How the same art affects different people is an ongoing fascination of mine. I grew up using books to take my mind off of life, and I read voraciously. No one around me really had a high opinion of “art”, and I didn’t even really think of the books I read as art, at least not until I was an adult. As I get older I see more of the impact that art has had on my thinking and life, though it’s still very much an ongoing project. Comparing my own experience of art to others’ is why I love art criticism, especially “bad” earnest criticism. Even bad faith “criticism” is kind of interesting, in that it says something about the selfish worldview of the author, but I have limited stomach for it.