One of the regulars whom I find singularly open to criticism is Tibor Machan.  He never says anything interesting, exciting, novel, or insightful.  He just tells us what we already know.  He repeats what we want to hear.
Philosophical writing is not supposed to do that.  Art is.

Interesting input, thanks for the compliments and corrections. John’s comments were a pleasure to read. And he asked: “But, I wonder the meanings (if any?) re the paintings on the wall...........?”

Yes, those paintings on the wall have meaning! They solve compositional elements and give the right kind of character to the room as well as the people in it. In an emotional symbolic way their subject matter “tells” us what has taken place in the room. Like Rand’s view of every sentence in Atlas, I could tell you why every ¼” is painted the way it is, but that takes us mostly into the “grammar” of painting. A year and half of full-time work into the painting I thought I would have a few more weeks to finished it; those few weeks turned into 9 months, triple-checking every speck of paint, to be exactly what I wanted. I feel now, 18 years later, complete exaltation with it.

Speaking of exaltation, another meaning viewers could take away with them would be that having real art “on the walls” is integral to it.

Michael

(Edited by Newberry on 8/15, 10:32am)

(Edited by Newberry on 8/15, 10:39am)

Newberry said: Another meaning viewers could take away with them would be that having real art on your walls is integral to exaltation!

Ha!

That little gem of self-promotion was shameless!

But …

… true.

By the age of 17, I had already learned that one doesn’t need to be a composer or musician to delight and derive tremendous inspiration from the higher forms of music. By my early 20s, the music of Tchaikovsky, Wagner and Beethoven had become integral mechanisms by which to accentuate my ‘sense of life’. The transition that occured, was away from a music that reflected my emotional state, towards music that mirrored my spiritual state.

A year ago my walls were covered with cheap poster reproductions of Turners and Hoppers, along with an assortment of knick-knacks splashed around haphazardly; today, this is no longer the case. What I had learned about music at 17, took until the age of 41 to learn about art. The poster reproductions and knick-knack junk are gone; they have been replaced with the living. The walls are now somewhat barren, but what there is: sings.

George

PS: Before someone jumps on me, yes, there are still a few reproductions on my walls; I am not a billionaire that can afford a genuine Vermeer. The difference is, that they are no longer bought casually because the ‘tune was catchy’, or because it ‘works’ with my sofa color.

(Edited by George W. Cordero on 8/15, 11:49am)