Sick and hating it, but still thinking…

I spent the last two weeks on the edges of being sick. Coughing, hacking, sneezing, and being generally miserable. My version of Hell has become mucus, and I’m living that nightmare. (It actually started with my head becoming a snott firework factory… that morning I woke up to an explosion of mucus.) So I had two good sleeps and then this shit.

That isn’t to say that I haven’t been thinking and plotting things creative, just haven’t had the energy nor the time to put thought to keyboard. (5 nights of work, 3 days off, 6 nights of work, and then sick as a dog my nights off.) I’ll somehow make time to get some ideas out there.

One thing I really need to get out of my head is “What is art?” Because I think I figured it out: it isn’t the object, but the conversation about the object. Proof: I have a lost Rembrandt in my attic that noone, not even me, has seen. Is it art? Why? A person might bring up that because it’s made by Rembrandt, so it is art. Two ways to attack this: 1) what if it was Rembrandt drawing two stick figures, just a few lines thrown down, with a verifiable signature? Still art then? 2)  Let’s say it isn’t, but an honest to God painting. But since no one has seen it except Rembrandt, how can we know if it’s any good? How can we appreciate it as art until it can be discussed? Since it’s hidden away and basically unknown, it’s might as well be a collection of oil paint and canvas.

As to how I got to this point, it started with GLaDOS and Josh’s art appreciation class (that was an interesting argument there, not that Josh cared; he just wanted an A.)

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