Nothing exhausts me more as a critic and a fan than seeing art treated like a puzzle to be solved, each reference a key to some locked gate behind which final, true meaning resides.
I remember in school the art I really enjoyed was constantly questioned like “but what does it MEAN though.” Idfk, I just enjoy it. Like I can say what it means to me but sometimes even then, I enjoy art without always understanding why I enjoy it.
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And sometimes my interpretation or feeling of it was deemed “wrong” by those who thought themselves the gatekeepers of what it meant, that they had true understanding and the rest of us did not.
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