My students feel art must deliver everything to them on a clean platter with ample portions. They sit in their chairs and expect to eat, to gorge, to be engorged. Give them a new menu, an unusual recipe, they don't approach it with glee, with the hunger for new tastes, with forks poised and knives sharpened; they squirm, squeal, squeak in pitiful revolt. Give me my fast food.
We are entrenched in The Age of Lazy Intellect.
Posted by: Sloth | April 24, 2007 at 10:25 AM
Posted by: graywyvern | April 17, 2007 at 07:29 AM
Posted by: Chris | April 16, 2007 at 10:00 PM
Posted by: R. A. Blum | April 16, 2007 at 09:39 AM