On Dorian Gray

To this date, to be fair, I have read half of the book. I am at the morning after he discovered the movements in the paintings. And I’m writing at 3 am in the morning.

This book is quite romantic, it starts with these seemingly rich men, lords or some shit, who dont seem to have a single pragmatic worry in their minds, having an eloquent, sophisticated yet base discussion. Then comes Dorian Gray, a person who is overly emphasized as being beautiful, pure and naive. Everything about the book, the conversations, the picturesque rooms we envision in our heads, that are lavish and decorative, and the butlers that serve, is romantic. Lord Henry’s melancholy pessimism draws the reader in, and his way of viewing everything as romantic, artistic objects makes the reader as if one is standing in front of an artistic masterpiece. The plot moves rather slowly, mostly comprised of conversations that expose the characters’ characters, inch by inch. Then, as all good stories do, someone falls in love. Dorian Gray falls in love with a poor actress, beautiful and talented, who plays different characters night by night at a dodgy theatre. This actress is raised by a single mother, and her brother leaves to Australia to make money. Dorian Gray showers this woman with love and affection, and this woman, accepts his attention and they decide to wed. So Dorian, consumed with infatuation, tells his friends to come see her, that her acting will change their worlds. They come to see her act, and she performs miserably that day. The friends leave in disappointment, and Dorian is furious. He confronts her backstage after the show, and the woman confesses that she could not act being in love because now nothing compares to the love she feels for Dorian, or some middle school pure shit like that. To my surprise, or in a somewhat Deja-Vu moment, Dorian insults his `love’ and completely destroys her, and she kills herself, while Dorian goes outside to wander the streets, ending up at his mansion with a butler. 

Dorian just wanted something to love. His love was more of a love towards the concept of love and himself, not for the betterment of the receiver his love. He viewed her like a piece of art, and was engulfed in the narcissistic high that he received from loving something so artistic, and so vainly light - as she took on roles of famous literary romantic heroines. However, when this art piece, out of love for him, became human and was out of the veil of mystery, made vulnerable, Dorian saw no worth in her. He just wanted something to adore, something that will make him artistic. Art is fickle, one of the many definitions of art is that art is something that humans render ideal - Garden of Eden, God, Love, whatever. But life is not ideal, and people are not ideal. From a distance, non ideal things, in one facade, can be perceived as ideal - the beautiful actress; we wrap them up in the concept of love, thereby making them the ultimate representation of art - something that will complete us. However, there comes a moment, always, when the utter unsustainability of artistic perception collapses, and our perception of our target of artistic adoration is realized back to its naked form - an imperfect person. This broke the naive, fragile Dorian, and Dorian broke the girl, who formed her world around Dorian, whom to her, was art - her ideal, her God.

It really comes down to responsibility really, I think. Loving a concept, or loving yourself in love, is not a fault in itself.  But to project one’s narcissistic intentions to others to the point of harm, and to use art as an excuse to avoid responsibility, is malice. To project a perceived idealistic image to someone, and accuse the other when your perception is no longer the case, is malice. 

Artistic souls always seek for something that will quench their thirst - undying, ideal beauty, busts of emotion, tragedy, love. A purely romantic pursuit is always a fickle one, and when their once idealized target cannot provide them with the drama, excitement, or mystery, or whatever they pursue, they lose interest. They are always in pursuit of something fickle and vain, which no object can provide sustainably. So they move from object to object, in honor of their artistic pursuits, blaming the objects, deserted, for their shortcomings. As Dorian sat in his garden feeling sorry for himself and masturbating with the excuse of an artistic pursuit, the actress was dead.

Dorian is a hopeless romantic, which makes him a bad person.