A while back I started a writing project. It gets absolutely no traction and is, basically, written in name only. The curious thing is that I have the whole project fleshed out so it’s production should be easy.
But this is only a symptom of a bigger tautological issue.
Art is less of a world changer and market/tax dodger as we’d like to believe. If anything it’s simply an artifact. Some terrible future archaeologist’s wet dream and a worshipful historians lust-filled fantasy.
The minute we realize that the painting isn’t a Rembrandt we no longer give a damn. After centuries in a museum it’s not leaning up against the wall in a small town thrift store. Condemned to be (maybe) appreciated by the common lot because their appreciation is nothing like our appreciation.
We understand the mysticism that comes from the hand and, regardless of quality, some hands are just more mystical than others.