Editors’ Letter: High-rony

**It seems to me that the defining characteristic of our generation is irony. It has seeped into the way we dress. The music we listen to. What makes us laugh. That which we look up to. Even the way we think. **

There is now a widespread fetishisation of the inadequate. It seems that now it is more acceptable to sit down and watch _Sharktopus_ than an artistically challenging film. More acceptable to enjoy musicians who appear to put in no effort than those who really work hard. The divide present here seems to be between the “shitty” and the “wanky.”

On the one hand we have the shitty. Awful slogan t-shirts. Ill-fitting, gawdy jumpers. _Sharktopus_, _RoboPiranha_, and _Sharktopus vs RoboPiranha_. An embracing of those who are anti-intellect, anti-culture and anti-style. Entire conversations spoken as if each sentence was a question. All of these are both ‘desirable’ and ‘cool’.

On the other hand we have the wanky. Anything you could brand as “high culture”. Any endeavour to put serious and novel thought into something. The consideration that lofty thought could be used in real conversation. The attempt to conceive of “low culture” in any way other than a monad of banal crap. All of which are to be avoided like the plague, and will see you written off as pretentious.

There are times when I, as a Film and Lit student, will consider a book or film. During this consideration I may arrive at a conclusion that cannot be explained in a single sentence. And I will stop myself. I mean, it’s all just wank really, isn’t it? What’s the point in thinking this way, if it’s not going in an essay?

There was once a generation whose defining music was The Beatles. What will we be defined by? Dubstep? Nicki Minaj?

It seems to me that there is a widespread fear of the earnest. I could spend weeks of my life in the creation of a beautiful painting, and it would be cool. But if I were to endorse my creation in a way that indicated the effort I put in to it, I would most likely meet ridicule.
The central anxiety here seems to be that any considerations of “high culture” are the preserve of ivory-tower academics speaking in a language entirely unknown to the Average Joe. But does this need to be the case?

It would be far more valuable if we embraced high-culture for what it is; after all, it has not, and cannot, reject us. When was the last time you were turned away by a painting? Or a song? Give it your time, and your thought, free of the fear of trying and failing, or looking like a fraud, and you stand to lose nothing but another opportunity to watch _Sharktopus_.