We have left the salon and retreated to the taverns.
Art experimentation has degraded into corporatized, commodified, derivative swill, like a beer whose yeast died too soon—extra sweet, with no potency. Likewise, art theory has devolved into meta discussions of meta reactions to meta discussions. Amid this loss of culture, many aspiring heroes and foolhardy country folk are now motivated to become adventurers, packing their bags to go off and wrest the next cache of Artistic Gold from the dragon of Cultural Stagnation.
Many of us traveling this new road of adventure want to take the next step by talking. We want to talk politics. We want to talk theory. We want to talk orders, issuing writs and dictats to what artists should do. Yet there's a piquant crossover between discussing what the artists of tomorrow need to do—and not doing art. Ask a traveler to switch from talking, to actually making art, and he may tell you he took an arrow to the knee.
We ‘tavern-keeps’ can chat all day long, and that’s a risk when there's other work to be done. We are artists. We're… doing the thing. Come in and have a seat. Fine art, film, music, fiction, and philosophy all have a room in Twisted Crow's tavern. How to look at that art, how to see, is what we want our humble inn to offer its guests. It just may require a tiny bit of inebriation, which we are more than happy to brew.
So don't mistake us for Conan the Barbarian, who famously said, "Enough talk!"
Between batches of our special concoctions, we can yet be found chatting about art itself. Just don’t be surprised if we cut short to mix the wort!
It's stormy weather out there. Stoke the fire and take in the atmosphere. The end of the world can take care of itself.