Journals of Lord Malinov

the poetry of madness

Likes

What does it means to like and what are the implications of liking an artist?

During my many years of penning, I have had a long association with a critic named Celeste.  One of the first stories I published was the subject of one of her first reviews and we've been running a parallel course ever since.  She has long been among the first people I send my stories.  She is usually too kind to me and always has some valid criticisms for me to chew on.  She's also an English school teacher in Virginia.  I love her, even though she is a critic.  I think she likes me, more or less.

We have argued, debated and mutually explored almost every aspect of literature.  But there is one thing we will absolutely never agree on.  Celeste hates Milton.  Despite thousands of pages of Miltonian defenses, gaining numerous admissions about the importance and power of his poetry, she refuses to relent.  She can't tell me why and I can't tell her how and we've agreed to disagree.

In an artist, we have three realms - more or less - to consider - the person, the work and the context.

For me, the artist is irrelevant unless I am engaged cross-cocktail with them. 

As a teen, one of my favorite artists was Elton John, although in truth my real respect was Bernie Taupin's.  I love a good singable lyric.  When in the late seventies, our boy Elton revealed his sexual preferences, one of my friends thought I should discontinue any liking of Sir John.  To me the idea was completely ridiculous.  The artist is not my problem.  I enjoy the art regardless of the artist.

I have always questioned that approach - is it really possible to separate the artist from the art?  I've heard that John Gacy painted while he was on death row.  Can we look at the Gacy paintings without considering the dangerous psychopath who created them?  Should we?  Would it matter if they were really pretty, or really disturbing, or really ugly?

Even in the art itself, we have realms.  Beauty is significantly different than meaning.  Post modern art has definitely adopted the idea that beauty is a veil that disguises art, that true art cannot be beautiful on the sensory level but should derive its power from spiritual and mental realms.  There are pieces I hate to look upon yet understand the incredible beauty beneath the surfaces.

It reminds me of my experience with Reznor's downward spiral.  The first dozen listenings were intriguing but disturbing, noise that violated my sensibilities relentlessly.  Soon, I lost my focus on the cacophony and discovered a place where NIN is as lovely as music can be. 

I have long described Liasons as a tapestry of beauty woven with threads of evil.  Art must trancend the surface to be art.

Finally, we have the context of the work to consider.  There is a painting at the Hirschorn in DC that consists of a blank canvas cut with a single stroke.  This is artistry with almost no surface content - the only aesthetic coming from the shadows of the broken weave.  In the context of developing modern art, the power of the work is incredible, a statement surrounded by subject. 

Working in negative space.  Ahh, Bach.

I don't know much about Picasso as a man.  Nor do I care.  Late in his life, I am told, he would pay for dinner by doodling on a napkin and I love that.  I have several Picasso's on my walls and continually admire the stroke of his brush.  I like the art as art.  In context, however, no one has ever changed our perceptions so radically.  I definitely like that.

Milton certainly wasn't that important but I like him too.  It is better to rule in hell than to serve in heaven. 

In truth, I suspect that Celeste's distaste for Milton is a pose - as a school marm she wanted to impress upon the youths that it was all right not to like any particular purveyor of classical writing, that one person's Picasso was another person's Warhol.  She loves literature and hates Milton and that's okay.  And doggone it, people like me.

That's right, Celeste.  I called you a poser.

Let's put that in our pipe and smoke it.  Meet me at the hideout.  I have some beautiful buds blooming.

enjoy,

DC

posted by: Malinov at 06:27 | link | comments |
petting the cat

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