The senses are assailed by emotion, with modernity we embrace it letting it rule our action, thought, existence. The past values of Romanticism and Realism become blasé and tacky. Thus is shed the old of then. Inept maudlin sensibilities are cast into a gutter. Arisen from the gutters is the alienation and anxieties of city living. Each individual is screaming for its own wants wailing out for more. Language is the ever evolving medium that morphs to fulfill the desires of each point in time.
Romantic flowery flittery language is for naught. It is only use is for it’s flashiness adding color and flare to salt to the ordinary. The existence of humans is wrought with longing for the unattainable. Thus is pent up frustrations sublimated onto other mediums. The modern human can sate the yearning with an instant gratification, by outrageous means like viewing films. It feeds a falsified emotional rollercoaster that becomes a habitual need to feel alive. Shelley stated that, “nature is a sublime truth,” by seeing beauty in virgin habitat untouched by humans. Twisting her beauty the grey cityscape can be the modernized version of that aesthetic. Romanticism is too maudlin, too country like to mesh with the steely cities.
If there is no progress then it is like being stuck for eternity on pause whilst the rest of the universe whizzes by your ear. A realist is a country bumpkin. Sedate and only seeing as it is; unwilling to move a step further. The liveliness is flat and habitual; the polar opposite of the modern city’s unpredictable chaos. There is no movement to improve, just stillness of the current reality. No escape to fantasies of grandiose splendor. Only the current time is seen and felt. The modernist abhors living only for the present, but needs to create for the future. It is absolutely unnatural to not move, when others are advancing to overtake one another.
Modernism is here to counter the anti-drab. For we provide the vehicle to progress. For it be such a shame to regress to the sedimentary dark ages of dry of excitement. Why not engulf the known universe with our footprints with science as a sword to commandeer the forefront of a quest to find the new. Neither Romanticism or Realism will advance much for they are either paused in the past or present without intent to move. It is in modernism the plough forward will happen inevitably forthwith.