I'm sitting at my desk with cold tea and The Poughkeepsie Tapes (2007) running in the background. I'm in an ongoing state of existential crisis regarding what matters to me and what feels like it should matter most to me.
I switch to an orange Fanta soda.
Poughkeepsie is still running. I haven't been paying attention. But.
It still matters to me. Sort of.
Neither the tea nor this specific movie has direct relevance to my existential crisis. I've gone to therapy (secular and so-called "Christian"), I've talked to multiple friends, sought help with my mental illnesses, changed my denomination to one that honors art, and joined an arts guild. I've used trial and error to identify what my now-ill body can or can't do, can or can't eat, and how to properly care for myself.
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Biblically, I understand that humans are made in the image of God (Genesis 1:27), and thus we are created to reflect creative traits of our Creator.
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Growing up in a "Christian" denomination more focused on turn-or-burn theology and less on God as a dynamic, awe-inspiring personality and Artist has made Him so small in my mind. I believe that art is a conduit to the divine and offers something that on the surface seems impractical and privileged, but on a deeper level communicates the very essence of being human. That humanness ties back to our purpose as creations by the original and ultimate Creator.
But while I can summarize and express those beliefs, and I choose to cling to them (because otherwise I have very little to get me through being conscious), I still have trouble shrinking them into the everyday. Especially in a world that so fiercely and so quickly latched on to AI as an easy solution to artistic "problems."
I ache under the lack of value I feel toward my own creations. I made a collection of hand-drawn graphic "stickers" to put on my movie posts. But do movie posts even matter? Where's the line between my opinion and something having objective value? Does objective value matter, or does the question alone make value subjective? If something is subjective in value, is it worth focusing on when the world is currently ablaze with injustice—especially injustice claiming to wave the same flag of my own faith?
That escalated quickly.
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The Poughkeepsie Tapes is not a good movie. It's sleazy, boring, and like a high school edgelord caught five minutes of a Dateline episode instead of doing homework.
(I should probably get more tea.)
But someone still took the time to make it. And it is something I can about with a dear friend.
Part of me wishes I could spend all day on art. But maybe I am missing the point.
(I am absolutely missing some point.)
I hope our culture will someday view art as a need, like food and water and shelter, something we can honor in its high-brow and low-brow forms. I wish everyone could play movies while they worked and listen to podcasts. I wish everyone could loop that one song for the last eight hours hoping their sister doesn't evict them for being annoying.
(The song is Time Comes in Roses - Igor Haefeli Re-Edit by Bess Atwell.)
I wish there wasn't a barrier of entry to appreciating high art, and I wish there wasn't ridicule for enjoying trash art...like Poughkeepsie Tapes.
I wish and hope someday I can believe in my heart, not just my mind, that any art is worth the act of creating in the eyes of the divine. Not just to reach an end point or product. And I hope that someday I can believe, in my core, that the conversations and relationships brought up, strengthened, or challenged by art is worth the risks that come with experiencing and sharing it.
I said Poughkeepsie sort of matters to me. And that is because it was another way to connect with someone. And maybe even if the film itself is absolutely far from any god ( 🙂 ), even that is still redeemed in the sense of its usage in relationship.
I don't know.
