I’ve been thinking lately about art and the power that it wields. Now, when I say “art,” I don’t mean just the highbrow stuff that few people (least of all me) have access to. I’m talking about the art we see everywhere–in our books, our movies, our fashion, even (dare we admit it?) our tv shows. We call it pop art and, though naysayers claim its commercial and diluted (they’re probably right) it seeps into and shapes our reality, and therefore deserves our consideration. And the thing I’ve been thinking about lately is how easily we give ourselves over to the Artist, so hungry are we for the Art.
You may not consider yourself a connosseur of art, but you are; you probably just take it in a different form than someone else does. Some forms, no doubt, are more substantial than others–I’m not gonna say Duck Dynasty requires the same investment from us as does, say, Great Expectations–but Duck Dynasty is still meeting people’s needs for Story, for Metaphor, for Moral, for a fictional, and therefore controllable, reality. (At the risk of offending some viewers, I maintain that all “reality” shows are actually fictional. You know what I mean.)
We enter this world starving for art. We want to consume it, and we want to create it. And it’s a good thing that art does take varied forms, because that makes room for all of us–the painter, the seamstress, the carpenter, the drummer, the baker, the writer, the party planner, the scrapbooker (not kidding), the cellist, the executive, the interior designer–to become artists. And that becoming is what makes our lives interesting, and meaningful, and fun. It’s what gets us through the drudge. You may not see yourself as artistic, but can you imagine a life without your own creativity? My brother-in-law is a master on the Traeger–you know, that fancy barbeque thingamajig that every red-blooded man lusts after these days? My BIL makes a smoked tenderloin in that thing that, when tasted, flings us straight up to the gods. That’s art.
So what I want to know is this: