'Those who go beneath the surface do so at their own peril'. If a person's aesthetic appearance is the "surface", it is assumed that beneath this surface there are sensitivity and emotion. Wilde warns against probing consciousness too deeply, or at all; the threat that it may not be possible to experience pleasure with the same intensity once the moral consequences have been considered haunts the novel. The phrase "terrible pleasure" is therefore simultaneously antithetical and associated. Dorian is able to lead a life of "pleasure" only by remaining blind to his "terrible" sacrifice of others; the pleasure is almost intensified by the awareness of being born from the suffering of others. However, the mythic quality dictates that this separation between morality and unheeded pleasure is untenable, and, as wet paint does, the consequences of sin begin to seep into the repressed consciousness. It is a self-afflicted “danger” as Dorian dives, albeit temporarily, “beneath the surface” and realizes that he cannot live a soulless life. Once immersed in consciousness, he can no longer reach this perfect surface and inevitably drowns. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on "Why Violent Video Games Shouldn't Be Banned"? Get an original essay Avoiding degeneration means living a life based on the balance of two elements. The very phrase "double life" is associated with the Gothic doppelganger, a balance achieved through every double human, or human-like form. Wilde complicates this by choosing an inanimate object as a doppelganger, presenting an imbalance between the two- and three-dimensional; Dorian exists in reality while the painting, as art, can only be a representation of life. Because the man and the painting are studied simultaneously as if both were art, the two doppelgangers are temporarily two-dimensional: they look now at the evil, aged face on the canvas, and now at the young, beautiful face that laughed back at him from the shiny glass. (Wilde, p.117). Despite the third-person narration, this perspective is temporarily that of the mirror's reflection. The description provided then transforms from a detached account to a narrative with altered perception; Dorian's mirror image is probably not a truthful reflection, but a constructed image of how he perceives himself. The reader must also be subjected to this altered vision that disfigures the truth, seeing the narrative through a “thin blue [wreath] of smoke” (Wilde, p.6). A further level of doubling is suggested in the reflection, another two-dimensional version of Dorian who cannot physically engage in any action but will witness the inevitable "terror" that ensues as an audience at the theater would. Halberstam comments that "the art serves to spatially separate Dorian from his horrific other"[1], requiring a focus on the "spatial". Morality has no physical substance, and is instead part of the soul. Yet the painting acts as a physical representation of the effects of sin on Dorian's soul, which consequently allows for this constant postponement of morality. Almost anthropomorphizing the painting, it is brought to mid-life; capable of imitating the body, but biologically there remains a lack of cognitive thinking. As a “handsome young face,” Dorian also aspires to a wonderfully aesthetic outward appearance, aligning himself more with the painting than with a fully human character. He therefore perceives this state of imbalance between 'surface' and substance as the perfect state, with the corporeal form of one double and the moral blindness of the other. Death remains almost an inevitable act of nature, as balance must be restored. In living adouble life, secrecy is invariably a necessity for each life to function separately as society expects. A feminine naivety is perhaps implicit in Sibyl Vane, the innocent actress, as she regularly exposes her entire self theatrically to the audience. As with many characters in Wilde's novel, the "double life" divides the character into the original, probably "real" character, and the double, a representation or imitation. In Dorian's choice of what is presumed to be the secondary "double", love is aestheticized and belittled; he desires the characters he plays, the performative layer of his identity: "I left her in the forest of Arden, I will find her again in an orchard in Verona" (Wilde, p.71). The action of "[leaving her]" not only foreshadows the inevitable abandonment, but suggests how Dorian imagines Sibyl in a world of Shakespearean romance. By referring to Arcadian spaces – the “forest” and the orchard – Wilde constructs a pseudo-novel with a time limit; an arcadia is in harmony with nature, while Dorian's love lacks authenticity and is unworthy of this literary elevation. Refusing to separate a constructed and imagined vision of her from reality, Dorian loves only, as emotionally as possible, what Sibyl constructs outwardly. Apparently, Sibyl as a character lacks the simplest emotional depth to have enough substance to split her identity in two. Perhaps this is precisely the effect Wilde aspires to; the narrative follows Sibilla beyond the theater, but notes only her virtuous beauty and theatrical mannerisms. Therefore it appears to us exactly as it appears to Dorian. However, Sibyl's doubling is perhaps not as obvious as Dorian's, which occurs physically. It is instead divided by Dorian's perception, with the two versions of his occupying reality or his imagination. Perhaps the act of introducing Basil and Harry, who encourage a compulsion towards beauty, into his imaginary landscape also introduces a sense of reality. This sudden interjection of reality and the shift from Sibyl's ethereal double to the “fascinating” yet “absurdly artificial” (Wilde, p.77) rejects the reliability that Dorian seeks in the constancy of ornamental beauty. The "terrible" in Sibyl's "double life" therefore lies in her tragic blindness: she does not know that her secondary identity, the double life, is a construction, and she does not need this emotional substance to satisfy her predominantly decorative desire . Max Nordau's Degeneration argues that there is a fundamental need for boundaries biologically and socially. In 'unleashing the beast of man' and 'trampling underfoot […] all the barriers that enclose brutal greed […] and the lust for pleasure'[1], society becomes an anarchy of vile tendencies and animalistic that are usually repressed by imposed boundaries. Dorian, unaware of the consequences, releases the beast within himself, declaring himself immune to moral consequences. After one set of borders is torn down, a different set of physical borders is desperately installed in an attempt to maintain orderly control. This is attempted through the Gothic motif of the closed door. Yet, while the old schoolroom appears to serve as the heart of his home, the painting serves as the central organ for Dorian's body. Outside the room, Dorian can temporarily claim physical, mental and moral freedom. Inside the room, this 'double life' is reduced to just one again, and he becomes one with the painting. When Dorian kills Basil Hallward, the blood that appears on the painting parallels the physical, therefore metaphorical, blood on Dorian's hands even as he "plunge the knife into the great vein that is behind the ear, crushing the man's head upon the table" (Wilde, p.144). The biological specification of, 2008)