What is a critic in the arts, a failed painter, writer, movie maker, singer of songs? Who can truly know, but I doubt it is primary, maybe some small part of the soup. Is it the provincial intellect with such a sour vindictive nature he can't but help spread his grand effluence, add another brick to the already extensive pile of bitter reproof. It would seem to be so sometimes. It would also be probable that the critic is truly infused with the love of that he criticizes, along with years of education, osmosis, and experience, his writing sits on solid ground, but, the proverbial but that negates all that precedes it, it is still just his opinion. Then maybe that he has cachet and people look to him for guidance as to what is and what is not, and follow the natural instinct of wanting to be liked, knowing what is read, worn and watched is a part of that gregarious social nature of man. That is a bit of power for one man, to arbitrarily do the roman gladiator thing, the up or down vote..rewrite this...
My question is, why does one have someone tell him what is/makes great art. How can that be, great art in any form was great before someones imprimatur made it so. In fact by the time it is observed it has gone on to a new location on the beach ball of reality, a social version of Heisenberg's Theory of Uncertainty. Art is great beauty, it smells like gardenias, it's shapes seduce us, it's colors caress our eyes, its' sounds, aural ecstasy, your body shivers, its words a universe of thought and fantasy with no physical boundary, no limitation of the possible.
Needs rewrite.
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