I watched a Facebook riot last week. I’ve seen internet kerfuffles before, and participated in a few: for years I’ve argued with Astros fanatics about first draft-pick Chris Burke’s place in the majors, the statistical value of OPS, and whether it’s important that as a catcher Brad Ausmus didn’t hit. Trust me on this. Fly fishing brouhahas are mild.

Lenny Bee started things off:

Notwithstanding Mr. Bee’s ambiguity, all of the 222 comments that followed assumed that the insanity referred to was the use of the Nippers by others, not that Mr. Bee was insane for not using the Nippers. The comments ranged from the practical (they cut 40 lb. leader like butter), to the sentimental (my wife gave them to me and I’m fond of both them and my wife–thanks Kris), to the manly (I use my teeth). There was plenty of righteousness, plenty of dismissal, some irony, some sarcasm, some frivolity, and finally, late in the day, one of my favorite internet arguments: “that’s stupid”/”no that’s stupid”/”you didn’t understand what I said you’re stupid”/”I did understand it and I’ve got a screenshot of it right here and you’re stupid.” Brilliant.

Of course Mr. Bee was being disingenuous. He actually had no doubt as to what drove the market for $85 Nippers: insanity. He says it right there, and I’ve got a screenshot to prove it! Ok, maybe he didn’t really think Nipper users insane, not clinically anyway, but there’s certainly the implication that anyone willing to pay for Abel Nippers is mentally deficient.

Other than teeth, the most popular argument against Abel involved nail clippers:

I’m assuming that nail clipper advocates aren’t using the costly but decorative “Fashion Clippers” on the left, and that they aren’t arguing that nail clippers are as aesthetically pleasing as Abel Nippers (notwithstanding their status as beauty tools). Compare the above photo of nail clippers to the photo of Abel Nippers below:

Ok, not really. I’m lying. Those aren’t Abel Nippers. That’s an early modernist painting by Theo Van Doesburg. The pro-clipper argument is that cheap nail clippers function as well as Nippers, but I’ll concede the question of function. What I won’t concede is that Abel Nippers aren’t a good bit prettier than nail clippers, and that aesthetic pleasure can’t be its own reward. Nail clippers aren’t pretty.

There may be an ethical argument about spending $85 dollars on something as useless as Nippers, but I own fly rods, and I assume Mr. Bee owns fly rods as well, so it’s hard to argue the ethical virtues of frugality. Plus the economic argument runs both ways. I’ll stick to aesthetics.

Functionality

Ok, I lied again. A couple of thoughts on functionality. Able Nippers cut bigger stuff better, and that’s useful for saltwater, as is their aluminum construction. Cheap clippers rust. Besides that the lever on clippers would drive me nuts. I’d have dropped a good dozen rusty nail clippers into the bay fiddling with that lever.

As for using teeth, my teeth apparently gap at just the point they need to meet to cut leader. I can’t seem to cut 5x leader with my teeth, and I wouldn’t cut 16 lb. leader with my teeth if I could. I can’t whistle or roll my tongue either. Plus, if you cut leader with your teeth, your dentist is going to hate you. Who needs that?

Now on to aesthetics.

Abel Nippers and the Ancient Greeks.

Ancient Greek philosophers didn’t concern themselves overly much with questions of aesthetics, and the word hadn’t been invented yet anyway. They were worried about more pressing matters, like from whence is substance derived, and should we eat beans? Aesthetics were considered though, and the discussion generally followed three schools of thought.

(1) Proportionality. The notion that beauty is derived from proper proportions is peculiarly sculptural and architectural: a head should be X, the forearm Y, and the torso X+Y-1. Notwithstanding its mechanical basis, there’s something intuitive to the notion of proportionality. An Abel Nipper that isn’t proportional to the human thumb and forefinger, that’s too tiny or too large, wouldn’t have much appeal. The same thing could be said though for a pair of fingernail clippers, so proportionality is ultimately a dead end. It can be admired, it can be necessary, but it’s not, in and of itself, the source of beauty, or even necessary for beauty. An El Greco is beautiful notwithstanding its figures’ proportions. A proportional statue of an old fat guy is still a proportional statue of an old fat guy. I know. I own a mirror.

It is fitting that proportionality held peculiar appeal for the Pythagoreans, what with their focus on the ontological significance of numbers. It was the Pythagoreans who first noted the proportional mathematics of music, and anyone who has to study music theory is still cursed by all those damned numbers.

(2) Functionality. That beauty is derived from an objects’ appropriate function is peculiarly appealing. Abel Nippers are suited to their function, so they’re beautiful. But the notion that beauty is purpose-driven runs counter to our modern notions of art. Art doesn’t exist to carry out a function, it’s not a car bumper, or a sewing machine, or a banana slicer, it exists for its own aesthetic purpose. Marcel Duchamp’s Fountain, for instance, is decidedly removed from function. Decorative art may serve function, but high art is concept. And while our notions of high art are often absurd–as evidenced by said Fountain–there’s really no denying that aesthetic appeal can be derived from stuff that’s completely functionless. Just note Mr. Van Doesburg’s colored planes above.

Of course the argument for nail clippers is at least in part functional, and elevates functionality above aesthetics.

(3) Formalism. Now I’m going all Plato on you. For the formalist, beauty exists as an ideal form, and an object derives it’s beauty from its proximity to the ideal. Notwithstanding its lack of proportion and its lack of functionality, a  lump of gold can be beautiful because of its proximity to the ideal.

I’ve always found Plato’s formalism strangely alien, but when you think about it it’s really not. Truth is beauty, beauty truth. Beauty is something possessed by the object, a sunset, a mountain stream, a lump of gold, independent of the observer. For the observer, it is his awareness that allows him to perceive the beauty that independently exists. Plato’s forms are only an explanation for that independence of beauty. For the artist, mimesis (the Greek’s word, not mine) of the beauty of the natural world enables creation of something beautiful because it derives its beauty from that which it mimics.  For the observer, awareness enables perception of beauty that independently exists.

Consider Henry David Thoreau, who possesses among other virtues and failings a decidedly Platonic streak. He goes to the woods to rid himself of daily intrusive quibbles, among other reasons because those quibbles block his perception of the Independent Beauty of Nature. At least part of Mr. Bee’s rejection of Nippers may be that they’re an intrusive and unnecessary sideshow that hampers his perception of the real source of beauty, and that he demands simplicity, simplicity, simplicity. I would only note that Mr. Thoreau did not remove himself far enough into the woods to leave behind his mother’s baked goods, or to keep her from doing his laundry, and that one suspects he well knew that not all sideshows are worth abandoning.

If you’re interested, there’s a good introduction to Greek aesthetics here: https://www.iep.utm.edu/anc-aest/

Abel Nippers and the Moderns.

The modern inquiry into the philosophical basis for aesthetics begins in the 18th century, and Immanuel Kant is usually considered its progenitor. I hope that terrifies you. Whenever one starts with Kant, things get complicated fast, and aesthetics is no different.

Briefly (and maybe even erroneously–I’m not vouching for my understanding of these things), Kant’s notion of aesthetic beauty is that beauty exists in nature independent of the observer. The perception of that beauty is the disinterested aesthetic judgment of the observer. It is disinterested in that we perceive the beauty inherent in the beautiful, not because we create its beauty because of our perception. Did I mention that Kant complicates things fast? To say it differently, like Plato Kant finds beauty objective rather than subjective, and the perception of beauty is driven by the fineness of the observer’s aesthetic judgment.

Clive Bell, brother-in-law of Virginia Woolf, art critic, and all-around reprehensible human being, in his thoroughly Kantian Aesthetic Hypothesis, speaks of how Art, the combination of line and color comprising significant form, provokes the aesthetic emotion among those capable of aesthetic experience. It is the provoked emotion that allows us to recognize Art. Of course for Bell the aesthetic emotion is subjective, and there are a lot of other emotions, fear, love, awe, or whatnot, but the aesthetic emotion is separate and apart, arguably altogether finer, than all that other stuff. Assuming that the Abel Nipper is Art, Mr. Bee’s rejection of the Nipper, his rejection of the aesthetic emotion triggered by the Nipper, is a failure not of the Nipper but of his own aesthetic temperament. If his aesthetic temperament was properly acute, he would not need to own or use the Nipper to have the aesthetic experience: he would perceive the Art of the Nipper.

Of course if you live in the modern world you know where this is going: beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

The modern notions of aesthetic intention speak not to the quality of the object, but to the quality of the attention paid to the object. The object could be a painting, it could be sport, particularly baseball, it could be a hobby, it could be Nippers. The aesthetic attention paid to the object–let’s say in this case fly fishing–could be enhanced by the aesthetic attention paid another object, the appeal of a reel or a rod, the beauty of Nippers, depending on the observer. For me my Abel satin blue Nippers become a sort of touchstone: I think they’re pretty, my wife gave them to me and I’m fond of the gift and more than fond of the giver, they are part of my usual gear that I enjoy using. They don’t detract from my overall attention to fly fishing, they enhance it. Am I insane for my Nipper fondness?

Well of course I am, and I also have two Abel reels.