On My Relationship With Art

Finished reading Olive Schnieder's The Story of An African Farm and watched G.W. Pabst's Pandora's Box this week.

While both texts were dissimilar in form and content, they held a similiar place to me in terms of art.

Schneider's novel is considered one of the first works of feminist literature. Her character Lyndall represents a strong and opinionated view point. Her words today feel shocking and powerful. So relevant. I had read the book in college, but something about it stuck close to me, never leaving my mind.

G.W. Pabst's silent film Pandora's Box is a cinematic representation of the feminine mystic. While in the plot of the film beautiful and alluring Lulu uses her sexuality to get men in trouble. The agency taken away from her at the trial for the accidental death of her husband is in the metaphor of Pandora's box. Like the greek myth, Lulu's sexuality represents an evil let loose on unsuspecting men. The German film appears quite dated, but Louise Brooks's star quality is unmistakable despite her lack of success during her film career.

The place these two works hold for me is difficult to come to terms with. The novel I remember being quite strange upon first reading, particularly the chapter told from the point of view of a mule that resides on the farm. In fact, the whole middle section is some mystic shit that seems to take place outside space and time. The film runs well over 2 hours and could have been more economical. While neither of these works I felt were a waste of my time, the point I took way too long to make is that, the particular place each of these works inhabit for me is that I never get closer to a truth about them that is stronger than my first impression. The idea of Scheider's novel holds a much more important place for me than the actual reading of it. Similiarly, the singular, silent image of Louise Brooks was much stronger than the the film its entirety.

I don't know what to make of how this affects my relationship with art. The fact that the idea of work is much closer to me than the work itself is maybe more true than I'd like to know. Because really, I can only know what I think of a work and not the work itself.