Since I have mentioned Courbet in the blog before (http://617midway.blogspot.com/2007/05/death-of-artist-death-of-horizon.html), it seemed only fair to make mention of the article in this week’s New Yorker (July 30, 2007) by Peter Schjeldahl “Painting by Numbers,” that reviews the new book “The Most Arrogant Man in France: Gustave Courbet and the Nineteenth Century Media Culture” by Petra ten-Doesschate Chu.
I have grown to really look forward to Schjeldahl’s pieces— in fact, it was one of the only reasons I renewed my subscription to the New Yorker. The whole Boston/New York thing runs deep in us Chowdaheads, and there is something strange about acknowledging any item titled “The New Yorker” as good, never mind being a subscriber. But Schjeldahl’s pieces on art are always great food for thought.
And of course, I am fascinated by Courbet. The piece, which is a book review, explores the idea of Courbet being the first truly “Modern” artist. The first to truly explore the idea of controversy and public outcry as essential in the advancement of the individual artist and the individual artist’s works. Basically, we can thank Courbet for every time you hear someone at a museum say “that is art???” or “why is that art?” or, “I just don’t get it.” Courbet relished this response, cultivated it— and cherished it.
The article discusses Courbet’s use of this practice— in seeking public attention in this manner— as a shrewd business plan that calculated the subsequent return on each investment of shock value.
Personally, I like Courbet for his genuine approach to painting— the subject matters and flatness he rendered were as much an advancement of “modern” painting as his approach was, to my mind.
My favorite Courbet quote in the article was easily:
“I will be so outrageous that I’ll give everyone the power to tell me the cruelest truths.”
There is just something wonderful, and possibly true about that type of dynamic.
Above, see the painting The Meeting: Bonjour Monsieur Courbet (as found on http://www.penwith.co.uk/artofeurope/courbet.htm). Another one of my Courbet favorites that I always think of when I have my sketchbook in hand, cargo shorts on and sandals when I see some young executives creep by in a brand new Beemer.
One last note on the article: There is a reproduction of the piece “Desperate Man,” a Courbet self-portrait, that to my eye looks a lot like Johnny Depp. Check it out.
* * * * *
So, I had my own flirtation with public outcry in response to my art today when I went to pick up “Precious Gems” from the juried show PAINT at LynnArts.
On my way out, as I was carrying the piece, someone spit on me.
Unfortunately, this wasn’t a statement about my work, or a strong response to it— there was a drunk guy standing outside a bar there in Central Square in Lynn and he was smoking a cigarette and weaving a bit as he tried to stand up straight. He didn’t see me, and a little spit landed on my jeans.
He was very apologetic— and I mean how mad can you get at a guy who is bombed at 2:30 on a Tuesday afternoon in Lynn?
I said, “no problem, but can you yell disparaging remarks about my painting and the nature of art now?”
“What?”
“You know, make a political statement about what is art/what isn’t art and rain down moral judgments on my collage painting like a Southern Baptist preacher with the conviction of God in his eyes?”
He just stubbed out his cigarette and went back in the bar.
OK, so that last part didn’t happen. But it would have been nice if I had to get spit on that it at least came with an excited furor over my paintings and not just a typical response to too much Johnny Walker Red.
So, the public outcry will have to wait for another day. For now, enjoy the birth of Modernism and Gustave Courbet and thank your lucky stars that Precious Gems and I made it home safely.
I have grown to really look forward to Schjeldahl’s pieces— in fact, it was one of the only reasons I renewed my subscription to the New Yorker. The whole Boston/New York thing runs deep in us Chowdaheads, and there is something strange about acknowledging any item titled “The New Yorker” as good, never mind being a subscriber. But Schjeldahl’s pieces on art are always great food for thought.
And of course, I am fascinated by Courbet. The piece, which is a book review, explores the idea of Courbet being the first truly “Modern” artist. The first to truly explore the idea of controversy and public outcry as essential in the advancement of the individual artist and the individual artist’s works. Basically, we can thank Courbet for every time you hear someone at a museum say “that is art???” or “why is that art?” or, “I just don’t get it.” Courbet relished this response, cultivated it— and cherished it.
The article discusses Courbet’s use of this practice— in seeking public attention in this manner— as a shrewd business plan that calculated the subsequent return on each investment of shock value.
Personally, I like Courbet for his genuine approach to painting— the subject matters and flatness he rendered were as much an advancement of “modern” painting as his approach was, to my mind.
My favorite Courbet quote in the article was easily:
“I will be so outrageous that I’ll give everyone the power to tell me the cruelest truths.”
There is just something wonderful, and possibly true about that type of dynamic.
Above, see the painting The Meeting: Bonjour Monsieur Courbet (as found on http://www.penwith.co.uk/artofeurope/courbet.htm). Another one of my Courbet favorites that I always think of when I have my sketchbook in hand, cargo shorts on and sandals when I see some young executives creep by in a brand new Beemer.
One last note on the article: There is a reproduction of the piece “Desperate Man,” a Courbet self-portrait, that to my eye looks a lot like Johnny Depp. Check it out.
* * * * *
So, I had my own flirtation with public outcry in response to my art today when I went to pick up “Precious Gems” from the juried show PAINT at LynnArts.
On my way out, as I was carrying the piece, someone spit on me.
Unfortunately, this wasn’t a statement about my work, or a strong response to it— there was a drunk guy standing outside a bar there in Central Square in Lynn and he was smoking a cigarette and weaving a bit as he tried to stand up straight. He didn’t see me, and a little spit landed on my jeans.
He was very apologetic— and I mean how mad can you get at a guy who is bombed at 2:30 on a Tuesday afternoon in Lynn?
I said, “no problem, but can you yell disparaging remarks about my painting and the nature of art now?”
“What?”
“You know, make a political statement about what is art/what isn’t art and rain down moral judgments on my collage painting like a Southern Baptist preacher with the conviction of God in his eyes?”
He just stubbed out his cigarette and went back in the bar.
OK, so that last part didn’t happen. But it would have been nice if I had to get spit on that it at least came with an excited furor over my paintings and not just a typical response to too much Johnny Walker Red.
So, the public outcry will have to wait for another day. For now, enjoy the birth of Modernism and Gustave Courbet and thank your lucky stars that Precious Gems and I made it home safely.
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