Oi! Who Arted?
I'm reading John Carey's 'What Good Are The Arts?' at the moment, and though it's a pretty ponderous argument-quote-counterargument-counterquote affair, I find the debate itself genuinely interesting. Restricting ourselves to the written word, is there any point to poetry and literature? Can it do any good? Or is it a bad thing, set up to reinforce prejudices and promote complacency? Eh?
I must confess I find myself drawing ever-closer to a position of soft iconoclasm, (I know I'm misusing/reappropriating that word, but I can't find a term that means 'anti-art') in the sense that all art incorporates artifice and is, in a sense, a form of caricature that obscures reality. At best, it's reassuring wankery, at worst, it distorts the truth in order to encourage people to do bad things. While I wouldn't be after chucking all works of art into large bonfires (steady) or even stopping writing myself, I wonder whether a person might be healthier and wiser if they left these pursuits behind and simply contemplated the world as it is, rather than mediated through the idealised, subjective lenses of artists.
The All New Pepsoid the Second!
The All New Pepsoid the Second!
The All New Pepsoid the Second!
The All New Pepsoid the Second!
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Share your state secrets at...
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