Understand: I’m not smart, or well informed, or conversant in the language of art, though I admire and aspire to that. But maybe there are occasions where incomprehension is liberation. Maybe joy, if that’s the word, has nothing to do with knowing. If you find it — in the lines painted by an old woman, in shirtless Robert Pattinson lost in space, in slender French novels, or a ballet performed to loud electronic music, maybe you just got lucky.