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Essay Name       : 819.txt 
Uploader         : j stahl
Email Address    : 
Language         : 
Subject          : Philosophy
Title            : Life is Art
Grade            : A
School System    : Junior College
Country          : USA
Author Comments  : none
Teacher Comments : none
Date             : 11/9/96
Site found at    : surfing
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Life is an art


Two weeks ago, while having lunch with the self-proclaimed "philosophy expert" of our department, I noticed a quote posted by his desk. "Life is Art "  read the phrase.  It seemed to fit in next to his Monet calendar and the latest Dilbert strip, which were carefully tacked to the cubicle wall.  After reading this food for thought,  I decided to have some fun with my "intellectually superior" colleague.  This paper is a presentation of my argument refuting his coveted quote, but more importantly, it is also a story of how I systematically destroyed his outlook on life (and his opinion of me, atleast until he cools off!).

"Life is Art, huh?," I began,  "Impossible, it just doesn’t work."  Slowly he raised his eyes to meet mine, and with a look of cynicism, he was thinking of a response to my challenge.  However, before I would engage him on the battlefield, I wanted to be fair, and asked him to clarify his definition of the quote.  "You don’t mean, Life is Art as in ‘the Arts’,  right?" I smiled.  He smiled back,  "C’mon Jody, I’m dying to hear your take on this."  I explained to him that Life is not Art, because of two reasons.  First, Art has no life span.  We have objects of Art that have been around since Ancient times.  Second, all Life does have a life span.  If it didn’t, it wouldn’t be life.  THEREFORE <evil grin>,  "Life is not Art."   "THAT is your opinion!" he fired back.  True enough, but it wasn’t any fun to give in just yet.  Carefully, I removed the quote from the wall, and with my red pencil,  drew a circle with a slash through the entire page! Smiling all the while, I handed him the page and headed off back to my cube.

Could he let it go? Hell NO,  he was determined to shoot my theory down.  About  an hour later, he appeared in my cube holding a new quote page.  "Life is like Art."  Smiling (I do that a lot!), I shook my head and explained to him, "That still isn’t right—it is no different from the first quote."  After some childish bantering with some choice profanity added for flavor, he stormed back to his cube, placing his quote on the outside of the cube for everyone to see.  As the day went on, he intentionally avoided me, and even decided not to walk out to the parking lot with me after work, a tradition that has been in existence for the last six years!

The next day, he was still sore with me. After watching his departure to a 10:00 a.m. meeting, the temptation was too great—I snuck over, removed the quote and returned to my cube.  Studying it ever closely, I came to the same conclusion as the day before.  "Nah, I’m right," I thought.  Then, again with the red pencil that had gotten me in trouble the day before, I was about to assign a grade of "F," and place the sheet back when it hit me.  With the pencil, I lined out the "like" and made the capital A in Art to lowercase and added the word "an" thereby changing the quote to read "Life is an art."  With this word as a noun, the sentence could work.  Life is an art of its own, with each living thing unique to itself; similar to works of art.  Therefore, the existence of life itself could be a true representation of art, but this art is not limited to one being alone.  The mystery that surronds the miracle of life, from reproduction to advances in technology to the ability of birds to fly, life as we know it is an art.

After this revelation, I decided to wait until my friend returned, and deliver the good news to him personally.  Needless to say, he wasn’t very receptive, declaring his desire to drop the matter in the interest of our friendship.  I agreed, but not before pinning the revised quote back onto the outside wall of his cube.  As of last 
Friday, he started back to talking to me, and even walking out to the parking lot together after work.  Funny though; while we have not discussed the issue again, my corrected version of his quote is still displayed on the outside of his cube.  That’s ok, because I’ve discovered that for some, admitting they’re wrong (or atleast acknowledgement of  the other person’s point) is also an art.

 
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