Is Art fair?
The cherished ability to make money and have the textbook “good
life” seems attainable even to the most deprived individual even if the chances
of “getting there” are slimmer as you slide down to the
BoP. People are driven.
They’ll take great pains at disguising it as a path to some higher salvation
and autonomy. They’ll grind out the hours and become unconditionally loyal to
their ambitions. They’ll get to the top through their job or they’ll start a
start-up and hope to get to the top. Whatever they do, they’ll want success
with that irresistible cocktail of power and means.
The knack of experiencing the overbearing and uplifting enormity
of an act of creation is, alas, much rarer. To see a stunning painting, one
that captures the senses, one that seems to convey all that is inconspicuous to
the conscious mind but is the true reason for adding authenticity to the description,
is scarcely seen. You can go deeper. The layers beyond your conscious radar add
an element of unfamiliarity, one that sprouts from the artist’s imagination,
instantly and subtly inscribing a signature that pulls out the work from the
clutter of imitation.
Is the ability to genuinely feel the above undemocratic?
One might argue that it is a provenance of the rich. Surely,
the art connoisseurs and critics are generally no ordinary individuals. Their
lives are those of privilege. Looking at them, one would not be exaggerating in
feeling left out, in feeling that the taste of Art is artificial and lies
outside the boundaries of experience of the majority.
And yet, we all go through moments of ecstasy; moments of
unhindered, uninhibited joy; moments that transport us to a higher Truth and
give us a transcendentally extraordinary realization.
It may be through a dusty old book, a book written
originally by an author in a different tongue in a different time and place.
The words attain the equivalence of a painter's brush as each stroke defines
and conveys thoughts that seem so strangely familiar but would never be
expressed with the same lightness of expression and depth of thought. It may be
during a music concert when a strange radiance permeates one's thoughts and
gives us a ridiculously short lived stay in paradise. At that moment, the
lyrics blend together with the music to produce something that goes beyond
ordinary expression.
There is, to be sure, a primeval understanding for the
beautiful even in the most uncouth of individuals. It is a strange mystery to wonder
what sharpens the mind - what tunes the senses to appreciate the beauty of Art.
And, what do we gain from it?
Greater people have come and pondered over this matter, not
least in the period of the Enlightenment. Let us call upon
Jean Jacques Rousseau,
For all the rest of the day, wandering deep into the
forest, I sought and I found the vision of those primitive times, the history
of which I proudly traced. I demolished the petty lies of mankind; I dared to
strip man’s nature naked, to follow the progress of time, and trace the things
which have distorted it; and by comparing man as he has made himself with man
as he is by nature I showed him in his pretended perfection the source of his
true misery. Exalted by these sublime meditations, my soul soared toward the
Diviniy; and from that height I looked down on my fellow men pursuing the blind
path of their predjudices, of their errors, of their misfortunes and their
crimes. Then I cried to them in a feeble voice that they could not hear,
“Madmen who ceaselessly complain of Nature, learn that your misfortunes arise
from yourselves!”
And he goes on to say,
“If nature has destined us to be healthy, I almost dare
to affirm that the state of reflection is a state contrary to nature and that
the man who meditates is a depraved animal”
Rousseau's stand is interestingly contrarian to his
own standing as an intellectual. In brief, what he says is that the very act
of erudition pushes us into misery. It is an affliction or rather, an
addiction. A person who has experienced the bliss of higher beauty or the
comfort of knowledge will no longer feel content with basic material joy.
This "state of reflection" is a curse, an irresistible power that
forces normal primitive man to yearn for that which is beautiful, that which is
fulfilling in a deeper sense. Talk about paranoia. And yet, if you ponder over it you would realize that there is more than an inkling of truth
in his words.
For all of us are born with a fuzzy appreciation of the
beautiful but it is the refined person who truly grasps the layered subtlety of
Art. And a person need not be refined by the brute force of wealth. He may do so through a manic desire for learning, or the courage to discard the merely
convenient.
A recent article in a popular newspaper quoted an agent of a
mainstream novelist as saying that it was an elitist illusion to assume that
"Victorian" literature and style was what counted as good writing.
What people really want, he alleged, was a read that was more grounded and easy
to parse through. That's true, in a way. A good writer is tiresome- he'll make
you stop occasionally to let out gasps of amazement, she'll make you re-read
entire sections for correct comprehension and also make you use that dictionary
you've had decorated on the drawing room shelf. Those who make that effort,
who can afford to pause and not check the ending page number of the story, will
find themselves bequeathed by something more substantial and longer lasting than
entertainment. They'll feel enriched and inspired. Not that I hate the Meluha
trilogy (it's all real good fun).
I surrender to the chains of this addiction. I cannot hope
for others to follow me- it is good that they don’t. What I know is that every
time I read a piece of classical poetry, whenever I ponder over the intention
behind an artist’s portrayal of a war or when I see a Roger Federer winner I am
transported to a place of pure ecstasy, one that I want to come back to again
and again, at the risk of losing touch with the unadulterated joy of normal
success…
I believe I am in a position here to write many more pages
on the value and fairness of Art. I don't think anyone will read more. If
you've come this far, I appreciate it tremendously. Let's talk some time.
