truth

Truthful Tuesday

It’s confession time for Thoughts and Theories: Truthful Tuesday:

Is there something that you like or love now that you used to dislike, hate, or at the very least, have no opinion of before? Or perhaps there is something you now dislike, hate, or maybe even loathe that before you liked, loved, adored, or at least had no opinion of? In either case, or both cases if you so choose, what changed your mind?


Music. Both answers!

Growing up, youth culture was very partisan: you either loved pop music or rock music; you didn’t like the other. No one mentioned classical, folk or jazz: these weren’t even on the radar (although I secretly liked the Oscar Peterson Show on the BBC). Then pop music evolved into Disco. That was truly the pits.

Now, I really appreciate listening to some of those disco classics, largely because rock died here somewhere along the way (thanks, Johnny Rotten) and music opened up a lot after that. By that time, I was listening to all sorts and without prejudice.

Yet, some of those rock songs I bought as a kid, I can’t see what I saw in them. Almost all of Led Zeppelin’s songs, for example. What’s the big deal?

Of course, I have a lot more to compare it with now: all that came before it and everything afterwards. Sideways too: different sounds from far off places, unavailable in the day. If only I knew about it when I was a kid.

The Abstract Truth

I had watched a clip featuring the late British art critic, Brian Sewell, in a discussion about abstract paintings. I got the impression he wasn’t overly impressed by abstract art but, after a pause in the conversation, he said something like,

“Well, any painting is an abstract, really.”

I can’t explain what he meant not having had, as he had, an education in the fine arts. While I can have a good guess at identifying an abstract work for what it is, I can’t tell you what makes any other work not an abstract, especially if the clues aren’t obvious.

But I was thinking, after writing a piece of flash fiction, whether, in a similar observation to abstract painting, all writing is fiction.

Or at least a version of it.


image: “Composition VIII” by Wassily Kandinsky

The thing about things about other things

Lately, I’ve been reading things about other things. The thing about things about other things is that too often the truth is more mundane.

We simply don’t like things to be mundane so we embellish parts and distort others – a little like the Photo-Booth app which caricatures a face – and though the thing retains just enough resemblance to be familiar, it is, for truth’s sake, unrecognisable.

But the thing, no longer being mundane, can be celebrated or demonised, for our entertainment. And after procreation, isn’t life just about entertainment?