I have had experiences of catharsis to art, both contemporary and historic. Drawing some threads of thought into something coherent, I’d have wondered about the value of ‘tragedy’ as something fearful, rather than monstrous (Aristotle), or pitiful, as what includes the value of both beauty and the sublime. I’m reminded of the dissonant shocks of atonal music, shaking a listener from habitual standards, into a state of engagement – by necessity – with critical theory – just to survive (with ideality as limit of dissolution of . . . self – for not in the world . . . just a strange inversion).
Here’s a picture of Guernica:
As to the title page of the blog, I guess what gets left out and cannot be up-to-date varies with intent, but I’d probably be happiest forgetting politics in poetry, which is quite monstrous until used up – whatever to do with the rub
Jacket on chair
still there. I will
wear it;
it creaks.