Smoke Signals

Last night Mr. K and I attended a potluck dinner party/film screening with a local collection of artists and writers. When true intelligencia, good food, wine and film combine the result is firey discussions all around the table. One thing that stuck with me, that has echoes through my brain, was not news to me. Afterwards, as is always the case, there was a ringing, a resonance, a humm that wouldn't go away. The timing, the messenger, the context all came together to articulate my greatest frustration with contemporary art, the media, the world I love in: Yikes!

Of course everyone knows "Its not what you say, its how you say it," said the voice of experience sitting on the leather couch. (This is very old news.) The emphasis, though, has always been on the second half of the trusim. Everyone spends all their time and money figuring out HOW to SAY it, SELL it, etc - instead of determining WHAT is is they are saying. ITS NOT WHAT YOU SAY... well, it SHOULD BE.

What one says is the part I am interested in and the problem for me is that no matter HOW one says it if they have nothing to say I am not interested. Maybe it is the Seinfeldization of politics, the artworld, etc? I know. I expect too much - content, form and beauty. Maybe its a curse?