On Art, Again

The roof looked a bit high, the figures a bit small, but all things considered, it was a decent enough mock-up. Things were where they ought to be, roughly, and it wasn't to hard to derive a sense of the scene. A success, then, if not an altogether rousing one.

Such was the diorama, discussed in class today -- this same class where my little attempt at a play was to be discussed. 

I rambled back and forth, trying to tease out exactly what I was going for with it. I talked about Tristan Tzara, and from him to Lady Gaga, about libraries and cafes and coffee. Mostly, I talked about coffee. Whether I ever said what I meant, I don't know; and whether I meant anything at all is equally ambiguous.

Eventually, I stopped talking, mostly because I had to at some point, and the point where I chose to do so seemed as good as any I was ever likely to find. "So that's basically what I was going for," I said.

The resulting conversation was enthusiastic, if a bit meandering, not terribly unlike my own attempt at describing the work we discussed. The academic viability of Lady Gaga was discussed, considered, and summarily embraced. The similarities, both ideologically and stylistically, to Travesties, were noted. People laughed a bit, and it seemed as if the play succeeded on at least that level.

It was decided that the Alex character and the Alex person are largely correct, insofar as latte art does look cool; even if it is not practical, and does not, in any way, make the drink taste better, it is viable for that reason at least.

In that regard, both the character Alex and me Alex are somewhat Joycian, as in James Joyce, insofar as we tend to think that art is to be enjoyed and celebrated. If it looks cool, and makes you smile, then it's worth it.