I know not whence possessed you

19 December 2012

Odd, I have now a mania for shortness. - Chekhov

Nowadays, encounters of the spirit must be scheduled long in advance, and even then the endless tide of deferred chores and anticipated engagements never ceases to break on our attention. There is always something else that needs doing.

As soon as we start to think of art simply as something to be consumed, discarded, and replaced, we rob it of one of its greatest powers: its capacity to free us from the grip of easier but shallower pleasures.

In a world of speed and distraction, the slow, demanding art work is more indispensable than ever, for it holds out the possibility of those elusive commodities: stillness, clarity, and peace.
scribbled out by Johnny Grovemumbler on 12:22

No comments:

Post a Comment

Newer Post Older Post Home
Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)
My photo
Johnny Grovemumbler
View my complete profile
Would thou hadst hearkened to my words, and stayed
With me, as I besought thee, when that strange
Desire of wandering, this unhappy morn,
I know not whence possessed thee! We had then
Remained still happy—not, as now, despoiled
Of all our good, shamed, naked, miserable!
Let none henceforth seek needless cause to approve
The faith they owe; when earnestly they seek
Such proof, conclude they then begin to fail.

from Milton’s Paradise Lost
Awesome Inc. theme. Powered by Blogger.