I love the way that peoples' lives have such great plots. It's true that a few people lead the lives that read like experimental novels, with a lot of imagery and wordplay mugging for the Super 8 camera where a decent thread of story might do nicely. By and large, though, people make satisfying cinema, endless epistolary novels of the heart and soul.
Sometimes one learns a new fact about a long-lost acquaintance and says "Interesting! indeed, fascinating! I did not see that one coming, but I would have if I watched even a fraction of The Lifetime Channel, in which things like this happen All The Time, and usually star Valerie Bertinelli, then I would have expected it!".
The problem with Art, for that matter, is that it is rarely as banal and cinemagraphic as Life. The camera really was a great invention, after all. Not to mention face paint.