Are we the ‘quasi-pseudo-intellectuals’ that we fervently loathe?



In explanation of my last blog…

I got an email from a friend about some of the poems that he reads on my web log. It starts with “Interested in birthing your own bastard of diabolically morose proportion? There's nothing simpler…” and goes on about how to use a website where you pick your preferred gothic flavor and it produces your morose poem, your gothic self-expression…
And I tried the website: http://www.deadlounge.com/poetry/poems.html (hence my last blog)
I didn’t value my ex-friend-to-be’s dripping sarcasm of course, but I have to say that he is absolute right! and actually the website was so fun for me when I tried it… I truly felt some of the poems it generated are in fact, well… meaningful!
And some of the stuff I post does really sound like ‘mental masturbation’ as he puts it (although I prefer to call it mental diarrhea, and this is what I meant in my March 15 blog… ‘J’existe sans exister’).
So my friend is spot on with his website.
But what does it mean? I write text that I thought it’s truly heartfelt, and expressive (and some of you did appreciate it and commented positively) but a randomly generated poem from Goth-O-Matic could have the same effect on me… strange isn’t it?
Well, not really. I think that probably I just became more receptive to some aspects of art, or expressions or scribbles...
I’ll try to explain this better: It’s like a minimalist painting. You look at it, and you say to yourself “yeah, well. Anyone could draw that!” and honestly a big portion of this art is generated rather ‘randomly’ just like our poetry website. The point is that we refine our senses so we are capable of understanding this art, I believe. Personally, early on, I was unable to ‘understand’ minimalism. 3 years ago, at the Met I was completely riveted by a painting that up till then I would have thought it’s part of the wallpaper, and I almost cried! I felt all the anguish that the artist was trying to convey, and this is partially because I myself at the time was depressed and thought that my own life was reduced to a minimalist projection of life! I felt like hugging the damn painter and telling him how much I understand, that yes his work had an impact on me, (and no, I am not buying the stupid thing for $15000)…
So it’s not about the quality of the work it’s about ones ability to feel the work, about the work conveying a message. If the message didn’t come across loud and clear to someone (or muffled and shady?), there’s always someone else sobbing helplessly in front of a blank canvas! (naturally I’m exaggerating, don’t have me committed as yet)… and no, I am not saying that one is better than the other in any way shape or form (please no ranting comments about elitism R.) but one work ‘spoke’ to one more than the other. That’s all.