Skip to Content
Categories:

Reconstructing the meaning of depth

Reconstructing the meaning of depth

What does it mean to be deep? Any mention of the idea of “depth” may bring to mind many names, objects and pieces of media: Kafka, poetry, “cinema” (not the movies!) or Renaissance paintings. It goes without saying that all of these pieces of media are considered by society to be “deep.” In fact, these are probably some of the most well-known mascots of intellectualism and “deepness.”
There are many issues with this notion of depth. First of all, the idea of depth, particularly what we attribute it to, is largely eurocentric. Think of the most famous art piece or a classic piece of literature. More likely than not, they are produced by an old, European man. This definition of depth has been limited by both time and geography. To be deep, you must be old and white, or you must be produced by someone old and white. This is probably why some stick their noses up at contemporary art or don’t consider pop music to be genuine music. At the end of the day, it’s all some sort of comparison of depth and value.
Second, the notion of depth in the modern-day context is, funnily enough, too shallow. Take “inspirational” quotes. Quotes are but a sentence—a minuscule snapshot taken largely out of context from some greater work. And yet, quotes seem to hold a strong stake in the field of “deep.” This is likely because quotes may be the easiest way for someone to try to impart some sense of wisdom in themselves. It seems almost offensive for someone to put time and effort into a cohesive narrative, whether it be a great movie, song or book, only for a line within it to be rather mercilessly torn out and heralded as one-of-a-kind. In the attempt to capture depth, we completely miss it. In fact, the entire idea of trying to create depth overnight is somewhat confusing. Things like wisdom occur over time and slowly form through growth. Unlike what almost every advertisement nowadays claims, very few things in life are instant, especially not these “deep” character traits.
The idea of labelling certain pieces as deep and others as not deep also holds the implication that many of these artists—whether they be painters, writers, scientists, musicians and everything in between—were intentionally trying to make their work “deep.” On the contrary, I would argue many, or at least some, of the things we may now label as intentionally “deep” were rather an unconscious product of the artist. In other words, what we thought was some intelligent and intellectual decision may have just been something that felt right to the artist—something that made them feel the right thing at the right moment.
This also inevitably ties into social media and online trends. The term “performative” has become so overused that it almost doesn’t need an introduction, but I’ll give it one anyway. To be performative is to falsely convey some sense of depth that a person believes they otherwise don’t have. Reading, for one, seems to be the lighthouse that signals outward to the crowd; through the quiet, intimate act of reading (or pretend-reading) a book, the person is essentially yelling: “Look at me! I am something.” (The critique of this performative trend must also be backdropped by the unfortunate truth that almost every aspect of our life is performance based. The Dramaturgical theory of sociology states that social interactions are simply performances, ways of projecting oneself onto others.) That being said, the most interesting part of the performative trend is that the person who performs the trait believes they don’t actually have it themselves. It seems that most people don’t believe themselves to be thoughtful or deep and thus have to mask it through their outward actions. Given the limited definition of depth, it makes sense why the younger generation believes themselves to be less profound than those preceding them.
So, what does it mean to be deep? And how can we be deep? There may not be a true definition. But depth has much more to do with emotional resonance than it does with high-brow intelligence and culture. Depth is not an end to a means, but a simple byproduct of allowing yourself to feel and make others feel. Depth is the product of trusting ourselves and our feelings and letting them speak for themselves.