# The Task of Anthroposophy in the Context of Science and Life

## GA 77a — 29 July 1921, Darmstadt

### 5. Questions following Alexander Strakosch's lecture on “The history of architecture and individual technical branches”

I do not want to give a lecture in response to the remarks of the esteemed Mr. Strakosch, but please take what I am about to say only as a supplementary comment. Nor should it be taken as something conclusive in any sense.

When I was recently given the task of supervising the construction of the Dornach building, a saying kept ringing in my ears that I had heard when I was studying at the Technical University in Vienna and during that time the builder of the Votive Church in Vienna, the famous architect Ferstel, took up the post of rector at this university. He delivered his inaugural address on the history of architecture. Ferstel said something like this during his speech: architectural styles cannot be invented, they must emerge from the foundations of nationality. On the basis of this view, Ferstel explained the fact that the modern period could be less productive in terms of architectural styles because the folk soul, so to speak, did not bring anything like styles to the surface, and that it could only be more reproductive, which is why people resorted to ancient, to posophie talk, you can make anything out of these mystical foundations. You can do the craziest stuff. But anthroposophy is not allowed to do that. It is not allowed to do the craziest stuff. So that, as I said, you are in a position to have, on the one hand, the craziest stuff of modern mystics, and on the other hand, you have to perform an anthroposophical building that has to be justified before strict science, and you have the most modern material, concrete, with which you can do the craziest stuff, but you can't do that with a sense of style.

Now I want to make it clear: when you are working practically on the realization of a style, history is of no help at all. Historical observation is of no help at all. Everything that has to be done must come from a place of naivety, must truly come from a creative place. Otherwise, it cannot be done, and what must arise in a certain way, must practically arise in opposition to such a view as Ferstel expressed at the time: “Architectural styles cannot be invented, they must arise from the foundations of folklore.” One must simply come to the view with a certain stylistic conscience: the architectural style must be created out of a certain reality, out of a truth. It cannot be invented out of thin air, it must be created out of reality.

Now I would like to draw attention to a third point, which Mr. Strakosch also mentioned. He pointed out the Gothic style, which, with full justification, must be built out of concrete due to the circumstances, and the concrete substructure, which goes up to a certain height, had to be crowned by the actual structure, a wooden structure. You will also admit that the forms of the wooden structure are actually dictated by the material itself with a certain strictness. The wooden structure provides precisely what must arise from the interaction of need, purpose and sense of material. So in Dornach, there was a very specific style to be combined with something that Mr. Strakosch has said: you can do anything with it; you can build the craziest things out of concrete.

Now, if one is not predisposed to building the craziest things, then one actually has a different feeling towards concrete than towards wood. And here I must say, based on practical experience, the opposite of what has just been said. If you take all the antecedents of architectural styles, you can't really build anything out of concrete today. Not everything, but absolutely nothing. If you have a sense of style, you can't just take the “you can do anything” approach. You can only get started if you can use concrete as a material out of a certain stylistic conscience. In a certain respect, you are in a parallel situation with what sometimes occurs on anthroposophical ground at the moment. You see, from the misunderstood backgrounds of mystical contemplation and so on, which many people have in mind when they talk about mysticism, theosophy, anthroposophy today, you can make anything out of these mystical backgrounds. You can make the craziest stuff. But anthroposophy is not allowed to do that. It is not allowed to do the craziest stuff. So that, as I said, you are in a position to have, on the one hand, the craziest stuff of modern mystics, and on the other hand, you have to perform an anthroposophical building that has to be justified before strict science, and you have the most modern material, concrete, with which you can do the craziest stuff, but you can't do that with a sense of style.

Now I would like to make it clear: when you are working on the practical realization of a style, history is of no help at all. Historical reflection is of no help at all. Everything that has to be done must come from the realm of the naive, must really come from the realm of creativity. There is no other way to do it, which must in a certain way rebel, practically rebel against such a view as Ferstel expressed at the time: “Architectural styles cannot be invented, they must come from the foundations of folklore.” - One must simply come to the view with a certain stylistic conscience: The architectural style must be created out of a specific reality, out of a reality. It cannot be invented out of the blue, it must be created out of reality.

Now I would like to draw attention to a third point, which Mr. Strakosch also mentioned. He pointed out the Gothic style and showed, with full justification, how the Gothic style actually draws heavily from craftsmanship. And there is indeed a backward devotion to craftsmanship in the Gothic style. In one direction, the question of style was resolved by the combination of cross vaulting, pointed arches and flying buttresses that the Gothic style then developed. But if we consider the other aspect that has been emphasized, the matter takes on a different perspective. It was also said that the mere mechanical fitting together of the components would not result in the Gothic style, that certain forms and certain views live on in the Gothic style, which can be found in the Gothic style, and about which a certain secret has been kept, even in the “building huts”, which has been strictly guarded, and which now goes beyond the craftsmanship. We thus find an element that has been built into it, that can be found in the style, but which – it will be possible to admit this in the broadest sense – has actually been lost for the more recent period in terms of its actual essence, or at least in terms of its application. Today we no longer do what was done in those days out of the secrets of architecture, which arose out of quite different presuppositions, without the necessity of making strict calculations and the like. It is just these conditions that could, I am putting this hypothetically for the moment, be connected with other things. They could be connected with the fact that today the reproductive element rules: not really the productive creation of style rules, but the reproductive shaping of style rules. Perhaps it is precisely from those soul entities that have been very strictly preserved that those forces which underlie productivity and from which the productivity of style comes, flow. And perhaps this perplexity about style in recent times stems from the fact that we have lost a certain element in building. This element must be given special consideration in architecture because it has to conform to the strict laws by which a building must be constructed, must conform to the static and other conditions that Mr. Strakosch has discussed. In architecture, in the broadest sense, we are dealing with what scientifically based technology makes possible, and on the other hand we are obliged to incorporate a certain stylistic element into what we build.

The question now arises: Was not perhaps in older times what technology is much more closely tied to style than it is today? Was it not perhaps the case that the building rules that existed at the time were formulated in such a way that they included the technology, so that one could build safely, as it were, by simply following the results of these guarded rules? Were they not, despite being artistically stylish, perhaps also technically correct through and through?

You get such a feeling when you experience something like what could be experienced in Dornach. It occurred to me — as I said, the main things always arise out of naivety — to enclose the auditorium with a dome and to attach this dome to a smaller dome that was to crown the stage area. The question now was how to find the technique for the connection, and that was an important question in Dornach for quite some time. I felt the necessity to do it this way; on the other hand, it had to be technically feasible. Until we found the solution, I could only say that the right technical solution must be found for what arises out of the necessity of style, and that it must also show a certain perfection in terms of technique. These things must coincide. Of course, if something is conceived in an intellectualistic or inartistic way and one somehow wants to build a building without style, no technical problem will arise for it. But if something is really found in the foundations where the style must lie, then the appropriate technique must also be found for it.

Now, as I said, the historical is of no help if one - if I may put it this way - has to create something like a style from a naive point of view. But afterwards one can still orient oneself towards what the development may lead to. And here I would like to add something to what has just been said, which may initially seem somewhat paradoxical in the present, like so many things that have to be said from anthroposophical spiritual science, but which will probably prove to be thoroughly practical in the course of time, however fantastic it may seem to some people today.

I do not want to go back to Oriental or Egyptian architecture, which has been sufficiently considered just now, but I want to refer first to what is already on the foundations of what has emerged from Oriental-Egyptian architecture, I want to refer to Greek architecture, and there again - first disregarding everything else - to Greek temple construction. But I do not want to touch on the technical side of things now, but rather on the style.

I believe that anyone who studies Greek architecture more closely will find that the forms cannot really be grasped if one concentrates too much on the static element. Greek architecture definitely takes static elements into account – this is clear. They are there, but in an extraordinarily free way. They are everywhere in such a way that one sees: in a certain way, what we today call statics is handled quite freely. The bearing and the load are there. But they have not fallen into the trap of regarding what has been put there as decoration, nor, on the other hand, have they fallen into the trap of one-sidedness, of regarding it as merely static. There is an element hidden there that has perhaps been kept even more jealously than the secrets of the later masons' lodges, that has emerged from the original, instinctive views of humanity and that, in turn, can only be found through anthroposophical, spiritual scientific investigation. In a sense, these Greek temples are also functional buildings. A Greek temple, considered in itself as a mere structure, is never complete. If you take the statue of the god out of the Greek temple and look at it, you get the feeling that the most essential thing is missing. It was understood only as the dwelling of the god, and only if one assumes that the people actually only have something to do with the temple from the outside, that actually only the god should have his residence in it. But now it follows that the temple is the dwelling of the god, not much for those intuitions that flowed into the temple construction. One must go back to something else, especially with regard to the purpose of building a temple; if I may now call it that in a figurative sense: with regard to the question of need. In this regard, one can say that the purely external aspect of the temple's purpose is clear to anyone who wants to describe these things in a feature-like way; the fact that the temple is the dwelling place of the god. But this is not enough for those who want to go beyond the feature-like description and really understand the inner form of the temple. For this, it is necessary to add another element: that the Greek temple is to be seen as a transformation of the original burial vault, the burial building. The Greek temple cannot be understood otherwise than by seeing in it a metamorphosis of a burial building. But this leads back to times when the soul of the deceased was sought in the vicinity of the buried corpse. The building was actually erected in its forms for the soul, which should still be there, even when one passed from ancestor worship to the cult of the gods. The cult of the gods in the older religions was nothing other than a metamorphosed cult of ancestors; the old gods are basically ancestors, are thought of as ancestors, and the way in which the rule of the soul-spiritual was also a transformation of how the workings of the soul after death were viewed in the deceased person – in terms of the forms of perception, there was something that was strictly related to this. Now it was a matter of rebuilding a soul, and for that one had to come up with the right balance of power, the right statics, which was possible as an external statics, but at the same time served this purpose, to be a soul's reconstruction, so that the soul could dwell within; for the soul of the god had to dwell in just such a structure.

Where did the power relations come from? That is the big question. They were not calculated at all in such a way, as we are rightly learning today in our age. This was not understood in those older times. The little literature that still exists clearly shows that such a structure was not built from strict statics and mathematics and mechanics. But those older times had something else, and here I come to what is of course regarded as fantastic today, and can be regarded as such, however practical it actually is: the question is to find out by what means, let us say for example, the position of the center of gravity was found, the center of gravity that simply had to be placed in such a way that by looking at the building, one knew where it was. But not with the intellect, but with the feeling, the sense of style in particular, it was necessary to find out how to distribute the forces, how to distribute the material in order to get the right feeling. There was a soul dwelling within. In those ancient times, one did not have the abstract ideas of the soul that one finds today, for example, among our psychologists, where the soul is something very vague – for some it is a point that is sought at some point in the physical organization, and what more such nonsense is –; these abstract views of the soul did not have the old days. They had very definite views of the soul. It would be interesting to explain these views, but there is no time for that. It would be all the more interesting because the views that these ancients had about the soul, to a certain extent, contained what the descriptions of the old soul conceptions, for example in Wundt's philosophy, do not contain, but did not contain everything that Wundt describes of the old soul conceptions. These things are such that they cannot be grasped by a materialistic way of thinking. But they lived in ancient times and they lived so concretely that one could also connect with them concrete ideas with regard to the forming of the material. But how was that done? You see, everything that was built, everything that was designed in terms of static relationships, arose for older times, however strange it may seem today, from the human organization and its statics. And what was still considered in Greek times for architecture arose from the statics of the human limb organism. I do not mean the human limb organism only as a combination of arms and legs, but also, for example, the lower jaw and much in the middle human, the chest human and so on. But everything that lies within the human being with limbs could be studied. For example, you could try out how a certain connection of forces works when you squat down, say, with bent knees. You could see how the center of gravity relates to a certain system of forces, and you could see how the center of gravity relates to a certain system of forces when you tried out the best way to hold your mouth open to find the ideal center of gravity of the head, which you do at the lower jaw. It is interesting to study the strange shaping that is present in Greek sculptures with this slightly open mouth; it arose from a very specific study of the position of the lower jaw, which one experienced internally in its static and dynamic aspects.

And in the same way, you experienced the static and dynamic relationships that arise when you squat down and rest your arms on your knees, for example. You studied this dynamic in humans, and in older times especially in the human limbs. They observed the dynamics as they express themselves in the human being when walking – because the unfolding of very special inner static-dynamic conditions is needed for this walking – and from this they formed ideas about very specific static conditions; and what could be studied in the human organism itself, we find again in the formation of the temple buildings. It was said that what the human being has as a head is indeed a beautiful external expression of the physical human being, but it is just an expression for the physical human being. After all, the human being is a rational being precisely in order to be efficient in the physical world. Similarly, the trunk and respiratory system of the human being were thought of in a certain way. It was said that this is something that underlies the connection between the human being and the earthly environment. Head and chest were, as it were, left out when, in ancient times, people thought of the human being as a spiritual container. They thought in particular of what could not be directly animated in the human form; they thought of the balance of power that arises in the use of the limb-based human being. This limb-based human being was the vehicle through which the human being carried his soul into the earth here. The systems of forces that the person revealed entered into the soul; they were studied; and people wanted to see the soul surrounded by them even after death. What one could experience by carrying one's soul through life, that one most secreted into what one wanted as the enclosure of the soul, but not in an abstract way, but with all the concreteness and practicality of the old view.

Such things can only be studied externally by observing certain qualities of feeling. It is also possible – spiritual science provides complete certainty in what I have just explained – to gain a certain insight into such things from external symptoms. Consider what the Greek sculptor particularly wanted to show when he depicted the human being as a physical figure: tall legs and an extraordinarily large head by later standards; in Greek sculpture, the length of the head is contained eight times in the total length of the human being. He particularly looked at the head in that the head has a certain length, thus it has a limb organism. The Greek sculptor particularly studied the limb system of the head and in turn studied the limb system of the whole human being. Everything contained in one system of the human being is also contained in the other. The whole human being is in turn contained in the head, the arm and leg construction in the jaws, only one must then look at the head the other way around. So that one can say: In the case of the Greeks, the main focus of attention in man was the organization of the limbs — right up to the head. The limb system is expressed least in the chest and trunk of the human being; it recedes completely in Greek sculpture. It is actually the shortest and weakest part in Greek sculpture. High lower limbs, a large head in relation to the rest – that is precisely the focus of attention on that from which an inner static in man follows. And this inner static was carefully studied and carefully guarded. Therefore, in those days, being an architect was to be in possession of the knowledge that had been studied on the noblest of what could be studied, on man.

Now, the Middle Ages are approaching. Mr. Strakosch has excellently described how something else flows into the vaulting, into the pointed arch, how something lives in it. You can study what lives in it by turning your attention to how man was viewed in the Middle Ages. If you look at the medieval representation of man, you will see that the head is not contained eight times in the whole human figure, but about ten times. The legs are short. People have small heads, which means that the limb organism of the head recedes and that little attention is paid to the other limbs. Hence the huge, long trunk; it is the main thing in medieval sculpture, all attention is paid to it. If you study this statics – I have to express myself paradigmatically because of the limited time – if you study what was contained in the rules of the masons' lodges, you can find the secrets of that part of the human body that we today call the rhythmic part of the human body, that which is expressed in rhythm, in the statics of the rhythms, in that element that was added to the purely craftsmanship of the Gothic period. In a sense – one must not become fanciful when mentioning this matter – this is what trust in God is – Mr. Strakosch has correctly traced it back to its real meaning – it comes from the heart, it comes from the middle human being, not from the head human being. Thus we find that in the same period in which, as a result of the study of external nature and the study of pure mathematics and mechanics, which are to be applied to nature, the attention to man is lost, and those elements that lead to a style are also lost. For one can only achieve a style if one can shape in the external present that which one can study in the microcosm.

And if one is faced with the task of finding a new architectural style, then it is naturally a matter of creating from similar foundations again. It is a matter of returning to what follows from the human essence itself. Now, in our time of scientific development, this cannot be found as I have outlined it for two epochs of humanity, but only by ascending from the limb-man to the head-man through the rhythmic man. But you can't start with that, because he has already developed his abilities to the highest degree. The head human being is, after all, the one in which the individuality of the human being is most expressed in form. You can't use it in the same way as, for example, in Greek statics, where you had in the spatial drawing precisely what you can't see in a person when he is simply standing in front of you. Likewise in later times: one had this in the spatial drawing, which cannot be seen, but which only results from a feeling through those arches that make up the rhythmic human being.

Now, in the present, the only thing that can be done is to find the spiritually seen basis that underlies the actual spirituality of man. Therefore, something had to be done in the Dornach building that is not just a meeting room, but also a room that invites the individual to feel in it in such a way that he comes to self-knowledge at the same time. The Greek building was the frame for the soul. The Gothic building is, through everything I have just mentioned, the place of assembly; it is not complete unless the community, the assembly, is present within it. 'Assembly' is something that corresponds to the 'Duma' and is etymologically related to 'cathedral'. The assembly belongs there. Now we need a building that is so responsive to human beings that they can see the forms not in their external human form but in their imagination. If one wanted to build in the same way as before, one would fall back into intellectualized building, which would be impossible because it would no longer be art. In art, one must remain in intuition, but one must also find the style for what is now brainwork, namely our present-day statics. While the statics of the Greeks was entirely intuition, our statics today is a product of work, a brainwork, and we must find that which was precisely withheld from the Greeks. They built up what they saw as statics. For us, this comes from the intellect. Intuition must add what can only be given in intuition. The Dornach building, which is not at all symbolic, is constructed in this way. It is a slander to say that, because that would mean that the building was constructed in an unartistic way. It is absolutely the case that everything about this building is only artistically conceived, but in such a way that the artistic is shaped directly out of direct perception. It is, again, the arrival at a style, but in such a way that this style has been found in an equally naive way as it was created earlier, out of the necessity of direct perception. Therefore, anyone who comes to Dornach will be able to feel at home in this building, because it is executed in such a way that one finds oneself in it as one has always found oneself in real architectural works. There is truly nothing fantastic in the Dornach building; everything has arisen out of the stylistic conscience just concretely characterized. Therefore what would otherwise have happened could not occur. — Is that not so? Anthroposophy was there, had been there for many years before it needed a building like the Dornach building. Then a number of people who at that time considered themselves convinced of the basic truths of anthroposophy had the idea — it was not my idea — of building a structure of this kind for the special kind of life that arises from anthroposophy in an artistic and practical way. I was only given the task of finding the forms, the style, for this building. I was, so to speak, commissioned by the Anthroposophists. The building did not arise as a fact from my idea.

Now, it is not the case that today such things happen in such a way that one says: There is some kind of association, a society with this or that goal. That is the order of the day: you found societies and associations everywhere, and then you set up the programs that are to be carried out for this or that association. These programs are usually very clever, because when people get together, they can come up with the cleverest things intellectually, but with all that, they would get no further than a theory; with all that, they would get no further than, say, Wilson's Fourteen Points in the direction of world history. That is also a program of that kind, clever, but in relation to the real affairs of the world, something impracticable, something quite abstractly foolish, one might almost say. And then, when such an association is there that needs its own house, then it chooses some style from the available ones, according to which it has its building constructed. Anthroposophy, if it is honest with itself, cannot proceed in this way. That is not possible with anthroposophy. By being thoroughly honest with itself, it knows that it is bringing something into modern civilization, into modern cultural development, that has not been there before. Anyone who has a sense of style and other artistic feelings knows that all forms of art, including architecture, grow out of the way of thinking of a particular time, and that they cannot be understood at all without living with the whole person in the way of thinking of that time. That is why the old architectural styles are only reminiscences for us. We can only understand them to the extent that we can put ourselves in those ancient times. Therefore, for most people who cannot do that, much is incomprehensible.

Anthroposophy is something completely new, not in the sense of a theory but in the sense of life. It is something that can become art at the same time because it does not blunt the feelings as mere intellectualism does. Artists are often afraid of anthroposophy because they think of it as a theory like any other theory. Theory deadens everything artistic, but not anthroposophy. There, the impulses of feeling and will are stimulated. The whole human being is stimulated. Anthroposophy makes people more skillful in their hands — this should be considered today, when most men are so clumsy that they can't even sew on a torn-off trouser button. Therefore, we must really recognize that everything that is anthroposophical is included in skill, in manual dexterity, in human mobility. These are not just thoughts, but at the same time they are world forces in which man lives. Therefore, they can be built, sculpted, and painted in the same way that one builds, sculpts, and paints that which has been brought out of man in the way described.

Because anthroposophy is something new in our culture, a setting had to be found for it that could only exist for anthroposophy. That is to say, a style had to be found that arose out of its spiritual impulses. The building at Dornach stands in such a way that what can be said from the rostrum, the word that is there to proclaim the content of the spiritual world, is one way of speaking; another is the way seen in the setting of the building. Every column and every capital speaks exactly like the words spoken from the rostrum. There is a harmony, just as there was a harmony in the Greek soul between the vision of God and the building of temples. One must create from the impulses of the origin of art. Then something comes out that cannot be discussed: the style – the style that must be grasped from the whole person, from where one experiences the thoughts, which are more than mere thoughts, as forces that sit within one and pulsate through one's blood, so that one can also shape them externally.

I only wanted to make a few remarks, my dear fellow students, honored guests. I just wanted to point out how one can indeed arrive at finding styles again. No matter how imperfectly this may have been achieved in Dornach — I myself am the strictest critic of this building, which is only the first step — an attempt has been made to find the characteristic style of the period, to find again what belongs to the style. And that is why something is being placed in the style here that is real spirituality, one can also conquer the material that proves to be so brittle, as Mr. Strakosch described it, the concrete, so that one then says to oneself: Certainly, one cannot make anything out of concrete if one does not want to make the craziest stuff, but the craziest stuff is precisely the most style-less. You can only do something with concrete if you have the other prerequisites – whether they are practical prerequisites for a functional building or spiritual prerequisites for a building such as the School of Spiritual Science in Dornach – if you have what is alive within, within you; then you can say, even if you have concrete in front of you: It is not the case that concrete allows you to make anything out of it, but rather you can only place one thing in a single place. Where a human being has an earlobe, there could not be a big toe, nature would not allow it; when a certain mass of forces of the organism is present, only one thing can be formed in one place – if one lives in contemplation. That is what is meant when one speaks of a sense of style, of a firmly established sense of style, and of the absolutely plastic concrete material.

So you may be able to experience in Dornach that, despite the truth of what Mr. Strakosch said about the concrete material from certain points of view, the concrete material in Dornach has been treated in such a way — even if not everything has been successful — that what is situated in any given place is sensed as necessary precisely there, and that one says to oneself out of direct perception: just as only an earlobe can be in a certain place on the head, so only a very definite form can be here. But before that, the merely symmetrical, the merely moderate-metrical must be transferred into the organic, the internally experienced moderate, the internally experienced symmetrical, as one experiences it when one passes from the merely mechanical to the organism. In order to arrive at a style again, the step had to be taken from the geometric-symmetrical, metrical style and so on to the organic style. No matter how imperfectly this may have been achieved, it is undoubtedly in this direction that we must seek what the further stylistic development of architecture must be. And I believe that we will only find the [style for a] utility building, as well as [for] a building like the Goetheanum in Dornach, if we follow such paths; otherwise we will only ever get as far as the reproductive. We will only get to the productive by following this path. Then there will be no need for pessimistic observations about the fact that architectural styles are not being invented, but then the urge for new stylization, new stylistics, will arise out of the full, artistic life.

Question: I would like to ask whether Dr. Steiner has found the relationship between today's man and the new stylistic form of the Dornach building on the path of higher knowledge, as was previously suggested for spiritual-scientific things, and if so, whether this path may be applied where intuitive and artistic

creation is involved.

Rudolf Steiner: This is a question that cannot be treated in such general terms. I have, I believe, described the process as far as it was possible in the sketchy presentation. The point is that the intuition is there, and this intuition comes with a certain inevitability. So you can't say that preparations could be made for something specific or something like that, so that these things will come. Rather, in the anthroposophical — whether one believes it today or not — there is something that, in contrast to the merely abstract, theoretical, is an element that is connected with organization, with growth and so on. It is the case that one can say: Even what I recognize as an idea, as some kind of essence in the spiritual world, is there, it is seen, but one does not now have the possibility of holding on to it in the same way as one holds on to a sensual experience that clings to the memory; one can only reconstruct the paths by which one has come to such a higher experience, that is, what lies before the experience, and then wait to see if the experience is there again. The experience is the direct perception; and just as I do not have this hall if I only have the memory of it, so I do not have the higher spiritual experience if I only have it in memory. It does not present itself at all in memory. That is the peculiar thing about higher spiritual experiences: they cannot be remembered in the usual way. I explained in my lecture that the higher spiritual experiences are due to a transformation of the power of memory, which is why they are not subject to memory, but must be experienced again and again in a new way. I have written four mystery dramas, and every single word was there, it was there. I cannot say that one can prepare oneself specifically, but through anthroposophy one enters into a living process. I could hint at what underlies it with something that might seem trivial to you. If you have learned something and have a corresponding memory, then you have it, you always have it present; but if you have eaten something, you cannot say: I do not need to eat today because I ate the day before yesterday. — What I learned yesterday is available to me today; that is an abstract process that underlies memory. What is a real process is not subject to memory, it is processed. This is how it is with the experience of what is experienced in supersensible worlds. It is a real experience. Therefore one can say: in general, the realization of what anthroposophy can give is already the path to such things, and will naturally be found in detail when the preconditions for it are there. But it is self-evident that one cannot say that one should now cultivate one thing or another through anthroposophy or that anthroposophy is the means to realize the ideal of Friedrich von Schlegel, the romantic, which consisted in nothing more than: one should resolve to become a genius. Anthroposophy is not the way to do that. But it is something living, that is what it is about. I have said that something like a new style emerges from the naive; historical considerations would be of no use in shaping a new style. It is not aimed at intellectualizing artistic production, but at what simply arises from the development of humanity, as I presented it yesterday, that the forces that used to be physically effective must now be sought spiritually. That is what matters. But I would like to warn against trying to regulate in any way the things that should actually lead to the fullest freedom, and thus also to artistic freedom, in the way indicated. I do not want to pass over these things without reminding you that artistic freedom must prevail in them, and that I very much fear that if you apply a rule to these things from the outset, even the golden section, that in the end it is not the free creation that lies there, but the feeling of being forced into those Spanish boots that a German poet once, let us say, “glorified” in a poem. The application of standards as to what may be achieved in free creation, and the judgment: “That is not beautiful” — if it does not meet a certain standard, that leads to the inartistic. And I fear that the Dornach building would become inartistic if one were to apply only the golden section [gap] —- the golden section is, of course, abstracted from what has been built so far; it is contained in countless works of art and is justified because it is contained in the human form; but if you apply it as a preconceived rule, you do not arrive at what is pleasing clothing, but at what was worn at the Spanish court and later at the Austrian court.

Question: How can it be explained that we can often solve problems in our half-asleep state that we cannot solve in broad daylight? ... [pause]

Rudolf Steiner: If we consider the current ideas of physiological science or even psychological science, which is almost the same thing nowadays, we cannot explain this fact, which is undoubtedly a fact. But if one has trained oneself without prejudice to observe human life in reality, then such facts become proof of this basic view. We must be clear about the following, and in the same way that one can be clear in a materialistic-physiological way about other things that can be achieved through such science. We must realize that man is actually only awake to a certain part of his being from waking to sleeping, namely only to his life of thinking. The life of thinking can be seen clearly when it is awake. On the other hand, there is no possibility of being in the same nuance of consciousness in the life of feeling as in the life of thinking. When analyzing the emotional life, it has the same nuance of consciousness as the dream life. Dreams are just images that string together. But the sequences of the dream life, especially in interesting dreams, do not correspond to the logic of the imagination, but actually to the logic of the emotions, the association of feelings. Feelings are basically only the waking parallel to what occurs in dreams in images, in instinctive imagination. Even when we are awake, we are completely asleep in terms of our will. No matter how we will, we only awaken in our imaginative life. How the will functions, what happens when we move just one arm, we do not have that [in consciousness]; we have the intention, we lift our arm in the imagination, but we only have the imaginative image of the act of the will. But now, for example, mathematical ideas do not come from that part of our consciousness that is exhausted in ordinary waking imagination. If we were only waking human beings, that is, only thinking beings — Dilthey describes this interestingly in a Berlin Academy treatise — we would not come to any mathematics, much less to mechanics. Mathematics and mechanics are grounded in the human being, and the human being comes to mathematics only through the movements of his own limbs. There is something similar at the basis of Greek statics, only we have it in reflection. We have mechanics, especially phoronomy, everything that we grasp with measure and number, only reflected in the imagination. Therefore, we are much closer to the mathematical, to what can be calculated, to what must be found by man. And if man would only experience it once – I have to express myself paradoxically – if he only really experienced how clever and ingenious he is in his sleep, he could become megalomaniac. It is actually very good that this fog of sleep spreads over this undeserved cleverness and that it only sometimes comes up in dreams. But it is absolutely right that when we wake up, we can just about catch what we are doing, if we are preparing some problem in our sleep. We solve many problems in our sleep. And if you want to proceed experimentally, you can do the following experiment. He should try to deal with a difficult task in the afternoon until the evening. He will see if he succeeds in formulating the question clearly towards the evening – the question is a difficult problem – and if he then has the composure to tackle it properly the next morning, he will see what he has worked on in the meantime. This can then seem like an inspiration. So you can even approach these things experimentally. Such things virtually confirm what anthroposophical spiritual science — in a methodical and thoroughly trained way, of course — wants to bring to light. I do not believe that we have yet reached the point where the “heaviness of the technician's trials” that Dr. Unger presented so brilliantly yesterday can be resolved by these means; we have not yet developed enough life pedagogy and didactics for that. But the problem can certainly be explained in the ways that I have just suggested.