You see it in
movies and in
art museums. It's in those pieces of
sculpture that they put on college campuses and in front of
highrise buildings. It's in most of the
poems you'll ever read in
English class. It's
insanity. Or is it? They tell me it's
art, and maybe they're
right. Maybe there's art in the pattern of
scuzz on a dirty plate, or in the
arrangement of
the little black things on a Tostitos chip.
Or maybe it's just an upside-down urinal, or some scrap metal some guy welded together on a whim, or a movie with a bunch of scenes involving unorthodox framerates and pictures of people's eyeballs. Sometimes I believe that some folk are just too willing to accept things as art. Why this is is anybody's guess, but I personally believe that those artsy types just get a kick out of being able to declare something as art and have everyone believe them. It's kind of a power trip thing with them, as I'm sure it would be for me if I had that kind of control over people's minds.
Poetry is the same way. Although I don't read much of it myself, I endorse poetry as a healthy mode of expression. However, I never will understand how people derive enjoyment from taking a poem about a flower and assigning a hundred different, non-flower-related meanings to it.
Surely some people, especially the poets and artists out there, will think I'm an idiot. Perhaps I am, but I try all the time to not fit into that category. I seriously doubt that I'm so completely out of it that I can't recognize art when I see it. I just think that perhaps my standards are a little higher.