The Times, Yahoo … lumps art and entertainment into the same bin: do they belong together?
Yes, certainly; and No, absolutely.
I plan to develop those “answers” at length, in depth, but I post a beacon in the meantime: art can exercise our survival muscles, exercise the imagination, stretch our potential. Church drones the same-old-same-old; a Bergman movie, a Shakespeare play, can put you where you’ve never been before. If we could know where we’re never going, we could save time by never glancing at the map; but what if we do wind up there? A glance at the map, a thought about the paths, might spell the difference between finding another meal and falling off the cliff.
I hate entertainment as a waste of time a seduction for the sake of a sponsor, not of the entertained. I am addicted to art.
Unfortunately for you, and me, my art is despised, sabotaged, buried. So no one can know who or what I am.
We tell children that good work is rewarded; the news sometimes tells of which geniuses our parents persecuted last century: you reward is crucifixion, for the pope to threaten you with torture. Doctors blackballed the doctor who told them to wash up.
We think we know what God will judge us for, how he’ll judge us, what the verdict will be …
I love Clint Eastwood. But I remember watching Clint being shown Mifune’s first fight scene in Yojimbo on a little handheld monitor, a scene Clint has been party to plagiarizing many times. Clint smiled, looking soo entertained. Christ, I hated Clint at that moment.