Art with a Capital 'F'...
I am regularly exasperated or moved to panting squeals of hilarity by art criticism. So much hot air about so little (with a few honourable exceptions of course).
So I amused myself with having a bash at writing a page of art crit for myself a month or two ago.
All for a good cause. I've written a little gardening book which I think of as the antidote to gardening books in general, which all seem to contain a mixture of fluff and fancy on the one hand and lots of rules and must-do's on the other. I suspect that an awful lot of people would like to try their hand at growing few lettuces or carrots but are put off by all the expertise and equipment these books tell them they need.
My book aims to reassure people that gardening is not massively complicated and demanding, but just about the easiest thing in the world as long as you think carefully about what you are dealing with, and are prepared to use your native creative intelligence and a few muscles now and then. The basic principle is that the only thing a seed wants to do is to grow. The gardener's job is to not get in the way.
It is, I hope, a cheerful and amusing book, which nevertheless is full of tips and simple common sense suggestions for the absolute beginner. It aims to amuse and inform, but mainly to stimulate and energise.
Hence it needs to have a cover which reflects these intentions as clearly as possible.
Ken, who did the cartoons for both of the Scenes books, sketched one prototype to my own design, and as a bonus, came up with a design of his own. I submitted them both to Ruth, the editor at the Good Life Press, who will be publishing the book.
Ruth could not decide on which cover would be better, so she canvassed opinions. Mixed results. So I turned my hand to Art Critic, and wrote a pageful of pretentious claptrap under the pseudonym of Phyllis Stein. It went up on the GLP website, and again produced mixed responses. So I passed the article round among a few friends and acquaintances. One cover was generally preferred over the other, by a narrow margin.
But what astonished me was that out of some twenty readers, three thought my clumsy pastiche was a genuine piece of art criticism. This, I find quite alarming. It suggests that some 15% of the educated public has lost any sense of independent critical thinking.
As I've mentioned before, I put that down ultimately to the current triumph of 'Scientific' Materialism and the nihilism that it brings in its wake. We've all been told so often that there is no point to Life the Universe and Everything that we no longer trust our own judgments, and rely on 'experts' to tell us when the Emperor is wearing splendid and refulgent raiment when our own common sense tells us he's just plain old naked.
Anyway, see what you think of the covers... (if I can upload the pictures successfully! If I can't, well the text will probably give you enough clues.)
Judging a Book
By Phyllis Stein, Art Critic in Residence, Galeria Caca de Toro, Madrid
And let's just look… symbolism? Yes, I guess so. Very much so, in fact. This is no naturalistic daub. We are required to think.. to earn this image.
The cucumber (it is a cucumber, isn't it?) reminds me immediately of an Egyptian obelisk, a symbol of a beam of light. The big leaf beneath it, looks like it's attached, to give the impression of an immense green rocket thrusting off towards… the sun (The Light), held back only by Man's reticence and fear of the unknown.
And clearly the two tomatoes are powerful symbols of the yang and the monist/dualist dilemma that Mankind has always faced. Is All One and perfect, or bifurcated and perfect only in synthesis? We are not told. The question hangs, or dangles, if you will.
The other person is holding what would appear to be the two famous scale models of Brunelleschi's magnificent design for the dome of Florence cathedral. Again… a dualist dilemma. Is it a coincidence that the lady bears more than a fleeting resemblance to Boticelli's Venus? I'm thinking of the long blonde hair. The added starfish (Gastropoda merkina) reminds us inevitably of the seashell.
This is a subtle piece, which asks a question of us, full on.
What of the other contender?
A rough sketch, perhaps. Certainly a much rougher presentation, and possibly 'in the style of' rather than a perfect provenance.
But it has.. charm. That indefinable vernacular something which raises it from pastiche to an easy-flowing
picture of simple perfection. Simple is the key. The decorative carpet is gaily patterned, and we can all share in the joke that it is being erroneously laid outside. It will not even fit into the symbolic little 'house of glass' ('Light' again… but also vulnerability) and we are not privy to where the carpet will finally unfold. Its full potential has not yet unrolled. 'Fate'…
Meanwhile, in the background a common tradesman is waiting with his truck to take the carpet away to 'add to water' if necessary. We don't need to dwell upon the significance of the water here. It is frankly already too obvious, if anything.
The stereo boombox in the bottom right is 'sketchy'. We do not need a sound-track to explain this picture, is what the artist is telling us.
This is a darker piece than the Two Virgins, but carefully layered. It will not reveal itself to a casual glance.
Well, that's it, I guess.
As ever, the choice lies between Dionysus and Apollo. Do we go with the Apollonian vision of Light, as suggested by the rocket and the sun and the renaissance of post-medieval Italy? Or the more earthy Dionysian carpet, rolled out for us to disport upon?
The choice is yours. But I know which one I would go with.
Phyllis Stein
The book is to be called Scenes From aVegetable Plot and is due to be published in 2011, late summer, I believe.
So I amused myself with having a bash at writing a page of art crit for myself a month or two ago.
All for a good cause. I've written a little gardening book which I think of as the antidote to gardening books in general, which all seem to contain a mixture of fluff and fancy on the one hand and lots of rules and must-do's on the other. I suspect that an awful lot of people would like to try their hand at growing few lettuces or carrots but are put off by all the expertise and equipment these books tell them they need.
My book aims to reassure people that gardening is not massively complicated and demanding, but just about the easiest thing in the world as long as you think carefully about what you are dealing with, and are prepared to use your native creative intelligence and a few muscles now and then. The basic principle is that the only thing a seed wants to do is to grow. The gardener's job is to not get in the way.
It is, I hope, a cheerful and amusing book, which nevertheless is full of tips and simple common sense suggestions for the absolute beginner. It aims to amuse and inform, but mainly to stimulate and energise.
Hence it needs to have a cover which reflects these intentions as clearly as possible.
Ken, who did the cartoons for both of the Scenes books, sketched one prototype to my own design, and as a bonus, came up with a design of his own. I submitted them both to Ruth, the editor at the Good Life Press, who will be publishing the book.
Ruth could not decide on which cover would be better, so she canvassed opinions. Mixed results. So I turned my hand to Art Critic, and wrote a pageful of pretentious claptrap under the pseudonym of Phyllis Stein. It went up on the GLP website, and again produced mixed responses. So I passed the article round among a few friends and acquaintances. One cover was generally preferred over the other, by a narrow margin.
But what astonished me was that out of some twenty readers, three thought my clumsy pastiche was a genuine piece of art criticism. This, I find quite alarming. It suggests that some 15% of the educated public has lost any sense of independent critical thinking.
As I've mentioned before, I put that down ultimately to the current triumph of 'Scientific' Materialism and the nihilism that it brings in its wake. We've all been told so often that there is no point to Life the Universe and Everything that we no longer trust our own judgments, and rely on 'experts' to tell us when the Emperor is wearing splendid and refulgent raiment when our own common sense tells us he's just plain old naked.
Anyway, see what you think of the covers... (if I can upload the pictures successfully! If I can't, well the text will probably give you enough clues.)
Judging a Book
By Phyllis Stein, Art Critic in Residence, Galeria Caca de Toro, Madrid
The editorial board of the Good Life Press (That's me. Ruth) has asked my for my professional input into the debate which I believe is raging in England (possibly the entire UK) regarding the cover for some new book.
Opinion would seem to be divided 50/50 between the two offerings. That probably means one each, if I know how surveys work. But anyway…. Let's see what we got here….
Opinion would seem to be divided 50/50 between the two offerings. That probably means one each, if I know how surveys work. But anyway…. Let's see what we got here….
First on.. the Two Virgins job. Let's leave aside the heavy homage to the Lennon/Ono LP cover of 1968.
And let's just look… symbolism? Yes, I guess so. Very much so, in fact. This is no naturalistic daub. We are required to think.. to earn this image.
The cucumber (it is a cucumber, isn't it?) reminds me immediately of an Egyptian obelisk, a symbol of a beam of light. The big leaf beneath it, looks like it's attached, to give the impression of an immense green rocket thrusting off towards… the sun (The Light), held back only by Man's reticence and fear of the unknown.
And clearly the two tomatoes are powerful symbols of the yang and the monist/dualist dilemma that Mankind has always faced. Is All One and perfect, or bifurcated and perfect only in synthesis? We are not told. The question hangs, or dangles, if you will.
The other person is holding what would appear to be the two famous scale models of Brunelleschi's magnificent design for the dome of Florence cathedral. Again… a dualist dilemma. Is it a coincidence that the lady bears more than a fleeting resemblance to Boticelli's Venus? I'm thinking of the long blonde hair. The added starfish (Gastropoda merkina) reminds us inevitably of the seashell.
This is a subtle piece, which asks a question of us, full on.
What of the other contender?
A rough sketch, perhaps. Certainly a much rougher presentation, and possibly 'in the style of' rather than a perfect provenance.
But it has.. charm. That indefinable vernacular something which raises it from pastiche to an easy-flowing
picture of simple perfection. Simple is the key. The decorative carpet is gaily patterned, and we can all share in the joke that it is being erroneously laid outside. It will not even fit into the symbolic little 'house of glass' ('Light' again… but also vulnerability) and we are not privy to where the carpet will finally unfold. Its full potential has not yet unrolled. 'Fate'…
Meanwhile, in the background a common tradesman is waiting with his truck to take the carpet away to 'add to water' if necessary. We don't need to dwell upon the significance of the water here. It is frankly already too obvious, if anything.
The stereo boombox in the bottom right is 'sketchy'. We do not need a sound-track to explain this picture, is what the artist is telling us.
This is a darker piece than the Two Virgins, but carefully layered. It will not reveal itself to a casual glance.
Well, that's it, I guess.
As ever, the choice lies between Dionysus and Apollo. Do we go with the Apollonian vision of Light, as suggested by the rocket and the sun and the renaissance of post-medieval Italy? Or the more earthy Dionysian carpet, rolled out for us to disport upon?
The choice is yours. But I know which one I would go with.
Phyllis Stein
The book is to be called Scenes From aVegetable Plot and is due to be published in 2011, late summer, I believe.
posted by Chas Griffin at 9:52 am
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