On the drive to work today I was listening to the radio. They were trying to get people to define art.
For the record, I am not an arty person.
I was thinking of what would be a nice definition for art that would be good for everyone. Then I realized I shouldn’t.
I should only come up with a definition for myself. Firstly, because I don’t feel a pressing need to share this information. But truly because I am the only one that needs to know it.
I am mentally unfit for art. I am not a real artist. I won’t be one. Ever. My opinion should not be forced on others, but I should not have their definition forced on me.
And what scares me is the knowledge that I will not change in this respect. I am not going to change personality and be someone open to art like that. I am who I am, for the rest of my life. Whether I like it or not. I have to acknowledge that I won’t magically become someone else.
For the record thought, my definition would probably be something along the lines of “What I like to look at or experience.” Arty people seem to want to “start a conversation”.
A) You are not mentally unfit for art. You appreciate art all the time. You read books, watch movies, listen to music. All of this is art. Just because you’re not looking at famous paintings or listening to opera or nodding knowingly at abstract sculpture doesn’t mean you’re not appreciating art. Not everyone has the same tastes or the same ways of appreciating art. That’s okay.
B) You are also not exactly the same person you were ten years ago, and presumably the same person you were ten years before that. No, you are not magically becoming someone else overnight. You are, however, more committed to personal development than anyone I know and have changed significantly since I met you. If you chose to learn more about the study of art, you could. But you also don’t have to.
C) It’s Art if there’s an urn in it. Or a plinth. Both is best, ‘course.