Writing, Recognition and Attention
The comments on my post regarding Adam Kirsch’s essay have been quite interesting. It’s clear that I didn’t convey my point particularly well and that some responded without reading Kirsch’s whole piece, relying instead on my clippings. Those that did read the whole piece found other things to disagree about! I want to look more closely at a few aspects of the discussion. First: the bugaboo of recognition.
It’s a mistake to read Kirsch’s essay as positing that recognition is the sole motivation of writers. If anything, he partly makes a case for the opposite, recognizing that Gessen’s book and blog were problematic precisely because they spoke solely to a desire for recognition rather than a desire to make great art. But Kirsch rightly notes, also, that recognition is part of the reason that people publish. Does anyone who publishes– whether on a blog or with a small press or with a mainstream publishing house– maintain otherwise? If so, why publish at all? And if so, why not publish anonymously so as to remove the constant cultural tendency to consider the author?
Recognition is at the heart of attention. I agree, as does Kirsch, that writing solely for recognition is a problem. But it’s not just an important motivation for publishing, it is important in another way. Recognition matters because it’s a necessary ingredient for some proposed new (or newly evolving) art forms, such as Elizabeth Adams’ proposal regarding a new kind of essay. Adams, who objected strongly to Kirsch’s talk of recognition proposes that:
“…essays on blogs are actually evolving into something new, precisely because the medium invites give-and-take with readers instead of the open-and-shut exposition of a theme that is the essay’s traditional form.”
Where does that give and take come from if not from readers? Attentive readers come, in part from recognition and at the same time they are providing recognition. Recognition and attention are aspects of the same phenomenon. This phenomenon is one that all writers who publish are promoting: the apprehension of their work by another. In fact, writers who publish don’t just want apprehension, we want engagement. And we hope for a manifestation of that engagement, particularly if new participatory forms of writing are going to emerge.
Even if we don’t buy (or have yet to see) the evolution in practice that Adams talks about– which is fodder for a completely different post– attention and recognition remain symbiotic partners. Some writers, myself included for a long time, had an almost allergic reaction to the term. “We write because we have to,” we cry. And we do. But it’s likely that we have various motivations for writing, not just one, and even if recognition isn’t part of the motivations for creation, with publishing it almost certainly is. We publish to communicate in some way, and communication involves attention, which necessarily is and creates recognition. I don’t believe it’s philosophically coherent to maintain that we aren’t interested in recognition while at the same time publishing, linking to our blogs in our signatures, linking to our publications (online and off), and promoting a new era of participation and the benefits of that era to education, artistic forms, etc.
Of course I recognize the old argument chestnuts have some– and sometimes complete– validity: the problem of writing primarily (there is no “sole” motivator) for recognition and the negative connotation that is attributed to the term “recognition” (as opposed to attention). But I think it’s important to consider the issue, not as a motivator for one’s writing, but in recognition (ha ha) of the fact that recognition and attention is a phenomenon that is itself undergoing significant change… which was one of the reasons I recommended that Kirsch read Clay Shirky’s book Here Comes Everybody, which in part recontextualizes certain formulations of attention and recognition, such as celebrity.
In retrospect I shouldn’t be surprised, but it’s still amusing that the discussion of recognition and artistry took over when I found that the least interesting aspect of two thoughts spurred by Kirsch’s piece: writers and social networks; future forms and artistry in the age of the collective.

December 12th, 2008 at 11:03 pm
Let me add to your reasons for blogging. My mother was a geneologist. When she was my age, she was recording the births, deaths, marriages of all the ancestors so they wouldn’t be forgotten. I thought, “Who care?”. I wanted to know how they thought, what they felt, what they learned. I write 2 blogs for the same reason people carve their initials in a tree or pile up large stones in a sculpture – I was here. Perhaps something I leave behind might be helpful – might make it easier for someone to figure out their own path. It’s just a marker – a signpost.