Have you ever heard that one phrase? That one about art, you know the one. Don’t you? You for sure know it. Okay, I stop teasing. “Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comforted.” Cesar A. Cruz gave this quote. I’ve heard this quote being a thorn, always stuck in the back of my head. Playing in my conscious mind like a broken record player. But I never once knew the person who said this phrase out loud.  Cesar A. Cruz was born in Guadalajara, Jalisco, Mexico.

Popping up the Chromebook to Merriam. The top meaning states that art is a skill acquired from experience, study, and observation. Scrolling down, you see a common theme of learning. Learning is problem-solving, and that’s what I feel art to be. An amalgamation of experiences and imagination creates cocktails of many different flavors. Some sweeter colors are almost radioactive, like eye candy, if you like. Others are more murky and cloudy looking. Now, that takes me to this question. Should art disturb the comfort of the disturbed? No, I would not say that.

I believe this because it defies the definition of art. I see where Cruz would say this. He was an activist, and if I were in his shoes, I would want to do something to make people uncomfortable and see life for its ugliness. I would use art to express the vile injustices. I would show people the blood, carcasses, and skeletons in the closet that bump every 24 hours.

Comfort is our biggest enemy at the end of the day. It would blind in with the world’s proper hues. But I can’t blame people for wanting to live in a rosy bubblegum pink world. Comfort is my biggest enemy as well. Comfort is like a weighted blanket that slowly suffocates you as you stay in that seemingly safe feeling. Next thing you know, life’s over.

Now, did that statement comfort you or disturb you? Whatever you feel is valid. Because art is an experience wrapped into a medium, to keep blasting that thought in you till your eardrums explode.  Art doesn’t have to be this edge piece, but an expression of love, happiness, rage, and sadness. In a bittersweet and cheerful turn, your brain off for crying out loud. Art can be tongue-in-cheek. Art can be a silly string of mismatched scribbles, something a 5-year-old in a restaurant can make.

To end my thoughts on what art is. On November 24th, 2024, a banana you can buy from the store was duct-taped to a blank canvas. It was worth millions. Someone had stolen that very banana. I’m not saying that all modern art is the end of art. Creativity is dead and has no more future renaissance. But I find contemporary art a simplistic piece to gain attention. Why wouldn’t a museum want a piece that will bring a crowd? It’s all about the money for the art in museums.