Milan Kundera in his Unbearable Lightness of Being gave a definition for kitsch that no one has yet managed to beat for me in good few years. I would love to quote here, but since I don't have the book on hand, you will have to trust my description or otherwise read the book yourself (bloody worth it!). So, according to the text, kitsch is nothing else that all the forced and acted emotions that are not really there, but we would oh-so-love them to be there. Like pretended friendship and generosity for a person you know would jump into your partner's bed at first chance. Like official parties where you actually hate all the formal bores around you, but hell, if you speak out you'll end up either socially anathemised or without a job. Like shop assistants smiling from ear to ear at your sight and jumping into their charming best when the only thing they think of is how long until their break. Like charity collectors, who give you long stories about suffering children but forget to mention that your donation covers also first class ticket to an exotic destination for a big fat company bonzo, who, when there, will indeed give a scrap to the kids and jog off to his company expense account 5 star hotel and golf tournament afterwards. Like...
Oh I know I'm balancing here on a line between kitsch and an outward lie, but more intimate examples are not something to put onto a public read. What I'm trying to say is that we seem to have a serious problem with admitting that the truth is not all sugar and glitter. And with accepting this fact. I'm so tired with people for whom everything is fab and brill and fantastic, no matter what you'll put in front of them. Example? Comments on any article in Etsy blog. Not that they are all there to get advertising, no, no...
The truth is out there? Not anymore, I sometimes think.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment