Readers of this column will know that I write about art as a Serious Matter. Here we tackle politics, ethics, big ideas — portentous stuff indeed. Sometimes I try to be funny. If you haven’t noticed this, I don’t blame you; I am an earnest soul. Still, I do believe that art can just be for fun. Silly, even. Playful? Definitely. Without play there is no creativity.  

I take it for granted that, in addition to commenting on this grubby world and its dreary occupants, art offers us an escape. Or maybe it’s better to say: artists show us that the world isn’t so miserable after all. Joy, laughter, exuberance, the thrill of beauty, the wonder of virtuosity — this is self-evidently the terrain of art. But making meaning of it and writing about it on a weekly basis can lead one to become terribly self-important. Over time I have lost touch with that joyfulness, that sense of thrill and wonder. ..

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