The Art War (and a formal declaration thereof)

When will people awake from the hellish and mindless mire of their infinite consumption and realize that art is just as important, just as necessary (if not moreso) than the Department of Defense, or any standing army? When will it be known that the artist is just as good, just as noble as the soldier, or the priest? Perhaps a communication of the natural necessity and vitality of art shall require a grand, diabolic show of art itself. Imagine a country bombarded, as if attacked from the skies above by the creative expressions of our fellow man – music, sculpture, writing, painting, theater, etc.! Perhaps what this country needs to wake up is for it to be bombed with the explosive power of creativity. Indeed, I am hereby calling for a high 21st century Renaissance – a revolution for the American heart and intellect!

Forget the contemporary art museums. I want to bring the paintings, the sculptures, the beautiful poems and novels (old and new) straight into the public’s backyard. I don’t want anything displayed high upon distant pedestals where no man can touch and prefer to cower….I want a Picasso displayed at the local café. I want to see volumes of Twain, Poe and Rimbaud side-by-side in every bar and restaurant, I want Marcus Aurelius to displace the drowsy Gideon’s bible in every hotel room in America. I want our great commercial billboards to scream – “You are a conscious creature gifted a brain consisting of billions of neurons, use them to create something! It is the noble thing for a human being to do!” I want Macbeth performed in the streets. I want giant zeppelins of art, downing missiles of art, released hydrogen bombs of art…I want America leveled.

What is needed to accomplish this vision is a war of course, primarily because wars (especially in this country) are always well funded, and supported. What is needed is an equivalent of passion – from fear, hatred and xenophobia transmuted into the passion to create – to dance, sing, paint, write, sculpt, make love, and finally, to murder the body of convention. Convention will always be a dead thing, in any case. Convention is a corpse which society constantly drags around by a loose twine wrapped around their ankles, believing it only the necessary etiquette and that there is still life within it. But there isn’t. Convention is a cold cadaver of unimaginative paradigms succored by clenched, anal-tight fists of mindless, wantless, stultified men, struck stupid and lost within the void of total consumer-constriction. A formal declaration is required:

I, Tylor J. Mintz hereby declare a war on the United States of America,

To be launched by the constructive power of creative expression.

Peace shall be achieved only by an open minded surrender!