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Like you know what I'm talking about
We live in a society where so much of pop culture is never ending referential

WandaVision references old ass TV that I'm sure most of it's viewer base hasn't even ever seen

I don't even think the writer's have, They're just referencing it because that's what you are supposed to do, Like references these days just seem to be self regurgitating references because references can be made, no meaningful purpose behind it, just ooo it's that thing that i saw referenced in that other thing!

Anyway back to our point,
I like comedies, so I feel pressure to watch Happy Days, Taxi, and Honey Mooners and feel like I'm missing out if I don't watch them to build up my history and culture

For e.g some of you who like comic books might feel the same way about all the various billion runs of each character

I don't even know if they'll hold up, and I've basically held the belief that something influential or the first to do it only gives it merit to the history books, Nothing more


I basically have come to the conclusion that fuck the classics

Not from a contrarian view point but from a philosophical, change is good viewpoint

Clinging to the past's glory and accomplishments over and over is extremely stagnant

Sure some old things are held on to because they are best

But somewhere out there, There are millions of people who have watched multiple Shakespearean tragedies without ever hearing about them simply because the things they watched redid those stories

It's still not a good thing because it's still just repeating things but my point is that we as a culture give too much respect and attention to the classics sometimes even though we ourselves don't see it, but simply because so that we align with the pop culture view that something was good

It's like when somebody praises Citizen Kane simply because it has been widely a classic, And I feel we will reach a point where the people who actually watched it and liked will die off, and we will be left with posers and yesmen who will still regard it as classic just because the dead people who came before them regard it as good also

This is not to disregard or to say that art can't be timeless

It is just that I feel our societal culture is stagnant, Even when it comes to history of art, Everything is just THIS,
Nothing is actually new because people just see the new through the lens of the old always which is like a chokehold to the creation of anything new

I will genuinely kill someone if I hear 50 years into the future about how Star Wars being iconic and timeless and blah blah blah

I'm cancelling classics.


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I don't really care.


You used a ton of words to just say "Old=Bad". I do my best to not be "New=Bad", I can say certain things from when I was a kid is trash, but I like for purely nostalgic reasons. However, a lot of new shit is garbage because capital demands it to be, not because it is bad because it's new. Which is the same dumb as fuck thing you are saying old is bad because it is old.


Well "canons" like everything else depend on a lot of factors that go beyond mere quality.
Eventually you come to realize that even a lot of critics/"tastemakers" don't really have defined principles with which they make their judgments, so the canon starts to feel pretty arbitrary as a guide of what is valuable.
Old TV in particular was made with completely different principles than it is today, Happy Days was not meant to be the kind of show you sit down and binge.


Oh fuck off
That's not what I meant in the remotely

If you were to reduce down my words they would be at most mean to say

Old = Rated too highly, Be more open-minded to new media


I don't know what you mean by "canon" but I get the thing you're saying about critics and tastemakers

>Old TV in particular was made with completely different principles than it is today

Like you mean culturally? Having racist moments according to today? Anti-communism? I'm familar with most of the stuff

I don't binge watch TV shows most of time, That's why the idea of watching 1 episode of these old shows with 10+ just seemed so depressing to me

The idea of being stuck so close to old ideas and days of old for so long just feels very depressing to me, If i watched them I'd probably balance it out with some new modern TV show in the evenings

I also have an odd phobia of black and white comedy, Like I remember being terrified of Laurel and Hardy and finding that shit ghostly and creepy because of the exaggerated faces and movements


Who wrote this and what is it?


I downloaded it from /leftypol/ back on 8chan.


>Not from a contrarian view point but from a philosophical, change is good viewpoint
but all the classics are usually genre shattering masterpieces that did something so good or new, changed how it was usually done it redefined it. Thats exactly why i enjoy revisiting them. For one, they're good works, for two they helped define the genre, for three, you gain an understanding of all that followed it.

so yes, id advise checking out the classics, without forcing yourself f they dont hold up either


yeah I 100 percent know what you mean


i understand how important they are, my point is that nowadays it feels that we have acquired a sort of rigidity and uniformness in looking at media

that would have also crushed the classics we now revere, there is so much more of everything now and we certainly don't live in a meritocratic system where the best things automatically rise through the shit

my point is not to throw away the classics but to enjoy them alongside the new
not to crush the voice of the new classics that may arise using the old classics

oh good to hear
would you like to elaborate further?


>that would have also crushed the classics we now revere, there is so much more of everything now and we certainly don't live in a meritocratic system where the best things automatically rise through the shit
That's just it, though: they're "revered," and rarely experienced. Plenty of people talk about "the classics," but few people actually bother with them. In effect, "fuck the classics" just reinforces this same behavior and lack of engagement with the past.

There is one sense I would agree with "fuck the classics": trying to find one's own way in art. But this requires actual engagement with the classics and the traditions to which they belong and help constitute, not an empty rejection of the abstraction "classics," and not pointless and stupid evaluations of "classics" on the basis of whether they make you feel good, whether you "liked" Citizen Kane or not. Fundamentally, both you and the other person are evaluating artistic works in terms of "enjoyment," or, in short, like consumers. For an actual philosophically "Marxist view" on this, here is Adorno in his Aesthetic Theory:
<Pleasure masquerades beyond recognition in the Kantian disinterestedness. What popular consciousness and a complaisant aesthetics regard as the taking pleasure in art, modeled on real enjoyment, probably does not exist. The empirical subject has only a limited and modified part in artistic experience *tel quel*, and this part may well be diminished the higher the work’s rank. Whoever concretely enjoys artworks is a philistine; he is convicted by expressions like “a feast for the ears.” Yet if the last traces of pleasure were extirpated, the question of what artworks are for would be an embarrassment. Actually, the more they are understood, the less they are enjoyed. Formerly, even the traditional attitude to the artwork, if it was to be absolutely relevant to the work, was that of admiration that the works exist as they do in themselves and not for the sake of the observer. What opened up to, and overpowered, the beholder was their truth, which as in works of Kafka’s type outweighs every other element. They were not a higher order of amusement. The relation to art was not that of its physical devouring; on the contrary, the beholder disappeared into the material; this is even more so in modern works that shoot toward the viewer as on occasion a locomotive does in a film. Ask a musician if the music is a pleasure, the reply is likely to be—as in the American joke of the grimacing cellist under Toscanini—*“I just hate music.”* For him who has a genuine relation to art, in which he himself vanishes, art is not an object; deprivation of art would be unbearable for him, yet he does not consider individual works sources of joy. Incontestably, no one would devote himself to art without—as the bourgeois put it—getting something out of it; yet this is not true in the sense that a balance sheet could be drawn up: “heard the Ninth Symphony tonight, enjoyed myself so and so much” even though such feeble-mindedness has by now established itself as common sense. The bourgeois want art voluptuous and life ascetic; the reverse would be better. Reified consciousness provides an ersatz for the sensual immediacy of which it deprives people in a sphere that is not its abode. While the artwork’s sensual appeal seemingly brings it close to the consumer, it is alienated from him by being a commodity that he possesses and the loss of which he must constantly fear. The false relation to art is akin to anxiety over possession. The fetishistic idea of the artwork as property that can be possessed and destroyed by reflection has its exact correlative in the idea of exploitable property within the psychological economy of the self. If according to its own concept art has become what it is, this is no less the case with its classification as a source of pleasure; indeed, as components of ritual praxis the magical and animistic predecessors of art were not autonomous; yet precisely because they were sacred they were not objects of enjoyment. The spiritualization of art incited the rancor of the excluded and spawned consumer art as a genre, while conversely antipathy toward consumer art compelled artists to ever more reckless spiritualization. No naked Greek sculpture was a *pin-up*. The affinity of the modern for the distant past and the exotic is explicable on the same grounds: Artists were drawn by the abstraction from natural objects as desirable; incidentally, in the construction of “symbolic art” Hegel did not overlook the unsensuous element of the archaic. The element of pleasure in art, a protest against the universally mediated commodity character, is in its own fashion mediable: Whoever disappears into the artwork thereby gains dispensation from the impoverishment of a life that is always too little. This pleasure may mount to an ecstasy for which the meager concept of enjoyment is hardly adequate, other than to produce disgust for enjoying anything. It is striking, incidentally, that an aesthetic that constantly insists on subjective feeling as the basis of all beauty never seriously analyzed this feeling. Almost without exception its descriptions were banausic, perhaps because from the beginning the subjective approach made it impossible to recognize that something compelling can be grasped of aesthetic experience only on the basis of a relation to the aesthetic object, not by recurring to the fun of the art lover. The concept of artistic enjoyment was a bad compromise between the social and the socially critical essence of the artwork. If art is useless for the business of self-preservation—bourgeois society never quite forgives that—it should at least demonstrate a sort of use-value modeled on sensual pleasure. This distorts art as well as the physical fulfillment that art’s aesthetic representatives do not dispense. That a person who is incapable of sensual differentiation—who cannot distinguish a beautiful from a flat sound, a brilliant from a dull color—is hardly capable of artistic experience, is hypostatized. Aesthetic experience does indeed benefit from an intensified sensual differentiation as a medium of giving form, yet the pleasure in this is always indirect. The importance of the sensual in art has varied; after an age of asceticism pleasure becomes an organ of liberation and vivaciousness, as it did in the Renaissance and then again in the anti-Victorian impulse of impressionism; at other moments creatural sadness has borne witness to a metaphysical content by erotic excitement permeating the forms. Yet however powerful, historically, the force of pleasure to return may be, whenever it appears in art literally, undiffracted, it has an infantile quality. Only in memory and longing, not as a copy or as an immediate effect, is pleasure absorbed by art. Ultimately, aversion to the crudely sensual alienates even those periods in which pleasure and form could still communicate in a more direct fashion; this not least of all may have motivated the rejection of impressionism.
<Underlying the element of truth in aesthetic hedonism is the fact that in art the means and the ends are not identical. In their dialectic, the former constantly asserts a certain, and indeed mediated, independence. Through the element of sensuous satisfaction the work’s sine qua non, its appearance, is constituted. As Alban Berg said, it is a prosaic matter to make sure that the work shows no nails sticking out and that the glue does not stink; and in many of Mozart’s compositions the delicacy of expression evokes the sweetness of the human voice. In important artworks the sensuous illuminated by its art shines forth as spiritual just as the abstract detail, however indifferent to appearance it may be, gains sensuous luster from the spirit of the work. Sometimes by virtue of their differentiated formal language, artworks that are developed and articulated in themselves play over, secondarily, into the sensuously pleasing. Even in its equivalents in the visual arts, dissonance, the seal of everything modern, gives access to the alluringly sensuous by transfiguring it into its antithesis, pain: an aesthetic archetype of ambivalence. The source of the immense importance of all dissonance for new art since Baudelaire and Tristan—veritably an invariant of the modern—is that the immanent play of forces in the artwork converges with external reality: Its power over the subject intensifies in parallel with the increasing autonomy of the work. Dissonance elicits from within the work that which vulgar sociology calls its social alienation. In the meantime, of course, artworks have set a taboo even on spiritually mediated suavity as being too similar to its vulgar form. This development may well lead to a sharpening of the taboo on the sensual, although it is sometimes hard to distinguish to what extent this taboo is grounded in the law of form and to what extent simply in the failure of craft; a question, incidentally, that like many of its ilk becomes a fruitless topic of aesthetic debate. The taboo on the sensual ultimately encroaches on the opposite of pleasure because, even as the remotest echo, pleasure is sensed in its specific negation. For this aesthetic sensorium dissonance bears all too closely on its contrary, reconciliation; it rebuffs the semblance of the human as an ideology of the inhuman and prefers to join forces with reified consciousness. Dissonance congeals into an indifferent material; indeed, it becomes a new form of immediacy, without any memory trace of what it developed out of, and therefore gutted and anonymous. For a society in which art no longer has a place and which is pathological in all its reactions to it, art fragments on one hand into a reified, hardened cultural possession and on the other into a source of pleasure that the customer pockets and that for the most part has little to do with the object itself. Subjective pleasure in the artwork would approximate a state of release from the empirical as from the totality of heteronomous. Schopenhauer may have been the first to realize this. The happiness gained from artworks is that of having suddenly escaped, not a morsel of that from which art escaped; it is accidental and less essential to art than the happiness in its knowledge; the concept of aesthetic pleasure as constitutive of art is to be superseded. If in keeping with Hegel’s insight all feeling related to an aesthetic object has an accidental aspect, usually that of psychological projection, then what the work demands from its beholder is knowledge, and indeed, knowledge that does justice to it: The work wants its truth and untruth to be grasped. Aesthetic hedonism is to be confronted with the passage from Kant’s doctrine of the sublime, which he timidly excluded from art: Happiness in artworks would be the feeling they instill of standing firm. This holds true for the aesthetic sphere as a whole more than for any particular work.


I'm into writing and feel like it's less accepted to take influence from Bret Easton-Ellis than Dostoevsky for example.


I wouldn't say that I feel pressured to enjoyed as much as I feel compelled to read them, it makes me wonder why they are considered classics.


>change for the sake of it
lol dude its literally just a hobby, enjoy whatever


art has always referenced other art
half of shakespeare's plays were directly influenced by some novel or whatever


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>but all the classics are usually genre shattering masterpieces that did something so good or new
Right, but after a period of time the uniqueness erodes and becomes passe. At one point Elvis was a dangerous threat to society, now even the most rigid social conservatives would laugh at the idea of being offended by his music or dancing. Some classics are just version alpha, and honestly only "classic" because they were first to market. Would Plato have been so popular had his critics had just as many surviving texts? If China had colonized the americas would ancient greek philosophy be held in such high regard? Would Shakespeare be considered such mastery of english if students hadn't been told this their entire lives, before they even get a chance read it for themselves and come to an independent conclusion? If you played Flamenco Sketches for someone whose never heard jazz or heard of Miles Davis, would they have any reason to hold it in high regard? Classical canons are just academic meme warfare; the same timeless strategy of using prestige to control cultural narratives. While I recognize there is a causal chain of actions from past to present that produces media, I don't think the fecundity of a work is a valid means of measuring its quality or cultural impact.


I for one feel pressured to read marx even tho I've heard all the talking pointa a gozzilion times allready.


All the more reason you need to read if you think it's just "talking points"


I dunno I never really notice this in indie stuff.


>Schopenhauer may have been the first to realize this
why did this make me laugh lol

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