Oh contemporary art, I wish I understood you. Most of the time, you just baffle me. I appreciate that everyone has different tastes and opinions (and am I ever thankful for it), but what always gets me is the simple act of how these things are classified as art, to be hailed and exhibited around the world. It's a mirror on the ceiling. If I put a mirror on the ceiling, no one thinks it's art. Is it because there is a so-called idea behind it? I can make up a random idea to go with a random chair standing in a random corner too! In fact, I'll cover the floor with advertisements or wrappers or something, and then it is a commentary on the individuals' isolation within an increasingly commodified world, becoming invisible amongst the commercial input if you will. I will call it 'Haunting Adspace' or something longer perhaps, maybe something more Andy Warhol. I'll think about it. I just don't get how they distinguish between these random things, how can one seemingly innocuous thing be claimed as art, while another is overlooked. I'm not saying it's not valid, I mean by all means, taste differs, I'm merely curious to how these lines are drawn. Who makes these decisions, what are the criteria? I guess it's that same old question What is art? It's an annoying question. Someone answer it. Art exists, museums exhibit certain works over certain others, ergo there must be an answer for it. Tell me.
I've had a wonderfully productive day. I got up early for the first time in...well a very long time, did some yoga, had a proper breakfast, left for work on time, was wonderfully cheerful at work (if I do say so myself *cough*), managed to get a good head start on my editing work, ran through my presentation again, took Oreo for a walk, and got in another thirty minutes of cardio. I topped it all off by watching a sickeningly hilarious Good News Week - a show I surely love more than I should. But I sincerely doubt there was anything more amusing that Tom Gleason chasing Josh Thomas around Melbourne Town Hall to Benny-Hill-esque piano music elsewhere on television.
Despite productivity, I'm yet to do significant work on my crit writing essays (and technically I believe we are meant to workshop them, or at least discuss them tomorrow) but I have vague ideas what I'd like to do, so I'll just be equally vague in my discussion and maybe that'll get me through. I can hopefully pull something more concrete together after work together. I'll try anyway.
I've been reading one chapter of 'Great Expectations' before I sleep each night as I continue to try and get through it. It's a brilliant cure to my insomnia, since I can barely make it through one chapter. I wish I could enjoy Dickens as much as other people do. While I can recognise that he was brilliant at characterisation, I simply find it hard to care about his characters, no matter how fleshed out they are. I find everyone in this novel highly disagreeable, which may actually be the point, but I don't like reading about people I don't, well, like...or find engaging rather. Which is also why I've never gotten past the first few chapters of 'Jane Eyre.' It's a shame, and I keep trying, but I sadly never seem able to draw a different conclusion. The thing I find most fascinating about classical fiction is the dominant role houses seem to play in them. It seems like a good idea for an essay...there probably are essays on this, I'm just too lazy to look them up right now.
Anyway, see if I can yet string a few coherent sentences together tonight. I'm trying to get to sleep a little earlier than normal (ie not past midnight) even though it is my most productive time of day. Ah well, concessions must be made somewhere and it's worked well for me today.
Music: Music of the night - Michael Crawford