Art

Readership, there's been something that's been bothering me for quite some. It's a bit . . . semantic. Allow me to explain.

Due to the natural progression of a society, certain words and phrases will go in and out of style, or change meanings. Usually it's a pretty drastic change - for example, in the twenties, a "pussy" was a normal thing to call a cat. Now it's slang for "vagina" or someone who fits the description of "scared to do anything" or a "bitch."

There's one word that has managed to change its definition so drastically that the original definition has been lost to the ages. What word is it?

Art.

Back in the Renaissance, art was a word that was reserved for something visual that stirred the soul - you looked up at the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, or saw the Mona Lisa, or the Statue of David, and you KNEW it was art. There was no doubt in your mind that what you were looking at was something that transcended the very lives of the men who created them, and would be considered almost sacred centuries after their deaths.

Nowadays, art has as much of a set-in-stone, concrete definition as the word "thingamagig," or better yet, "jount." It's ridiculous. There are people who spend LOTS OF MONEY on "paintings" that were made, to be perfectly honest, by someone just throwing paint at a blank canvas until they felt they were done. There are these large, plastic "statues" (for lack of a better word) around Yale and Downtown New Haven that are just abominations. They're shapeless, mindless, and pointless. But it's "art." And I'm sure the guy that the City of New Haven contracted to create these "works of art" made a fucking killing.

Basically, it seems like anything can be art, and since the definition is so subjective, nobody could say that what you said was art, wasn't actually art. Technically, my shoe is art. So is my shower. That broken window? Art. That cardboard box, with one side ripped off? Art. The computer on which I'm typing this Observation? Art. The letter N? Art.

When I get back to St. John's, I think I might just go up to my old art teacher and take a shit right there on the floor in the middle of the classroom.

And call it art.

Stay classy