What we’re left with is not elitism (well it kinda is… stick with me here) but a simple system of right and wrong (and oh how my post-modern professor would cry at my suggesting that such an opposition exists). For example, you could say any given Stephen King book is better than The Great Gatsby, but you’d be wrong (not to mention eligible for the kind of public humiliation that will make that wedgie in front of the entire high school gym class look like mere child’s play). Not to say that a Stephen King book can’t be perfectly enjoyable (there’s something about possessed and murderous children that never fails to tug at my heart strings), but they don’t possess the same intrinsic worth as many classics of literature. Some would say that any art or beauty that satisfies an individual in some manner is performing its function and therefore no better or worse than any other (which would explain how millions of men can find the physically appalling Pamela Anderson to be beautiful and not get questioned about it). As my grandpa use to say—hogwash. Simply being entertained by an Adam Sandler movie is valid (and god knows you people somehow exist), but I still get misty eyed at the end of the Dead Poets Society when all the students stand on their desks. Art and entertainment that truly moves us, or challenges us, or captures some essence of existence in a way that only it’s creator could have accomplished, is always going to be better. You say that’s only because I’m assigning value to being moved and challenged or learning about human behavior in general. Well… yeah. If I’ve got to bet on some reason for having consciousness, I choose these things.

What I’m calling for then is creative elitism, which is very different from the social kind that we are use to. What you like does not make you better than anyone. And frankly, if one were to always indulge in only so-called high brow stuff, they’d be a pretty wound up motherfucker. Frivolous pop culture entertainments exist because sometimes you don’t want the mind to work. One does not dine on caviar alone, you know? We’ve all got guilty pleasures (I might just maybe have an nsync record somewhere in my collection—I’m not deluding myself that it’s fine art, but it does make me want to shake my little booty sometimes… note to Lanternites: the blinds will be closed at these moments for your safety). Liking anything is fine, but it is pointless to try and argue that all art and entertainments are created equally. The level of creativity, originality, and ultimate purpose must always be weighed, and the pieces that aim higher in these pursuits will always succeed in hitting the target apple of enlightenment perched on top of our predominantly dense heads (which is one of the weirdest metaphors I’ve ever crafted but I was reading Burroughs earlier today and the conditions of his wife’s death are probably on my mind).

The final point here is that you will find this level of intrinsic creative worth in a variety of places, therefore making any attempts to differentiate between high and low brow culture just plain silly. Anyone who thought that Buffy the Vampire Slayer was a stupid title and therefore had to be a lame show for kids and teens, ended up missing some of the most clever and literate narrative (not to mention hilarious) ever shown on TV. In the ultimate demonstration of high and low boundaries blurring—when people (who never saw it) claim Buffy was a silly and stupid show, I like to point out the yearly conferences (ed: Use the “Salon Premium Day Pass” to view the entire article) where people clamor to write and give PhD. level dissertations on one of the show’s many themes. This would be a silly and sad idea if not for the fact that the show was written so well that it does lend itself to this treatment just as much as, if not more than, the works of Hemingway (go to www.slayage.tv to see what I mean).

Some would say television is a pretty low brow art form no matter what (if even art). And for the most part they’re right. But I’d rather watch a particularly moving episode of M*A*S*H than read Chaucer again anyday. Hell, I’d even argue that The Canterbury Tales and M*A*S*H try to accomplish some of the same things and Alan Alda did it better. Even those crazy tabloids and the cult of celebrity personified in magazines like People or shows like Entertainment Tonight, don’t have to be low-brow. There’s a wealth of things to learn about us as a society and culture if you stop and analyze what it all means when more people can tell you what Britney Spears’ first single was before they could tell you the two senators from their own home state. In this case, something pretty vapid and low-brow can be used as fodder for some pretty high-brow philosophizing (if you’re so inclined). Even the art world, who for so long denied any validity in pulp art, or the kind of kitschy pop art that artists like Coop do so well today, is slowly starting to recognize the high brow kitsch in low brow art. Any of these examples could withstand an entire essay treatment of it’s own, but hopefully you’re getting the idea.

So like what you want, don’t judge anything without trying it, have an open mind, and don’t be afraid to judge on the basis of creative intent, and for god’s sake, keep it light when you need to. Those are this author’s tips for navigating a world that has increasingly become obsessed with little more than it’s entertainments. If you agree, disagree, found yourself pissed off, wanna playfully debate ideas within, wanna whine that this column wasn’t like the first two, or wanna send me pix of you in your underwear—the mail is mdp4220@inreach.com. Bring it on.

Till next time.

Lantern Lights #1

Lantern Lights #2

Lantern Lights #4

Lantern Lights #5

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