Betta Under The Radar
A broken on-line papier machine
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
3 Young Contemporaries 1997 - 2006 at Valentine Willie Fine Art
What a bloody herculean effort it was to get this done. I'm getting soft. It is a review for next month's issue of the Off The Edge, posted here mostly for G.'s benefit. (Withering enough for you, dahlink? Or you want more?) A skill you maybe want to perfect - when editor makes a suprize call at night to enquire as to the progress of your article, tell a bald lie and say you are at home writing it as of that moment, in lieu of watching World Cup, WHEN IN ACTUAL FACT YOU ARE IN THE CAR ON YOUR WAY TO THE AUST - JAPAN MATCH AT PUB UP THE ROAD! By the way, the 'intellectually sexy' part makes me cringe a little. Wonder what I was thinking? One down, ten more tasks to go...
-
Being contemporary is a little like walking in the present with two pairs of eyes - one looking in front and the other behind. It is an engagement with what is happening right now, by examining how things have come to be, with a commitment to influencing what will happen in the future.
Intellectually sexy, isn’t it? If we linger a little on its Bahasa Malaysia counterpart, ‘sezaman’ - which even more clearly indicates the idea as ‘of the times’ - we can see that ‘The Contemporary’ is indeed pleasurable, not least because of this reason: relevance to now.
Therefore, the question is, how relevant is this ten-year retrospective of the annual 3 Young Contemporaries (3YC) series at Valentine Willie Fine Art (VWFA)? What purpose does the show serve in simultaneously reflecting and shaping ‘The Contemporary’? And in turn, what effect does contemporary art have on the fabric of our cultural society?
In order to justify this exhibition as a fairly significant cross-section of contemporary art practice, it is necessary to situate VWFA within the Malaysian art scene. The gallery plays an extremely significant role as an active nodal point for the intersection of critical, commercial, and popular audiences. Its links are diverse – private and corporate collector-based, institutional, regional and international. Likewise, works shown in the gallery range from pioneer Malaysian paintings of the 1930s to those of emerging artists from the South East Asian region. These are reasons why a place on VWFA’s exhibition calendar is very valuable to a young artist. Although, no doubt that place is as much coveted (and criticized) for more abstract associations with prestige, elitism and a high profile.
3YC has been held every year since 1997 (except in 1999 and 2002), which means this retrospective features over twenty artists. It would be unproductive to talk separately about each work, as most seem to be quotations of larger bodies of work. This makes the exhibition far from coherent, and broad themes can be picked out only with difficulty. Is this reflective of contemporary art practices that are patchy and un-even, or of an exhibition that has been hastily put together with little evidence of having been curated, or of both?
One of the themes that can be identified seems to be a self-reflective critique of the art scene itself. Probably nothing causes more frothing at the mouth than art about art, a textbook example of which would be Gan Siong King’s I was once told, “It’s not what you show, but where you show, that matters”. The work is a little piece of board that has been meticulously painted to resemble exactly the label that VWFA uses to identify works in their exhibitions. Work like this invariably polarizes opinion: subversive statement, or supreme masturbatory gesture? Just how useful are these questions regarding an artwork’s validity? While it cannot be denied that the work encourages discourse, it does little to widen it.
Susyilawati Sulaiman’s installation-sculpture is a more specifically directed criticism towards the power structures at play in larger institutions, namely, the national one. Extraordinary Beauty From the Neighbour consists of a wall dismantled from one side of the artist’s house (which is located next door to the National Art Gallery), then reassembled in VWFA. It is laden with obscure signifiers – a clock, bad portraits of ex-directors of the NAG, text, empty frames. It is an ambitious work that unfortunately cannot decide between subtlety and explication, and so, hovers irresolutely between the two. Whatever inherent messages get lost, only to leave a vague, weak and somewhat bitter comment on the dysfunction of the national art apparatus.
Courage must be applauded here, because to levy criticism towards the dominant institution in the miniscule circle of the Malaysian art scene requires some strength of will and vision. Courage is not enough, however, especially when that institution currently falls so dismally short in its role as national custodian of the visual arts. If we are to take it on, we need stronger, more resolved statements.
Art about art like Gan’s and Sulaiman’s are problematic in the way they utilize the very power structures they are trying to critique. They are important however, and indicate a healthy art scene that allows criticism of itself. That is why I dwell on these works at length. But when this criticism is used as a hip aesthetic code, as in Saiful Razman’s painting Segar, Sihat, Sesat, it begins to lose its meaning and becomes a ‘style’ that only signifies rebellion, but does not engage in it.
Another thread in the show is an exploration of Malaysian identity. Fariza Azlina Isahak’s Wanita Bertudung, Vincent Leong’s Tropical Paradise AG32 and Chai Chang Hwang’s Tak Halal all take visual symbols familiar in our society and manipulate them into different contexts. In terms of creating work that resonates, the success of this strategy depends on how well the familiar symbols are simultaneously a) exposed as being deeply embedded in our national consciousness; and b) absorbed into a new, undefined form that forces us to re-examine the way we look at things.
Isahak’s potentially incendiary subject - the Muslim head-scarfed woman – is made palatable by turning her into a sexy, yet cute cartoon figure. This taboo and ‘sensitive’ subject is exposed, no small feat in the current social clime. However, as she perches on a washing machine or leans seductively over the oven, Wanita Bertudung does not overtly challenge our gaze and continues to submit to it as a passive object. Leong’s kitschy appropriation of kitschy national iconography (kampung house, chicken, hibiscus, kite, etc) into wall-paper is one of the more resolved works in the show, mostly because it does not attempt to be anything other than what it is – surface treatment of shallow symbols. In fact, it is a celebration of such. And lastly, Chai’s spoof of a BN campaign poster seeks to expose the link between political agendas and cultural assumptions of what is allowed and not allowed in society. These include Chin Peng, babi, and kissing in public. Here again, though – a brave, sound, exceptionally relevant idea is let down by poor critical resolution and artistic production.
Some works in the exhibition show concerns with art history and medium. Lau Mun Leng’s spare, quiet works, for example, are an on-going conversation with minimalism. The Gleaner by Phuan Thai Meng is an admirable attempt to explore the post-modern treatment of images (ok, you jargon-junkies, the word is bricolage) in a local context. His light box appropriates the composition from Millet’s famous historical painting, but the imagery consists of a photo-collage of local signifiers, ala British pop art of the 1960s.
Beyond this point, as an exhibition, 3YC 1997 – 2006 begins to slide into little glimpses and sketches of each artist’s own artistic pre-occupations. Some of them are well-crafted statements, both in concept and execution. One of these is Sidney Tan and Crystal Woo’s charming short film Its Not About Everything, It’s About Anything. But the work is not given a context to anchor it in the myriad of different approaches, and so floats around, a little lost, or irrelevant, as it were.
Perhaps the purpose of the exhibition is predominately celebratory, explaining (but not justifying) a half-hearted showcase on the part of most of the artists. It would have made a better show if fewer but more resolved works were represented. Less inclusive, certainly, and yet surely the nature of being contemporary is not merely to be representative of it, but to also actively play a part in shaping itself, pushing itself. We spend much time trying to define the contemporary (and everything else); at some point we must decide to drive it forward.
In light of the range of artists and audiences that pass through the gallery, the 3YC series at VWFA has been a valuable stage upon which to negotiate issues of contemporary culture. This retrospective unfortunately does not do it justice.
-
Being contemporary is a little like walking in the present with two pairs of eyes - one looking in front and the other behind. It is an engagement with what is happening right now, by examining how things have come to be, with a commitment to influencing what will happen in the future.
Intellectually sexy, isn’t it? If we linger a little on its Bahasa Malaysia counterpart, ‘sezaman’ - which even more clearly indicates the idea as ‘of the times’ - we can see that ‘The Contemporary’ is indeed pleasurable, not least because of this reason: relevance to now.
Therefore, the question is, how relevant is this ten-year retrospective of the annual 3 Young Contemporaries (3YC) series at Valentine Willie Fine Art (VWFA)? What purpose does the show serve in simultaneously reflecting and shaping ‘The Contemporary’? And in turn, what effect does contemporary art have on the fabric of our cultural society?
In order to justify this exhibition as a fairly significant cross-section of contemporary art practice, it is necessary to situate VWFA within the Malaysian art scene. The gallery plays an extremely significant role as an active nodal point for the intersection of critical, commercial, and popular audiences. Its links are diverse – private and corporate collector-based, institutional, regional and international. Likewise, works shown in the gallery range from pioneer Malaysian paintings of the 1930s to those of emerging artists from the South East Asian region. These are reasons why a place on VWFA’s exhibition calendar is very valuable to a young artist. Although, no doubt that place is as much coveted (and criticized) for more abstract associations with prestige, elitism and a high profile.
3YC has been held every year since 1997 (except in 1999 and 2002), which means this retrospective features over twenty artists. It would be unproductive to talk separately about each work, as most seem to be quotations of larger bodies of work. This makes the exhibition far from coherent, and broad themes can be picked out only with difficulty. Is this reflective of contemporary art practices that are patchy and un-even, or of an exhibition that has been hastily put together with little evidence of having been curated, or of both?
One of the themes that can be identified seems to be a self-reflective critique of the art scene itself. Probably nothing causes more frothing at the mouth than art about art, a textbook example of which would be Gan Siong King’s I was once told, “It’s not what you show, but where you show, that matters”. The work is a little piece of board that has been meticulously painted to resemble exactly the label that VWFA uses to identify works in their exhibitions. Work like this invariably polarizes opinion: subversive statement, or supreme masturbatory gesture? Just how useful are these questions regarding an artwork’s validity? While it cannot be denied that the work encourages discourse, it does little to widen it.
Susyilawati Sulaiman’s installation-sculpture is a more specifically directed criticism towards the power structures at play in larger institutions, namely, the national one. Extraordinary Beauty From the Neighbour consists of a wall dismantled from one side of the artist’s house (which is located next door to the National Art Gallery), then reassembled in VWFA. It is laden with obscure signifiers – a clock, bad portraits of ex-directors of the NAG, text, empty frames. It is an ambitious work that unfortunately cannot decide between subtlety and explication, and so, hovers irresolutely between the two. Whatever inherent messages get lost, only to leave a vague, weak and somewhat bitter comment on the dysfunction of the national art apparatus.
Courage must be applauded here, because to levy criticism towards the dominant institution in the miniscule circle of the Malaysian art scene requires some strength of will and vision. Courage is not enough, however, especially when that institution currently falls so dismally short in its role as national custodian of the visual arts. If we are to take it on, we need stronger, more resolved statements.
Art about art like Gan’s and Sulaiman’s are problematic in the way they utilize the very power structures they are trying to critique. They are important however, and indicate a healthy art scene that allows criticism of itself. That is why I dwell on these works at length. But when this criticism is used as a hip aesthetic code, as in Saiful Razman’s painting Segar, Sihat, Sesat, it begins to lose its meaning and becomes a ‘style’ that only signifies rebellion, but does not engage in it.
Another thread in the show is an exploration of Malaysian identity. Fariza Azlina Isahak’s Wanita Bertudung, Vincent Leong’s Tropical Paradise AG32 and Chai Chang Hwang’s Tak Halal all take visual symbols familiar in our society and manipulate them into different contexts. In terms of creating work that resonates, the success of this strategy depends on how well the familiar symbols are simultaneously a) exposed as being deeply embedded in our national consciousness; and b) absorbed into a new, undefined form that forces us to re-examine the way we look at things.
Isahak’s potentially incendiary subject - the Muslim head-scarfed woman – is made palatable by turning her into a sexy, yet cute cartoon figure. This taboo and ‘sensitive’ subject is exposed, no small feat in the current social clime. However, as she perches on a washing machine or leans seductively over the oven, Wanita Bertudung does not overtly challenge our gaze and continues to submit to it as a passive object. Leong’s kitschy appropriation of kitschy national iconography (kampung house, chicken, hibiscus, kite, etc) into wall-paper is one of the more resolved works in the show, mostly because it does not attempt to be anything other than what it is – surface treatment of shallow symbols. In fact, it is a celebration of such. And lastly, Chai’s spoof of a BN campaign poster seeks to expose the link between political agendas and cultural assumptions of what is allowed and not allowed in society. These include Chin Peng, babi, and kissing in public. Here again, though – a brave, sound, exceptionally relevant idea is let down by poor critical resolution and artistic production.
Some works in the exhibition show concerns with art history and medium. Lau Mun Leng’s spare, quiet works, for example, are an on-going conversation with minimalism. The Gleaner by Phuan Thai Meng is an admirable attempt to explore the post-modern treatment of images (ok, you jargon-junkies, the word is bricolage) in a local context. His light box appropriates the composition from Millet’s famous historical painting, but the imagery consists of a photo-collage of local signifiers, ala British pop art of the 1960s.
Beyond this point, as an exhibition, 3YC 1997 – 2006 begins to slide into little glimpses and sketches of each artist’s own artistic pre-occupations. Some of them are well-crafted statements, both in concept and execution. One of these is Sidney Tan and Crystal Woo’s charming short film Its Not About Everything, It’s About Anything. But the work is not given a context to anchor it in the myriad of different approaches, and so floats around, a little lost, or irrelevant, as it were.
Perhaps the purpose of the exhibition is predominately celebratory, explaining (but not justifying) a half-hearted showcase on the part of most of the artists. It would have made a better show if fewer but more resolved works were represented. Less inclusive, certainly, and yet surely the nature of being contemporary is not merely to be representative of it, but to also actively play a part in shaping itself, pushing itself. We spend much time trying to define the contemporary (and everything else); at some point we must decide to drive it forward.
In light of the range of artists and audiences that pass through the gallery, the 3YC series at VWFA has been a valuable stage upon which to negotiate issues of contemporary culture. This retrospective unfortunately does not do it justice.
Labels: art writing
¶ 10:18 PM 1 comments
Thursday, March 23, 2006
HOW TO BE A VISUAL ART CRITIC IN MALAYSIA
A SERIALIZED GUIDE TO SKILLS YOU WILL NEED:
THIS WEEK'S SKILL : DESCRIPTION
To be able to describe a work of art in ten sentences or more is an essential skill for all prospective critics in this country. The ability to wax lyrical about the color blue, for example, or the 'sublime composition of visual elements within the rigid confines of the frame' will allow you to conveniently fill up oh-so-much column space, WITHOUT THE ACTUAL NEED TO THINK. You will still sound eloquent, as if you know what you are talking about, which of course, you don't. Amazingly, with a great deal of practice, you can even apply the Descriptive Tool to conceptual art, AND NOT SOUND STUPID. We suggest you take Duchamp's Urinal upon which to practice your descriptive faculties. Be sure to mention how lightly the urinal appears to sit there, exuding the aura of an everyday object, asserting its own right to existence, and how the artist asserts his right to bring it into existence. If you are having trouble with this skill, please keep this tip in mind: remember that the ordinary Malaysian mortal (i.e not yourself) cannot possibly see that an artwork is green, or red, or big, or small, or gestural, or... even, conceptual. When you are aware of the sheer visual dumbass-ness of your readers, you will realize that you must describe, describe, describe. It is your duty.
NEXT SOON (OR NEVER) : NON-OFFENSIVENESS
How to not have an opinion on anything but still be considered an important source of art criticism.
THIS WEEK'S SKILL : DESCRIPTION
To be able to describe a work of art in ten sentences or more is an essential skill for all prospective critics in this country. The ability to wax lyrical about the color blue, for example, or the 'sublime composition of visual elements within the rigid confines of the frame' will allow you to conveniently fill up oh-so-much column space, WITHOUT THE ACTUAL NEED TO THINK. You will still sound eloquent, as if you know what you are talking about, which of course, you don't. Amazingly, with a great deal of practice, you can even apply the Descriptive Tool to conceptual art, AND NOT SOUND STUPID. We suggest you take Duchamp's Urinal upon which to practice your descriptive faculties. Be sure to mention how lightly the urinal appears to sit there, exuding the aura of an everyday object, asserting its own right to existence, and how the artist asserts his right to bring it into existence. If you are having trouble with this skill, please keep this tip in mind: remember that the ordinary Malaysian mortal (i.e not yourself) cannot possibly see that an artwork is green, or red, or big, or small, or gestural, or... even, conceptual. When you are aware of the sheer visual dumbass-ness of your readers, you will realize that you must describe, describe, describe. It is your duty.
NEXT SOON (OR NEVER) : NON-OFFENSIVENESS
How to not have an opinion on anything but still be considered an important source of art criticism.
Labels: art, art writing
¶ 10:33 AM 4 comments
Friday, February 24, 2006
Self-Censorship Self-neutering
This is about a review I wrote of Tang Da Wu's current solo exhibition at Valentine Willie Fine Art, called Heroes, Islanders.
While writing this 1000 word review for The Star (a local daily with the highest circulation in Malaysia), I found some parts of the show problematic. A few sharp phrases came to mind, but for some strange reason, I decided to change the tone of the review. I made it more illuminative than critical. Other than a little token attempt at addressing some of my concerns in the last paragraph, this review might well have served as a catalogue essay.
What happened? Well, right now I am preparing for an exhibition and this is a time filled with self-doubt and a general sense of struggle. I think I am in sympathy with the intentions of an artist, and how these intentions do not always translate into successful work. This probably influenced me to look at the ideas behind what Da Wu was trying to do, rather than critiquing the outcomes. This is not so good. An arts' writer can hide behind ideas, talk about context till the cows go to slaughter - in effect chop the balls off what you really think about the actual work.
Can one maintain a critical tongue in a relativist world?
I consider myself fairly out-spoken and immensely stubborn. It was a surprise to me how quickly I admitted to the charge of self-censorship when I spoke with H.C. at The Fake Show* opening last night. The suspicion must have been already floating around in my brain. I do myself no favors, but do hereby confess I was somewhat influenced by the age of the artist, his long-standing reputation in Singapore, and the fact that he showed at a gallery I used to work at, a gallery which I will safely take the liberty of saying is the most important one in Kuala Lumpur.
Hence something like 'One wonders if the whole enterprise is, for the lack of a better word, a little too portable. Too clean and convenient' becomes 'Although the jigsaw-like way in which the works have been arranged seems a little uneasy - lacking the immediacy and element of risk suggested in the their initial creation - this gives function to Tang's form.'
Clearly has had it's balls chopped off. But there's more:
My initial thoughts were: 'An 'intuitive' way of working can be problematic, it can be a way for the artist to absolve him/herself of the responsibility of intention. This is particularly difficult in Da Wu's work because the process of politicizing these essentially apolitical 'instinctive' works relies on contextual frameworks that are by no means neutral or to be taken for granted...'
I turned it into this instead: 'An 'intuitive' way of working can be problematic, it can elevate the artist to tortured, heroic genius, in which every odd splatter of paint is ripe with metaphysical innuendo. But in Tang's case, it is not used as an aesthetic end in itself'.
I will certainly not go so far as to say I lied, or was inaccurate, rather I just chopped the testicles off my own writing. On a professional level I am disturbed that I chose to be so unconscious of the pressures that I felt while writing the review - it was the most natural thing in the world - to think the thoughts, but to tweak the words.
On a personal level, I feel wretched.
H.C. asked if I write more freely when I am out of the country. My answer is 'definitely'. But not in the sense that I am actively 'oppressed' when I am here. Rather, the need to please everyone and not rustle too many feathers registers on a much quieter scale, a soundless process of self-censorship.
What do I long for? Anonymity. Blessed anonymity. How easily one's voice becomes co-opted by others! 'She is a good writer'. Does anyone actually read anything, or is the opinion that 'she is a good writer' circulated like perfume - and becomes all that matters?
Much worse is that... I fear this same self-censorship will begin to invade my art too. Truth to tell, I can no longer be certain what I compromise and what I don't. I know that I feel something happening to my brain and I dislike it. Lately I seem to have difficultly having a position on anything - this is matched with the intense need to leave the country!
It seems a voice in exile is the voice of independence.
So back to my question: can one maintain a critical tongue in a relativist world? I think the answer is not only 'yes you can', but 'yes, you have to'.
*PLUG : The Fake Show curated by Vincent Leong is on at Reka Art Space, 24 Feb - 18 March 2006. www.reka-art.com
**Tip of the hat to H.C. for bringing up these thoughts.
While writing this 1000 word review for The Star (a local daily with the highest circulation in Malaysia), I found some parts of the show problematic. A few sharp phrases came to mind, but for some strange reason, I decided to change the tone of the review. I made it more illuminative than critical. Other than a little token attempt at addressing some of my concerns in the last paragraph, this review might well have served as a catalogue essay.
What happened? Well, right now I am preparing for an exhibition and this is a time filled with self-doubt and a general sense of struggle. I think I am in sympathy with the intentions of an artist, and how these intentions do not always translate into successful work. This probably influenced me to look at the ideas behind what Da Wu was trying to do, rather than critiquing the outcomes. This is not so good. An arts' writer can hide behind ideas, talk about context till the cows go to slaughter - in effect chop the balls off what you really think about the actual work.
Can one maintain a critical tongue in a relativist world?
I consider myself fairly out-spoken and immensely stubborn. It was a surprise to me how quickly I admitted to the charge of self-censorship when I spoke with H.C. at The Fake Show* opening last night. The suspicion must have been already floating around in my brain. I do myself no favors, but do hereby confess I was somewhat influenced by the age of the artist, his long-standing reputation in Singapore, and the fact that he showed at a gallery I used to work at, a gallery which I will safely take the liberty of saying is the most important one in Kuala Lumpur.
Hence something like 'One wonders if the whole enterprise is, for the lack of a better word, a little too portable. Too clean and convenient' becomes 'Although the jigsaw-like way in which the works have been arranged seems a little uneasy - lacking the immediacy and element of risk suggested in the their initial creation - this gives function to Tang's form.'
Clearly has had it's balls chopped off. But there's more:
My initial thoughts were: 'An 'intuitive' way of working can be problematic, it can be a way for the artist to absolve him/herself of the responsibility of intention. This is particularly difficult in Da Wu's work because the process of politicizing these essentially apolitical 'instinctive' works relies on contextual frameworks that are by no means neutral or to be taken for granted...'
I turned it into this instead: 'An 'intuitive' way of working can be problematic, it can elevate the artist to tortured, heroic genius, in which every odd splatter of paint is ripe with metaphysical innuendo. But in Tang's case, it is not used as an aesthetic end in itself'.
I will certainly not go so far as to say I lied, or was inaccurate, rather I just chopped the testicles off my own writing. On a professional level I am disturbed that I chose to be so unconscious of the pressures that I felt while writing the review - it was the most natural thing in the world - to think the thoughts, but to tweak the words.
On a personal level, I feel wretched.
H.C. asked if I write more freely when I am out of the country. My answer is 'definitely'. But not in the sense that I am actively 'oppressed' when I am here. Rather, the need to please everyone and not rustle too many feathers registers on a much quieter scale, a soundless process of self-censorship.
What do I long for? Anonymity. Blessed anonymity. How easily one's voice becomes co-opted by others! 'She is a good writer'. Does anyone actually read anything, or is the opinion that 'she is a good writer' circulated like perfume - and becomes all that matters?
Much worse is that... I fear this same self-censorship will begin to invade my art too. Truth to tell, I can no longer be certain what I compromise and what I don't. I know that I feel something happening to my brain and I dislike it. Lately I seem to have difficultly having a position on anything - this is matched with the intense need to leave the country!
It seems a voice in exile is the voice of independence.
So back to my question: can one maintain a critical tongue in a relativist world? I think the answer is not only 'yes you can', but 'yes, you have to'.
*PLUG : The Fake Show curated by Vincent Leong is on at Reka Art Space, 24 Feb - 18 March 2006. www.reka-art.com
**Tip of the hat to H.C. for bringing up these thoughts.
Labels: art writing
¶ 11:41 AM 0 comments
Monday, December 19, 2005
Writing as smooth as...
It is amazing. I was asked to write a short essay for Y.B.L., a young local painter who is currently artist-in-residence at R. D. I have been putting it off for days, preferring to write an endless number of blog postings on a remarkable hodgepodge of subjects. Today I sit down at my computer to begin work on this essay, titled On Moving Out, and Moving In, and I spit it out in an endless breathless run of two hours. There, it's done. And it's only 10pm. And in between there had also been a reasonably long phone-call interval.
I owe this efficacy to this blog and its faithful (if silent) readers. Also probably to the new book I have recently acquired: Paul Auster's Collected Prose. It is an anthology that includes his critical writings on such diverse personalities as Art Spiegalman (author of Pulitzer prize-winning graphic novel Maus), french poet Jacques Dupin and American poet Linda Jackson. His style is trenchant, potent, humorous, dark. He writes words like an artist makes art, that is, one half instinct and talent, the other half sheer breathtaking craft. He compels you, page after page, to swallow the words. I am completely awed. This is a perfect example in which good reading engenders good writing.
The last time I wrote this easily was the first time I had a joint. This is much better. If you ask nicely, I may post the results of that first encounter with herbal supplements.
I will post the essay after it is published.
I owe this efficacy to this blog and its faithful (if silent) readers. Also probably to the new book I have recently acquired: Paul Auster's Collected Prose. It is an anthology that includes his critical writings on such diverse personalities as Art Spiegalman (author of Pulitzer prize-winning graphic novel Maus), french poet Jacques Dupin and American poet Linda Jackson. His style is trenchant, potent, humorous, dark. He writes words like an artist makes art, that is, one half instinct and talent, the other half sheer breathtaking craft. He compels you, page after page, to swallow the words. I am completely awed. This is a perfect example in which good reading engenders good writing.
The last time I wrote this easily was the first time I had a joint. This is much better. If you ask nicely, I may post the results of that first encounter with herbal supplements.
I will post the essay after it is published.
Labels: art writing
¶ 10:42 PM 0 comments
