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In concluding whether Sontag’s claims against interpretation were possible, (I think they’re impossible to achieve), I never gave much thought to whether it was a good idea. It may be, but I’m still having difficulty understanding how it works; it seems a little like that illustration we’ve all been shown of the physically impossible structure engraved with the words “I stand corrected.” I can’t even imagine what a sustained engagement with art looks like in Sontag’s eyes.

Let’s suppose it’s a good idea. It seems like an unattainable perfection. It makes me wonder why perfection is so often unattainable. Why do people make things so difficult for themselves? Very Man of La Mancha.

In regards to the two paintings we looked at in class, my reactions, developing from instant impression to interpretive meaning, were as follows:

The first painting gave the impression of space and air. I began to see an aged map of Japan which turned into an extreme close-up of a torn knit sweater.

The second painting gave me the impression of distress and chaos. It became a fray, changing between the pre-Genesis battle for heaven and Beowulf’s pursuit of the Grendle’s mother.