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Surely you know the feeling: wherever you turn, your ears pick up words that sound the same but mean something different depending on who says them. You wonder in despair whether others don't hear it too, but whenever you broach the subject your own words sound alien and you know that without even trying no-one will have a clue as to what you're on about. If I invited you to have a guess, you'd say "quality" without batting an eyelid. If quality were of any significance in art as a yardstick, the majority of artists - who are the most up-front folk in the world anyway, if only because no-one can prove they're not - would long have taken to admitting that they are not so sure. That is no proof either, and could in fact be used to further the cause - but where oh where is that obscure point where good intentions change to mutual rancour as the product of inability, lack of understanding and revulsion? How many sieves are there to separate the wheat from the chaff, but who cares about the result? It's a matter of self-preservation for me to try to distract your and my thoughts. We all know that knowledge and understanding are available in varying degrees and that this is associated with varying forms of preference. I'm sure I could get you to agree that although being in the lead may feel like being on a higher level, those who are familiar with the allotment mechanisms will rather refer to it as being privileged and treat all those who lack it with consideration at the very least. One further step and you'll appreciate that the various stages of development are the complement of the corresponding number of levels of awareness and empathy, which when skipped will ultimately bring about derailment. At some point in the future I'll be able to explain to you how this has pushed the concept of innovation into the wrong maelstrom. I have to take a break here, as this discourse is threatened to overrun its allotted size, but I'm beginning to see what I'm getting at. It must be possible to consider something to be as ugly as sin and yet respect its creator and its aficionados, thereby making it possible serenely and openly to experience a sense of revulsion. Revulsion while respecting one's subject is virgin territory in human relations. Am I wrong in assuming that you'd be thinking twice if I confronted you with the therapeutic merits of revulsion? Unless you take the plunge now, I think I'll let you flounder for a week. |
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