So complex. So objective. How does one begin to differentiate 'true art' from the heap of tasteless somethings? To transcend all items and ideology in search of something much greater.
Perhaps, the notion in which we define art limits our capabilities of understanding it — and therein may lie the problem to appreciate such a concept.
Truly, we cannot define art.
We are only capable of defining the affect it allures, for art is omnipresent. It's nature. It's war. Parceled out infinitely and entirely unto vessels of unfathomable degree. An entity which adheres to no moral code and abides by no logic.
Simply put, art thrives in even the most extreme contradictories. This is what so curiously makes birth as beautiful as death; the reason we do not favor dusk over dawn. Those who've endured such revelation are the true artists.
It is these divinely bestowed who go by many names: Hendrix, Da Vinci, Aristotle — God. They give onto us the creation of perfect imperfection, as given unto them by the artist of artists. They are the haves as we, the audience,are the have-nots.
If you're not the artist, you're the critic. This is the fundamental flaw.
As a society we're so quick to decipher true art from the imitation, without ever having the skill to distinguish. We, the unqualified, in telling which is true art.
We are only able to tell which art entices an irrefutable fascination.
One in which we cannot help love.
Art is love at first sight. It's the song you'll never forget, the memory which never fades, or the color combinations that make you cry.
Art is the time you spend. Its everywhere.
Our attempts to understand the philosophical roots of it are fruitless. It's obscure and answers to no title.
We are the critics because we are biased and place boundaries on the infinite.
We're in an age where it's time to put aside labels and embrace that which we don't understand. Let us establish a faith and embark on a journey of perception.
Understand, true art is all around us, but the art we love is the one in which we understand.
It's inevitable.
Art is in the eye of the beholder.
