I thought maybe if I could lower my expectations for art -- assume that rather than an objective standard of goodness existing "out there somewhere" I could reconcile myself to a subjective and fickle vehicle for our desires, built on shifting sands, and having more to do with our erotic needs and psychic wounds than some idea of magnificence -- then I could release some of this pain. That's good. I like this. It doesn't sound like a lowering of expectations for art, though. More of a shift to another mode of thinking. This external idea of "magnificence" doesn't sound that great anyway, why not give it up?