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Of course not. But do we live in an actual culture? Or are we rather poking around in the slag heap of what was once a culture? I visited one of the world's great museums a few weeks ago, wandering from Giottos to Botticellis to Rembrandts to Renis to Turners to Van Goghs and Cezannes. (plenty of boys -- naked and otherwise -- but I''m not going to get specific.) But the thought occurs: we are not capable of something like this any more. Sure, a very talented artist may arise. But there is no way he can make the kind of impact that, well, Caravaggio made. That requires a culture -- both to form a Caravaggio and to foster a public who will understand what he is doing. Our so-called culture is dead. The formal act of suicide occurred in 1914 but it thrashed around in one form or another for some decades before expiring completely early in my life time (not coincidentally, an expiration that coincided with the onset of the open persecution of pederasty.) There are signs of hope in the east -- not too many; just here and there (thus my interest in such phenomena as Thai Boyz Laabu shows.) Nature does abhor vacuums -- of the cultural as well as other types. SR ![]() |