Weekly musings on the arts and current events.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Tucson: After and Beyond
I wish I could start a movement to vote against any candidate who uses incendiary language, who denounces the opposition as unpatriotic or ungodly, who makes a virtue out of refusing to listen to those who disagree, or who demonizes those who are willing to meet opponents halfway.
It used to be called the wisdom of Solomon: to see both sides of an argument. But nowadays such wisdom is going out of style. Being able to hold two contradictory ideas in mind at the same time is beyond most people's talents, but that's the ability we have to cultivate, for that is the test of our capacity to love: to care about those we don't agree with.
My, but I sound like a preacher. Sorry. I'm really just a confused middle-of-the-roader who wishes the left or the right had all the answers. But they don't. I suspect the answers have yet to be thought of. I'm not sure we've even asked the right questions.
Solomon by Marcos Zapata, from the Humahuaca Cathedral, Jujuy Province, Argentina; 1764. Although the technique is broad and perhaps hasty, I'm intrigued by the reverent, downcast gazes of the gargoyles whittled on the king's chair, while he looks upward to his inspiration. His pen, which seems more like an arrow than a plume, and his flash of leg, both remind us that Solomon was a lusty and courageous flesh-and-blood man of the world, rather than an ethereal or ascetic saint. Click on the picture for a closer look.