When human beings made the transition from nomadic, hunter-gatherer lifestyles to stationary, agrarian societies, an interest in permanent, decorative objects with which to adorn both homes and public spaces—as opposed to manageable, utilitarian tools designed for transport—increased exponentially. What were the intended functions of these newly conceived ornamental creations? To what degree, and in what manner, did their exhibition soothe their observers? Were they created and displayed merely to beautify their physical surroundings without provoking any serious thought? Were they meant to simply disguise an otherwise drab environment? Were they intended to create or replicate an ostensibly more appealing atmosphere? Or was it presumed that the objects (paintings, drawings, sculptures, etc.) contained a set of properties that would compel deeper contemplation? Spiritual reflection? Sociopolitical examination? Or, even, meditations on the very nature of the object under scrutiny?

Both the nature and purpose of Art have been seriously contemplated for millennia, and theoretical musings on its aesthetic presumptions and responsibilities have been hotly debated, though no definitive consensus on its genus has ever emerged among either critics or general audiences. But central to any artwork's very existence is its ability to engage a spectator, to secure attention, to invite engagement of one sort or another. Without this first and primary property, its value is entirely negated.

But once that interest is established, what happens next?

For many, the interest translates into distraction, relief, and heightened experience. Distraction implies that the concentration that we normally devote to more practical concerns is diverted toward the object and held for a particular duration. Relief implies that the distraction is a welcome one, providing a certain brand of comfort that was, presumably, absent in the course of our navigating real-world phenomena. Heightened experience presumes that the encounter will generate excitement in the spectator, either through character/ situational identification, vicarious thrill, or voyeuristic engagement. This type of experience is what most conventional, commercial feature films aspire to, as it doesn't require any effort from its audience aside from its willingness to passively participate. It is akin to a rollercoaster ride at your favorite amusement park—once you've committed to the ride and entered the car, you just sit there; the mechanism does all the work for you. Your thrill is provided without your having to expend any effort.