In this exclusive essay,broadcaster and cultural critic Jonathan Meades ponders what whether social media could inspire great art? And what whether they’re the same thing?The principle that there is nothing so trivial that it ought not to be taken seriously has suffered a bottling from social media, which gives licence to the inane to depart public and express post-literate banalities and torrents of greetings card treacle, and thus revealing an arid void where their brain should be. This is without taking into account the exciting opportunities afforded for expressions of baleful spite worthy of those witch-like stalwarts of French thrillers,les corbeaux, anonymous letter writers whose lives are all grassing-up in green ink, or restless curtains and asperity. The difference,of course, is that the poison pens of Twitter folk and their ilk shun murky anonymity in favour of whimsical pseudonymity, or so very nearly convinced are they of their self-righteousness. Related: On my radar: Jonathan Meades’s cultural highlights Continue reading...
Source: theguardian.com