Does art imitate life or does life imitate art?
I've
been watching TV for quite a while, hours in fact. In that brief time I've been
witness to a series of assaults on something we all hold dear, something that
is as much a part of our life as anything ever has, or ever will be. It’s a
code we pass to our children as individuals, as a community, and as a culture.
Lately,
though, I've noticed the standards we held people to in the past are dropping.
There
are always local deviations within a culture as large as ours, that is to be
expected. They could be regional or sub-cultural differences, with smaller
variations depending on population density (meme level); new parts constantly
are emerging, traversing ever finer filtering as they spread, if they have what
it takes they gain wider and wider acceptance; once established they will rise
and fall in popularity, eventually earning spots in the numerous listings that
are used to validate them.
Though
the parts change, the rules for their use remain broad, simple in concept,
often difficult and illogical in application. This is to be expected when
something is this vital to the survival of our species, the growth and survival
to be sure. It would certainly be a critical part of how our species rose to prominence,
whether planned or unplanned, and how it plans on remaining there.
A
question came to me while watching TV: Are the scriptwriters aware of their
dangling participles?
I
would be afraid to try and edit any of this. We read Huckleberry Finn and find
the language quaint, but was it the way they spoke or is it the way Twain
wanted us to believe they spoke? If the latter, isn't art affecting culture
instead of reflecting life?
I've
often paraphrased Leslie Slote in “Winds of War” when I point to art, in the
broadest usage possible, as the “exhaust gas” of our civilization; that by
examining this gas we can see the workings of the culture that produced it.
What,
then, does our exhaust gas say?
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