The Lemming March
Something happens when you realize the works of art that so moved you were far more contrived than your fantasy world's soft glow allows. You are challenged to decide whether that work is suddenly worth less or whether you've lost the ability to appreciate it.
I guess you could say that life is full of disillusionment. But I can't help but be tempted to think that the pattern of relationship that becomes more and more noticeable is really just hinting at our larger heritage. My sister's pastor said last week that people (good, bad, and everywhere inbetween) create great works because they themselves were created out of the stuffs of the Creator of all. And I wonder if what you see is a bunch of children earnestly, clumsily emulating behavior that they can barely understand--let alone duplicate.
It must be flattering to see so many try so hard and really, truly fail to grab onto the core of idea itself. Granted, that's a tall order--and an order with many unknowable steps. Maybe that's at the heart of a sort of worship: to do knowing that you lack the ability to do completely. It's as if the sacrifice that is embedded within starting works that you know you can't really complete brings your efforts a sincerity, a tangibility, that makes up for their lack of complete function. Maybe there's a distinct difference between the construction of complete creativity and the worship of incomplete, emulative paint tossing.
Sure, we may lack the ability to truly create, but you won't see that stop us from throwing more paint on the canvas, more film through the projector, or more music through the speakers. Foolish in a sense, but only foolish if you mind becoming "even more undignified." And it seems to me that all creativity starts with making yourself vulnerable--vulnerable to your own ignorance or inability, vulnerable to the judgment of actual quality.
This thought was triggered when I was looking for the source of a piece of art I have on my computer. I wanted to make a print of it and have it framed. I searched for its name only to find that it was named after a pop-rock song. It became impossible to find the source because so many people had made so many derivative pieces off of this song. And, at first I was discouraged by this. But then the pattern started to rise to the surface, and I was struck by our lemming march back to the feet of the Creator.
"All the same, it is His invention, not ours. He made the pleasures: all our research so far has not enabled us to produce one." - Uncle Screwtape
P.S. There's two posts today. Check out "Wisdom's Roots" if you like a bit of dry reading.
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