I started out the day reading Edward Winkelman's Artist of the Week post about Jennifer Coates and then read Bill Gusky's post Saltz on Beauty. And it started me thinking about the place of beauty in art.
Why has beauty bcome so maligned in contemporary art? I'm not talking about insipid, pretty paintings. I'm talking about true, gut wrenching, heart-melting beauty. It seems it is more acceptable to be moved by the beauty of a tree than to be moved by the beauty of a painting.
What has happened to us that we are more accepting of pain than healing? Is pain the only emotion that can be felt deeply. Have we become so blunted that only the most outrageous passions and atrocious pains can reach our sensibilities?
It takes thought to unravel the beautiful. It takes an acknowledgement of the deliberate choices that an artist makes. Surely, we as artists, shouldn't have to rely on a megaphone to get a point across.