The tyranny of intellect (and class (and age))
I'm growing tired of the use of aesthetics to oppress and denigrate. In a class on Social Justice, Aesthetics and Mysticism this past January, I grew frustrated when we moved from idolizing and adoring all kinds of Latin American folk art to dismissing as kitsch and deriding as "bad art if art at all" Mormon depictions of Jesus. "Kitsch" seemed inextricably-linked to "trailer trash", or some idea of inferior whiteness, uneducated whiteness. And the question of whether it was art (or good art) seemed really inappropriate since we'd already been talking about treating devotional objects and art differently to how we would treat high art. And while that was a good enough system for fetishizing the decontextualized devotional art of inferior groups we condescend to (O noble savages!), it clearly wasn't good enough for talking about white Christians.
Nevermind that there is white Christianity very unlike our own, more unlike our own than much Latin American Roman Catholicism even, as with the LDS Church. Nevermind that Mormon culture was at the time when Mormon devotional art first started to appear a culture very much oppressed, and a religion which struggled to be able to express itself publicly. Blonde Jesus looks a little too much like the Redneck God those Southerners worship in their Baptist Churches where they play too much piano or guitar and are afraid to dance. Fuck those people, who are fair game because they're just like us, and so can be mocked furiously for failing to be good enough versions of ourselves. More furiously than anyone we set apart from ourselves in ways that make them exotic, worthy of being lionized, and so much purer than our fallen selves.
And that'd be bad enough without drowning in unwanted helpings of hipster irony.
Things of real quality are simple and dignified. Fuck those fat people at Wal-Mart who wear shirts with like fifty airbrushed wolves on them! My aesthetics run pretty simple and dignified, but you know what? I really loved putting some saccharine-cute glittery dolphin stickers on the sign we set out for our party a couple of weeks back. In total earnest; there's something cool about glittery dolphin stickers, and I don't want to have to forget that to survive as a smart person who's supposed to know better, a grown-up who's supposed to put them away, or a person in the upper-middle-class who can afford things of better quality. Fuck better quality: those were the best fucking dolphin stickers I could find.
Stylization is abstraction, and a nice way to remove ourselves from an immediate experience of the thing. Sometimes it's a necessity, sometimes it's a pure aesthetic choice, but often it's a distancing tactic. IZOD shirts are good enough, if a little ironic, but a shirt with an alligator or crocodile or whatever-the-fuck that's in the uncanny valley of t-shirt photorealism instead? That shit's for hicks or worse.
I saw someone today in a Tigger jacket, and I thought that was pretty great. Because Tigger's actually pretty damn great. No irony, no removal from context, no slash or other adult overlays needed. Tigger's a fun guy! But a Joy Division shirt with that plot from Arecibo is a lot cooler, a lot more grown-up and serious and clever, than that Tigger jacket. And there's no fucking need for it!
I like things of quality; I like simplicity; I wear mostly solid-coloured shirts that cost too much money, and likewise pants and underwear and the like. That's all well and good, but the feeling of repulsion from the idea of wearing something too childish or too poor or whatever is awful. It's awful to me, it's awful to the whole fucking world. The reservèdness of the upper parts of society (by whatever measure) is so toxic and unnecessary and cruel.
Liking childish things shouldn't be seen as a pitiable, pathetic aspect of being developmentally-delayed, unless one has the good smarts needed to do so with irony, to meaninglessly and distantly wear something beneath you because fuck caring. I treasure my nicest things, the things which perhaps most suit me, and I'd hate to be wearing them as some sort of joke on the world. And I'd hate to think that someone was a joke if they gave a fuck about the wrong things. Fuck not giving a fuck. Care about things! Love them with all your heart! Unapologetically!
I'm not sure I can do that, but I am quite sure I want to.
Amen1.
1: I preached today, and this might sort of be a cousin to that sermon. In any event, it ends up feeling like one (albeit one I'd never preach in quite these words), and it's still Sunday, so there you are.
Nevermind that there is white Christianity very unlike our own, more unlike our own than much Latin American Roman Catholicism even, as with the LDS Church. Nevermind that Mormon culture was at the time when Mormon devotional art first started to appear a culture very much oppressed, and a religion which struggled to be able to express itself publicly. Blonde Jesus looks a little too much like the Redneck God those Southerners worship in their Baptist Churches where they play too much piano or guitar and are afraid to dance. Fuck those people, who are fair game because they're just like us, and so can be mocked furiously for failing to be good enough versions of ourselves. More furiously than anyone we set apart from ourselves in ways that make them exotic, worthy of being lionized, and so much purer than our fallen selves.
And that'd be bad enough without drowning in unwanted helpings of hipster irony.
Things of real quality are simple and dignified. Fuck those fat people at Wal-Mart who wear shirts with like fifty airbrushed wolves on them! My aesthetics run pretty simple and dignified, but you know what? I really loved putting some saccharine-cute glittery dolphin stickers on the sign we set out for our party a couple of weeks back. In total earnest; there's something cool about glittery dolphin stickers, and I don't want to have to forget that to survive as a smart person who's supposed to know better, a grown-up who's supposed to put them away, or a person in the upper-middle-class who can afford things of better quality. Fuck better quality: those were the best fucking dolphin stickers I could find.
Stylization is abstraction, and a nice way to remove ourselves from an immediate experience of the thing. Sometimes it's a necessity, sometimes it's a pure aesthetic choice, but often it's a distancing tactic. IZOD shirts are good enough, if a little ironic, but a shirt with an alligator or crocodile or whatever-the-fuck that's in the uncanny valley of t-shirt photorealism instead? That shit's for hicks or worse.
I saw someone today in a Tigger jacket, and I thought that was pretty great. Because Tigger's actually pretty damn great. No irony, no removal from context, no slash or other adult overlays needed. Tigger's a fun guy! But a Joy Division shirt with that plot from Arecibo is a lot cooler, a lot more grown-up and serious and clever, than that Tigger jacket. And there's no fucking need for it!
I like things of quality; I like simplicity; I wear mostly solid-coloured shirts that cost too much money, and likewise pants and underwear and the like. That's all well and good, but the feeling of repulsion from the idea of wearing something too childish or too poor or whatever is awful. It's awful to me, it's awful to the whole fucking world. The reservèdness of the upper parts of society (by whatever measure) is so toxic and unnecessary and cruel.
Liking childish things shouldn't be seen as a pitiable, pathetic aspect of being developmentally-delayed, unless one has the good smarts needed to do so with irony, to meaninglessly and distantly wear something beneath you because fuck caring. I treasure my nicest things, the things which perhaps most suit me, and I'd hate to be wearing them as some sort of joke on the world. And I'd hate to think that someone was a joke if they gave a fuck about the wrong things. Fuck not giving a fuck. Care about things! Love them with all your heart! Unapologetically!
I'm not sure I can do that, but I am quite sure I want to.
Amen1.
1: I preached today, and this might sort of be a cousin to that sermon. In any event, it ends up feeling like one (albeit one I'd never preach in quite these words), and it's still Sunday, so there you are.