ART IN A TIME OF SMOKE AND CINDERS

No matter what Election Day may bring —and I’m conscious that on whatever date you may be reading there will likely remain massive uncertainties ahead — it would be irresponsible to pretend that the travails of the day can just be ignored. They cannot be ignored. Artists especially cannot avert their eyes, even as the balm of creative work promises a cloak of comparative purpose, or at least meaningful pursuit. To pretend that our collective, human induced problems are not substantial would be to assert an abdication of civic engagement. 

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WHAT I TRY TO REMEMBER

Art is the reason to preserve life in the first place, to fortify our shelters and our camp, to share sustenance with others around the fire. Art is the reason we exist. We exist to create; creation becomes the over arching beauty worth pursuing in a finite life; beauty is the reason to endure.

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LOSS OF MEMORY

Creative works are hardly ballast against the drowning, downward pull of recent events. Art is not “the answer”, especially considering how time and time and time again the human collective seems to eschew creative options in favor of destructive ones. It’s inevitable, perhaps, to wonder: does art really matter in the face of humanity’s often malevolent inclinations?

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ART IN A TIME OF CHAOS

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?

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