I like 'em thick: an apology to my English teachers
Once a skeptic, the author now apologizes to his English teachers, having discovered the 'thickness' of great art that rewards deep engagement. He illustrates this concept with Hieronymus Bosch's 'Garden of Earthly Delights,' revealing layers of meaning, including the debunked 'butt music' theory. This exploration culminates in a critique of 'thin' content, especially AI-generated 'slop,' arguing that true quality lies in depth and longevity that cannot be mass-produced.
The Lowdown
Adam Mastroianni, once convinced that 'great' literature was a pedagogical hoax, now offers a profound apology to his English teachers. He reveals his understanding of 'thickness' in art—the quality that allows a work to unfurl endless layers of meaning and reward sustained attention, unlike superficial creations that repel deeper engagement. This revelation, however, also comes with a request for an apology from his teachers, who failed to equip him with the 'crank-up flashlight' necessary to explore these 'dark, winding caves' of art.
- The Eureka Moment: His personal transformation occurred before Hieronymus Bosch's The Garden of Earthly Delights, a painting so intricate and captivating that it halted his usual museum 'celebrity scavenger hunt' approach.
- The Butt Music Debunked: Mastroianni initially highlights the painting's famous 'butt music'—musical notes inscribed on a figure's posterior—as an example of its hidden depth. However, further research into musicologist Ian Pittman's work reveals that:
- The discovery wasn't unique; it had been transcribed multiple times since 1961.
- The 'music' is unplayable, lacking fundamental musical elements like a clef, and represents a creative 'hallucination' when attempts are made to perform it.
- Bosch likely intended the 'butt music' as a warning against secular music, depicting musicians being tortured in his hellscapes, reinforcing the idea that such music leads to damnation.
- Defining 'Thickness': Mastroianni identifies four 'thickening agents' that contribute to a work's profoundness:
- Iterative Process: Bearing the marks of discarded attempts and continuous refinement (e.g., Hokusai's evolving 'Great Wave' sketches).
- Reader/Viewer Participation: Leaving essential 'eggs to crack,' where the audience's engagement completes the experience (e.g., the hidden clues in Graeme Base's The 11th Hour).
- Intentionality: Every element serves a purpose, whether consciously placed by the artist or not, creating endless avenues for exploration (e.g., the recurring 'ears' motif in Shakespeare's Hamlet).
- Cost of Creation: The significant time, effort, and even personal sacrifice involved in its making, signaling its importance (e.g., medieval altarpieces, Penn & Teller's fire-eating).
- The Perils of 'Slop': Conversely, 'thin' art is likened to 'bicycle-shaped objects'—superficial imitations that lack true essence. This 'slop' includes brittle self-help advice and, crucially, AI-generated content. He argues that AI art, despite short-term appeal, lacks true depth; it holds no secrets and evaporates under scrutiny, offering only 'bottomlessness' without substance.
- Longevity as the Ultimate Test: The true measure of 'thickness' is longevity. Works that have survived centuries have proven their enduring quality, a stark contrast to ephemeral AI creations like quickly forgotten Ghibli-fied images or unlistenable AI music. He concludes that while AI attempts to automate creation, the 'hard part' of thickening ideas through dedicated human effort is the only part worth doing, and it cannot be delegated to machines.