THE ORIGIN OF THE WORK OF ART Martin Heidegger Translated by Roger Berkowitz and Philippe Nonet. Draft, December 2006. PN revised. [7] 1 Origin here signifies that from where and through which a thing is what it is, and how it is. What something is, how it is, we name its essence (Wesen). The origin of something is the provenance of its essence. The question of the origin of the work of art asks after the work's essential provenance. The work, according to common understanding, springs out from and through the activity of the artist. But through what and from what is the artist what he is? Through the work; the saying that the work commends the master, says: The work first lets the artist emerge as a master of art. The artist is the origin of the work. The work is the origin of the artist. Neither is without the other. However, neither of them alone bears the other. Artist and work are, each in themselves and in their mutual relations, through a third, namely through art, which is the first from which artist and artwork have their name. Just as necessarily the artist is the origin of the work, but in a way other than the way the work is the origin of the artist, so certainly art is in yet another way the origin of the artist and of the work at once. But then can art be an origin at all? Where and how gibt es2 art? Art, this is still only a word, to which nothing actual corresponds any more. It may hold as a collective representation3 under which 1 This and all other footnotes are translators' notes. The numbers bracketed and set in bold type are, in the main essay and the afterword, the page numbers of the first edition of Holzwege, (Frankfurt am Main: Vittorio Klosterman, 1950); in the addendum and after, the page numbers of the sixth revised edition of l980, the text upon which this translation is based. The sixth edition shows the page numbers of the first edition in the margin. The first edition did not include the addendum, which was not written until 1956. 2 "Es gibt, it gives" has, in ordinary usage, the same function as the English "there is." Unfortunately this translation would miss two decisive points of Heidegger's use of the German phrase. It would attribute being ("is") to das Sein, when in truth das Sein des Seienden ist nicht selbst ein Seiendes. And it would disregard the thought, essential to Heidegger, that das Sein des Seienden originates in the giving of a gift. We shall leave the German phrase untranslated. 3 Strictly speaking, Vorstellung and vorstellen should be rendered as "proposition" and "to propose," but in accordance with a German tradition that goes at least as far back as Kant, 1 we bring what alone of art is actual: The work and the artist. Even if the word "art" itself were to designate more than a collective representation, what is meant by it could only be on the ground of the actuality of works and artists. Or is it the other way around? Gibt es work and artist only in so far as art is, and indeed as their origin? However the decision may fall, the question of the origin of the artwork becomes the question of the essence of art. Yet since it must remain open whether and how art [8] altogether is, we shall seek to find the essence of art where art without doubt actually sways (waltet)4. Art west 5 in the art-work. But what and how is a work of art? What art may be, should let itself be taken from out of the work. What the work may be, we can experience only from out of the essence of art. Everyone can easily see that we are moving in a circle. Common understanding demands that this circle be avoided, since it is an affront to logic. People claim that whatever art may be should let itself be inferred through a comparative observation of artworks at-hand-before-us (vorhandenen). But how should we be certain that what we lay as the ground for such an observation are indeed works of art, if we do not know beforehand what art is? The essence of art, however, lets itself be won as little by deduction from higher concepts as through some assembling of characteristics observed in artworks at-hand-before-us; for this deduction too has in advance already in sight the determinations that must suffice in order to offer us as a work of art what we in advance hold such work to be. Assembling characteristics of available works, and deduction from principles are here in the same way impossible, and where they are used, they are self-deception. Heidegger uses them to translate the Latin repraesentatio and repraesentare, i. e. the reflective representation of something that has first presented itself immediately. Such a representation is indeed an explicit "posing-before" the reflecting subject. 4 The German verb walten will be translated as "to sway," in the sense of to rule, to hold sway, to exert power and influence, to pervade. 5 "Wesen" is the archaic verb from which stem the grammatical formations of the past tenses of sein, to be. It is still commonly employed as a substantive translating the Latin essentia, essence. Heidegger too uses it in that way, but with an important difference that is discussed in this essay at p. H 39. But he also uses wesen as a verb: a being is said to wesen when it manifests itself in the truth of its own way of being. We shall leave the verbal wesen untranslated. See also the explanation Heidegger gives in "The Question Concerning Technique," pp. H 29 ff. 2 Hence we must go through the circular path. That is neither a crutch nor a flaw. To tread this path is the strength of thinking, and to stay on it is the feast of thinking, if it may be supposed that thinking is handwork. Not only is the main step from work to art a circle, as is the step from art to work, but rather every single step we attempt circles in this circle. In order to find the essence of art that actually sways in the work, we seek out the actual work and ask the work what and how it is. Artworks are known to everyone. Buildings and images one finds on public squares, and hung in churches and in homes. In collections and exhibitions, works of art of the most different ages and peoples [9] are brought together. If we look at the works there in their untouched actuality, and do not place anything else before ourselves at the same time, then this shows itself: The works are as naturally at-hand-before-us as other things. The picture hangs on the wall like a hunting rifle or a hat. A painting, e.g. that by Van Gogh which presents a pair of peasant shoes, wanders from one exhibition to another. Works are shipped like coal out of the Ruhr and logs out of the Black Forest. Hölderlin's hymns were, during the war, packed like cleaning gear in the soldier’s knapsack. Beethoven’s quartets lie in the store room at the publishing house like potatoes in the cellar. All works have this thingly part. What would they be without it? But perhaps we take offense at this exceedingly crude and external view of the work. Cargo carriers or cleaning ladies in the museum may move within such representations of artworks. We, however, must take the works as they are encountered by those who live them fully (erleben) and enjoy them. But also this much celebrated aesthetic life-experience (Erlebnis)6 does not bypass the thingness of the artwork. Stone is in the building. Wood is in the carving. Color is in the painting. Sound is in the spoken work. Ringing is in the tonal work. Thingness is so irremovably in the artwork, that we must even rather say it the other way around: The building is in stone. The carving is in wood. The painting is in color. The spoken work is 6 It is common now to translate Erlebnis as "experience." This practice obscures the radical difference between Erlebnis and Erfahrung, which is also commonly translated as "experience." In fact erleben is nothing but an intensified form of leben, to live. An Erlebnis is an intensification of the feeling of being alive. 3 in sound. The musical work is in tone. That's self-evident, people will counter. Certainly. But what is this self-evident thingly in the work of art? Presumably it becomes superfluous and confusing to pursue that question, because the work of art is still something else over and out of the thingly aspect. This other that is in it makes up the artistic. Of course the artwork is a made thing, but it says still something other than what the mere thing itself is: êllo égoreÊei. With this other the work makes publicly known, it manifests, another; it is allegory. In the artwork, something other is brought together with the made thing. Bringing together is called in Greek suµbãllein. The work is symbol. [10] Allegory and symbol give out the frame of representation in whose paths of vision the characterization of the artwork has long since moved. Only, this one in the work that manifests another, this one that brings together with another, is the thingly in the artwork. It almost seems that the thingly in the artwork would be like the substructure, in and over which the other and the proper is built. And is it not this thingly part in the work, that the artist properly makes by his handwork? We should like to meet the immediate and full actuality of the artwork; only so shall we find in it also actual art. Thus, we must first bring into view the thingness of the work. To that end it is necessary that we know with sufficient clarity what a thing is. Only then will it let itself be said, whether the work of art is a thing, but a thing that carries along still another; only then, will it let itself be decided, whether the work is at bottom something else and never a thing. 4 Thing and Work What is in truth the thing, insofar as it is a thing? When we so ask, we want to learn to know the being-thing (the thingness) of the thing. The point is to experience (erfahren) the thingness of the thing. To that end we must know the circle in which all those beings (all jenes Seiende)7 belong, which we have long addressed with the name "thing." The stone on the way is a thing, and so is the clod of earth in the field. The jug is a thing, and also the spring on the way. But how does it stand with the milk in the jug and with the water of the spring? These too are things, if the clouds in the heavens and the thistle in the field, if a leaf in the fall wind and a hawk over the forest are correctly named things. All these must indeed be named things, if one covers with the name "thing" also what does not show itself like what we have counted up so far, i.e. what does not appear. One such thing that itself does not appear, namely a “thing in itself," is according to Kant e.g. the whole of the world; one such thing is indeed God Himself. Things in themselves, and things that appear, all beings (alles Seiende) that are at all, are called in [11] the language of philosophy a thing. Airplane and radio-set belong surely today among the closest of things, but if we have in mind the ultimate things, then we think about something totally other. Death and judgment, these are the ultimate things. On the whole, the word "thing" here names everything that is not simply nothing. According to this signification, the artwork is also a thing, insofar as it is altogether something that is (etwas Seiendes). However, this concept of the thing does not help us at all, at least immediately, with our purpose: to delimit the beings (das Seiende) whose kind of being (Seinsart) is that of the thing, as against the beings (das Seiende) whose kind of being (Seinsart) is that of the work. Moreover, we also shy away from calling God a thing. We even shy away from taking the peasant in the field, the stoker before the boiler, the teacher in the school to be things. Man is no 7 The most decisive thought in all of Heidegger's work is first articulated in paragraph 2 of Sein und Zeit. It says: "Das Sein des Seienden 'ist' nicht selbst ein Seiendes." Translated in English, it loses all sense: "The being of the being 'is' not itself a being." The problem arises from the fact that English employs the same form, "being," for both the gerund, das Sein, and the participle, das Seiende. The problem is inescapable. It renders English incapable of thinking that thought. As a makeshift, we indicate every time in parenthesis the German word that "being" translates. 5 thing. Of course we call a young girl who is confronted with an overwhelming task, still too young a thing, but only because here in a certain way we miss being-man (das Menschsein), and rather mean that we find what makes out the thingly aspect of the thing. We even hesitate to name the deer in the forest clearing, the beetle in the grass, or the blade of grass, a thing. Rather the hammer is to us a thing, and the shoe, the axe, the clock. But mere things even they are not. As such we hold only the stone, the clod of earth, a piece of wood. The lifeless in nature or in use. The things of nature and of use are the commonly so called things. Thus we see ourselves brought back from the widest domain, in which all is thing (thing = res = ens = a being, ein Seiendes), even the highest and ultimate things, to the narrow domain of mere things. The “mere” here means first: the pure thing, that simply is thing and nothing further. The “mere” means at the same time: only a thing in an almost contemptuous sense. The mere things, excluding things of use, are held to be the things proper. Now in what does the thingness of these things consist? The thingness of things must let itself be determined from out of them. By this determination we stand ready to characterize thingness as such. So equipped we shall be able to characterize that almost palpable actuality of works, to which then again still something other sticks. [12] Now we hold it to be a familiar fact that, already in antiquity, as soon as the question was put, what is the being (das Seiende) altogether, things in their thingness pressed themselves forward ever again as the measure-giving being (das maßgebende Seiende). Consequently, we must meet the delimitation of the thingness of things in the traditional explications (Auslegung)8 of the being (des Seienden). Hence we need only to secure expressly for ourselves this received knowledge of the thing, in order to be relieved of the dry effort of searching on our own after the thingly aspect of the thing. The answers to the question, what is a thing, are in one way so easy, that one sees behind it nothing worthy of asking any more. 8 Strictly speaking, an Auslegung is a laying out, from aus-legen, to lay out. The nearest English equivalent, assuming that by custom "explanation" is reserved to render "Erklärung, is "explication," which signifies a "folding out" or "unfolding." 6 The explications of the thingness of the thing -- which, having dominated over the course of Western thought, have long since become self-evident, and are today in everyday use -- let themselves be summed up as three. A mere thing is, e.g., this granite block. It is hard, heavy, spread out, massive, unformed, raw, colored, partly dull, partly gleaming. All in this list we can remark of the stone. Thus we take cognizance of its characteristics. But the characteristics mean what belongs to the stone itself as its own. They are its properties. The thing has them. The thing? Of what are we thinking now, when we mean the thing. Obviously the thing is not just this collection of characteristics, nor is it the piling up of properties, through which the collection first comes to be. The thing is, as everyman believes he knows, that around which the properties have gathered themselves. Hence we speak of the kernel of things. The Greeks are supposed to have named this tÚ Ípoke€µenon. To them the kernel of the thing was indeed what lies at the ground and always already lies-before-us. But the characteristics are called tå suµbebhkÒta, that which has also always already set itself in with, and so comes up with, what-lies-before-us. These denominations are not arbitrary names. In them speaks what here is not further to be shown, the Greek grounding-experience of the being (des Seins) of beings (des Seienden) in the sense of presence (Anwesenheit).9 But through these determinations, the from then on measure-giving explication of the thingness of the thing is grounded, and the Western explication of the being (des Seins) of beings (des Seienden) is laid down and fixed. It begins with the taking over of Greek terms [13] in Roman-Latin thought. ÑUpoke€µenon becomes subjectum; ÍpÒstasiw becomes substantia; suµbebhkÒw becomes accidens. This translation of the Greek names into the Latin language is in no way the inconsequential event that it is to this day still taken to be. Rather, behind this apparently literal and thus conservative translation (Übersetzung), there conceals itself a transposing (Übersetzen) of Greek experience into another kind of thinking. Roman thinking takes over the Greek terms (Wörter) without the corresponding and equally-original 9 Anwesenheit translates the Latin praesentia and the Greek parous€a. Like the German An-wesen, the English "pre-sence," from the Latin prae-esse, lets one hear the word "essence," in German Wesen. 7 experience of what they say, without the Greek word (Wort).10 The rootlessness of Western thought begins with this transposing. The definition of the thingness of things as the substance with its accidents seems, according to common opinion, to correspond to our natural way of looking at things. No wonder that the common comportment toward things, namely the way we address them and speak about them, also has tailored itself to this common view of the thing. The simple assertive sentence (Aussagesatz) consists of the "subject," which is the Latin translation, i.e. already a distortion, of Ípoke€µenon, and the "predicate," in which its characteristics are said of and from the thing. Who would want to undertake to disturb these simple groundrelations between thing and sentence, between sentence-structure and thingstructure? Nevertheless, we must ask: is the structure of the simple assertive sentence (the connection of subject and predicate) the mirror image of the structure of the thing (the union of substance and accidents)? Or is the so represented structure of the thing projected according to the framework of the sentence? What lies nearer than that man carries over his ways of conceiving things in assertions to the structure of the thing itself? This seemingly critical, and yet exceedingly hasty opinion, would of course first have to make understandable, how this carrying-over of the sentence-structure to the thing should be possible without the thing already having become visible. The question: What is first and measure-giving, the sentence-structure or the thing-structure? has to this hour not been decided. It [14] remains doubtful indeed, whether the question is decidable at all in this form. At bottom, neither does the sentence-structure give the measure for the projection of the thing-structure, nor is the latter simply reflected in the former. Both, sentence-structure and thing-structure, stem in their specificity and their possible mutual relations from a common and more original source. In any case, this first adduced explication of the thingness of the thing, i.e. the thing as the 10 Heidegger distinguishes here two senses of the word Wort, for which German has two different forms of the plural: Wörter, rendered here by "terms," are words as the smallest elements of speech capable of appearing as separate entries in a dictionary, Wörterbuch; words in other senses, as originally spoken, are Worte. 8 bearer of its characteristics, is despite its familiarity not as natural as it pretends. What occurs to us as natural is perhaps only the habitual of a long habit, that has forgotten the extraordinary from which it sprung. Yet that extraordinary once assailed man as estranging and brought thinking to astonishment. Trust in the familiar explication of the thing is only seemingly grounded. But in addition this concept of the thing (the thing as the bearer of its characteristics) does not hold only for mere things or things proper, but for any being (jeglichen Seienden). With the help of this explication, therefore, the thingly being (Seiende) can never be set off against the not-thingly. Even before any deliberate thinking, alert abiding in the circle of things says to us that this thing-concept does not meet the thingly aspect of the thing, its growing-of-its-own (eigenwüchsig) and resting-within-itself (insichruhend). At times we have even the feeling that already for a long time violence has all along been done to the thingly in the thing, and that in this violence thinking is at play, on account of which one forswears thinking, instead of troubling oneself, that thinking might become more thoughtful. But then, in a determination of the essence of the thing, what weight has even so certain a feeling, if thinking alone may have the word? Yet perhaps what we here and in similar cases name "feeling" or "mood," is more reasonable (vernünftiger), namely more perceptive (vernehmender),11 because it is more open to being (dem Sein) than all reason (Vernunft) which, having meanwhile become ratio, is rationally (rational) misconstrued. At this point, leering at the ir-rational (Ir-rationalen), as the miscarriage of unthought rationality (Rationalen), would scarcely perform a service. Of course the familiar concept of the thing fits every thing every time. Nevertheless, it does not hold the wesende thing in its grasp, rather it overtakes the thing. Does such an overtaking perhaps let itself be avoided? How? [15] Only if somehow we grant to the thing a free field, within which it would immediately show its thingness. All that, in the conception of and assertion about the thing, would place itself between the thing and us, must first be set aside. Only then do we deliver ourselves over to the un-misplaced presence of the thing. But we need neither require nor erect this non-mediated encounter of the thing. It has already happened. In what the sense of sight, or hearing, or taste brings along, in the 11 The substantive Ver-nunft is rooted in the verb ver-nehmen, in Latin per-cipere, to perceive. 9 feeling of colors, tones, roughness, and hardness, the things literally rock us in our body. The thing is the afisyhtÒn, what is perceptible through sensations in the senses of sensibility. Consequently, that concept of the thing later becomes common, according to which the thing is nothing other than the unity of a manifold of what is given in the senses. Whether this unity is conceived as a sum or as a totality or as a Gestalt,12 changes nothing of the measure-giving pull of this concept of thing. Now this explication of the thingness of the thing is in every case as correct and demonstrable as the previous one. That is enough already to doubt its truth. If we think through what we are seeking, the thingly aspect of the thing, then this concept of thing again leaves us without a clue. Never do we first and properly perceive in the appearance of things, as this concept pretends, a pressure of sensations, e.g. tones and noise; rather we hear the storm whistling in the chimney, we hear the three-engine airplane, we hear the Mercedes in its immediate difference from the Volkswagen. Much closer to us than all sensations are the things themselves. We hear the shutting of the door in the house and never do we hear acoustic sensations or even mere noise. In order to hear a pure noise, we must listen away from the things, pull our ears away from them, i.e. hear abstractly. In the just mentioned concept of thing lies not so much an overtaking of the thing as rather an exaggerated attempt to bring the thing to ourselves in the greatest possible immediacy. But a thing never attains to that immediacy, as long as we attribute to it as its thingly aspect what is perceived by way of sensation. [16] Whereas the first explication of the thing held the thing away from the body and set it too far off, the second rocks us too hard on the body. In both explications the thing disappears. It is therefore well to avoid the exaggerations of both explications. The thing itself must stay left alone in its resting-within-itself. It is to be taken in its own standing. This is what the third explication, which is as old as the previous two, seems to achieve. 12 Gestalt will be kept untranslated. Its ordinary sense of figure, or configuration, is familiar to English-speaking readers. However, its stem is related to the verb stellen, to place, to set, or to pose, a kinship of which Heidegger makes much in the pages that follow. 10 What gives things their constancy (Ständiges) and kernel, but also at the same time causes the manner of their sensuous pressure, their color, sound, hardness, mass, is the stufflike in the thing. In this definition of the thing as stuff (Ïlh)13, form (µorfÆ) is already co-posited. The constancy of a thing, its consistency, consists in that some stuff stands together with a form. The thing is formed stuff. This explication of the thing appeals to the immediate look with which the thing approaches us through its outer appearance (e‰dow). With the synthesis of stuff and form, a thing-concept is finally found, that fits equally well things of nature and things of use. This thing-concept prepares us to answer the question concerning the thingly aspect in the work of art. The thingly aspect in the work is manifestly the stuff of which it consists. The stuff is the substrate and the field for artistic forming. But we could have brought forth this illuminating and familiar conception at the outset. To what end did we go around it over the other admittedly still valid thing-concepts? Because we also mistrust this concept of the thing, which represents it as formed stuff. But is not precisely this conceptual pair, stuff--form, widely used in the very domain within which we are to be moving? By all means. The distinction of stuff and form is the conceptual scheme quite simply for all theory of art and aesthetic, and at play indeed in the most diverse ways. This incontestable fact proves, however, neither that the differentiation of stuff and form is sufficiently grounded, nor that it belongs originally in the domain of art and artwork. Besides, the realm over which [17] this conceptual pair claims validity has long extended far beyond the domain of aesthetics. Form and content are all-world-concepts, under which each and every thing lets itself be brought. If indeed form is ordained to the rational dem Rationalen) and stuff to the ir-rational (dem Irrationalen), and if the rational (das Rationale) is taken to be the logical, while the irrational (das Irrationale) is the illogical, and if with the conceptual pair, form--stuff, is coupled also the subjectobject-relation, then the power of representation has availed itself of a conceptual mechanism to which nothing can resist. 13 The standard translation of Ïlh in English is "matter," following the Latin materia. But Heidegger uses Stoff, rather than Materie. Accordingly, we render it as "stuff." 11 If so it stands with the differentiation of stuff and form, how should we then with its help grasp the particular domain of mere things in distinction from other beings? Still, perhaps this characterization according to stuff and form can win back its determining power, if only we back away from widening and emptying these concepts. Certainly, but this presupposes that we know in which domain of being (des Seienden) they fulfill their genuine determining power. That this is the realm of mere things, has been until now only an assumption. The indication of the fertile application of this conceptual jointure in aesthetics could rather bring the thought that stuff and form are determinations stemming from the essence of the work of art, and only from there carried over to the thing. Where does the stuff-form jointure have its origin, in the thingly of the thing or in the workly of the artwork? The granite block resting within itself is something stufflike in a determinate, although unshapely form. Form here means the spatial-local distribution and ordering of parts of stuff, which result in a particular contour (Umriß), namely that of a block. But the jug, the axe, the shoes are also stuff standing in a form. Here the form as contour is not just the consequence of the stuff's distribution. It is the other way around: the form determines the ordering of the stuff. Not only that, it even prescribes the kind and choice of stuff: impermeable for the jug, sufficiently hard for the axe, firm and at the same time flexible for the shoes. The intertwining of form and stuff that sways here is moreover [18] regulated in advance by that to which jug, axe, or shoe serve. To beings of this kind, like jug, axe, or shoe, such serviceability is never attributed and imposed as an afterthought. It is, however, also nothing that floats somewhere above them as an end. Serviceability is that ground-trait out of which this being (dieses Seiende) looks to us, i.e. flashes and becomes present and so is this being (dieses Seiende). In such serviceability are grounded form-giving as well as also choice of stuff, which is given in advance with serviceability, and therewith the mastery of the jointure of stuff and form. The being that stands under serviceability is always the endproduct (Erzeugnis) of a making. The end-product is finished as a tool for something. Accordingly, stuff and form as determinations of beings have their home in the essence of the tool. The name "tool" (Zeug) names what is produced 12 on purpose for its use and utility. Matter and form are in no case original determinations of the thingness of mere things. The tool, e.g. the shoe-tool, also rests within itself as finished, like the mere thing, but it does not have, as does the granite block, the latter's growing-of-its-own (das Eigenwüchsige). On the other hand, the tool shows an affinity with the work of art, in so far as it is something brought forth by a human hand. However, the artwork, through its self-sufficient (selbstgenügsam) presence, rather resembles the mere thing growing-on-its-own and forced-to-nothing (zu nichts gedrängt). Yet we do not count works among mere things. Generally the things of use around us are the nearest and proper things. Thus the tool is half thing, because determined through thingness, but still more; it is at the same time half artwork, and yet less, because it is without the self-sufficiency of the work of art. The tool has its own proper between-position between the thing and the work, if it be supposed that such a calculated serial ordering is permitted. But the stuff-form-jointure, through which the being (das Sein) of the tool is most nearly determined, easily gives itself as the immediately intelligible constitution of every being (jedes Seienden), because man the maker has himself a share in that, namely in the way by which a tool comes into being (ins Sein). Insofar as the tool occupies a between-position between the mere thing and the work, it is but a short step to conceive beings (das Seiende) that are not tool-like, such as things and works, [19] and in the end all beings (alles Seiende), with the help of the mode of being of tools (des Zeugseins) (the stuff-form jointure). The inclination to hold the stuff-form-jointure as the constitution of any and every being (eines jeden Seienden), receives a particular impulse, in that in advance on the ground of a faith, namely the biblical, the totality of being (das Ganze des Seienden) is represented as something created, i.e. here made. The philosophy of this faith can assure that all creative working of God is to be represented as other than the doing of a craftsman. If, however, at the same time or even beforehand, as a consequence of a believed predestination (Vorbestimmung) of Thomist philosophy for the explication of the Bible, the ens creatum is thought from out of the unity of materia and forma, then the faith is determined from out of a 13 philosophy whose truth rests in an unconcealedness (Unverborgenheit)14 of being (des Seienden), which is of another kind than the world believed in by that faith. The thought of creation as grounded in faith can surely lose its directive force for the knowledge of being as a whole (Seienden im Ganzen). Only, once set in motion, borrowed from an alien philosophy, this theological explication of all being (alles Seienden), the intuition of the world according to stuff and form, can nevertheless remain. This happened in the transition from the middle ages to modernity. Modern metaphysics rests with and upon the form-stuff-jointure stamped by the middle ages, which itself still remembers, if only in its terms, the buried essence of e‰dow and Ïλη. Thus the explication of the thing according to stuff and form, whether it remains medieval or becomes Kantian-transcendental, falls into currency and self-evidence. On account of that, it is, no less than the other named explications of the thingness of the thing, an overtaking of the being-thing (das Dingsein) of the thing. Already in that we name the thing proper a mere thing, this situation betrays itself. The "mere" means the stripping of the characters of serviceability and making. The mere thing is a kind of tool, albeit a tool stripped of its being-tool (Zeugsein). Being a thing (das Dingsein) consists in whatever then still remains. But this rest is not expressly determined as to the character of its being (in seinem Seinscharakter). It remains questionable whether, by this [20] way of abstracting from everything tool-like, the thingly aspect of the thing ever comes to appearance. Thus the third way of explicating the thing, with the leading thread of the stuff-form-jointure, also exposes itself as an overtaking of the thing. The above three ways of defining thingness conceive the thing as the bearer of characteristics, as the unity of a manifold of sensations, and as formed stuff. In the course of the Geschichte15 of truth about being (das Seiende), these explications 14 Heidegger makes frequent use of various formations of the verb bergen and its compounds verbergen and entbergen. To preserve the kinship of the three verbs, we have attempted consistently to render bergen by "to shelter," verbergen by "to conceal," and entbergen by "to unconceal." 15 German has two names for what English calls "history": Historie and Geschichte. The two words are ordinarily regarded an synonymous, and as referring at once to both the events of "history," and the study and telling of these events. Throughout his work, Heidegger insists upon the conceptual difference between the two words: Geschichte, as a formation of the German verb geschehen, refers to the "happening" of events; Historie, as a formation of the Greek verb flstore›n, 14 have coupled themselves to one another, in ways that we may now pass over. By this coupling they have strengthened still further their built-in tendency to enlarge their scope, so that they hold in the same way for thing, for tool, and for work. Thus there grows out of them the way of thinking according to which we think not only about thing, tool, and work in particular, but rather all beings (alles Seiende) in general. This way of thought, having long become current, preconceives all immediate experience of being (des Seienden). This preconception ties down the effort to think about the being (das Sein) of whatever is (des jeweilig Seienden). So it happens that the dominant thing-concepts block our way to the thingly of the thing, as well as to the toolness of the tool, and first of all to the workly of the work. This fact is the ground why there is a need to know of these thing-concepts, in order to think through with this knowledge the provenance of the concepts and their boundless arrogance, but also their semblance of self-evidence. This knowledge is all the more needed when we venture the attempt to bring to sight and to word the thingness of the thing, the toolness of the tool, and the workness of the work. But to that end only this is needed: while holding far the preconceptions and the overreaching of these ways of thinking, to let the thing rest upon itself, e.g. in its being-a-thing (in seinem Dingsein). What seems easier than to let the being (das Seiende) be only the being (das Seiende) that it is? Or do we come, with this task, before what is most difficult, above all if such an aim -to let the being (das Seiende) be as it is -- represents the opposite of that indifference, which turns its back to the being (dem Seienden) in favor of an unprobed concept of being (eines Seinsbegriffes)? We are to turn ourselves to the being (dem Seienden), to think of it with respect to its being (auf dessen Sein), but in so doing at the same time to let it rest upon itself in its essence. This straining of thought appears to find the greatest resistance in the determination of the [21] thingness of the thing; for where else could the failure "to inquire," refers to the study of events. English has no word corresponding to Geschichte; accordingly we leave the German word untranslated. The word Geschichte keeps alive in German the thought of an essential relation between "history," as the course of human affairs, and "destiny," in German Geschick, as the sense of "history." Geschichte is originally a passive form of the verb schicken, "to cause to run, to send." English, like French and Latin, have no understanding of that relation. On this issue, see the brief remarks in this essay on p. H 64, in "The Question Concerning Technique," p. H 24, and in "The Turn," p. H. 38. 15 of those attempts have its ground? The inconspicuous thing pulls itself most stubbornly away from thinking. Or would this holding-itself-back of the mere thing, would this resting-within-itself and being-forced-to-nothing belong precisely to the essence of the thing? Must not then this estranging and occluded in the essence of the thing become intimately familiar to a thinking that attempts to think the thing? If so it stands, then we should not force our way to the thingness of the thing. That the thingness of the thing lets itself be said with particular difficulty and only seldom, is unmistakably documented by the Geschichte of its explication as indicated above. This Geschichte coincides with the destiny (Schicksal), in accordance with which Western thinking to this day has thought the being (das Sein) of beings (des Seienden). However, we do not just ascertain this fact now. We perceive in this Geschichte also a hint. Is it an accident, that in the explication of the thing, the one that follows the guiding thread of stuff and form, attains a particular predominance? This determination of the thing stemmed from an explication of the being-tool (des Zeugseins) of the tool. This being (dieses Seiende), the tool, is in a particular way close to man's representing, because it reaches into being (ins Sein) through our own producing. At the same time, this being (Seiende) whose being (Sein) is more familiar, the tool, has its own betweenposition between thing and work. We follow this hint and search first for the toolness of the tool. Perhaps from there something concerning the thingness of the thing and the workness of the work will arise before us. We must only avoid hurriedly making thing and work into subkinds of tool. We are disregarding, however, the possibility that essential geschichtliche distinctions sway also in the way the tool is. Still, what way leads to the toolness of the tool? How shall we experience what the tool is in truth? The now needed procedure must manifestly hold itself far away from the attempts that at once again lead to the overreachings of the habitual explications. We are best assured of that [22] if we simply describe a tool without any philosophical theory. We choose as an example an ordinary tool: a pair of peasant shoes. For their description, it is not even necessary to lay before us actual pieces of this kind of utensil. Everyman knows them. But since all depends upon an immediate 16 description, it may be good to facilitate their visualization. For such help, a pictorial representation is enough. We choose to that end a well known painting by Van Gogh, who repeatedly painted such shoe-tools. But what is there to be seen? Everyman knows what belongs to the shoe. If they are not made of wood or bast, there will be found leather soles and uppers, both joined together by thread and nails. Such a tool serves to clothe the feet. In accordance with the serviceability of the shoes, whether they are for field labor or for dancing, their stuff and form will vary. Such correct assertions explain only what we already know. The being-tool (das Zeugsein) of the tool consists in its serviceability. But how does it stand with this serviceability itself? With it have we already grasped the toolness of the tool? Must we not, in order to achieve that, search out the serviceable tool in its service? The peasant woman wears the shoes in the field. Here for the first time are they what they are. They are that all the more genuinely, the less the peasant woman in her labor thinks about the shoes, or looks at them, or even feels them. She stands and goes in them. So do the shoes actually serve. In the progress of the use of the tool, we must actually encounter the toolness of the tool. As long as we only make present to ourselves a pair of shoes in general or simply look at the empty, unused shoes merely standing there in the picture, we shall never experience what the being-tool (das Zeugsein) of the tool is in truth. From the painting by Van Gogh, we cannot even ascertain where these shoes stand. There is nothing around this pair of peasant shoes in or to which they could belong, only an indeterminate space. Not even clumps of earth from the field or from the field-path cling to them, which at least could point to how they are used. A pair of peasant shoes, and nothing further. And yet. Out of the dark opening of the worn out insides of the [23] shoe-tool stares the toil of laborious steps. In the sturdy solid heaviness of the shoe-tool is stowed up the stubbornness of the slow trudge through the far-stretched and monotonous furrows of the field, over which a raw wind blows. On the leather lies the dampness and fullness of the soil. Under the soles slides the loneliness of the field path as evening falls. In the shoe-tool vibrates the silent call of the earth, its quiet bestowal of ripening corn and its unexplained self-denial in the desolate fallow of the winter field. Extending through this tool are the uncomplaining fear 17 as to the certainty of bread, the wordless joy of once again having withstood need, the trembling before the arrival of birth, and the shaking at the surrounding threat of death. To the earth belongs this tool, and in the world of the peasant woman is it heeded. From out of this heeded belonging, the tool itself stands up in its resting-within-itself. But all this we see perhaps only in the shoe-tool of the picture. The peasant woman, for her part, simply wears the shoes. If only this simple wearing were so simple. Whenever the peasant woman puts her shoes away in the late evening in severe but healthy tiredness, or in the still dark dawning of morning grabs them once again, or on a holiday passes them by, then she knows all this even without paying attention or considering it. The being-tool (das Zeugsein) of the tool consists surely in its serviceability. But that itself rests in the fullness of an essential being (eines Seins) of the tool. We name it reliability (Verläßlichkeit). By virtue of it, the peasant woman is through this tool let into the silent call of the earth; by virtue of the tool's reliability she is certain of her world. World and earth are to her and to those who are with her in her way, there only so: in the tool. We say "only" and thereby err; for the reliability of the tool first gives this simple world its shelter (ihre Geborgenheit), and secures to the earth the freedom of its constant pressure. The being-tool (das Zeugsein) of the tool, reliability, holds all things gathered within itself, each according to their manner and extent. Even the serviceability of the tool is nevertheless only the essential consequence of reliability. The former flourishes in the latter, and would be nothing without it. The singular tool becomes worn out and used up; but at the same [24] time the use itself falls into abuse, wears itself away, and becomes habitual. Thus being-tool (das Zeugsein) comes to waste, and sinks down to mere tool. This wasting of being-tool (des Zeugseins) is the vanishing away of reliability. This vanishing, to which the things of use owe their boringly oppressive ordinariness, is however only one more witness to the original essence of being-tool (des Zeugseins). The abused ordinariness of the tool presses itself forward as its unique kind of being (die Seinsart), seemingly exclusively its own. Only blank serviceability is now visible. It awakens the appearance that the origin of the tool lies in the mere making, which stamps a form upon some stuff. However, the tool in its genuine being- 18 tool (seinem Zeugsein) comes from a more distant provenance. Matter and form and the differentiation of the two are of deeper origins. The rest of the tool resting-within-itself consists in its reliability. In this we first see what the tool is in truth. However, we still know nothing of what we first sought, the thingness of the thing. Moreover we still do not know what we properly and only seek: the workness of the work in the sense of the artwork. Or have we now unwittingly, almost in passing, already experienced something of the being-work (das Werksein) of the work? The being-tool (das Zeugsein) of the tool has been found. But how? Not through a description and explanation of a shoe-tool actually lying before us; not through a report about the process of making shoes; also not through the observation of some occurrence here or there of an actual use of the shoe-tool, but only through this: That we brought ourselves before the painting by van Gogh. The painting spoke. In the nearness of the work we were suddenly somewhere else than where we usually care to be. The work of art gave us to know what the shoe-tool is in truth. It would be the worst self-deception if we were to believe that our description, as a subjective act, had first so depicted everything and then laid it into the painting. If something here is questionable, [25] then it is only this: That we have experienced too little in the nearness of the work and have said this experience too crudely and too immediately. Above all, however, the work did not serve, as it first might appear, better to visualize what a tool is. Rather first through the work and only in the work did the being-tool (das Zeugsein) of the tool come properly to its appearance. What is happening here? What is at work (am Werk) in the work (im Werk)? Van Gogh’s painting is the opening up of what the tool, the pair of peasant shoes, in truth is. This being (dieses Seiende) stepped out into the unconcealedness of its being (seines Seins). The unconcealedness of beings (des Seienden) is called by the Greeks élÆyeia. We say truth and think little enough by this word. In the work, if there happens an opening up of beings (des Seienden) into what and how they are, a happening of truth is at work. 19 In the work of art, the truth of beings (des Seienden) has set itself to work (sich ins Werk gesetzt).16 "To set," in German "setzen," says here: to bring to stand. A being, (ein Seiendes) a pair of peasant shoes, comes to stand in the work in the light of its being (seines Seins). The being of beings (das Sein des Seienden) comes into the steadiness of its shining (scheinen). The essence of art would then be this: The setting-itself-to-work of the truth of beings (des Seienden). But up until now art had to do with the beautiful (dem Schönen) and beauty (der Schönheit),17 and not with truth. The arts that bring forth such works are called, to distinguish them from the arts of handwork that make tools, the fine arts (die schönen Künste). In fine art, the art itself is not beautiful, but it is called so because it brings forth the beautiful. Truth, by contrast, belongs in logic. Beauty, however, is reserved for aesthetics. Or should the statement, that art is the setting-itself-to-work of truth, revive again the fortunately vanquished opinion that art is an imitation and depiction of the actual? The rendering of what lies at hand demands, of course, agreement with what is, measuring up to it; adaequatio, said the Middle Ages; ıµo€vsiw, Aristotle already said. Agreement with [26] what is (dem Seienden) has long been held as the essence of truth. But is it our opinion that this painting by van Gogh depicts a pair of peasant shoes lying at hand, and is therefore a work, because it succeeds in so doing? Is it our opinion that painting would take a copy of the actual and transpose this copy into a product of artistic production? In no way. Thus the work is not in the business of rendering some singular being (des einzelnen Seienden) that lies at hand, but perhaps quite the contrary it is to render the universal essence of things. But where and how then is this universal essence, 16 The phrase "ins Werk setzen" is deliberately ambiguous: colloquially the phrase is used to say the likes of "to set in motion, to set to work, to put into effect;" but it also bears the literal sense of "to set in the work," here namely in the artwork. 17 Note how inadequate the English (French) "beauty" is to translate das Schöne and die Schönheit (or the Greek tÚ kalÒn). "Beauty" is the quality of being "beau," from the Latin bellus, i.e. benellus, a diminutive of bonus, thus signifying "a little good." But the German schön immediately shows a kinship with scheinen, "to shine," and so appears to signify "shining in splendor" (as does the Greek kalÒw). So is it heard by Heidegger: Note the last sentence of the preceding paragraph, and see below p. H 44. So is it heard also by Hegel: "Das Schöne bestimmt sich ... as das sinnliche Scheinen der Idee." Vorlesungen über die Ästhetik, in Werke 13, p. 151. (Etymologists would rather trace schön to the family of schauen, "to look at.") 20 so that the artwork can agree with it? With what essence of what thing should then a Greek temple agree? Who could maintain the impossible claim that in this building the Idea of the temple would be represented. And yet, in such a work, if it is a work, truth is set to work. Or let us think of Hölderlin’s hymn, “The Rhine.” What is here given in advance to the poet, and how, such that it could then be rendered in the poem? Although in the case of this hymn and similar poems the thought of a copy-relation between something already actual and the artwork manifestly fails, nevertheless through a work of the kind shown by C.F. Meyer’s poem, “The Roman Fountain," the opinion that the work copies, seems best to confirm itself. Roman Fountain The jet shoots up and falling gushes To fill the marble shell around, That, veiling itself, overrushes In a second shell hits ground; The second gives, it becomes too rich, To the third flowing its flood, And each takes and gives at once And streams and rests. Yet here neither is a fountain actually lying at hand poetically depicted, nor is the universal essence of a Roman fountain rendered back. But truth [27] is set to work. What truth happens in the work? Can truth happen (geschehen) at all and thus be geschichtlich? Truth, people say, would rather be something timeless and above time. We seek the actuality of the artwork in order there actually to find art, which sways in the work. The nearest actual something in the work shows itself to be the thingly substructure. To grasp this thingly part, the traditional concepts of thing do not suffice; for they themselves mistake the essence of the thingly. The predominant thing-concept, the thing as formed stuff, is gathered never from the essence of the thing, but rather from the essence of the tool. We saw also that already for a long time being-tool (das Zeugsein) has claimed its own higher rank in the explication of beings (des Seienden). This higher rank of being-tool (des 21 Zeugseins), which had not been properly thought, gave the hint to pose anew the question regarding toolness, while avoiding current explications. But if now the actuality of the work can be determined through nothing other than what is at work in the work, how does it stand with our plan to seek out the actual artwork in its actuality? We went astray as long as we supposed that the actuality of the work was nearest in its thingly substructure. We stand now before a remarkable result of our deliberations, if it can still be called a result. Two points become clear: First: The dominant thing-concepts do not succeed as means to grasp the thingly part of the work. Second: The thingly substructure, which we sought to grasp as the nearest actuality of the work, does not belong to the work in such a way. As soon as we aim for this thingly substructure of the work, we have unwittingly taken the work as a tool, to which we [28] still grant beyond that a superstructure, which would contain the artistic. But the work is no tool, which moreover is outfitted with an aesthetic value that sticks to it. The work is as little something like that, as the mere thing is a tool, that only lacks the proper character of tool, i.e. serviceability and being-finished. Our way of posing the question of the work is shaken, because we asked not after the work, but half after a thing and half after a tool. Only this was no posing of the question that first we developed. It is the way the question is posed in aesthetics. The way aesthetics considers the artwork in advance stands under the dominance of the traditional explication of all being (alles Seienden) .Still, the shaking of the usual posing of the question is not the essential point. What matters is a first opening of the sight by which the workly in the work, the toollike in the tool, the thingly in the thing, first come nearer to us, if we think the being of beings (das Sein des Seienden). To this end it is needed that beforehand the constraints of self-evidence fall off and that current pseudo-concepts be set aside. Hence we had to go by a way around. But it brings us at the same time on the way that can lead to a determination of the thingly part of the work. The thingly part of the work should not be denied away; but this thingly part, if 22 indeed it belongs to the being-work of the work, must be thought from out of the workly. If so, the way leads to a determination of the thingly actuality of the work by going not over the thing to the work, but over the work to the thing. The artwork opens up in its own way the being of beings (das Sein des Seienden). In the work happens this opening, i.e. the unconcealing, i.e. the truth of beings (des Seienden). In the artwork, the truth of beings (des Seienden) has set itself to work. Art is the setting-itself-to-work of truth. What is truth itself, that it ereignet18 itself at times as art? What is this setting-itself-to-work? [29] 18 The verb ereignen and the substantive Ereignis are kept untranslated. Ordinarily they signify the happening of an event, its "striking the eye," er-äugnen. Heidegger uses them in that sense too, but also intends to bring out of the words a reference to the adjective eigen, "own" and the verb eignen, "to be owned," in order to signify e.g., in this case, that truth "comes into its own" as art, and that truth brings man and das Sein to "belong" to one another. The words come to play an ever more important part in Heidegger's thinking after about 1935. See the brief explanation below in "The Turn" p. H. 44. 23 Work and Truth. The origin of the artwork is art. But what is art? Art is actual in the artwork. Hence we first search for the actuality of the work. In what does this actuality consist? Artworks show throughout a thingly part, albeit in a wholly distinctive way. The attempt to grasp this thing-character of the work with the help of the usual thing-concepts failed. Not only because these thing-concepts do not grasp the thingly, but also because we, with our question as to the work’s thingly substructure, force the work under a preconception by which we obstruct our access to the being-work (zum Werksein) of the work. About the thingly of the work nothing can ever be found as long as the pure standing-within-itself (Insichstehen) of the work has not clearly shown itself. But is the work ever accessible in itself? For this to happen, it would be necessary to remove the work out of all relations to what is other than it itself, in order to let it rest upon itself alone for itself. But in this direction aims already the ownmost intention of the artist. The work is to be released by him into its pure standing-within-itself. Precisely in great art, and we speak here of great art only, the artist remains something indifferent as against the work, almost like a throughway for the coming forth of the work, something that annihilates itself in the creation of the work. So then the works themselves stand and hang in collections and exhibitions. But are they there in themselves as the works they themselves are, or are they not there rather as objects of the art business? The works are made accessible for public and private enjoyment of art. Official places take over the care and preservation of the works. Art connoisseurs and art critics busy themselves with them. Art dealers worry about the market. Art-history-research (die Kunstgeschichtsforschung) makes the works into objects of science. Yet, in all this agitation do we encounter the works themselves? The Aegina sculptures in the Munich collection and the Antigone of Sophocles in the best critical edition are, as [30] the works they are, torn out of their own essential-space. However great their rank and impressiveness may still be, however good their preservation, however certain their sense, their transposition in the collection has drawn them out of their world. But even if we endeavour to 24 transcend or to avoid such a displacement of the works, as when for example, we visit the temple at Paestum at its site and the Bamberg cathedral at its place, the world of the works at-hand-before-us has fallen into ruin. World-withdrawal and world-ruin are never to be reversed. The works are no more the works they were. They themselves perhaps are what encounters us there, but they themselves are those who have been (Gewesenen). As having been, they stand before-and-against us in the domain of tradition and conservation. From now on they remain only as such objects-standing-against-us (Gegenstände).19 Their standing-against us is indeed still a consequence of their former standing-within-themselves, but it is no longer that itself. That standingwithin-itself has fled out of them. The whole art industry, even if it raised itself to the utmost and went all out for the sake of the works themselves, would always only reach the works as being-object-standing-against-us (das Gegenstandsein). That, however, does not form their being-work (ihr Werksein). But does the work still remain a work if it stands outside of every relation? Does it not belong to the work that it stands in relations? Of course, only there remains to be asked, in what relations it stands. Wherein does a work belong? The work belongs as work only in the domain that is opened up by the work itself. For the being-work (das Werksein) of the work west and west only in such an opening up. We said, in the work, the happening of truth is at work. Our pointing to Van Gogh’s picture attempted to name this happening. As we looked at it, the question arose what truth is and how truth can happen. We ask now the question of truth in view of the work. But in order that we become more familiar with what stands in question, it is necessary to make visible anew the happening of truth in the work. For this attempt, we choose on purpose a work that would not be counted as representational art. 19 Gegenstand is ordinarily translated simply as "object," from the Latin objectum. It is here translated in such a way as to preserve the sense of "standing-against," as a distinctive way of standing, distinct namely from the Insichstehen, the "standing-in-itself" of the work of art. "Object" alone is kept to translate Objekt. 25 A building, a Greek temple, portrays nothing. It [31] simply stands there in the middle of the cleft and rocky valley. The building encloses the Gestalt of the god and lets it stand out in this shelter through the open colonnade of the holy precinct. Through the temple, the god west in the temple. This presence of the god is in itself the stretching out and delimitation of the precinct as holy. The temple and its precinct, however, do not hover suspended in the indeterminate. The temple-work first joins and at once gathers around itself the unity of the paths and relations in which birth and death, doom and blessing, victory and disgrace, endurance and decay win for mankind the Gestalt of its destiny (Geschick). The swaying expanse of these open relations is the world of this geschichtlichen people. Only out of this world and in it does a people come back to itself for the fulfillment of its vocation (Bestimmung).20 Standing there, the building rests upon the rocky ground. In this resting-upon, the work takes from out of the rock the darkness of its support, unwieldy and yet forced-to-nothing. Standing there the building holds its stand against the storm raging away above it, and so first shows the storm itself in its violence. The radiance and glow of the stone, themselves shining only by grace of the sun, first bring the light of day, the expanse of the sky, and the darkness of night, to appear in relief. The secure towering-up of the temple makes visible the invisible space of air. The unshaken work stands against the rolling sea, and in resting lets appear the surge of the tide. Tree and grass, eagle and bull, snake and cricket first enter into their contrasting Gestalt and so come into relief as what they are. This coming-out and arising itself and in its totality, the Greeks called fÊsiw. FÊsiw clears at once all that upon which and in which man grounds his dwelling. We name this ground the earth. What this word here says is to be kept away from the representation of a piled up mass of stuff, as well as from the purely astronomical representation of a planet. The earth is that wherein fÊsiw, the arising (das Aufgehen), shelters-back (zurückbirgt) all that arises (das Aufgehende), indeed as what arises. In what arises, the earth west as what shelters (das Bergende). 20 Ordinarily Bestimmung is rendered by "determination." When we depart from that usage, we indicate it by inserting the German word in parenthesis. 26 [32] Standing there the temple-work opens up a world and sets it at once back on earth, who thereby herself first comes out as the homely ground. But never are men and animals, plants and things, at-hand-before-us and familiar as unalterable objects, in order then incidentally to present the fitting environment for the temple, which also some day arrives among what is present. We come closer to what the temple is, if we think all this the other way around, supposing of course, that we have beforehand the eye for how all turns to us differently. Mere inversion, executed for its own sake, yields nothing. In its standing there, the temple first gives to things their visage, and first gives to men their vision of themselves. This sight remains open as long as the work is a work, as long as the god does not flee out of it. So it stands also with the image of the god, that the victor at the contests dedicated to the god. It is no copyimage, with which one more easily takes cognizance of the way the god looks, but it is a work that lets the god himself be present and so is the god himself. The same holds of the spoken work. In tragedy, nothing is mounted or produced, but the fight is fought between the new gods and the old. In that the spoken work arises in the saying of the people, it does not talk about this fight, but rather transforms the saying of the people, so that every essential word now leads the fight and puts up for decision what is holy and what unholy, what is great and what small, what is brave and what cowardly, what is noble and what fleeting, and what is master and what servant (compare Heraclitus, Fr. 53). In what then does the being-work (das Werksein) of the work consist? While steadily looking at what has been indicated so far and roughly enough, let us clarify two essential traits of the work. In so doing we proceed from the familiar foreground of being-work (des Werkseins), the thingly part that gives support to our usual relation to the work. If a work is brought into a collection or mounted at an exhibition, one says that it is set-up (aufgestellt). But this setting-up (Aufstellen) is essentially different [33] from setting-up in the sense of the placement (Erstellung) of a building, the erection (Errichtung) of a statue, or the presentation (Darstellen) of the tragedy at the holy festival. Such setting-up is erecting (Errichten) in the sense of dedicating and celebrating. Setting-up no longer means here a mere bringing about. Dedication is called consecration in the sense that in the setting-up of a work the 27 holy opens up as holy, and the god is called into the open of his presence. To dedication belongs celebration as the honoring of the dignity and glory of the god. Dignity and glory are not external properties beside and behind which the god stands, but rather in this dignity, in this glory, the god is present. In the reflection of this glory, there glows, i.e. there clears itself what we name the world. "To e-rect," in German "er-richten," says: to open the right (das Rechte)21 in the sense of the long and guiding measure, as which the essential gives direction. But why is this setting-up of the work an erecting that consecrates and celebrates? Because the work in its being-work (in seinem Werksein) demands it. How does the work come to demand such a setting-up? Because the work itself in its being-work (in seinem Werksein) is setting-up. What does the work as a work set-up? Towering up in itself the work opens up a world and holds it in its abiding sway. Being-work is: Setting-up a world. But what is that, a world? It was indicated in our pointing to the temple. The essence of world only lets itself be shown on the path that we must walk here. Even this showing limits itself to warding off what might lead an essential gaze to err. World is not the mere collection of countable or uncountable, known or unknown things lying at hand before us. But the world is also not just an imagined framework represented and added to the sum of what is at-handbefore-us. World worlds, and is more in being (seiender) than what can be grasped and perceived, the beings among which we believe ourselves to be at home. The world is never an object-standing-against before us and capable of being seen. World is the always non-objective, never standing-against-us, that we understand22 as long as the paths of birth and death, blessing and curse, hold us transported in being (in das Sein). Wherever the essential decisions of our Geschichte fall, are taken up and abandoned by us, are ignored or questioned 21 The Latin verb regere, from which derive the various English forms of "rect," and the German richten, which stems from the same ancient root, signify pointing the way, giving order, setting right. From the same origin comes das Rechte, a substantive formed from the adjective recht, which means right, fitting, just, lawful. The more common substantive das Recht signifies law in its higher sense as what is right, as distinguished from Gesetz, i.e. law in the sense of positive law, law that proceeds from a "posing," Setzen, by some official enactment. 22 The German reads: "dem wir unterstehen." Unterstehen is to stand under, but it is also the same as "to understand," and is still so used most commonly in the reflexive form. The English word is here split and hyphenated in order to bring out its spatial signification, which otherwise would remain unnoticed. 28 again, there the world worlds. The [34] stone is worldless. Plants and animals have likewise no world, but they belong to the veiled pressure of an environment in which they hang. In contrast, the peasant woman has a world, because she abides in the open of beings (des Seienden). The tool in its reliability gives to this world a necessity and nearness of its own. In that a world opens itself, all things receive their while and haste, their remoteness and nearness, their breadth and tightness. In worlding is gathered that spaciousness, out of which the saving (bewahrende) grace of the gods grants or denies itself. Even the doom of the continued absence of the god is a way in which the world worlds. In that a work is a work, it opens the space (einräumen) of that spaciousness (Geräumigkeit). To open a space signifies here at once: to free (freigeben) the free (das Freie) of the open, and to institute (einrichten) this freedom in its gathered traits (Gezüge). This instituting (Ein-richten) west out of the erecting (Er-richten) of the work, as named above. The work as work sets-up a world. The work holds open the open of the world. But the setting-up of a world is only one of the essential traits, here to be named, in the being-work (im Werksein) of the work. The other, which belongs with the first, we shall attempt to make visible in the same way from the foreground aspects of the work. If a work has been brought-forth (hervorgebracht) from out of this or that stuff — stone, wood, metal, color, speech, tone — one says that the work is set-forth (hergestellt) from out of it. But just as the work demands a setting-up in the sense of an erecting that dedicates and celebrates, because the being-work (das Werksein) of the work consists in the setting-up of a world, so the setting-forth (Herstellung) becomes needed because the being-work (das Werksein) of the work itself has the character of a setting-forth. The work as work is in its essence setting-forth. But what does the work set-forth? We first experience this, if we go after the foreground aspects of what is commonly called the setting-forth of works. To being-work (zum Werksein) belongs the setting-up of a world. Of what essence, thought from within the horizon of this determination, is what in the work is usually called its stuff? Because it is determined through serviceability and usability, the tool takes that of which it consists, its stuff, into its service. In the making of the tool, e. g. the axe, stone is [35] used and used up. It vanishes in 29 its serviceability. The stuff is all the better and more suitable, the less it resists going down into the being-tool of the tool. The temple-work, by contrast, in that it sets up a world, does not let its stuff vanish, but rather lets it first come-forth indeed in the open of the world of the work: The rock comes to support and rest and so first becomes rock; metals come to sparkle and shimmer, colors to glow, the tone to ring, the word to say. All this comes-forth in that the work sets itself back into the massiveness and gravity of the stone, into the strength and suppleness of the wood, into the hardness and lustre of brass, into the glowing and darkening of color, into the ringing of tone, and into the naming power of the word. That into which the work sets itself back, and which the work, in setting itself back, lets come-forth, we have named the earth. She is what comes-forth and shelters (hervorkommend-Bergende). The earth is the effortless and untiring, forcedto-nothing. On the earth and in her, the geschichtliche man grounds his dwelling in the world. In that the work sets-up a world, it sets-forth the earth. The setting forth is here to be thought in the strict sense of the word. The work rocks and holds the earth itself into the open of a world. The work lets the earth be an earth. But why must this setting-forth of the earth happen in such a way that the work sets itself back into her? What is the earth, that she reaches into the unconcealed precisely in such a way? The stone weighs down and announces its heaviness. But while this heaviness presses upon us, it denies itself at once to every intrusion into it. If we attempt to intrude by breaking the rock, then in its pieces, it still never shows an inner and open core. At once the stone has pulled itself back again into the same dullness of the heaviness and massiveness of its pieces. If we attempt to grasp this heaviness in another way by laying the stone on a scale, then we bring the heaviness only in the calculation of a weight. This perhaps quite exact determination of the stone remains a number, but the heaviness has pulled itself away from us. The color glows and will only glow. If we split it up by rationally (verständig) [36] measuring the wavelengths, it is gone. It shows itself only when it remains un-unconcealed (unentborgen) and unexplained (unerklärt). The earth lets every intrusion into her shatter upon herself. She lets every purely calculating importunity transform itself into destruction. This destruction may carry before itself the semblance of mastery and progress in the Gestalt of the technical-scientific objectification of nature, but 30 this mastery remains nevertheless an impotence of the will. Openly cleared as she herself, the earth appears only where she is kept in trust (gewahrt und bewahrt)23 as the essentially undisclosable, that retreats back before every disclosing, i. e. constantly holds itself occluded. All things of the earth, and she herself as a whole, flow together in a mutual accord. But this flowing together is no effacement. Here flows, rested within itself, the flow of the delimitation that confines everything present within its presence. Thus there is in each of the selfoccluding things the same not-knowing-itself. The earth is the essentially selfoccluding. To set-forth the earth is to bring her into the open as the selfoccluding. The work accomplishes this setting-forth of the earth in that it sets itself back into the earth. The self-occluding of the earth, however, is no uniform, rigid, remaining under cover, but rather it unfolds itself in an inexhaustible abundance of simple ways and Gestalten. Of course, the sculptor uses stone just as the mason handles it in his own way. However, he does not use up the stone. That happens in certain ways only where the work miscarries. Of course, the painter also uses pigment, yet in such a way that the color is not used up, but rather first comes to glow. Of course, the poet also uses the word, yet not as ordinary speakers and writers who must use up the words, but rather so that the word first becomes and remains truly a word. Nowhere in the work west any work-stuff. It even remains doubtful whether, given the essential determination of the tool, that of which the tool consists can be met in its tool-like essence by designating it as stuff. The setting-up of a world and the setting-forth of the earth are two essential traits in the being-work (des Werkseins) of the work. But they belong [37] together in the unity of being-work. We seek this unity when we attempt to think through the standing-within-itself of the work, and to say the closed and unified repose of its resting-upon-itself. 23 Wahren and bewahren ordinarily signify: to keep, to protect, to preserve. Heidegger underscores their connection with wahr and Wahrheit, the words for "true" and "truth." A similar relation occurs in English between truth and trust. Hence our translation: to keep-in-trust. (There may well be no etymological connection between wahren and wahr in the sense of "true.") 31 With the essential traits named above, if pertinent at all, what we have made discernible in the work is rather a happening and in no way a rest; for what is rest, if not the opposite of moving (Bewegung)? It is nonetheless no opposite that excludes moving from itself; rather it includes moving. Only what moves can rest. The manner of rest accords in every case with the kind of moving. In motion as mere change in the location of a body, rest is only the limit-case of moving. If rest includes moving, then there can be a rest that is an inner gathering of moving, and thus the highest kind of being-moved (Bewegtheit), if we suppose that this kind of moving requires such a rest. Of this kind indeed is the rest of the work as it rests within itself. We come nearer to this rest, therefore, when we succeed in grasping in its unity the being-moved (Bewegtheit) of the happening in being-work (im Werksein). We ask: what relation do the setting-up of a world and the setting-forth of the earth show in the work itself? The world is the self-opening openness of the wide paths of the simple and essential decisions in the destiny (Geschick) of a geschichtlichen people. The earth is the coming-forth, forced-to-nothing, of the steadily self-occluding and so sheltering (Bergenden). World and earth are essentially different from one another and yet never separated. The world grounds itself on earth, and earth towers up through the world. But the relation between earth and world in no way shrivels up into the empty unity of mutually indifferent opposites. The world in its resting upon the earth strives to rise above her. As the self-opening, it tolerates nothing occluded. The earth, however, as the sheltering (die Bergende), inclines always to pull the world back into herself and to hold it there. The counterposition of world and earth is a strife. We all too easily falsify the essence of the strife in that we throw it together with dissension and quarrel, and therefore only know it as disturbance and destruction. [38] In essential strife, however, the striving opponents elevate each other in the self-assertion of their essential selves. This self-assertion of one's essence is, however, never an obstinate insistence upon a contingent state, but rather consists in giving oneself over to the concealed originality of the provenance of one’s own being (des eigenen Seins). In the strife each carries the other out of and beyond itself. Thus the strife becomes ever more a strife and more properly what it is. The harder the strife by itself intensifies, the more unyieldingly the striving opponents release themselves to the inner fervor (Innigkeit) of their simple mutual belonging. The 32 earth cannot do without the open of the world, if she herself is to appear as earth in the liberated pressure of its self-occlusion. The world, again, cannot soar away from the earth if, as the swaying breadth and path of all essential destiny, it is to ground itself upon a decision. In that the work sets-up a world and sets-forth the earth, it is an instigation of this strife. But this does not happen so that the work at once put down and settle the strife in a stale agreement, but rather so that the strife remain a strife. Settingup a world and setting-forth the earth, the work brings the strife to its fullness. The being-work (das Werksein) of the work consists in the striving of the strife between world and earth. Since the strife comes to its highest in the simplicity of its inner fervor, then it is in the striving of the strife that the unity of the work happens. The striving of the strife is the steadily self-intensified gathering of the being-moved (Bewegtheit) of the work. Hence it is in the inner fervor of the strife that lies the essence of the rest of the work as it rests within itself. First and only from out of the rest of the work can we see what is at work in the work. Until now it has remained still only a preconceived assertion that in the artwork truth is set to work. In what way does truth happen in the being-work (im Werksein) of the work, that is to say now: In what way does truth happen in the striving of the strife of world and earth? What is truth? How scant and dull our knowledge of the essence of truth is, is shown by the carelessness with which we abandon ourselves to the use of this ground-word. By truth, one means mostly this or that truth. That signifies: [39] something true. Of this kind can be a cognition that speaks itself out in a proposition. But we call true not only a proposition, but also a thing, such as true gold as distinguished from semblant-gold. True says here as much as genuine, actual gold. What is meant here by this talk of actual? As actual we hold what in truth is. True is what corresponds to the actual, and actual is what in truth is. The circle has closed itself again. What does “in truth” say? Truth is the essence of the true. Of what do we think when we say essence? As essence holds ordinarily the common, in which all that is true comes to be one. Essence gives itself in the concept of kind or of the universal, which represents the one that holds for the many. This equally valid 33 essence, Wesen, (die Wesenheit, in the sense of essentia)24 is, however, only the inessential essence, das unwesentliche Wesen. In what does the essential essence, das wesentliche Wesen, of something consist? Presumably it rests in what the being (das Seiende) in truth is. The true essence of a thing determines itself out of the thing's true being (Sein), out of the truth of the being ( des Seienden) in question. But we are seeking now not the truth of essence, but rather the essence of truth. A remarkable entanglement shows itself. Is it only something remarkable, or indeed only the empty sharpness of a conceptual game, or is it -- an abyss? Truth means essence of the true. We think it from remembering the word of the Greeks. ÉAlÆyeia names the unconcealedness of beings (des Seienden). But is this already a determination of the essence of truth? Have we not offered a mere change of word-usage -- unconcealedness instead of truth -- as a characterization of the thing? Certainly it remains a change of names, as long as we do not experience what must have happened, in order that it become needed to say the essence of truth in the word "unconcealedness." Is a renewal of Greek philosophy necessary for that purpose? By no means. A renewal, even if this impossible thing were possible, would not help us; for the concealed Geschichte of Greek philosophy consists since its inception in this, that it does not stay under the measure of the essence of truth that lights up in the word élÆyeia, [40] and that it has to mis-lay its knowing and saying of the essence of truth more and more in the discussion of a derivative essence of truth. The essence of truth as élÆyeia remains unthought in the thinking of the Greeks and even more so in the philosophy that came after. Unconcealedness is what is most concealed to thinking in Greek existence, and yet at the same time what from early on determines all presence of the present. Yet why do we not let things follow their course with the essence of truth, which in the meantime has for centuries been familiar? Truth signifies today, and has long since, the agreement of knowledge and thing (Sache). However, in order for knowledge, and the proposition that forms and says what is known, to be able to tailor itself to the thing, in order to this end that the thing itself be able to become binding for the proposition, the thing must show itself as such a thing. How is it 24 The parenthesis is Heidegger's. 34 to show itself, if it itself cannot stand forth out of concealedness, if it itself cannot stand in the unconcealed? The proposition is true in that it directs itself according to the unconcealed, i. e. according to the true. The truth of a proposition is always, and always only this correctness. The critical concepts of truth, which since Descartes start out from truth as certainty, are only variations of the determination of truth as correctness. This to us familiar essence of truth, the correctness of representation, stands or falls with truth as the unconcealedness of beings (des Seienden). If here and elsewhere we conceive truth as unconcealedness, we are not just fleeing into a more literal translation of a Greek word. We are reminding ourselves of what lies at the ground of the familiar and therefore misused essence of truth in the sense of correctness, as something inexperienced and unthought. One brings oneself sometimes to admit that naturally we must, in order to conceive and show the correctness (truth)25 of a proposition, go back to something that is already manifest. This presupposition is indeed not to be avoided. But as long as we talk and opine in this way, we understand truth always only as correctness, which to be sure still needs a presupposition that we ourselves -- heaven knows how and why -- [41] now for once make. But it is not we who presuppose (voraus-setzen) the unconcealedness of beings, rather the unconcealedness of beings (des Seienden) (being, das Sein)26 transposes (versetzt) us into such an essence, that in our representing we always stay posed into this unconcealedness and after it (ein- und nach-gesetzt). Not only must that in accordance with which a cognition directs itself be already in some way unconcealed, but also the whole domain in which this “directing oneself in accordance with something” moves itself, and even also that for which a tailoring of the proposition to the thing becomes manifest, must play itself out as a whole already in unconcealedness. We would be nothing with all our correct representations, we could also not even once presuppose that there is already something manifest in accordance with which we direct ourselves, if the unconcealedness of beings (des Seienden) had not already exposed us in that 25 26 This parenthesis is Heidegger's. This parenthesis is Heidegger's. 35 cleared space in which all being (alles Seiende) stands up for us, and from which it pulls itself back. But how does this go on? How does truth happen as this unconcealedness? Before getting to this question, however, we are to say still more clearly, what this unconcealedness itself is. Things are, and men, gifts and offerings are, animals and plants are, tool and work are. Beings (das Seiende) stand in being (im Sein). Through being (das Sein) passes a veiled doom that hangs between the godly and the countergodly. Much of what is, man cannot master. Only little comes to be known. What is known remains imprecise, what is mastered insecure. Never are beings (das Seiende), as might all too easily seem, products of our making or indeed of our representation. If we think through this totality as one, then we conceive, so it seems, all that altogether is, although we grasp it roughly enough. And yet: over and beyond being (das Seiende), not away from it, but rather before it, happens still something else. In the midst of being in its totality (des Seienden im Ganzen), west an open place (Stelle). A clearing is. It is, thought from out of being (vom Seienden her), more-being (seiender) than being (das Seiende). This open middle is not surrounded by being (vom Seienden), rather the clearing middle itself encircles all being (alles Seiende), like the nothing that we hardly know. Being (das Seiende) can only be as being (als Seiende) if it [42] stands up and stands out in the cleared space of this clearing. Only this clearing grants and guards for us men a through-way to the being (zum Seienden) that we ourselves are not, and the way-to the being (zu dem Seienden) that we ourselves are. Thanks to this clearing being (das Seiende) is unconcealed in certain and changing measures. But even concealed can being (das Seiende) be only in the play-space of the cleared. Every being (jegliches Seiende) that comes against us or encounters with us, holds on to this strange againstness of presence, in that it at once always holds itself back into a concealedness. The clearing in which being (das Seiende) stands up, is in itself at the same time concealment. But concealment sways in the midst of being (des Seienden) in a dual way. 36 Beings (Seiendes) deny themselves to us down to that one and seemingly smallest that we best meet when we can say of a being (vom Seienden) still only that it is. This concealment, as denial, is not first and only what at any time defines the limit of knowledge, rather it is the inception of the clearing of the cleared. But concealment is at the same time also, admittedly of another kind, within the cleared space. A being (Seiendes) shoves itself before another being (Seiendes), one veils the other, this one darkens that, a few block up many, an isolated one disavows all. Here the concealment is not simple denial, but: Although the being (das Seiende) appears, it gives itself for other than it is. This concealing is a misplacing (Verstellen). If beings (Seiendes) did not misplace other beings (Seiendes), then we could not mislead ourselves in our seeing or doing about them, we could not run astray or transgress, or above all mismeasure ourselves. That beings (das Seiende) can deceive by semblance is the condition for our ability to deceive ourselves, not the other way around. Concealment can be a denial or only a misplacement. We never have precisely the certainty whether it is the one or the other. The concealment conceals and misplaces itself. That is to say: the open place in the midst of being (des Seienden), the clearing, is never a fixed stage with a constantly drawn up curtain, on which the play of being (des Seienden) plays itself out. Rather the clearing happens only as this dual concealment. The unconcealedness of being (des Seienden) is never a condition that just lies at hand before us, rather it is a happening. Unconcealedness [43] (truth)27 is neither a property of things in the sense of being (des Seienden), nor a property of propositions. In the nearest circle of being (des Seienden), we believe ourselves to be at home. Beings (das Seiende) are familiar, reliable, ordinary. And yet, through the clearing, there extends a constant concealment in the dual form of denial and misplacement. The ordinary is at bottom not ordinary; it is extraordinary. The essence of truth, i. e. unconcealedness, is ruled throughout by a refusal. This refusal is, however, no want or fault, as if truth were idly an unconcealedness that has rid itself of all that was concealed. If it could do so, then it would no longer be itself. To the essence of truth as unconcealedness, belongs this refusal in the 27 This parenthesis is Heidegger's. 37 manner of dual concealment. Truth is, in its essence, un-truth. Let it be so said, in order to stress with a perhaps unsettling sharpness, that to unconcealedness as clearing belongs refusal in the manner of concealment. The proposition: The essence of truth is un-truth, is not meant to say that truth is at bottom falsehood. Just as little does the statement mean that truth is never itself, but rather is, dialectically represented, always also its counterpart. Truth west as itself, insofar as concealing refusal, as denial, first metes out to all clearing its constant provenance, and yet as misplacement, metes out to all clearing the unceasing sharpness of its bringing-to-err. By this concealing refusal is to be named the counter-movement in the essence of truth, which persists in the essence of truth between clearing and concealing. It is the against-oneanother of the original strife. The essence of truth is in itself the primordial strife in which the open middle is striven, within which being (das Seiende) stands up, and from out of which it sets itself back into itself. This open happens in the midst of being (des Seienden). It shows an essential trait that we have already named. To the open belong a world and the earth. But the world is not simply the open that corresponds to clearing, and the earth is not simply the occluded that corresponds to concealment. Rather, the world is the clearing of the paths of the essential directions, in which [44] all deciding joins itself. But each decision grounds itself upon something unmastered, concealed, bringing-to-err, otherwise it would not be a decision. The earth is not simply the occluded, but rather what arises as the self-occluding. World and earth are each in itself, in accordance with its essence, in strife and strife-like. Only as such do they step into the strife of clearing and concealment. Earth towers through the world, world grounds itself on earth, only insofar as truth happens as the primordial strife of clearing and concealment. But how does truth happen? We answer: It happens in a few essential ways. One of the ways truth happens is the being-work (das Werksein) of the work. Setting-up a world and setting-forth the earth, the work is the striving of the strife in which the unconcealedness of being in it totality (des Seienden im Ganzen), truth, is striven. In the standing-there of the temple, truth happens. This does not mean that something would be correctly represented and rendered back, but rather that 38 being in its totality (das Seiende im Ganzen) is brought into unconcealedness and held in it. To hold, halten, is originally to heed, hüten. In Van Gogh’s painting, truth happens. This does not mean that here something at-hand-before-us would be correctly depicted, but rather that in the becoming-manifest of the being-tool (des Zeugseins) of the shoe-tool, being in its totality (das Seiende im Ganzen), world and earth in their counterplay, attain to unconcealedness. In the work truth is at work, thus not only something true. The picture that shows the peasant shoes, the poem that says the Roman fountain, do not only make evident what this isolated being (Seiende) is as this being, if they make evident at all; rather, they let unconcealedness as such happen in relation to being in its totality (das Seiende im Ganzen). The more simply and more essentially only the shoe-tool, the more unadorned and the more purely only the fountain arise in their essence, the more immediately and captivatingly does all being (alles Seiende) with them become more-being (seiender). In this way self-concealing being (das Sein) is cleared. The light so formed joins its shining in the work. This shining (das Scheinen) joined in the work is the beautiful (das Schöne). Beauty (Schönheit) is one way in which truth as unconcealedness west. Now indeed the essence of truth is in some respects more clearly conceived. Consequently, it may have become clearer [45] what in the work is at work. Only, the now visible being-work (das Werksein) of the work persists in saying to us still nothing about the nearest and most pressing actuality of the work, about the thingly part of the work. It even almost appears as though we had, in the exclusive intention to grasp the standing-within-itself of the work itself as purely as possible, completely overlooked this one point: that a work is always a work, that is to say, something that has been worked out. If anything marks out the work as work, then this holds of the being-created (Geschaffensein) of the work. Insofar as the work is created, and the creating (schaffen) requires a medium out of which and in which it creates, the thingly part also comes into the work. That is indisputable. Only, the question still remains: How does being-created belong to the work? This lets itself be elucidated only if a double question is clarified: 1. What are here being-created (Geschaffensein) and creation in distinction from finishing and being-finished (Angefertigtsein)? 39 2. What is the inmost essence of the work itself, out of which alone it first lets itself be measured how far being-created (das Geschaffensein) belongs to the work, and to what extent this being-created determines the being-work (das Werksein) of the work. Creation is here always thought in relation to the work. To the essence of the work belongs the happening of truth. We determine the essence of creation from the outset from out of its relation to the essence of truth as the unconcealedness of being (des Seienden). The belonging of being-created (des Geschaffenseins) to the work can only be set in light out of a still more original clarification of the essence of truth. The question of truth and its essence returns. We must still once more ask the question, if the proposition that in the work truth is at work, is not to remain a mere assertion. We must now first ask more essentially: To what extent lies there in the essence of truth a pull towards the like of a work? Of what essence is truth, that it can be set to work, or under determinate conditions even must be set to work, in order to be as truth? The setting-to-work of truth, however, we have defined [46] as the essence of art. The last question is therefore to be put this way: What is truth, that it can or even must happen as art? To what extent gibt es art? 40 Truth and Art The origin of artwork and artist is art. Origin is the provenance of the essence in which the being of a being (das Sein eines Seienden) west. What is art? We seek its essence in the actual work. The actuality (Wirklichkeit)28 of the work has determined itself from out of what is at work in the work, from out of the happening of truth. This happening we think as the striving of the strife between world and earth. In the gathered movement of this striving, west rest. Here grounds the resting-within-itself of the work. In the work the happening of truth is at work. But what is so at work is so in the work. Hence, the actual work has here already been presupposed as the bearer of this happening. At once stands again before us the question of the thingness of the work at-hand-before-us. Thus finally one point becomes clear: however eagerly we inquire after the standing-within-itself of the work, we still miss its actuality as long as we do not understand ourselves to take the work as something worked-out (ein Gewirktes). To take it so lies nearest; for in the word "work" we hear the worked-out (das Gewirkte). The workly aspect of the work consists in its being-created (seinem Geschaffensein) by the artist. It may appear like a wonder, that this nearest-lying and all clarifying determination of the work is first named only now. But the being-created (das Geschaffensein) of the work manifestly lets itself be conceived only from out of the process of creation. So we must, compelled by the matter, understand ourselves to enter into the activity of the artist, in order to meet with the origin of the artwork. The attempt to determine the being-work (das Werksein) of the work purely out of it itself, proves incapable of being carried through. If we now turn ourselves away from the work and [47] go after the essence of creation, we still want to keep in mind what was said first of the painting of the peasant shoes and then of the Greek temple. 28 The common root of Wirklich and Werk is lost in English. In German, actuality would have to be rendered by Tätigkeit, but Wirklichkeit returns to the Greek origin of actualitas, namely Aristotle's §n°rgeia. 41 Creation we think as a bringing-forth. But a bringing-forth is also the making of the tool. Handwork (Hand-werk), a remarkable play of language, creates no works, not even if we distinguish, as is needed, the hand-made product from factoryware. Through what, however, does bringing-forth as creating distinguish itself from bringing-forth in the manner of finishing? As easy it is, following the words, to hold apart from each other the creation of works and the making of tools, it is as difficult to follow through both ways of bringing-forth in their own essential traits. Following the nearest appearance, we find the same comportment in the activity of the potter and the sculptor, of the cabinet-maker and the painter. The creation of a work demands of itself handworkly doing. Great artists treasure handworkly skill most highly. They first require its careful nursing from out of full mastery. They above all others take pains to form themselves ever anew and thoroughly in handwork. Often enough have people already pointed out that the Greeks, who understood something of works of art, use the same word t°xnh for handwork and art, and name the handworker and the artist by the same name texn€thw. Therefore it seems advisable to determine the essence of creation from out of its handworkly side. Only, the reference to the linguistic usage of the Greeks, which names their experience of the matter, must make us think further. However usual and enlightening the reference to the Greeks' careful naming of handwork and art with the same word t°xnh may be, it remains distorted and superficial; for t°xnh signifies neither handwork nor art, and above all not the technical in today’s sense; never at all does it mean a kind of practical performance. The word t°xnh names rather a way of knowing. To know is: to have seen, in the wide sense of seeing [48] that says: to perceive what is present as present. The essence of knowing rests, for Greek thinking, in élÆyeia, i. e. in the unconcealment of being (des Seienden). This bears and leads every comportment toward being (zum Seienden). T°xnh, as knowledge experienced in the Greek way, is a bringing-forth of beings (des Seienden), insofar as it brings what is present as such out of concealedness properly into the unconcealedness of its outer look to the fore; t°xnh never signifies the activity of a making. The artist is therefore a texn€thw not because he also is a handworker, but rather because the setting-forth of works, as well as the setting-forth of tools, happens 42 in a bringing-forth that from the outset lets beings come-to-the-fore from out of their outer look into their presence. This all happens, however, amidst the beings (des Seienden) that arise growing-of-their-own, fÊsiw. The naming of art as t°xnh in no way speaks for the point that the doing of the artist is experienced from out of the handworkly. What in creating-a-work looks like handworkly finishing, is of another kind. This doing is determined through and through from out of the essence of creation, and remains also contained in it. With what guiding thread, if not with handwork, are we then to think the essence of creation? How else than by looking at what is to-be-created, at the work? Although the work first becomes actual in the fulfillment of creation and thus in its actuality depends upon the latter, the essence of creation is determined by the essence of the work. Even if the being-created (das Geschaffensein) of the work has a relation to creation, still being-created (das Geschaffensein) as well as creation must be determined from out of the being-work (aus dem Werksein) of the work. Now it can no longer make us wonder, why we at first and for long dealt only with the work, in order only last to bring into view its being-created (das Geschaffensein). If being-created (das Geschaffensein) belongs to the work as essentially as resounds out of the word "work," then we must seek to understand still more essentially what has until now let itself be determined as the beingwork (das Werksein) of the work. By looking at the already attained definition of the essence of [49] work, according to which in the work a happening of truth is at work, we can characterize creation as letting-go-forth in something-brought-forth (das Hervorgehenlassen in ein Hervorgebrachtes). The becoming-work of the work is a way of the becoming and happening of truth. In the essence of truth lies all. But what is truth, that it must happen in the like of a created something? To what extent does truth have from out of the ground of its essence a pull toward work? Does this pull let itself be conceived from out of the essence of truth as so far clarified? Truth is un-truth insofar as to it belongs the domain of provenance of the not-yet (of the un)unconcealed29 in the sense of concealment. In un-concealedness, as 29 The parenthesis is Heidegger's. 43 truth, west at the same time the other "un-" of a dual hindering. Truth west as such in the against-one-another of clearing and dual concealment. Truth is the primordial strife, in which in some way the open is striven, into which all stands up, and out of which all holds itself back, namely all that shows itself and withdraws as a being (als Seiendes). When and how ever this strife breaks out and happens, through it the striving ones, clearing and concealment, step apart. So is the open of the space of strife striven. The openness of this open, i. e. truth, can only be what it is, namely this openness, if and as long as it institutes itself in its open. Therefore there must in this open be a being (ein Seiendes), in which the openness takes its stand and its steadiness. In that openness besets the open, the former holds the latter open and stays it. Setting and besetting (Setzen und Besetzen) are here above all thought from out of the Greek sense of y°siw, which means a setting-up in the unconcealed. In pointing to the self-institution of openness in the open, thinking touches upon a range of matters, that here cannot yet be disentangled. Only this is to be noted, that if the essence of the unconcealedness of being (des Seienden) itself in some way belongs to being itself (zum Sein selbst) (compare Sein ubd Zeit, §44),30 then being (das Sein), from out of its own essence, lets the play-space of openness (the clearing of the there)31 happen and brings-in this play-space as that in which every being (jegliches Seiende) arises in its own way. Truth only happens in such a way that she institutes herself in the strife and play-space that opens itself through truth herself. Because truth is the countermovement of clearing and concealment, to truth belongs what is called here its institution. [50] But truth does not beforehand lie at hand in herself somewhere among the stars, in order then afterwards to bring herself down somewhere else among beings (im Seienden). This is impossible already because first and only the openness of being (des Seienden) grants the possibility of a somewhere and of a station filled with present beings (von Anwesenden). Clearing of openness and institution in the open belong together. They are the same one essence of the happening of truth. This happening (geschehen) is in many ways geschichtlich. 30 This parenthesis is Heidegger's. This parenthesis is Heidegger's. The Da rendered here as "there" signifies, in the terminology of Sein und Zeit, the "there" of "being-there," Da-sein, in the sense of "being the there," the name by which Heidegger designates the essence of man. 31 44 One essential way in which truth institutes herself among the beings (in dem Seienden) she opens up, is the setting-herself-to-work of truth. Another way in which truth west, is the deed that grounds a state. Again another way in which truth comes to light, is the nearness of what is not simply a being (ein Seiendes), but rather the most-being (Seiendste) of all beings (des Seienden). Still another way in which truth grounds herself, is the essential offering. Still another way in which truth becomes, is the asking of the thinker, which, as the thinking of being (des Seins), names it in its worthiness-to-be-asked. By contrast, science is no original happening of truth, but rather in every case the cultivation of an already open domain of truth, namely by conceiving and grounding what shows itself to be possibly and necessarily correct within its circle. When and insofar as a science comes over and beyond the correct to a truth, i. e. to an essential unveiling of being as such (des Seienden als solchen), it is philosophy. Because it belongs to the essence of truth to institute herself in being (in das Seiende), in order so first to become truth, therefore lies in the essence of truth a pull to work as a distinctive possibility that truth herself has to be being (seiend) in the midst of beings (des Seienden). The institution of truth in the work is the bringing-forth of such a being (eines solchen Seienden) as before then was not yet, and afterwards will be never more. The bringing-forth sets this being (dieses Seiende) in the open in such a way that what-is-to-be-brought first clears the opening of the open in which it comesforth. Where the bringing-forth properly brings the openness of being (des Seienden), namely truth, what-is-brought-forth is a work. [51] Such a bringingforth is creation. As this bringing, it is rather a receiving and accepting within the relation to unconcealedness. In what then would it follow that being-created (das Geschaffensein) consists? This may be clarified by two essential determinations. Truth erects itself in the work. Truth west only as the strife between clearing and concealment in the counter-movement of world and earth. Truth wills to be erected as this strife of earth and world in the work. The strife is not to be removed in a being (in einem Seienden) properly so to-be-brought-forth, also not merely accommodated in it, but rather the strife is to be opened up from out of it. This being (dieses Seiende) must therefore have in itself the essential traits of the 45 strife. In the strife the unity of world and earth is striven. In that a world opens itself, it puts to a geschichtlichen mankind victory and defeat, blessing and curse, lordship and servitude, for decision. The arising world brings the still undecided and measureless to shine forth, and so opens up the concealed necessity of measure and decidedness. But in that a world opens itself, the earth comes to tower. She shows herself as the all bearing, sheltered (Geborgene) in her law (Gesetz) and constantly selfoccluding. World demands its decidedness and its measure and lets being (das Seiende) reach into the open of its paths. Earth, bearing and towering up, seeks to hold herself closed and to entrust all to her law. The strife is no drawing-apart (Riß)32 like the drawing-that-breaks-up (aufreißen) a mere cleft, rather the strife is the inner fervor of the belonging together of the striving ones. This drawingapart draws the opponents together (zusammen-reißen) into the provenance of their unity out of the one unifying ground. It is a ground-drawing (Grundriß). It is a drawing-up (Auf-riß) that marks the ground-traits of the rising-up of the clearing of beings (des Seienden). This drawing-apart does not let the opponents burst apart from one another, it brings their countermovement by measure and limit into the one unifying contour-drawing (Umriß). Truth institutes itself as strife in a being (ein Seiendes) to-be-brought-forth, only in such a way that the strife opens up in this being (diesem Seienden), i. e. that this being itself is brought into the drawing-apart. The drawing-apart is the unified whole-of-the-traits (Gezüge) of drawing-up and ground-drawing, drawing-across and contour-drawing. Truth institutes itself in being (im Seienden), in such a way [52] indeed that this (Seiende) itself besets the open of truth. But this besetting can happen only so, that what is to-be-brought-forth, namely the drawing-apart, entrusts itself to the self-occluding that towers in the open. The drawing-apart must set itself back into the pulling heaviness of the stone, into the mute hardness of wood, into the dark glow of colors. In that the earth takes the drawing-apart back into herself, the drawing-apart is first set-forth in the open and thus set (gestellt), i. e. posed (gesetzt), in what towers in the open as the selfoccluding and protecting. 32 This and the following few lines play with various formations of the verb reißen and the substantive Riß, from the same root as the English "to write," and "writ." The root sense seems to be that of drawing, as in drawing a line, and thus drawing apart, separating. 46 The strife brought into the drawing-apart, and thus set-back (zurückgestellt) into the earth, and therewith set-fast (festgestellt), is the Gestalt. The being-created of the work is: the being-set-fast (Festgestelltsein) of truth in the Gestalt. Gestalt is the jointure (Gefüge) as which the drawing-apart joins itself. The drawing-apart so joined is the joining of the shining of truth. What is here called Gestalt is always to be thought from out of that setting, Stellen, and Ge-stell,33 as which the work west, insofar as the work sets itself up and sets itself forth (sich auf- und her-stellt). In the creation of the work, the strife must be set back as drawing-apart in the earth, and the earth herself must be set-forth and used as the self-occluding. This use, however, does not use up or misuse the earth as stuff, rather it frees her first to herself. This use of the earth is a working with her, that, to be sure, looks like the handworkly employment of stuff. Hence stems the appearance that creatinga-work is also a handworkly activity. This it never is. But it always remains a use of the earth in the setting-fast of truth in Gestalt. By contrast, the finishing of a tool is never immediately the effectuation of a happening of truth. The beingfinished (Fertigsein) of the tool is the being-formed (Geformtsein) of some stuff, and indeed as setting-ready for use. The being-finished (Fertigsein) of the tool signifies that the tool is released beyond itself, to rise into serviceability. Not so the being-created (das Geschaffensein) of the work. This becomes clear from a second characteristic that may be introduced here. The being-finished (das Fertigsein) of the tool and the being-created (das Geschaffensein) of the work come to agree with one another in that they make out a being-brought-forth (ein Hervorgebrachtsein). But the being-created (das Geschaffensein) of the work has, over against every other bringing-forth, its particularity in that it is created within and with the created work. [53] But does 33 This key word will be left untranslated. Suffice it here to note that Gestell is to stellen what Gesetz, i.e. law, is to setzen (Heidegger, Identität und Differenz, Pfullingen: Neske, 1957, p. 23). In ordinary usage, Gestell signifies the likes of a stand, a rack, a supporting framework. But Heidegger means nothing of that kind. Heidegger splits the word into its components and joins them back with a hyphen, thus underscoring the root sense of the word: the totality and completeness, ge-, of a setting in place, stellen. Thus it names the being (das Sein) of the work of art, as a being (ein Seiendes) that requires to be gestellt in the ways outlined in this paragraph. See Heidegger's discussion of the word below in the Addendum, and in "The Question Concerning Technique," pp. H 19 ff., where the same word is used in a radically different sense, namely to designate the essence of technique. 47 not this feature obtain in everything that is brought-forth and somehow made to stand? To everything that is brought-forth, if anything, its being-brought-forth (Hervorgebrachtsein) is at once also given. Certainly, but in the work, beingcreated (das Geschaffensein) is properly created within the created work, so that it properly towers forth out of the work, namely out of what is so brought-forth. If it so stands, then we must be able to experience also this being-created (das Geschaffensein) properly in the work. The coming-forth of being-created (des Geschaffenseins) from out of the work does not mean that on the work it should become noticeable that it is made by a great artist. The created work is not to be attested as the feat of some able man, so that the performer of this feat be lifted in public sight. It is not the N.N. fecit that is to be made known, but rather the simple “factum est” is to be held out in the work in the open: This, that an unconcealedness of being (des Seienden) has happened here, and first happens as this having-happened; This, that such a work is and not rather is not. The shock that the work is as this work, and the notinterrupting of this inconspicuous jolt, make out the steadiness of the restingwithin-itself at work in the work. There, where the artist, the process and the circumstances of the production of the work remain unknown, there the jolt, the "that-it-is"34 of the being-created (des Geschaffenseins) breaks-forth most purely out of the work. Of course it belongs also to the disponible tool found in use, "that" it is finished. But this “that-it-is” does not break-forth out of the tool, it vanishes in serviceability. The more handy a tool is to the hand, the more it remains unobtrusive, e. g. that such a hammer is, the more exclusively the tool holds itself in its being-tool (in seinem Zeugsein). We can altogether remark of anything athand-before-us, that it is; but this is also noted only in order to remain just as soon forgotten in accordance with its kind of ordinariness. For what is more ordinary than this, that a being (Seiendes) is? In the work, by contrast, this, that it is as such a work, is the extraordinary. The Ereignis of its being-created (seines Geschaffenseins) does not simply vibrate in the work, rather the work throws its character as Ereignis (das Ereignis-hafte), that the work is as this work, forward 34 Daß , the conjunction, as distinguished from das, the article or pronoun. 48 before itself, and has it constantly thrown about itself.35 The more essentially [54] the work opens itself, the more luminous becomes the uniqueness of this, that it is and not rather is not. The more essentially this shock comes into the open, the stranger and more solitary the work becomes. In the bringing-forth of the work, lies this bringing-there of the “that it be.” The question regarding the being-created (nach dem Geschaffensein) of the work was to have brought us nearer to the workly of the work and thus also to its actuality. Being-created (das Geschaffensein) unveiled itself as the being-set-fast (das Festgestellt-sein) of the strife by the drawing-apart in the Gestalt. Thereby being-created (das Geschaffensein) is itself created properly into the work, and stands in the open as the silent shock of the “that-it-is." But even in being-created (im Geschaffensein), the actuality of the work does not exhaust itself. Quite to the contrary, our look at the essence of the being-created (des Geschaffenseins) of the work puts us in position now fully to take the step towards which all that has been said so far tends. The more solitary the work, set-fast in its Gestalt, stands within itself, the more purely it seems to lose all relations to man, so the more simply the shock that such a work is, breaks into the open, and the more essentially the extraordinary is thrust up, and the until now seemingly ordinary is thrust down. But this manifold thrusting has nothing violent; for the more purely the work itself is transported into the openness of being (des Seienden) which it itself has opened up, so the more simply does it carry us into this openness and thus at once out of the ordinary. To follow this being-carried-away is: To transform the ordinary relations to world and to earth, and forthwith to hold oneself back from all ordinary doing and treasuring, knowing and looking, in order to dwell in the truth happening in the work. Holding back in this dwelling lets what is created first be the work that it is. This: Letting the work be a work, we call the keepingin-trust (Bewahrung) of the work. Only for this keeping-in-trust does the work give itself, in its being-created (in seinem Geschaffen sein), as actual, that is to say now: present as work (das wirkliche, d.h. jetz: werkhaft anwesende). 35 This sentence can be read as saying that the power of Ereignis throws the work before itself; the context makes it apparent that its grammatical subject is the work. 49 As little can a work be without its being created, as essentially does it need creators, as little can the created itself come into being (seiend werden) without its trustees. But if a work does not find its trustees, does not immediately find such men as will correspond to the truth happening in the work, [55] then it is in no way the case that this work would also be a work, but one without trustees. It always remains, if otherwise it is a work, related to its trustees, also and precisely if it is first only waiting for its trustees and awaits and longs for their turn into its truth. Even the forgottenness into which the work can fall is not nothing; it is still a keeping-in-trust. It wastes-and-feeds off the work. The keeping-in-trust of the work is: Standing-within the openness of being (des Seienden) that happens in the work. But the standing-within of keeping-in-trust is a knowing as Wissen. However, knowing as wissen does not consist in merely knowing, as kennen, and representing something.36 He who truly knows (weiß) what is, knows (weiß) what he wills in the midst of being (des Seienden). The willing named here, which neither only applies some knowledge nor concludes before knowing, is thought from out of the ground-experience of thinking in Sein und Zeit. This knowing that remains a willing, and this willing that remains a knowing, is existing man’s ecstatic letting-himself-into the unconcealedness of being (des Seins). The resoluteness (Ent-schlossenheit)37 thought in Sein und Zeit is not the decided action of a subject, but the opening-up of Dasein out of its captivation by beings (im Seienden), to the openness of being (des Seins). Into existence, however, man does not first go from out of an inside into an outside, but rather the essence of existence is the standing-out standingwithin in the essential out-of-one-another of the clearing of being (des Seienden). Neither in the creating named above, nor in the willing now named, do we think 36 A distinction between wisdom and knowledge can be made in English too, but the old English verb that corresponds to the German wissen (Greek efid°nai, to have seen), and which is the root of "wit," "wise," and "wisdom," has not survived in modern English. 37 The separation and hyphen between prefix and verb are meant to point out the root sense of the word. Schließen is to close; the prefix ent- signifies a movement out of, or into a certain condition, here that of being closed. The word is therefore ambiguous, signifying at once "having moved out of closure into the open," and "having moved from open-endedness to closure" in the sense of commitment. The same ambiguity attaches to the English "resolve," which is at once "to release oneself from," and "to tie oneself to." 50 of the performance and action of a subject posing itself (sich selbst setzend) and seeking itself as an end. Willing is the sober resolution of the existing going-over-beyond-itself, that exposes itself (sich aussetzt) into the openness of being (des Seienden) as the latter is set (gesetzt) into work. So does standing-in (Inständigkeit)38 bring itself in the law, i.e. das Gesetz.39 The keeping-in-trust of the work is, as knowing, sober standing-in in the extraordinariness of the truth happening in the work. This knowing that as willing becomes at home in the truth of the work, and only so remains a knowing, does not take the work out of its standing-within-itself, does not drag it into the circle of mere life-experience, and does not debase the work in the role of a stimulant of such life-experience. The keeping-in-trust (Bewahrung) of [56] the work does not individualize men to their life-experiences, but transports them into their belonging to the truth happening (geschehenden) in the work, and thus grounds their being-for-and-with-one-another as the geschichtliche standing-out of Da-sein from out of its relation to unconcealedness. Most important, this knowing in the way of keeping-in-trust is far from mere connoisseurship in matters of taste regarding the formal aspects of the work, its qualities and charms. Knowing as having-seen is a being-decided (Entschiedensein); it is a standing-within in the strife that the work has joined in its drawing-apart. The way of the right keeping-in-trust of the work is first and only created-alongwith and prescribed by the work itself. Keeping-in-trust happens in different grades of knowing, each with a different range, consistency, and clarity. If works 38 "Inständig" is not here used in its ordinary sense of "insistent." "Inständigkeit" is rather used in the same sense as "Existenz" had in Sein und Zeit. Heidegger has now jettisoned the latter word in an attempt to ward off "existentialist" interpretations of his thinking. See his explanation in Die Metaphysik des deutschen Idealismus, Gesamtausgabe Band 49, Frankfurt am Main, Vittorio Klostermann, 1991, p. 54. 39 The last three sentences rest upon a play with the verb setzen, to pose, which cannot be preserved in English. On Gesetz, see above fn. 20 on p. H 33. But here Gesetz cannot have its usual sense of "officially enacted law," namely "positive law." Rather it signifies the gathering of the whole setzen that happens in sich-aussetzen and ins-Werk-setzen; that is "law," to be sure, but in the primordial sense of the Ereignis of the binding of the relation between man and being, which first opens the possibility of Recht. Elsewhere Heidegger writes: "Das Ereignis ist das Gesetz, insofern es die Sterblichen zu ihrem Wesen versammelt und darin hält" (Unterwegs zur Sprache, Neske, 1959, p. 259). On the sense of setzen in the present essay, see the discussion in the Addition, pp. H 67-70. 51 are offered to mere artistic enjoyment, it is not yet proven that they stand as works in their keeping-in-trust. As soon as the thrust into the extraordinary is caught-and-brought down into currency and connoisseurship, the art industry has already begun about the work. Even the careful handing-over of the work to new generations, and scientific attempts to win it back, no longer reach its being-work (das Werksein) itself, but only the remembrance of it. But these also can still offer the work a station from which it shares in shaping Geschichte. The most proper actuality of the work, by contrast, comes to bearing only where the work is kept-in-trust in the truth that happens through the work itself. The actuality of the work is determined in its ground-traits from out of the essence of being-work (des Werkseins). Now we can take up again our introductory question: How does it stand with the thingness of the work that was to guarantee the work's immediate actuality? It stands so, that we now no longer ask the question of the thingness of the work; for as long as we ask after that, we take the work, from the outset to the end, as an object-standing-against at-hand-before-us. In this way we never inquire of and from the work, but rather from out of us. From us who, thereby, do not let the work be a work, but rather represent it as an object-standing-against that is to effect in us some kind of states. [57] But what, in the work taken as object, looks like the thingly in the sense of the current thing-concept, is, experienced from out of the work, the earthly aspect of the work. The earth towers in the work, because the work west as that in which truth is at work, and because truth only west in that it institutes itself in a being (in ein Seiendes). But in the earth as the essentially self-occluding, the openness of the open finds its highest resistance, and therefore the station of its constant stand, wherein the Gestalt must be set-fast. Was it then superfluous to go into the question of the thingness of the thing? In no way. Of course, the workly does not let itself be determined out of the thingly, but then again, out of knowledge of the workly of the work, the question of the thingly of the thing can be brought onto the right way. That is nothing small, if we remember that the ways of thinking common since ancient times overtake the 52 thingness of the thing, and bring to dominance an explication of the totality of being (des Seienden im Ganzen), that remains just as incapable of grasping the essence of tool and work, as it blinds us to the original essence of truth. To determine the thingness of the thing, it suffices neither to look at the bearer of properties, nor at the manifold of the sensuously given in its unity, nor indeed at the stuff-form-jointure represented for itself, whereas it is taken from the toollike. The measure-giving and weight-giving fore-sight for the the explication of the thingness of the thing must go to the belongingness of thing to earth. The essence of the earth, as the forced-to-nothing bearing and self-occluding, uncovers itself, however, only in her towering up in a world, in the countermovement of both earth and world. This strife is set-fast in the Gestalt of the work and becomes manifest through it. What holds for the tool, that we experience the toolness of the tool first properly through the work, holds also for the thingness of the thing. That we never know of the thingly directly, and if at all then only indefinitely, and so need the work, this shows mediately that in the being-work (im Werksein) of the work, [58] the happening of truth, the opening up of being (des Seienden), is at work. But, might we finally object, must not the work for its part, and indeed before and for its becoming created, be brought into a relation to the things of earth, to nature, if indeed it is soundly to rock the thingly into the open? One who must have known, Albrecht Dürer, said these well-known words: “Since in truth art is locked in nature, whoever can draw it out, he has it.”40 To draw, in German reißen, is here to retrieve the drawing-apart and draw this drawing-apart with the drawing-pen on the drawing-board. But at once we bring the counter-question: How is the drawing-apart to be drawn out, if it is not brought out into the open as drawing-apart, i.e. brought out beforehand as the strife of measure and immeasure, by the creating project? Certainly there is locked in nature a drawing-apart, measure, and boundary, and bound thereto a capacity-to-bringforth, art. It is just as certain, however, that this art in nature is first made manifest through the work, because it is originally locked in the work. 40 The source is Albrecht Dürer, Hjerin Sind Begriffen Vier Bücher von menschlicher Proportion, 1528, in Schriften. Tagebücher. Briefe, ed. by Max Steck, Stuttgart, 1961, p. 187. 53 The attention we pay to the actuality of the work is to prepare the ground, so that we may find, in the actual work, art and the essence of art. The question of the essence of art, the way of knowing it, is first to be brought again onto a ground. The answer to the question is, like every genuine answer, only the farthest reach of the last step in a long series of steps of asking. That answer remains in force as an answer only as long as is it is rooted in asking. The actuality of the work has for us, out of the being-work (aus seinem Werksein) of the work, become not only clearer, but also at the same time essentially richer. To the being-created (zum Geschaffensein) of the work belong just as essentially as the creators also the trustees. But the work is what makes possible its creators in their essence, and what from out of its essence needs its trustees. If art is the origin (der Ursprung) of the work, then this says that art lets what essentially belongs-together in the work, creator and trustee, spring up (entspringen) in the essence of the work. But what is art itself, that we can with right name it an origin? [59] In the work the happening of truth is at work, and indeed at work according to the way of a work. Accordingly, the essence of art was in advance determined as the setting-to-work of truth. However, this determination is consciously ambiguous. It says for once: art is the setting-fast of self-instituting truth in the Gestalt. That happens in creation as the bringing-forth of the unconcealedness of being (des Seienden). But setting-to-work is at the same time: the bringing of being-work (des Werkseins) into movement and happening. This happens as keeping-in-trust. Thus art is: the creating keeping-in-trust of truth in the work. Then art is a becoming and happening of truth. Then does truth arise out of nothing? It does indeed if by nothing is meant the mere not of beings (des Seienden), and if beings (das Seiende) are represented as the ordinarily at-hand-before-us, which thereafter through the standing-there of the work comes to light as only purportedly true beings (das wahre Seiende), and is shattered. From the at-handbefore-us and the ordinary, truth can never be read. Rather the opening-up of the open and the clearing of being (des Seienden) happen only in that the openness arriving in thrownness (Geworfenheit) is projected (entworfen).41 41 This sentence and the following paragraph rest upon plays with formations of werfen, to throw, that can only partly be preserved in English. The English "project," from the latin pro-jacere, 54 Truth, as the clearing and concealing of being (des Seinden), happens in that it is gedichtet.42 All art, as letting-happen the advent of the truth of beings as such (des Seienden als eines solchen), is in its essence Dichtung. The essence of art, in which the artwork and the artist at once rest, is the setting-itself-to-work of truth. Out of the dichtend essence of art, it happens that art breaks-open in the midst of beings (des Seienden) an open place, in the openness of which all is other than formerly. By force of what, set to work, projects (Entwurf) the unconcealedness of being (des Seienden), which in turn throws-itself-to (sich zu-werfende) us, all the ordinary and hitherto turns through the work into unbeing (das Unseiende). This unbeing has lost the ability to give and to keep being (das Sein) as measure. In all this, the extraordinary is that the work in no way works upon the hitherto being (das Seiende) through causal connections-of-effects. The working of the work does not consist in a working-of-effects. It rests in a transformation, happening out of the work, of the unconcealedness of beings (des Seienden), and that is to say: of being (des Seins). [60] Dichtung, however, is no rambling invention of whatever-one-likes and no flying of the mere intellect and imagination in the non-actual. What Dichtung as clearing project unfolds in unconcealedness and throws forth in the drawingapart of Gestalt, is the open that it lets happen and indeed in such a way that now the open, in the midst of beings (des Seienden), first brings them to light and resonance. In this essential look at the essence of the work and its relation to the happening of the truth of beings (des Seienden), it becomes questionable, whether the essence of Dichtung, and that is to say at once also of projecting, can adequately be thought from out of imagination and the ability-to-form-images. signifies what is thrown ahead and lies before one, and has roughly the same sense in ordinary usage as the German Entwurf. 42 The word dichten and other words formed from it, such as Dichtung, dichterisch, will be left untranslated. No single English word can bear the wide sense the word has in German, which Heidegger follows. In that wide sense, Dichtung signifies not only poetry, but also all kinds of musing and meditation on the one hand, and all kinds of composition, fiction, and invention on the other. Heidegger often traces the sense and etymology of dichten back to the same root as the Greek de€knuµi, to show, and Latin dicere, to say (see e.g. Hölderlins Hymnen "Germanien" und "Der Rhein," Gesamtausgabe Band 39, Frankfurt am Main: Vittorio Klosterman, 1980, p. 29). But he departs from that account at least once in Unterwegs zur Sprache, Pfullingen: Neske, 1959, p. 143, where he traces it to the Greek t€ktv, in the sense of hervorbringen, "to bring forth, to produce," semanticly akin to the poi°v of Poesie and poetry, "to make." 55 The essence of Dichtung, now experienced in its breadth, but not therefore indeterminately, is here to be held fast as something worthy of questioning, that still has to be thought through. If all art is in its essence Dichtung, then the arts of building, picture, and tone must be reduced to poetry. That is pure willfulness. Certainly, as long as we mean that the arts just mentioned are varieties of the arts of language, if we may characterize poetry by this easily misleading title. But poetry is only one way of the clearing projection of truth, i. e. of Dichten in the wider sense. Nevertheless, the work of language, Dichtung in the restricted sense, has a position of distinction in the whole of the arts. To see this, one needs only to have the right concept of language. In the current way of representing it, language is held to be a kind of communication. It serves to discuss and come to agreement, and in general to reach understanding. However, language is not only and not first an expression in sound or writing of what is to be communicated. It does not only first forward in words and sentences the manifest and the concealed as so meant, but language brings beings as beings (das Seiende als ein Seiendes) for the first time into the open. Where no language west, as in the being of stone, plant, and animal, there is also no openness of being (des Seienden) and consequently also no openness of the not-being (des Nichtseienden) and the empty. In that language first names beings (das Seiende), such [61] naming first brings beings (das Seiende) to word and to appearance. This naming nominates beings (das Seiende)to their being ( zu seinem Sein) from out of this being (aus diesem Sein). Such saying (Sagen) is a projecting of the clearing, in which is announced (angesagt) that as which beings (das Seiende) come into the open. Projecting is the release of a throw, as which unconcealedness sends itself (sich schickt) in being as such (in das Seiende als solches). The projecting announcement at the same time becomes a renouncing (Absage) of all dull confusion, in which beings (das Seiende) veil themselves and withdraw. 56 The saying (das Sagen) that projects is Dichtung: the saying (die Sage)43 of the world and the earth, the saying of the playspace of their strife and therewith of the station of all nearness and farness of the Gods. Dichtung is the saying of the unconcealedness of being (des Seienden). Speech at any time is the happening of that saying in which geschichtlich a world emerges for a people, and the earth is taken up to be kept-in-trust as the occluded. The saying that projects is what, in preparing the sayable, at once also brings the unsayable as such to the world. In such saying, for a geschichtlichen people, the concepts of its essence, i.e. of its belonging to world-Geschichte, are stamped in advance. Dichtung is here thought in such a broad sense and at the same time in such an inner essential unity with language and the word, that it must remain open, whether art in all its ways, from the arts of building to poetry, exhausts the essence of Dichtung.44 Language itself is Dichtung in the essential sense. Now however, because language is that happening in which being (Seiendes) first discloses itself for man as being (Seiendes), therefore poetry, Dichtung in the restricted sense, is the most original Dichtung in the essential sense. Language is Dichtung not because it is primordial poetry, but rather poetry ereignet itself in language because language keeps-in-trust the original essence of Dichtung. Building and painting, by contrast, happen always already and always only in the open of saying and naming. The latter sways-through and guides them. That is why they can remain proper paths and ways in which truth directs itself to work. They are each its own Dichten within the clearing of being (des Seienden), which has already happened unnoticed in language. [62] Art, as the setting-to-work of truth, is Dichtung. Not only the creation of the work is dichterisch, but equally so, only in its own way, is also the keeping-intrust of the work; for a work is actual as a work only if we rock ourselves out of our ordinariness and carry ourselves into what the work opened up, in order to bring our essence itself to stand in the truth of being (des Seienden). 43 Die Sage is commonly used as the name for ancient epic and myth, the saga, but Heidegger uses it in a wider sense which may be indicated as follows: die Sage is speech that says. 44 Note that this sentence can also be read as asking whether the essence of Dichtung exhausts art in all its variety. 57 The essence of art is Dichtung. But the essence of Dichtung is the foundation, Stiftung, of truth. Founding, stiften, we understand here in a triple sense: founding as bestowing (schenken), founding as grounding (gründen), and founding as incepting (anfangen). Foundation is, however, actual only in keepingin-trust. Thus to each way of founding corresponds a way of keeping-in-trust. This essential structure of art we can now make visible only in a few strokes, and this only in so far as the earlier characterization of the essence of the work offers for it a first indication. The setting-to-work of truth thrusts up the extraordinary, and at the same time thrusts down the ordinary and what one holds to be such. The truth opening itself up in the work is never to be proven or deduced out of the hitherto. The hitherto in its exclusive actuality is refuted by the work. What art founds, therefore, can never be outweighed or matched by anything at-hand-before-us and disposable. Foundation is an overflow, a bestowal. The dichtende project of truth, which sets itself into the work as Gestalt, is also never accomplished in emptiness and indeterminacy. Rather, in the work, truth is thrown-to its coming trustees, i. e. to a geschichtlichen people. The thrown-to, however, is never a willful demand. The true dichtende project is the opening up of that, wherein Dasein as geschichtliches is already thrown. This is the earth and, for a geschichtlichen people, its earth, the self-occluding ground, upon which it rests with all that it already is, albeit still concealed from itself. But it is this people's world that sways out of the relation of Dasein to the unconcealedness of being (des Seins). Therefore, [63] all that is given to man in the project and along with it, must be taken up out of the occluded ground and properly set upon this ground. So is the ground first grounded as the bearing ground. As such a taking up, all creating in the sense of Schaffen is a creating in the sense of Schöpfen, to drain (to take water out of the spring).45 Modern subjectivism, of course, at once misinterprets the schöpferish as creative in the sense of a performance of genius by the self-mastering subject. The foundation of truth is 45 The parenthesis is Heidegger's. The double sense of the German schöpfen, originally to drain a liquid, but later also, by association with schaffen, to create, cannot be reproduced in English. 58 foundation not only in the sense of the free bestowal, but equally foundation in the sense of this ground-laying grounding. The dichtende project comes out of the nothing in this respect, that it never takes its bestowal out of the ordinary and hitherto. But it never comes out of the nothing insofar as what is thrown-to man by the dichtend project is only the previously withheld determination des geschichtlichen Daseins selbst. Bestowing and grounding have in themselves the immediacy of what we call an inception (Anfang). But this immediacy of inception, the property of the spring (Sprung) from out of the immediate, does not exclude, but rather includes, that the inception prepares itself for the longest time unnoticed. The genuine inception is as spring always a spring-ahead (Vorsprung), in which all that is to come is already sprung over, albeit as still veiled. The inception already contains the end concealed in it. The genuine inception of course never has the beginnerlike of the primitive. The primitive, because it is without the bestowing, grounding spring and spring-ahead, is always without future. It cannot let anything further out of itself, because it contains nothing other than that wherein it is caught. The inception, by contrast, always holds in itself the undisclosed fullness of the extraordinary, i. e. of the strife with the ordinary. Art as Dichtung is foundation in the third sense of the instigation (Anstiftung) of the strife of truth, is foundation as inception. Always when being in its totality as being itself (das Seinde im Ganzen als das Seiende) demands its grounding in openness, art attains to its geschichtliches essence as foundation. Art happened in the occident for the first time in Greece. What came to be called being (Sein), was set to work in a measure-giving way. The so opened-up being in its totality (das Seiende im Ganzen) was then transformed into being (das Seiende) in the sense wha is created by God. This happened in [64] the Middle Ages. This being (dieses Seiende) was again transformed at the beginning and in the course of modernity. Being (das Seiende) became objects-standing-against-us to be mastered and made transparent by calculation. Each time a new and essential world broke open. Each time the openness of being (des Seienden) had to be instituted in being itself (in das Seiende selbst), by the setting-fast of truth in Gestalt. Each time the unconcealedness of being (des Seienden) happened. It set itself to work, which setting art brings about. 59 Always when art happens, i. e. when an inception is, a thrust comes in Geschichte, Geschichte incepts for the first time or over again. Geschichte does not mean here the succession of events of some kind, however important, in time. Geschichte is the transporting of a people into the task-it-is-given, as moving into the endowment it is given along with that task. Art is the setting-to-work of truth. In this sentence an essential ambiguity conceals itself, by virtue of which truth is at once the subject and the object of the setting. Subject and object, however, are here inappropriate names. They hinder thinking this ambiguous essence, a task that no longer belongs in this treatise. Art is geschichlich and, as geschichtliche, the creating keeping-in-trust of truth in the work. Art happens as Dichtung. This Dichtung is foundation in the triple sense of bestowing, grounding, and inception. Art is as foundation essentially geschichtlich. This says not only: Art has a Geschichte in the external sense that it too, in the changing of times, occurs next to many other things and thereby changes itself and passes away and offers to history changing aspects. Art is Geschichte in the essential sense, that it grounds Geschichte. Art lets truth spring up. As founding keeping-in-trust, art springs the truth of being (des Seienden) in the work. To spring something, to bring it, in a founding spring, out of the provenance of its essence into being (ins Sein), that is what the word Ur-sprung, primordial spring, means. The Ursprung of the work of art, i. e. at once of its creation and of its keeping-intrust, that is to say of the geschichtlichen Daseins [65] of a people, is art. That is so, because art in its essence is an Ursprung: a distinctive way in which truth becomes being (seiend), i. e. geschichtlich. We ask after the essence of art. Why do we so ask? We ask so in order to be able to ask more properly whether art is or is not an origin in our geschichtlichen Dasein, whether and under what conditions it can be and must be. Such a meditation cannot force art and its becoming. But this meditative knowing is the precursory and therefore unavoidable preparation for the 60 becoming of art. Only such knowing prepares for the work its space, for the creators their way, for the trustees their place to stand. In such knowing, which can grow only slowly, the question decides itself, whether art can be an origin, and then must be a springing-ahead, or whether it is to remain only an accessory and then can only be pursued-along-with other appearances of culture now become usual. Are we, in our Dasein, geschichtlich at the origin? Do we know, i.e. do we respect the essence of the origin? Or do we occupy ourselves in our relation to art still only with educated knowledge of the past? For this either-or and its decision, es gibt an unerring sign. Hölderlin, the poet, to whose work the Germans have yet to rise, named it when he said: "Schwer verläßt Was hahe dem Ursprung wohnet, den Ort." " Hardly will what dwells near the origin, leave the site." "The Wandering," Vol. IV (Hellingrath), p. 167. 61 Afterword [66] The considerations above concern the riddle of art, the riddle that art itself is. Far lies the claim to solve the riddle. What stands as our task is to see the riddle. Almost since the time when a proper meditation on art and artists incepted, everyone names this meditation the aesthetic. An aesthetic takes the artwork as an object-standing-against and indeed as an object-standing-against of a‡syhsiw, of sensuous perception in a broad sense. Today one names this perception the life-experience (Erlebnis). The way in which man lives art is to give the key to its essence. The life-experience is not only for the enjoyment of art, but just as much for the creation of art, the measure-giving source. All is life-experience. Yet perhaps life-experience is the element in which art dies. Its death proceeds so slowly that it needs a few centuries. Of course everyone speaks of the immortal works of art, and of art as an eternal value. One speaks so in that language which does not bother with precision about all essential things, because it fears that speaking precisely is in the end: thinking. What anguish is today greater than that before thinking? Has this talk of the immortal works and of the eternal value of art any content and substance? Or are these only half-thought manners of speaking of a time in which great art, together with its essence, has gone away from man? In the meditation on the essence of art, which is, because thought from out of metaphysics, the most comprehensive that the occident possesses, in Hegel's "Lectures on Aesthetic," stand these sentences: "For us art no longer holds as the highest way in which truth procures existence for itself" (WW. X, 1, p. 134).46 "One may well hope that art will always rise higher and perfect itself, but its form has ceased to be the highest need of spirit" (id., p. 135). "In all these relations art is and remains, according to the side of its highest determination, for us a bygone thing" (id., p. 16). 46 In this and the following references Heidegger uses the original edition of Hegel's collected works. In the now more readily available new edition of the same text by Suhrkamp, the corresponding references are respectively to Werke, vol. 13, p. 141, p. 142, and p. 25. 62 One cannot evade the judgment that Hegel passes in these sentences, by affirming: Since Hegel's [67] aesthetic was last expounded in Winter 1828-1829 at the University of Berlin, we have seen many new artworks and new artistic movements arise. This possibility Hegel never willed to deny. Only, the question remains: Is art still an essential and necessary way in which for our geschichliches Dasein decisive truth happens, or is art no longer that? But if it is no longer that, then the question remains why that is so. The decision on Hegel's judgment has not yet fallen; for behind this judgment stands all occidental thinking since the Greeks, which thinking corresponds to a truth of being (des Seienden) that has already happened. The decision about Hegel's judgment falls, if it falls, outside this truth of being (des Seienden) and about it. Until then the judgment remains in force. Therefore, however, we need to ask whether the truth that the judgment says, is final, and what then would be, if it is so. Such questions, which approach us at times more clearly, at times out of the vague, let themselves be asked only if from the outset we think through the essence of art. We attempt to take a few steps, in that we pose the question of the origin of the work of art. The task is to bring the work-character of the work into sight. What the word "origin" means here, is thought from out of the essence of truth. The truth of which we said, does not coincide with what everyone knows under this name and attributes to knowledge and science as a quality, in order to distinguish it from the beautiful and the good, which hold as names for the values of non-theoretical comportment. Truth is the unconcealedness of beings as beings (des Seienden als des Seienden). Truth is the truth of being (des Seins). Beauty does not occur next to this truth. When truth sets itself in the work, beauty appears. The shining of appearance is - as this being (als dieses Sein) of truth in the work, and as work -- the shining of beauty. Thus the beautiful belongs to the sich ereignen of truth. It is not just relative to pleasure and simply the object-standing-against of such pleasure. The beautiful rests nonetheless in form, but only because forma once cleared itself out of being (aus dem Sein) as out of the beingness (der Seiendheit) of beings (des Seienden). Then being (das Sein) ereignete sich [68] as e‰dow. The fid°a joins itself in the µorfÆ. The sÊnolon, the unified whole of µorfÆ and Ïlh, namely the ¶rgon, 63 is in the way of §n°rgeia. This way of presence turns into the actualitas of the ens actu. Actualitas turns into Wirklichkeit. Wirklichkeit turns into objectivity, Gegenständlichkeit. Gegenständlichkeit turns into life-experience (Erlebnis). In the way in which, for the occidentally determined world, beings (das Seiende) are the actual, conceals itself a proprietary going-together of beauty with truth. To the essential transformation of truth corresponds the essential Geschichte of occidental art. This47 is just as little to be conceived from out of beauty taken for itself, as from out of life-experience, even if it be supposed that the metaphysical concept of art reaches into the essence of art. Addendum [67] On pages 5248 and 59 an essential difficulty forces itself upon the attentive reader, because it seems that the words about “the setting-fast of truth” (vom "Fest-stellen der Wahrheit") and about the “letting-happen of the advent of truth” are never brought to accord. For in “setting-fast” lies a willing that bars and thus prevents this advent. By contrast in letting-happen there announces itself a joining-oneself and thus the like of a not-willing that grants freedom. [68] This difficulty resolves itself if we think setting-fast in the sense that is meant through the whole text of the essay, i. e. above all in the leading determination: “setting-to-work”. With “setting” (stellen) and “posing” (setzen) belongs also together “laying” (legen); all three are meant by one in the Latin ponere. "Setting" (Stellen) we must think in the sense of y°siw. Thus it is said on page 49: “Setting and besetting (Setzen und Besetzen) are here everywhere (!)49 thought out of the Greek sense of y°siw, which means a setting-up (Aufstellen) in the unconcealed.” The Greek “posing” (Setzen) says: setting (Stellen) as letting-standup, e.g. a statue; it says: laying, e.g. laying-down an oblation. Setting and laying have the sense of: her-vor-bringen, to bring-forth, i. e. to bring her- in the 47 The referent of the pronoun diese is ambiguous, since it might as well be die Geschichte as die Kunst, both of which occur in the subject of the previous sentence. 48 This and the following page numbers in references to "The Origin of the Work of Art" are those of the first edition of Holzwege. See above note l. The German text refers to page numbers of the eighth edition. 49 This parenthesis is Heidegger's. 64 unconcealed, vor- in what is present, i.e. to let-lie-before. Posing and setting signify here never the modernly conceived defiant setting-against (entgegenstellen) oneself (the I-subject).50 The standing of the statue (i. e. the presence of what shines looking at us),51 is other than the standing of whatstands-against in the sense of the object. “Standing” is (compare p. 25)52 the constancy of shining. By contrast, thesis, anti-thesis, and synthesis mean within the dialectic of Kant and of German idealism, a setting within the sphere of the subjectivity of consciousness. Hegel has accordingly -- and rightly from his position -- explicated the Greek y°siw in the sense of the immediate posing of the object-standing-against. This posing is therefore for him still untrue, because it is not yet mediated by antithesis and synthesis. (Compare now: “Hegel and the Greeks,” in Wegmarken, 1967). But if we keep in view for the artwork-essay the Greek sense of y°siw: to let a thing lie-before in its shining presence, then the "fast" in setting-fast can never have the sense of fixed, motionless, and secure. “Fast” says: drawn-around, let-in into limits (p°raw), brought into contour (see p. 51). Limit in the Greek sense does not bar, but rather first brings what is present to shine as itself brought-forth. Limit grants freedom [69] in the unconcealed; by its contour in Greek light, the mountain stands in its towering up and resting. The fastening limit is the resting -- namely in the fullness of being-moved -- this all holds for the work in the Greek sense of ¶rgon; the "being" of this work is §n°rgeia, which gathers in itself infinitely more movement than modern “energies.” Thus, rightly thought, that “setting-fast” of truth can in no way run counter to “letting-happen.” For one, this “letting” is no passivity, but the highest doing (compare Vorträge und Aufsätze, 1954, p. 49) in the sense of y°siw, a “working” and “willing” that, in the present essay at p. 55, is characterized as “existing man's ecstatic letting-himself-into the unconcealedness of being.” For another, the “happening” in the letting-happen of truth is the movement that sways in clearing and concealing, more precisely in their unity, namely the movement of 50 This parenthesis is Heidegger's. This parenthesis is Heidegger's. 52 This parenthesis is Heidegger's. 51 65 the clearing of self-concealing as such, from out of which in turn all self-clearing comes. This “movement” even demands a setting-fast in the sense of a bringingforth, which bringing is to be understood in the signification that is named on p. 51, insofar as the bringing-forth that creates (in the sense of both schaffen and schöpfen) “[is] rather a receiving and accepting within the relation to unconcealedness.” In accordance with what has been explained so far, the signification of the word “Ge-stell” used on page 52 determines itself: the gathering of bringing-forth, of the letting-arrive-here-before us in the drawing-apart as contour-drawing (p°raw). Through “Ge-stell," thought in this manner, the Greek sense of µorfÆ clarifies itself as Gestalt. Now indeed the word “Ge-stell," used later as the keyword intended for the essence of modern technique, is thought from out of this same Ge-stell (not from bookshelves and montage). That nexus is an essential one, because it stems from the destiny of being (seinsgeschichtlicher). Ge-stell as the essence of modern technique comes from out of letting-lie-before, lÒgow, as experienced by the Greeks from the Greek po€hsiw and y°siw. In the Stellen [70] of Ge-stell, that is to say now: in summoning into the securing of all, speaks the claim of the ratio reddenda, i.e. of the lÒgon didÒnai, indeed in such a way that now this claim in Ge-stell takes over the mastery of the unconditioned, and that representation gathers itself out of Greek perception to become a securing and setting-fast. On hearing the words “fest-stellen” and “Ge-stell” in “The Origin of the Work of Art,” we must on the one hand strike out of our mind the modern signification of Stellen and Gestell, and on the other hand not allow ourselves to overlook that, and how far, the being (das Sein) that determines modernity as Ge-stell stems from the occidental destiny of being (des Seins), and is not thought up by philosophers, but rather is given to thinkers to be thought (compare Vorträge und Aufsätze, p. 2853 and p. 49). It remains difficult to situate the determinations that are given briefly on pp. 4950 about the "instituting" and "self-instituting of truth in being (im Seienden)." Again we must avoid understanding "instituting" in the modern sense and in the 53 See below "The Question Concerning Technique," p. H. 24. 66 manner of the lecture on technique as "organizing" and making-ready. Rather in "instituting" we think the "pull of truth to work" named on p. 50, that truth itself becomes being (seiend) amidst beings (inmitten des Seienden), itself being (seiend) workly (p. 50). If we think through how far truth as unconcealedness says nothing other than presence of being as such (des Seienden als solchen), i. e. being (Sein) (see p. 59), then the talk of the self-instituting of truth, i. e. of being (des Seins) , amidst beings (im Seienden), touches on what is worthy-of-asking in the ontological difference (compare "Identity and Difference," l957, pp. 37 ff.). About this it is said ("The Origin of the Work of Art," p. 49) prudently: "In pointing to the selfinstitution of openness into the open, thinking touches upon a range of matters that here cannot yet be disentangled." The whole essay on "The Origin of the Work of Art" moves itself essentially and yet tacitly on the way of the question regarding the essence of being (des Seins). [71] The meditation upon what art is, is wholly and decidedly determined only from out of the question regarding being (nach dem Sein). Art matters neither as a domain of performance of culture, nor as an appearance of spirit; it belongs in the Ereignis from out of which the "sense of being (vom Sein)" (compare Sein und Zeit) determines itself. What art is, is one of the questions to which in the essay no answers are given. What offers the appearance of such answers, are only directions for asking. (Compare the first sentences of the afterword.) To these directions belong two weighty pointers on p. 59 and p. 64. At both places the discussion is about an "ambiguity." On p. 64, an "essential ambiguity" is named with respect to the determination of art as "setting-to-work of truth." According to this, truth is once "subject," and at another time "object." Both characterizations remain "inappropriate." If truth is "subject," then the determination "setting-to-work of truth" says: "self-setting-to-work of truth" (compare p. 59 and p. 25). Art is thus thought from out of Ereignis. But being (Sein) speaks to man and never is without him. Hence art is at once also determined as setting-to-work of truth, in which now truth is "object," and art is human creating and keeping-in-trust. Within the human relation to art occurs the other ambiguity of the setting-towork of truth, that on p. 59 above is named as creating and keeping-in-trust. 67 According to p. 59 and p. 46, artwork and artist rest "at once" in the Wesende of art. In the phrase "setting-to-work of truth," in which it remains undetermined but determinable who or what, in what way, "sets," there conceals itself the relation of being (von Sein) to the essence of man, which relation still in this account is thought inappropriately, -- a pressing difficulty, which has been clear to me since Sein und Zeit, and later comes to words in a variety of ways (compare the late "On the Question of Being" with the essay above p. 49: "Only this is to be noted, that ..."). [72] The worthy-of-asking that sways here gathers itself at the proper site of the situating wherein the essence of language and Dichtung are touched, all this again only with respect to the belonging-together of being (von Sein) and saying. It remains an unavoidable condition-of-need, that the reader who naturally hits upon the essay from without, at first and for long does not represent and see the matters at stake from out of the silenced domain of the spring of what-is-to-bethought. For the author himself, however, remains the need to speak at various stations on the way each time in the then favorable language. References [344] The Origin of the Work of Art. The first version of this essay formed the content of a lecture that was given on November 13, 1935 at the Kunstwissenschaftliche Gesellschaft in Freiburg i. Br., and repeated in January 1936 in Zurich at the invitation of the student body of the University. The present version contains three lectures given at the Freie Deutsche Hochstift in Frankfurt a. M. on November 17 and 24, and December 4, 1936. The afterword was in part written later. The addendum was composed in 1956 and first published in the special edition of the essay in Reclam's Universal-Bibliothek in 1960. The text of the essay printed here accords with the Reclam-Ausgabe version, which had been slightly reworked at various places and more fully articulated. 68