They've almost cured art. I mean the maladies that go into its creation. Manic depression, obsession, and others. There are therapies and pills now. It is not like the period following WWI when people were left to deal with themselves on their own. Then, art was the therapy. It was the sociably acceptable way of dealing with the margins of existence. The trauma and neurosis caused by the war gets the most attention because it was a large, shared experience that recognized then legitimized the breaking of the mind. But there was plenty of that elsewhere.
WWII was WWI redux in many ways, with the A-bomb added so that even those without direct war experience could practice the old "duck and cover" in offices and classrooms to add something visceral to their own imaginings.
But how much breaking can the human mind take? We get closer to knowing all the time.
So if you are an artist in the old sense, you can be cured. And it is better, truly, because we are curing the need for art at the same time. Those bromides that help the artist deal with his or her internal struggle are not intended for them exclusively. It is helping the gallery, too.
Who wants to be an artist? You'd have to be crazy.
I thought I'd put up an image not from the "Storyland" series today. It is Saturday and beautiful. There are film festivals and art openings and picnics in the park.
I'll have more about film festivals tomorrow.
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