"Hey, what are you thinking about?" my friend, Sam, asked me.
"Art. I'm just trying to imagine a world where artists didn't exist. Such a world frightens me, it would be very bleak and very dark. I don't think I could survive in that kind of world."
Sam sat on my bed, beside me. "Really? Well, I don't like Artists, I find them to be very shady. Sure, some people can sing or paint or write or take a picture or whatever. But that is no excuse to exploit those less talented, for art to be truly appreciated...it should be free."
I was speechless so he kept on talking, "Shakespeare, Mozart, Salinger, Da vinci, Picasso, Eminem; I think they are all con artists. They all did it for the money not because they loved Art or wanted to be true artists." He sneered.
He looked at me, checking to see if his point had sunk in.
"I think Art is stupid."
I punched him in the face.
"Art. I'm just trying to imagine a world where artists didn't exist. Such a world frightens me, it would be very bleak and very dark. I don't think I could survive in that kind of world."
Sam sat on my bed, beside me. "Really? Well, I don't like Artists, I find them to be very shady. Sure, some people can sing or paint or write or take a picture or whatever. But that is no excuse to exploit those less talented, for art to be truly appreciated...it should be free."
I was speechless so he kept on talking, "Shakespeare, Mozart, Salinger, Da vinci, Picasso, Eminem; I think they are all con artists. They all did it for the money not because they loved Art or wanted to be true artists." He sneered.
He looked at me, checking to see if his point had sunk in.
"I think Art is stupid."
I punched him in the face.
