Thaumato

What is the point of a work of art?

To build something permanent, a structure of mind and ideas and craft and space and time, a structure under which generations of people may pass or pause to take refuge from the rain.

What prompted this:

I was listening to ‘Alone in Kyoto’ by Air today and was looking at the cover. The two men are wearing gloves as if they are about to engage in some kind of esoteric labor. A diagram behind them hints at the hours of research and experimentation which they have spent building their sound.

I was struck by the wistful, far off look on Dunckel’s face (the guy on the right) - the prototypical dreamer, and for a moment my thoughts turned unkind. I began to chide his lofty aspirations as being all style and no substance, immaterial castles of air, upon which his gloves would find no resistance. But, as the music continued on I understood that I was in fact listening to the realization of his efforts, and that a castle of ideas had in fact been constructed and was not flimsy or fleeting but quite whole. The structure had been built and the photo is of an artist admiring his creation.

If I was ever in a great band, responsible for great music, and you know, time had passed and people were asking to interview me for the Behind the Music special - I would refuse to be interviewed. There is no way that my contributions could be anything but lessened by the clips of me 60 years old and trying to sound wise about something inherently mysterious and inexplicable.

I’d have already said all of the best things I was capable of saying and I’d refuse to cheapen or demean my mighty contributions with a mere sound bite.