Longing for the impossible?

Have you ever read a book, seen a film, or watched a performance and then thought I wish I could go back in time, or experience a different culture? I must admit, I have always had an over-active imagination, and find myself enthralled by the locations of books, dramas and films. This is usually quite harmless, I will become obsessed with discovering as much information as possible about the country or historical period, before I move on to the next object of interest.

I don’t attempt to temper my curiousity, but see it rather as an opportunity to discover new places, peoples and cultures (even if this is only through reading books). However, at times the smallest reference to a place can fire my imagination: I was reading The Odyssey when the mere mention of the Nile caused a huge urge to go to Egypt (I would have gone immediately if I had the money). This is part of the joy of reading a book or watching a play, the curiousity it creates and the longing to learn more.

However, what happens when a piece of art makes you long for a place that has never existed, and never will exist? By this, I don’t mean Dr Who creating a longing for alien planets or Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings creating a longing to live among elves or dwarfs, but rather a piece of work that creates a by-gone era, seen through rose-tinted glasses. It could be a production that creates an image of a close-knit community, that was never in fact that harmonious, it could be a portrayal of happiness and co-operation, where in reality there was only ever strife, or it might create a political or ideological utopia, that is impossible to realise.

That is the double-edged sword of effective, moving art: whilst transporting its audience from their hum-drum lives to its own world is a pleasure, the journey back to reality can be a let down.