I am reading Cute, Quaint, Hungry and Romantic: The Aesthetics of Consumerism by David Harris at the moment, which I am finding tedious. It is not so much the fact that each of the chapters focuses in on one small area of the given aesthetic at the expense of many other valuable areas (let alone trying to have any holistic consideration of each aesthetic phenomena), but more that the book does not desire to discuss the why – only the what, and how. What does it matter that cuteness is grotesque, if we do not know why we force it to be so? Sure, to demean, but what pleasure do we get from that? Rather, what comfort? Why?
Also, the heavily descriptive, hyperbolic, almost hyperreal nature of the language use (even if it is meant to reflect the aesthetic under discussion) leaves no room for subtlety – there is no negative space in this writing. While I find this stifling, I probably also find it confronting – I suppose I suffer from this heaviness in my own composition of language. Every time I begin to feel beguiled by the words, if my mind at all begins to trace tangents of independent thought, it is immediately crushed by further rounds of emotive chaos. After reading, I feel soggy and confused.
I actually do like this book, but I find it difficult to engage with - validation for my desire to create garments that are experienced and interacted with, rather than consumed. I don’t want to become engorged with as much meaty aesthetics as possible – I want to trace my own path through, around, within and with the object or creation.
Which makes me ask, are books objects?
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