The scenario is all the same:

An adolescent youth is sitting in their room amidst various objects of individual worth. Every item has been carefully selected and arranged in order for the adolescent to feel most comfortable. To compensate their developed atmosphere they indulge their oratory senses by playing music of their specific interest.

Just as the adolescent is beginning to merge with their environment, the door bursts open in a blur and one of the parental figures, as though compelled to find the source of a horrible stench, stomps inside looming over the degenerate hovel their offspring has produced. Without thinking and working on impulse alone the parent begins to verbally tear down their child’s chosen living environment and music interest. An argument ensues where the questions of personal taste and the definition of “art” are disputed. Both sides fight for their argument but neither come to any sort of agreement.

So, who is right? Can we say that, according to what we have been told, art will always be art and that anything new or scary that has not already been accepted will never be considered art? Or are we to assume that art is simply a matter of environmentally enriched personal taste and the only way to determine art is if you personally believe it to be art? This essay will show by way of John Keats’s poetry that art is in fact an individualized enterprise and that individual interpretations of mediums not necessarily categorized as art can provide the same type of enrichment as any other type of art.

In his poem, “Ode on a Nightingale,” Keats explores the bond that a casual observer could grow toward something ordinary. The speaker of the poem is so enamored with the nightingale’s tune that they equate the sensation with that of heavy drugs. This sedated state the speaker is left in reflects the level of openness that the speaker feels. The speaker is leaving themselves open to receive the music yet also leaves themselves vulnerable to the effects of becoming attached to a certain medium. This level of acceptance eventually leads the speaker to identify how the nightingale’s song, which once brought nothing short of ecstasy, now breeds aggravation by way of an “I-love-you-so-much-I-hate-you” kind of relationship.

But the relationship between the speaker and the nightingale’s song is not at a crossroads. The connection between the two is at a point where the speaker identifies with the timelessness of the bird’s song and comes to accept the eventuality of their own mortality. Although the speaker has not changed their opinion regarding the beauty of the song, they have become inspired to accept the prospect that what they love, their art, will be carried away with them after their mortal life comes to an end.

The poem concludes with the speaker contemplating whether their experience with the nightingale’s song was a reality. The speaker even questions, “Was it a vision, or a waking dream?” (Line 79). The confusion begs one to ask if art and beauty is tangible or if we place our own ideas of beauty where we decide, therefore, making beauty solely a matter of opinion.

Keats further explores the possibility of attaching value to beauty and art in his poem, “Ode on a Grecian Urn.” In this piece the speaker, rather than being swept away with emotion, remains fairly objective in their description of the vase. They scrutinize over the possibilities held within the images on the vase as well as the actual vase itself. There is no lingering affection to come back to; just the world the speaker makes for himself or herself.

This does not mean that the speaker is not enamored with the beauty of the vase. The intrinsic value is deeply appreciated by the speaker to the point where other poets have seen fit to mock this poem and it’s all-encompassing idea that beauty is the only truth and visa-versa. These other poets, however ridiculing, are only proving what Keats is trying to point out in the poem; a level of obscurity that begs for self-evaluation.

What exactly is depicted on the vase? What color is it? How big is it? Does it have a lid? What was it once used for? These questions of specific detail point out a potential flaw in the line, “Beauty is truth, truth beauty,” (Line 49). Where is the “truth” in this poem? The speaker never gives an accurate description of the vase nor could they give one that correctly describes the vase in a way that can be readily identified as the “one vase” associated with the poem.
It is my opinion that this is where the truth of the poem comes through. Keats is not trying to say that art is a physical enterprise bent on explicit value, but that the imagination is the key to finding beauty. By giving their personal interpretation of what the vase “means,” the speaker is creating beauty. The only way we can understand the meaning of beauty is to find our own truth in what we observe.
Individual interpretation is the key. This is why some people despise birds and their songs and why poets have ridiculed Keats’s poem to fit their own interpretations of “the truth.” Both of the poems address the idea of discovering art and beauty as an individual and making that interpretation personalized. Essentially, you will only find beauty where you find beauty.

This is a concept that I know all too well. I am constantly noticing these specific pieces of “street art” while traveling around Long Beach. Scrawled along walls, around power boxes, and down stairwells is this repeating piece of angular mountains and valleys artistically shaded on one side to resemble a mountain range. While others might consider this as petty vandalism, I personally have a deep interest in “street art” and it’s effects.

Although this repeating pattern is ineffective at inspiring all individuals, I am deeply moved every time I see this artist’s work. Seeing this mock-mountain skyline in various places around the urban sprawl of Long Beach reminds me of my upbringing in a small town in Northern Montana. I can imagine the sheer cliffs and stony faces of the Rocky Mountains I had once lived beside with every glance at the mock-mountain skylines around Long Beach. I attribute my own level of artistic value to these pieces of “street art.” The truth of these pieces, and therefore beauty, is encompassed in my own interpretation of the pieces’ meaning. However, what I find as these inspirational, awe-inspiring masterpieces that generate thoughts of pleasure and comfort can also be interpreted as an asshole that went nuts with a sharpie. It all depends on personal opinion.