I was recently asked for a class to write about an image I loved. Off I went thinking again.
Many paintings are deeply meaningful to me. I used to keep “The Scream” up on my wall and looked to it for sympathy on long nights. I’ve gone to the Institute, Met, Pompidou, Prado, Louvre, and many paintings and photos have spoken to me and wowed me (especially with the help of the blurbs–the blurbs!), and I have loved many of them for it.
But in terms of what I love, I may just as strongly fall for the cute, the erotic, the cheap. We are animals, hundreds of thousands of years in the evolutionary making, drawn to the alike, the sexual, the big-eyed and infantile.
I once stumbled upon a video on YouTube that just asked “Is there anything more beautiful than two girls making out?” and then showed two girls, making out, to the tune of the “Plastic Bag Theme” from American Beauty. Sexism and objectification aside (which may be a lot to ask), for a moment I was almost won.
“Men are so crazy, they want the essence, the woman is the essence, there it is right in their hands but they rush off erecting big abstract constructions.” – Mardou, Kerouac’s The Subterraneans.
I like ideas. But when asked what I love, I don’t think I should over intellectualize, think I should remember who, and what, I am.
(Reposted from 2/21/09)