"Josh, you just have to see the new GAP Khakis commercial!" proclaimed my excited brother. I even went as far as watching the same channel until I finally saw the commercial. I sat in front of the television for over half an hour and turned my head at the sound of catchy swing music to see young men and women dancing to music on a stark white backdrop. Their energy and enthusiasm to dance was like nothing I had seen in reality. In all the twisting and tangling of arms, legs, and female hair, I froze in my seat as everyone on the dance floor froze in mid-air. My heart stopped as I followed the camera around the frozen dancers. The new perception heightened the dancing energy. The GAP Khakis sign invaded the screen for a few seconds and the screen went blank. Was this the work of an evil genius trying to get my attention so that I could be brainwashed into buying a product? Could it perhaps be simply one artist communicating a new sense of beauty to the whole world, regardless of the product I was deeply affected by the strange time and space rendered in front of me in thirty seconds?
             Commercial film affects me more than fine art in a museum does. It has also proven to be much better at portraying subtleties to a mass audience in a clear and definite way. People are ashamed of this comparative strength. Many of my self-fabricated intellectual friends claim to enjoy gallery fine art more than they enjoy movies and television. When we are at the gallery, I watch my friends ooh and aah at the work as they interpret its meaning amongst themselves. After dragging them cynically into the movie theater, they exit two hours later wiping their eyes off not wanting to say anything to anyone.
             Before the idea of mass-produced copies of art, people were starved for the kind of extraordinary visions we take for granted. They went to art shows and concerts. They valued their circuses and city zoos. After someone realized that the power of the ext...