I’ve become frustrated recently with ever greater removal of the truly artistic from the everyday world. But what is art? Who am I to define art? Really, I am no one. I’m not an expert, and don’t claim to be one. I’m just a teenager who thinks the perception of art in a large sense has degenerated into entertainment, money, and fame.
We see toddlers splat paint on a canvas and see that become internationally acclaimed art. We see singers with no real talent shooting to the top of charts because of studio editing. We see people throw a myriad of words on a piece of paper haphazardly, and suddenly we have a new innovation in poetry or prose that obviously must hold some deep meaning. We see films breaking box office records that really have nothing more to boast than a screenplay with some raunchy sarcasm and a one night stand.
And we call this art. We call the creators of this stuff…artists; musicians, painters, writers, actors. Why? Why has our culture numbed the idea of artistry down to whoever can find a semi-creative outlet to make a fast buck? Shouldn’t art stay elevated above this?
One of my professors was lecturing today on the idea that what is “right” is nothing more than a matter of personal conviction or interpretation. Therefore, one could never make an incorrect analysis of literature, for it’s all up to personal perception. Nice. My next essay will be 5 sheets of blank white paper. “But Dr. So and so… you can’t fail my paper…it was my interpretation, and therefore must be correct.” [/sarcasm]
And they call this a college education…ah well… I have a good time arguing with my postmodernist/secular humanist friendlies. Oh school…
I love writing. As I’ve said before, I write whenever I need an avenue to channel emotion. Whenever I don’t have enough energy to ponder many things all at once, paper plays my second brain, my removable hard drive if you will. But I don’t call myself a writer. No. I believe writing is art enough to leave the title of “writer” to those who devote their lives to the passion. Not those who do it for money, or recognition, but those who do it because they love it, and because they have to.
I’ve played the piano since before my feet could touch the ground. At any given moment, I could sit down and pound out some jazz or play compositions from Mozart, Bach, Beethoven, Greig, Mendelssohn, Debussy, Chopin, Brahms, yada yada. But that doesn’t make me a musician, and I don’t call myself one. Again, I really feel that term should be reserved for those who are willing to devote their lives to the study, enjoyment, love, and pursuit of musical excellence.
Excellence. Maybe that’s what’s missing. Culture as a whole has contented itself with the half-baked greasy kind of art. The kind that doesn’t require skill, passion, work, time, and effort to create, but rather the kind of “art” that can be achieved by zapping a moment of instant stimulation into an audience, and not much else.
As Gene Edward Veith once said, “The “entertain me” mindset of pop culture now governs education, politics, morality, and the church. Teachers try to entertain their students rather than educate them. Politicians craft their image like movie stars. And pastors turn their worship into entertainment and downplay theology in favor of good feelings.”
Do you ever wonder what God thinks as he looks down on American culture? All the wonderful potential and ability he has placed within the lives of each person across the country, yet we largely ignore that true beauty to instead run head first in pursuit of cheap immediate pleasure.
Oh how often we sell ourselves short. How often we accept the less than great merely out of laziness. We have become satisfied with the unsatisfactory. We’re content to look out the one inch window rather than running out, throwing up our hands, and finally seeing the vast open expanse of sky...
So farewell to the cheap imitations, the wishful thinking, the empty but nice sounding words… let us run head first toward excellence: for that is what we have been called to pursue.
