In a world that is always increasingly consuming, desiring to consume and to fill some void it believe exists, the "need" has arisen for the immediacy of things. The desire has become less of a desire and more of a convenience; complacency has replaced the stirring in man's heart, it seems. Art is now a thing to be seen in mass collections, no longer solely an all-consuming entity--surroundings, experience, history. Legends one has only envisioned in dreams become displays in accessible glass cases and enclosed spaces with walls and windows and doors. The art of the pilgrimage is now competing with the possibility for immediacy--the short trip to a gallery or museum. Great masterpieces are not merely tangible objects on which the eyes might feast. The great masterpieces have a soul; they were brought into this world by some oncecreator and continue to exist, becoming that much more wholly mastered as more of mankind becomes affected upon finding it. There is a mystery behind the centuries of paint, varnish, and that ultimate canvas at its back. The greatness precedes the discovery and only grows as one journeys to make it.
Once found, there is a presence one can only feel in viewing the work as it was intended. In this, one is "becoming more aware of how [they] see, not just what [they] see." Art is a living, breathing thing but it itself cannot move, only being able to move the things around it.
