Art in My Innards 1 March 2006Posted by Todd in Culture, Painting & Sculpture, Philosophy & Social Theory.
Those of you who know me well know that despite my taciturn, academic Capricorn exterior, I'm pretty much a cheese ball, loving all kinds of pop-culture trash. I tend to feel things pretty deeply and have been known to cry at extremely bad television (such as the utterly sentimental and manipulative endings of every episdoe of Cold Case…hey now, don't be getting all art-snob on me; I watch it to spend some time with the steamy and sensitive Borricua cop for an hour on Sunday nights!). But at a deeper level, I'm always on the lookout for those rare images, melodies, words that move the soul, that work inside of me, almost parasytically, that shift my perception of the world, even if just for a little bit.
In the past few months, I finally submitted to Brokeback Mountain; I exulted yet another time with Allen Ginsberg's "Footnote to Howl" (here read live in 1959); I fought alongside Johnny Cash to get out of my own "Rusty Cage"; and was stopped dead by the works of Hung Liu (below or see more here).
Since I was a teenager, I've been trying to speak the pit in my stomach when I hear Mozart's Requiem or Ärvo Pärt's Berliner Messe or Chopin's Nocturne in c minor. Then yesterday on the train home, I came upon this in my continuing adventures with the old German syphilitic, my favorite companion of late, describing what a genius heart can effect in a willing subject:
…the genius of the heart from whose touch everyone walks away richer, not having received grace and surprised, not as blessed and oppressed by alien goods, but richer in himself, newer to himself than before, broken open, blown at and sounded out by a thawing wind, perhaps more unsure, tenderer, more fragile, more broken, but full of hopes that as yet have no name, full of new will and currents, full of new dissatisfaction and undertows… (from Beyond Good and Evil)