But is it Art?

When the flush of a new-born sun fell first on Eden's green and gold,
Our father Adam sat under the Tree and scratched with a stick in the mould;
And the first rude sketch that the world had seen was joy to his mighty heart,
Till the Devil whispered behind the leaves, "It's pretty, but is it Art?"

-- from The Conundrum of the Workshops, Rudyard Kipling

First time I posted that on the internets (to explain a thing I was too lazy to find the words for myself) was June 25, 2001, on a previous iteration of this journal. Google Desktop tells me so.

Hours of matting prints at the kitchen table brings this quote to mind again. Alone with my iPod, two slumbering cats, a plate of reheated enchiladas, and "Northanger Abbey," it's full speed ahead.

Devil be damned.