RAMANAM
In the Name of The Father, and of The Son and of The Holy Spirit, Amen.
A fellow commenter on a blog post said my comment there was unbelievable because I took liberties with nomenclature. That is my translation of what my fellow commenter wrote. The commenter, actually, deployed an obscenity to describe my contribution and to justify its unbelievability in his or her eyes. I replied: It is a work of art. You are required neither to believe nor to appreciate it.
The exchange got me thinking. Is not that the way in all things? Unless a statement or any other product of human effort is a work of art, an actual creation, meant to be lovely by being lovely, is not that statement or product worthless, useless and perhaps even evil? It seems to me the answer is, “Yes.” Is there a reality that is true, factual, usable and reliable apart from its being expressed as a work of art? As I thought about this, I thought, “I think not.”
The phenomenon intrigues me. One cannot simply throw stuff out there — expectorate, if you will — and expect it to be respected, admired or used for any noteworthy or lasting endeavor. Whatever one puts forward, if it is to carry self-validation and self-evident puissance — that is, if it is to be considered important for the human condition — then it must be, whatever it is, comprised as a work of art. This thought goes to every field of endeavor, from welding to war-making, from academics to stall-cleaning, from politics to theology, from home-making to deep-sea-diving and from floor-scrubbing to finance.
If it is not art, it is not true. If it is not created, it is not powerful. If it is not a labor of love, it is not worthwhile.
And if one does not see and honor the art of living, one does not deserve to live.
Update 1: James Lileks on modern art:
You can read what he concludes, but I keep coming back to the same things: it’s not that art is irrelevant, or that people are indifferent to Art, Period, but that High Art has removed itself from a conversation with the culture, and now lectures from barren cul-de-sacs to acolytes in sack-cloths. The art of movies can be much more impressive than a silly video installation of disembodied lips moving in poor sync to a Brazillian folk song to indicate something poverty something Catholocism; the art of contemporary music engages where the abstractions of post-Romantic pain-inducing shriekfests just makes people feel like they’ve stuck their head in a blender full of broken glass.
AMDG
