Do you ever get that cynical sensation in your gut? It’s kind of like a cross between the feeling of seeing an old ex in the produce aisle and a disagreeable triple shot espresso, black.
I get that sometimes.
It rears its ugly head when I browse art magazines or comic books or the Movies section of the NYT. I roll my eyes and deem the world bereft of new ideas. “Where has all the art gone?” my babbling pseudo-academic, argument-with-a-million-holes cynic screams.
One of the reasons I enjoy writing for Visual Narrative’s site is that I run into arguments to the contrary all the time. Not academic arguments. Real illustrations, films, installations, comics, books, pics, sites, powerpoints, infographics.
Case in point, the most hopeful and sweet short film I’ve seen in ages. A couple share thoughts in their breath. Their story emerges in steam. And a doggy puts an exclamation point at the end.
Yes, it’s corny. Yes, there’s a dancing unicorn. But, call me a softy, I find it hard to be cynical about modern art when people use air to tell their story.