art and automobiles -- the next big thing

For decades cars in the US were bought and sold in terms of style with sensational new models unveiled each fall. Mechanically the same configuration lasted about seventy five years -- front engine/rear drive, drum brakes, leaf springs in back. The ignition system changed once or twice but mostly the American automobile remained the same bedsprings with wheels sporting re-sculpted sheet metal every year. The dashboard clock never worked more than a couple of weeks, door handles were made of pot metal and eventually broke off, the seat covers started to fray in the first year and the windows rattled after they’d been rolled up and down a few times. They were sold to consumers by offering stylish new models every year -- two tone paint jobs, towering tail fins and lots of chrome but underneath the same dangerous poorly built chassis rolled on for decades. Mechanical failures became chronic somewhere short of a hundred thousand miles and it became practical as well as cool to trade for a new one. Then the Japanese offered an alternative by building efficient, durable, safer cars that were homely and dependable. Soon car making everywhere started becoming more rational, more responsible, and began to display a little dignity, while everyday citizens got better milage and paid for fewer repairs. The next big thing, it turns out, had us on a treadmill all those years and was really holding us back by just pretending to be new.

nuts in shells -- seasonal musings

So, what good are shells to the consumption of nuts? I’m pretty sure no nuts need to be sold in shells because it’s so easy to get them out and all that wasted space and all. I bought roasted peanuts in the shell figuring the squirrels would like the salt but when I got home I started eating them myself. In a bowl shelled peanuts don’t hold my interest. Oh, I might eat a couple but mostly I’ll ignore them. Crushing the dimpled husk and sorting out the nut, on the other hand, soon leaves consciousness altogether and starts happening on its own. Even more compulsive is prying apart bivalve pistachios and yet they’re even less interesting than peanuts in a bowl with the shells removed.

This time of year down at the store there are open bins of walnuts, hazelnuts, and almonds in their shells, representing a lot of work for every nut and an occasional finger mashing if you use a hammer. So much easier, you’d think, just to grab a handful of machine-sorted nutmeats and gobble all that goodness. We want life easy, right? Convenience rules our lives and insulates us from toil and strain yet nuts seem better when we break them open ourselves. Just an observation is all.

If the same math could be applied to art requiring some level of participation from the viewer, say a recounting of relevant experiences in an effort to find common ground with the artist, it might be key to drawing maximum enjoyment from a work of art. Of course it would always be easier to watch TV, but without the engagement and effort on the part of the viewer, it might be not as satisfying.