Burt Reynolds is dead...
Burt Reynolds is dead ... and I am listening to an utter stranger's Southern Gothic playlist on Spotify. Since Sunday of Labor Day weekend my time has been spent revolving around the "Christmas in July" play (penned by our very own Dennis O'Donnell), and it's final tech week preparations. On the ride into the church building from my suburban home I've listened to a podcast on Christian and Pagan reliquary given at the Met. Museum of Art, and another podcast of an introductory lecture on Plato's aesthetic notions by an Oxford professor.
Burt Reynolds is dead... I am listening to an absolute stranger's Southern Gothic playlist... and (oddly even to me) this all seems to make some sense that I would write Today's Art Topic, despite it having nothing to do with such a context -- while nonetheless being crafted in the midst of it all. There just is ... something... about the irrelevancy of it all to the topic: the relationship(s) of ourselves to Art, and of ourselves to creating/creation (of works).
What does it mean, what does it look like to be "charitable" towards an artist and their work? What does it mean to "be the Body of Christ" to the artist, to an artwork, to creating, to Art itself?
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