then ‘‘was a torture.’’ He explains,

"A beginning writer, especially an unlucky one, feels awkward and unwanted—the world doesn't need him. His nerves are frazzled, he's always on edge. But he can't resist being around people in the arts and literature. They, of course, are not interested in him. They ignore him, while he's too shy to even look at them."

After his works began to enjoy popular but not critical success, Trigorin drifted away from his early devotion to his craft.

As Trigorin gives up his pursuit of artistic excellence, he loses his connection with others. The shallow relationships he forms reflect his inability to actively engage with his world. He seems to stay with Arkadina not because he has strong feelings for her but because their relationship is convenient, especially since it affords him the opportunity to stay at a comfortable country estate. His detachment from experience becomes most noticeable in his callous treatment of Nina. After their brief love affair that resulted in a pregnancy, Trigorin ''tired of her'' and, according to Treplyov, ''went back to his old attachments ... in his spineless way.’’

Trigorin's portrait of a suffering artist reflects not only his experience, but also that of Nina and Treplyov. Unlike Trigorin, though, both of these young artists become consumed with their pursuit of the creative process and so devote their lives to it. In ‘‘The Seagull: The Stage Mother, the Missing Father, and the Origins of Art,’’ Carol Flath comments, ‘‘in aesthetic terms, Treplyov renounces knowledge of the world and consequently self-destructs as a writer and as a man; Nina, on the other hand, embraces knowledge and suffering and becomes a mature artist.’’

When Treplyov renounces the traditions of the theatre, he turns his back on his and his mother's world. Flath notes that Treplyov's ‘‘'decadent,' intangible, and inaccessible play represents a wholly spiritual or idealistic art.’’ He answers Nina's complaints over the difficulties in his play insisting, ''I don't want to show life as it is, or tell people how things should be. I want to show life in dreams.'' He condemns the playwright who ‘‘squeezes out a moral, a smug cozy little moral, fit for home consumption’’ and who only ‘‘repeats the same formula with tiny variations.’’ Afraid that following this same path would ‘‘cheapen his mind,’’ he breaks with tradition as he strives for ''new forms.’’ Yet his avant garde productions gain him little success and often alienate him from his audience and from other artists. While Dorn admits, ''I liked his play. There's something fresh and direct about it,’’ his mother and Nina find it troublesome and "decadent." As a result, Treplyov's sense of isolation increases.

His surroundings reinforce his isolation and despair. He notes to Sorin that life with his mother means a house full of famous actors and writers and complains, "Can you imagine how I feel? The only nobody there is me.'' He claims that because he has neither money nor talent, her friends continually measure his "insignificance."

His mother, whose petty, shallow nature prompts her to play on her son's insecurities, compounds Treplyov's feelings of insignificance. He admits, ‘‘My mother doesn't love me.... I'm twenty-five now. That reminds her she's no longer young.. . . She hates me for that.’’

Commenting on their damaging relationship, Flath argues,

"Arkadina's view of herself as attractive and eternally youthful is directly threatened by the presence of her grown son. By willing Treplyev into nothingness (‘‘nonentity’’) she is attempting to stop the flow of time itself—time that ages her and allows this boy to outgrow her to find a younger, more beautiful woman of his own, one who will replace her as a woman and as an artist."

When Treplyov finally does earn a measure of success after his stories appear in magazines, Dorn tells him one afternoon, ‘‘[your work] made an impression on me. You have talent. You must write more.’’ Dorn commends his abstract subject matter that expresses ''great ideas'' for, he claims,' 'Nothing can be beautiful if it's not serious.’’ Trigorin also praises Treplyov's stories, but later notes to Dorn that the young playwright's work is often criticized, insisting ‘‘he'shad no luck. He can't find a style of his own. There's something vague and strange about his writing—almost like delirium. And never a single live character.’’

When Treplyov learns that neither Trigorin nor his mother has read his work, he again begins to despair until Nina arrives. During the past two years Nina has been struggling to establish herself as an actress. Treplyov notes, however, that during this period, ‘‘her acting was crude’’ and ‘‘lacked subtlety.’’ He claims, ‘‘at moments she showed some talent—she screamed well, and she died well. But that's all. They were only moments.’’ When Nina appears at the house, Treplyov hopes that the two of them can ease each other's suffering. Yet while Nina initially looks back on their time together fondly, she decides to reject Treplyov's declarations of love and to continue to strive for artistic integrity. She tells him that the previous night she went into the garden to see if the stage was still there. When she finds it, she admits, ''I cried for the first time in two years. It was like a weight started to lift from me—I started to feel lighter.'' Yet she also notes the difficult nature of the pursuit of art when she tells him, ‘‘We've been drawn into the maelstrom, both of us.’’

She then recalls her affair with Trigorin who, she claims, ''laughed at my dreams, until finally I stopped believing in them.’’ Nina, however, found the strength to endure Trigorin's waning affections and the loss of her child and becomes strong enough to pursue her artistic dreams. She tells Treplyov that now she is a true actress and that her work ''intoxicates'' her. She admits,

"I know now, Kostya, what matters in our work ... is not fame, glory, or the things I dreamed about, but knowing how to endure—how to bear your cross and have faith. I have faith now, and it's not so painful anymore. When I think about my calling, I'm not afraid of life."

Treplyov, however, cannot find a similar source of strength in his art. He admits to Nina, ‘‘you've found your way. You know where you're going. But I'm still living in dreams and images. I can't make sense of them. I don't know what or who it's all for. I have no faith, no calling.’’ His inability to retain faith in his art, coupled with his unrequited love for Nina, fills him with an overwhelming sense of despair, and he kills himself.

Chekhov's compelling portrait of the suffering artist explores the problematic relationship between life and art. Flath suggests that in the play, Chekhov raises

serious questions as to the ethics of artistic creativity; for art to be truly compelling and powerful, it must drain energy from real life; it must murder its object, be that object others or oneself. An art that does no harm is impossible, for it would be the same as life itself.

Some—like Arkadina and Trigorin—who do not have the strength of character to pursue artistic excellence focus instead on gaining popular success. Others, like Treplyov, are destroyed by their inability to retain their faith in their art. Nina alone survives, damaged by her pursuit of her craft, but unwavering in her devotion to it. In his study of these four artists, Chekhov illustrates the difficulties inherent in the struggle to achieve true art.

Source: Wendy Perkins, in an essay for Drama for Students, Gale Group, 2001. Perkins, an Associate Professor of English at Prince George's Community College in Maryland, has published several articles on twentieth-century authors.