Contemplations on a bird's wing

Essays, written on everything from exquisite mold creations to the delicate arch of a bird's wing can speak to audiences in ways never imagined. Really, it is art itself—in all its forms—that hold the ability to open the minds of people and make an impact. It’s that pit-of-your-stomach feeling when you encounter a piece of art, regardless of form, that speaks to you. Recently, I saw The Phantom of the Opera and had a moment like that. It was what theatre should always be. Superbly balanced and excruciatingly acute in its perfection, I walked out of the theatre overwhelmed with senses awhirl. The poetry of e.e. cummings has this same effect on me. I don’t always understand it, but the first reading has a power to confound beyond the capabilities of conventional comprehension. Upon study, more meanings come through which only adds to the layers of appreciation. Dickinson has the reverse effect. Casually intriguing at first glance, study of her syntax leads me to that light bulb feeling of dawning realization. As an English major, I love literature, but even someone who hasn’t invested four or more years of study to the subject can appreciate it. But who holds the power to completely define “art”—or “appreciation”, for that matter? What relevance does a definition hold if the impact remains? One can be equally awed by innovative architecture and a perfect bass line. I argue that nearly ever task calling on concentration and finesse can be considered art. Why should book binding and cooking not be held on the same plane of sophistication and creativity? There is astounding beauty of form even within objects we consider soporific. In my life I will make more of an intentional effort to welcome value where I might initially see none. Of course, even the cynics of the world are needed to perpetuate our existence. If the cynics disappeared, who would be left to laugh at the schadenfreude of everyday life?