on being gwyneth

a friend of mine recently started a discussion on her own blog, regarding the status of food as art… a status which she is inclined to argue against. in support of that argument, she said this:

“What food, when properly prepared, can’t do is evoke sadness or outrage or some sort of subtextual moral or lesson.”

to which i responded:

these criteria describe “improper art”, which is art that, by being designed specifically to motivate positively or negatively, is either p*rn*graphic or didactic. “proper art” is that which produces “aesthetic arrest”, and exhibits the qualities of Integritas (wholeness), Convenientia (harmony), and Claritas (radiance).

i believe that i have had moments like that while dining… brief instances of pure being, experience erasing thought and bringing me to a point of stillness. i think that makes it art.

i want one of these:
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someone commented in an LJ-friend’s journal that jackson pollock’s artwork was a joke, amounting to nothing more that randomly-dribbled paint. it’s a common and perfectly legitimate view, but it did rouse my internal pedant, to whom i now give voice:
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