I’ve always thought that life only feels real when I’m doing new things. I used to describe it as “I only feel alive in the summertime,” but eventually I realized that was because the summer was when I did the most new things. Especially when I was younger—by the time I turned 16, I was disillusioned by the reality of full-time work. But anyways. By some fluke of existence, I’m not the first person to feel this way! Can you even imagine? In any case, I’ve been thinking about it a lot recently.
My professor brought up Schklovsky today and we re-read an excerpt from Art as Technique. It stated the essential thesis: that the task of Art is to defamiliarize its subjects, to be in a constant search for a new perspective, or else we fall into habitual, unconscious existence—something he says is the same as never having existed at all.
Then I thought about all the times I felt like I was “living” for the first time. It was all me gaining a new perspective—usually through encounters with some external force. Schklovsky emphasizes Art as the means by which we seek to view things from a new angle, which is profoundly true, but if I’m being honest, it gets kinda intimidating. If I’m constantly aware of the need to “seek something new,” how am I ever supposed to enjoy what I currently have? Isn’t that the dopamine trap we’re already battling?
I’m not going to be able to just “make art” every time I want to feel alive. You know what might be enough, though? Choosing to physically put on a record while I study instead of habitually leaving my headphones in. Or taking 27th ave home instead of 26th. Or even experiencing pain. I’d argue that pain is simply things not going according to plan—nobody plans to be in pain—but when it does happen, you can find valuable insights from the new perspective it gives you. Anything new for the brain to participate in is enough to keep you consciously aware that you are living.
Or at least, that’s what I hope.
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