Osler's Razor

Several months ago, back in March, I mused that the COVID epidemic might create a fascinating artistic moment-- a wave of creativity driven by dislocation and the uniqueness of this time.

I'm not sure that I was right. Yesterday I posted about the new Taylor Swift album, which is definitely a creature of quarantine, and is really good. But is there more, from less bland corners of our culture?

It could be that we don't know yet; that the nature of the pandemic is that the fruits of creativity won't be revealed until that veil is lifted.

Or, it could be that I was wrong. Something I failed to consider was the connection between creators and the audience; some art forms are not meant for isolation. The thought made me miss my friend Greg Tishar (who I remembered here). Greg taught me how to be part of that audience-- how to engage with passion and emotion, and that it was ok to loathe and to love what you were seeing or hearing. I miss that. Not having that makes me lonely in a way, a very specific way, that makes life less colorful.

A year ago, I went to Detroit to see a show that my dad had up at a gallery. It was magical to walk among crowds pointing and talking about the work, about what people liked and did not like. It was like watching the paintings come alive, the people in them walking with us, laughing.

Do we need that? I don't know. But I need that.