« A Potent Punch Indeed! | Main | »
January 20, 2015
When arts die, they turn into hobbies.
Poetry in the twenty-first century is like pottery, woodworking, or the making of carrot carnations.
Sophisticated verse was never a major art, and having lost even a small non-practitioner audience, it has lost its status as a minor art. At hobbyist conventions, celebrated practitioners of a craft address an audience made up of other practitioners of the craft, who will then go home and work at the art themselves. Poetry has more residual cultural prestige than carrot carnation making and other hobbies, but that is only because most of the poet-hobbyists are professors with MFAs, while there are no professors of table-setting.The Smart Set: From Poesy to Carrot Carnations
Posted by gerardvanderleun at January 20, 2015 12:07 PM. This is an entry on the sideblog of American Digest: Check it out.
Your Say
"there are no professors of table-setting."
Want to bet?
Posted by: Fat Man at January 20, 2015 11:24 AM
I'll bet that the White House has at least two on the payroll.
Posted by: Vermont Woodchuck at January 21, 2015 3:11 AM