“Does love for art really exist and has it ever existed? Is it not a delusion? When Lenin proclaimed that he loved Beethoven’s Appassionata above all else, what was it that he really loved? What did he hear? Music? Or a majestic noise that reminded him of the solemn stirrings in his soul, a longing for blood, brotherhood, executions, justice, and the absolute? Did he derive joy from the tones, or from the musings stimulated by those tones, which had nothing to do with art or with beauty?” — Milan Kundera, Immortality (trans. Kussi)
A joyful noyse?
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2 thoughts on “A joyful noyse?”
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How do you separate the majestic noise from the musings? Art and beauty exist only in the mind, therefore love for art is inextricably linked to the stirrings of the soul; even in a twisted mind, there is longing.
Since Lenin’s long dead, though I don’t know that they’ve buried him yet, we cannot ask him what he heard and how he interpreted it, and what longings he may have harbored in the hidden twists of his mind.
Gotta go. The consumer capitalist militaristic machine is demanding my attention. If I fail to comply, starvation and homelessness will be applied until I see the error of my ways and get my marching feet back in step.