By trying to export myself into a place that didn't fully exist I asked works of art to bear my expectation that they could be better than life, that they could redeem life. In fact, I believe they are, and do. My life is dedicated to that belief. But still, I asked too much of them: I asked them also to be both safer than life and fuller, a better family. That they couldn't give. At the depths I'd plumb them, so many perfectly sufficient works of art would become thin, anemic. I sucked the juice out of what I loved until I found myself in a desert, sucking rocks for water.
In "The Disappointment Artist," Jonathan Lethem reflects on the unrealistic expectations he placed on art, believing it could exceed the complexities of life. He devoted his life to the conviction that art has redemptive powers, yet recognized he often demanded that it provide safety and emotional fulfillment beyond its capacity. This led to a disillusionment with the very works he cherished, which became insufficient to meet his aspirations.
Lethem candidly admits that his deep desire for art to serve as a perfect refuge left him feeling emptier. By seeking a richness from art that did not exist, he metaphorically drained the essence from his beloved creations. Instead of finding solace, he ended up in a metaphorical desert, stripped of nourishment and confronting the stark realization that he could not extract what art was not meant to provide.