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An image of shoes worn by Holocaust
victims at concentration camps.
Not beautiful.
Definitely art.
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Weekly Question: Does art have to be beautiful?
My Answer: No.
My ratiocination behind such
definite expostulation can be found in my previous posts, Defining
Art and Defining
Beauty. While I will not provide excess nimiety on the subject (for I
believe it would simply be nugatory), I will
attempt to propose and tackle a question that I feel naturally precedes such a
declaration—What is the point of art if not for euthenics?
Art has the power
to move you; to infiltrate your body, find the most primal drip that flows from
your river id, and stretch it into a tempestuous ocean of raw energy that surges
through your veins. Art forces you feel.
The purist art will take you as its victim.
The
fallacy that art must encompass (or even reference) beauty is not only ignominiously
simplistic; it is demeaning. With the ability to capture a moment, conquer a
mind, change an opinion, why should art be limited to beauty? Art is humbly omnipresent
and in a bold and constant nullibiety. We must not attempt to link it
inextricably to any singular notion.
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