I’ve been thinking, lately, about what art is. A common understanding of art, I guess, will specify that it reflects our visual world and offers insights into our common human experiences. The idea is that art codifies our existence, how we understand who we are. A museum visit invites us to look into our collective psyche, to view clearly our values, beliefs and limitations.
What happens, though, when the consumption of the art that popular culture imposes in the forms of literature, movies, music, not to mention social media platforms becomes so ingrained that we begin to mimic the stereotypes, become the actors art invents? I suspect most of us, by the time we pass adolescence have discovered a solid enough sense of being that we can see past superficial identities so as to not become something other than what we know ourselves to be. Still, it seems there’s a powerful inclination for most of us to slide into a persona, the roll we wish to play in the story of life.
Even though I’m aware of this conundrum I wonder to what extent my identity is altered by the popular culture. It makes me think I need to temper my media consumption.
