Popular Culture & High Art’s Long Freaky Friday

I think that we’re in a weird era where popular culture, or its margins, is the place for many-layers-to-the-onion, world-of-thought-unto-itself, slow-burner artworks, and high art’s the place for all-there-on-the-surface, meaning-is-the-dent-it-makes, you-hit-them-in-the-face-with-everything-you’ve-got works. I know that not everybody feels this way, but if you do then maybe you’ll agree that it’s cause nowadays it’s super hard to gage how far the wick of a slow-burner runs, or how much its new world of thought is going to enrich your own, so absent the assurance of a Woolf or Proust or James slow burners have to first set you aflame with fangirlish* obsession so there’s something to breath fire into the equations.