It’s a terrific development in human history that so many people should have the means and mechanisms to create images and sounds and words, but the dilution of importance for the best of those creations threatens the value and continuity of the whole enterprise.
What could art possibly mean to a global population that spends most of its days eking out meager livings on the rough streets of Bangalore, Dar es Salaam, or Medellin? What does art possibly mean to the people who spend their days pouring over spreadsheets working to score points with the House Appropriations Committee?
Acts of creation become part of the overall drama of survival.
Art becomes political the moment culture places meaning on what it sees or hears or reads, and politics requires some measure of creative work when it tries to synthesize civic strategies into cogent messages.
A recent move by the famedMetropolitan Museum of Art in New York City is having the effect of opening opportunities that will be fabulously valuable to all of those who simply cannot expect to travel the globe just to see paintings and sculpture.
Things that consume our energy and our attention today will be completely irrelevant in a surprisingly short time from now.
To find your waking moments always distracted by promises of some intangible future is never to be present in the first place.
Rarely do ideas survive for long if they’re not worthy. But just because some expressions have been perceived as shocking does not automatically make them irrelevant or useless. In fact, provocations in creative thought are not only natural but necessary.
Ask a historian or archaeologist if there’s value in so-called archaic, ordinary letters, and the answer is obvious. But ask someone who’s just broken up with a long time paramour and you’ll get a different answer.
What is she thinking? The real question should be, "What are you thinking?"