NIGEL BEALE NOTA BENE BOOKS

Searching for an image of Whistler (see previous post), I happened across William Merrit Chase. What extaordinary talent

to be able to capture

so much 

emotional

intensity

in the faces

of so many

women

RUSKIN ON WHISTLER (1877)

FOR Mr. Whistler’s own sake, no less than for the protection of the purchaser, Sir Coutts Lindsay ought not to have admitted works into the gallery in which the ill-educated conceit of the artist so nearly approached the aspect of wilful imposture, I have seen, and heard, much of the cockney impudence before now; but never expected to hear a coxcomb ask two hundred guineas for flinging a pot of paint in the public’s face.

Whistler by William Merrit Chase.

WHISTLER ON RUSKIN (1878)

WE are told that Mr. Ruskin has devoted his long life to art, and as a result – is "Slade Professor" at Oxford. In the same sentence we have thus his position and its worth. It suffices not, Messieurs! a life passed among pictures makes not a painter – else the policeman in the National Gallery might assert himself. As well allege that he who lives in a library must needs die a poet. Let not Mr. Ruskin flatter himself that more education make the difference between himself and the policeman when both stand gazing in the Gallery.

There they might remain till the end of time; the one decently silent, the other saying, in good English, many high-sounding empty things, like the crackling of thorns under a pot – undismayed by the presence of the Masters with whose names he is sacrilegiously familiar; whose intentions he interprets, whose vices he discovers with the facility of the incapable, and whose virtues he descants upon with a verbosity and flow of language that would, could he hear it, give Titian the same shock of surprise that was Balaam’s, when the first great critic proffered his opinion.

Some years ago I was on a TV panel with a self proclaimed 'advertising guru.' His all-knowing aura gave rise to my subsequently writing this:

Oh Grand and Glorious Southern Guru, I am perplexed.

What ails thee, my peabrained little grasshopper?

My sleep has been short, my walls have been climbed, my hair has been pulled. I must know the difference between advertising and high art. Oh Great Creator, please give me the answer.

Stir no longer little vacuous one. Art is in the eye of the beholder, and yes, advertising can be high art.

But Holiest of the Holy, whilst I acknowledge there is a role for subjectivity in the appreciation of art, and that art and advertising similarly use form, colour and symbol to convey messages, and that both can be aesthetically pleasing and accessible, and that both share the goal of changing behaviour and attitudes, and that both often highlight the tension between reality and ideals and can shape aesthetic tastes, does not an adequate answer to my question depend upon a precise definition of the term art? Are there not different degrees of creativity and originality? Are there not different types of art? Surely Majestic One, advertising is not "high" art, but rather popular, propagandistic art?

Not so, little inchworm. Art is a function of apprehension, ergo, there is no difference between "high" and "low" art.

But Mighty Aphrodite, do not ads see the world only through a blinkered lens: as products and services, as target markets and audiences? Do they not promote only consumerism and uphold only the status quo? Are not their motives restricted by budgets and deadlines, and by the necessity of pushing product? How can ads experiment with ideas for their own sake when fettered by this capitalist manacle? Do ads not craft specific messages for specific audiences at specific times? Is not their goal to elicit singular responses? Do they not aim to please, to arrest the intelligence and to allay our fears with easy solutions, and are they not primarily concerned with positive reactions? And does not the prerequisite of mass appeal demand mediocrity? Does not art allow for a delight in, and the free play of, ideas for their own sake? Truly outstanding art rarely secures immediate popularity, n'est-ce pas Mon Dieu Seigneur? Does not art frequently encourage many ways of looking at the world? Is it not often purposefully ambiguous and open to conflicting interpretation? Surely, oh Towering One, artists do not worship audiences in the way advertisers do? Do they not intentionally break boundaries, counter the status quo, and question accepted beliefs? Many spend decades deconstructing society, transcending political, economical and religious systems, do they not? You listen not, my pint-sized parvenu. Art is in the eye of the beholder. Hence an advertisement, even if it's only one in a million, can be high art. But Lord of the Rings, is it not the sale that motivates the creation of advertisements. Does this not put advertising solely in the realm of the shallow and material? And thusly, are not ads only original in the context of commerce? And furthermore, did not that great Canadian literary critic Northrop Frye suggest that ads are farcical, ironic, and trivial (and that their prodigious power rests here precisely because we view them as a joke, without analyzing their bountiful effects)? In short, Monsieur Le President, are not advertisements viewed primarily with scorn? And does not true art inspire awe? And does it not create new ways of looking at the world and increase our depth of understanding about the meaning of life? And as such does it not reside squarely in the realm of the deep and spiritual? And does not great art burst forth with such stunning originality that it changes the way we see the world and ourselves? And are great artists, those rare geniuses, not moved by more than the simple desire for coin, and do they not dwell deeply on the profound questions of man's universal condition? And is not the equating of "high" art with advertising symptomatic of decadent, hollow, bankrupt, violent societies, which value material goods and facile solutions above all else? And as such All Knowing One, is this not an equation we should actively oppose?

Get not thy knickers in a knot wee Gordian. Your philosophizing incites me to slumber.

As mentioned previously, this work put me in another head space about a decade ago when it was on display at the National Gallery of Canada.

Here's what Anish Kapoor's been up to lately:

from The Guardian. 

And TimeOut:

and, from the Brighton Festival, a slide show on his work:

Three Studies for Figures at the Base of a Crucifixion” (1944)

Dropped in on Charlie Rose's site as I am wont to do, and found this interview with the curator of this past summer's Francis Bacon retrospective at the Met. I happened to attend the exhibition. These were easily the most arresting of the works on display.

"Head" VI, 1949.

Both capture a frightening post-war zeitgeist: the horrified realization/ comprehension that men can fall to grotesque depths; that they have a proven capacity both to commit inhuman ungodly atrocities and inflict massive, unthinkable pain on their fellows. Note the phallic, hyena-like aggressiveness; the cage surrounding the screaming pope is reminiscent of the glass enclosures at the Nuremberg Trials.

After touring in quick succession this exhibition and Titian, Tintoretto,Veronese at the Boston Fine Arts Museum, I was struck by how Bacon and the others all used very similar techniques

Titian Portrait of an Archbishop

to convince the viewer of the correctness of their diametrically opposed positions: God is great and good versus God doesn't exist, men are beasts. A battle for hearts and minds through the depiction of facial expression. The mouths especially, and how, if you get them right, you succeed in conveying incredible emotion, genuine anger, empathy,

Art scholar

benevolence, sadness and

Titian: self portrait.

evil.

Head 1 (1948)

Here’s what we

scored

Top is by Doug Cosby, of a neighbourhood I used to live in, Hintonburg. Bottom is by Andrew King, whose Skeet Shooting Television Sets I purchased several years ago for considerably more than what similar sized paintings are  going for now …which of course thrills me…Still, I like them so much that – being the true philistine – I decided to buy more and lower my unit cost.

I left Cube, reluctantly leaving these items

on the wall.

                Kenneth Clark in the foreword to Stephen Calloway’s Charles Ricketts: Subtle and Fantastic Decorator.

***

Just as Oak Knoll Books is the place to go for all who love Books on Books, The Kelmscott Book Shop is a must for those who adore the art and ambiance of England in the 1890s. Listen here to my interview with proprietor Fran Durako.

the greatest painter of the late nineteenth century.