![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Cleaning up some old papers, ran across this and thought I'd post it.
Chalk art on the pavement....
pictures in the sand....
Art is a creation. Art is an action. It is a conscious force of will that leaves a result.
The question, then, is:
Is it art if no one else ever sees it? If I create the world's most beautiful art and no one ever sees it... is it art?
And, by extension, is perception by others necessary for things to have value -- to be?
What good is a brilliant thought if it is never shared?
What good is a heroic act if no one knows of that act?
What good is goodness if it doesn't touch others?
When the rain washes away the picture on the cement... did art ever really exist?
In the end, the creation -- the acting -- is for me, but the creation -- the action -- is for others.
Chalk art on the pavement....
pictures in the sand....
Art is a creation. Art is an action. It is a conscious force of will that leaves a result.
The question, then, is:
Is it art if no one else ever sees it? If I create the world's most beautiful art and no one ever sees it... is it art?
And, by extension, is perception by others necessary for things to have value -- to be?
What good is a brilliant thought if it is never shared?
What good is a heroic act if no one knows of that act?
What good is goodness if it doesn't touch others?
When the rain washes away the picture on the cement... did art ever really exist?
In the end, the creation -- the acting -- is for me, but the creation -- the action -- is for others.
