If I could, I would have given myself to art
If I could, I would have given myself to art. Instead, I am stuck with the language of analytic philosophy: hard, metallic argumentation. Premises and conclusions interlock with one another like a mathematical proof. Clarity becomes a crutch, and interpretation is cut out like a surgeon debriding a wound. I have no intention of degrading the value of my philosophical education. But when one is moved by a piece of art, we cannot help but yearn to understand the one who created it. It is like the ancient scientists, who, upon reflecting in awe on the vastness of the night sky, looked to God. And the opposite is true -- when art does not appeal to us, we cannot help but pity its maker. But such is all creation: it offers a glimpse into the strange (and beautiful?) mind of their creators. Philosophy used to be a thing of beauty. But the big questions have all been filed away, and grumblings over definitions and obscure subjects run academia. I mourn how we have abandoned t...