It is the cultural assumption that someone who identifies himself as an artist was born with this identity; his

talent is an inherent, unlearned component to his nature. In his novel, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, James Joyce refutes this assumption in the character of Stephen Dedalus a young man searching for his niche in the world while simultaneously honing his artistic tendencies into a pinnacle life decision. At one point Stephen says to the dean, What is that beauty which the artist struggles to express from lumps of earth. (205) As alluded to in this quote, the relationship between life and art is the ability of the artist to transmute the mundane into something beautiful. Life is the lumps of earth; basic, dirty, and on the whole highly uninspiring. As such, when one looks at dirt, he does not call it art but rather something base worthy to tread upon. The artist, on the other hand, can take that lump of earth and see the potential within it to create something beautiful. In other words, the artist can see the art within the tedium and ordinariness of life, and draw forth that subjects true meaning and worth. This meaning and worth is the essence of the subject and ultimately reveals the subjects truth. For the human being, life is a perpetual search for truth, whether or not one explicitly admits it. However, the search for and discovery of said truth is different for each person. For the scientist, truth presents itself in molecular structures, while for the doctor it is in the complexities of the human anatomy. However, the artist explores, discovers and exposes his truth through a creative medium. This medium, then, is the artists expression of beauty, which is a necessary component to determining truth for the true and the beautiful are akin. (225) According to Stephen, the object of the artist is the creation of the beautiful. What the beautiful is is another question. (201)

This is an accurate statement considering the wide breadth of subjects art depicts. Some depictions are joyful, while others are terrifying, yet both are beautiful to the artist who creates them. When regarding the terrifying illustrations, one can still see the splendor or rather the sublime. According to Stephen, who in the following quote focuses on sublimity, states that true art ought to awakenan ideal pity or an ideal terror, a stasis called forth, prolonged and at last dissolved by what I call the rhythm of beauty. (223) This stasis Stephen alludes to ultimately leads to his skepticism (and rejection) of the Church. For Stephan, art should be static; it should not impose a lesson on the person who beholds it, nor should it inspire action. In other words, art is not an instructor which dictates how one should live. Rather, life and art should complement each other. In Chapter 4, Joyce combines the sermon of St. Ignatius (arguably a form of literary art) with images from Dantes Inferno to paint a horrifying picture of hell. This concoction compels if not commands Stephen to confess his sins and rededicate his life to God. However, as Stephen matures he realizes his conversion was impetuous and made out of fear rather than rational discernment. This is yet another important characteristic that distinguishes Stephen from the stereotypical artist. He considers a rational basis for his art not only valuable but necessary. For Stephen, to live in quiet submission lest he anger the Powers that Be, is not life. Rather the guilt and institutionalization which the Church presents is an oppressive force which inhibits the human disposition of sensible and intelligible matter to an esthetic end. (224) Fear is neither sensible nor intelligible; therefore it cannot be or inspire art.

Joyce further highlights the relationship between life and art through the literary techniques employed throughout the novel. One of the most prevalent of these is that of allegory defined as figurative treatment of one subject under the guise of another. (Webster) While the strict definition of the word does not entirely fit with the structure of the novel, the myth of Daedalus and Icarus has consistent overtones throughout Stephens story which are far stronger than either simple metaphor or allusion. By taking an allegorical approach to telling this story, Joyce instills more meaning into the text without overwhelming the reader with extensive explanations. In the story of the Greek father and son, it is Daedalus who survives and Icarus who parishes because his arrogance flies him too close to the sun. Stephen in many ways mirrors his namesake. His approach to his art is almost scientific in that he understands the mechanics of art as well as the feelings and emotions which pervade it. Due to this level-headed methodology, Joyce implies Stephen will find a certain level of success through his art or in the very least, not become a victim of his ego, like Icarus. Furthermore, the similarities between the two characters are apparent in their respective vocation. Both are creators: Daedalus is an artificer who builds an intricate maze; Stephen is a writer who constructs elaborate labyrinths of prose and philosophy. Another device with which Joyce defines the relationship between life and art is symbolism specifically, the symbolism of birds. The very fact that Stephens last name belongs to that of a flying man reveals the deep-seated connection between Stephen and the imagery of birds. Flight is part of his very identity. However, in the beginning of the novel the bird is not evocative of the traditional associations of freedom and creativity. Instead, the symbol carries a

negative connotation; rather than writing of doves and robins, Joyce chooses birds of prey and large, intimidating fowl. It is not until the final chapter of the book that birds take on a more positive association. This gradual shift in connotation parallels the process Stephen traverses to truly identify himself as an artist. In a way, it is like Stephen himself, throughout the novel, progressively learns to fly. In the beginning of the story he is an innocent child, who grows into a misguided youth; who converts into a spiritually-charged young man, who matures into a philosophical skeptic which eventually leads to his acceptance of his artistic identity: This was the call of life to his soul not the dull gross voice of the world of duties and despair, not the inhuman voice that had called him to the pale service of the altar. An instant of wild flight had delivered him and the cry of triumph which his lips withheld cleft his brain. (197) Unlike other artists who seem to have an innate ability to create, Stephen had to learn and practice, question and then create. Art did not come naturally to him, but rather was the product of dedicated diligence and true passion. Such characteristics of Stephen are difficult not to assign to his author. The decisions Joyce makes in his writings are all of a philosophic and/or esthetic nature, belying the amount of thought and assiduousness needed for Joyce to imagine and write Stephens story. There seems to be an unspoken sympathy between author and character, in which much of what Stephen postulates sounds like what Joyce himself might believe. Though there is no concrete evidence of this identification, it is nonetheless difficult to refute such identification occurs between the creator and the created. Another decisive element in Joyces writing is his refusal to underestimate or insult his readers intelligence, and likewise presents a story that is rich in mythological undertones, and

symbolism that carries with it various meanings and significances. Like the mind of Stephen and the maze of Daedalus, Joyce constructs an intricate narrative that simultaneously confuses and enthralls the reader. His use of philosophic and theological reasoning allows the author and character the unique ability to explore through the lens of rationality instead of sentimentality. Joyce once said, I've put in so many enigmas and puzzles [to my writing] that it will keep the professors busy for centuries arguing over what I meant, and that's the only way of insuring one's immortality.