Tyred, cloudy and missing my gloves and pacifier

There are those who say that art is meaningless, that it simply represents what it is.

A picture of deer in a meadow maybe. A canvas full of color splashes. A funny sculpture that doesn’t even look realistic. A prudent long-term investment.

I, on the otherhand–and I know I am not totally alone in this, even nowadays–I say art always has a deaper meaning.

I find the political in a love song. The deaper meaning in even the kitsch old housewives hang on their walls.

It can be a problem. But I don’t care.

I say art has a deaper meaning, , even if (sometimes–especially if) the artist didn’t intend one. Read the rest of this entry »