Thursday, May 26, 2016

A gathering of great powers























Edward Dimsdale
Kyoto
undated




Shades of multi-tasking





  Like you, we're trying
  not to see the ingeni-
  ous American tilt to-
  ward Asia as a hodge-
  podge of Dulles' Cold
  War treaty spheres,
  much less our own new
  Greater East Asia Co-
  prosperity Sphere, in
  witty response to the
  ancient giant power.

  Opening arms bazaars
  and lining up promis-
  ing markets for depen-
  dent regimes: just co-
  incidences of no pre-
  cedent to worry about.























Wednesday, May 25, 2016

Buying pictures iv: The searing hue





Saul Leiter's famous portrait of the
shopping figure, receding from focus
and shape by the viewer's nearer dis-
traction, upper left, has about it a
swastika-like distribution of concen-
tration of pure black. It's difficult
when something spontaneous achieves
such eloquence and enigma in a single
shutter release; this represents, of
course, the gold standard of imagery.
It burns, to grasp it. The shopper,
unaware she is refracted, raises our
awareness of empanelment in seeing. 




The sulfurous qualities of the mi-
gration to black, in Smith's so-
cial-realist portrait of a steel-
worker, in the same period, wrest-
ling a cauldron of coke beside a
blast furnace in America, summon
remembrances of hideous hazards,
replaced by manufacture's extinc-
tion, by fossil fuels' condemna-
tion, by social marginalization.
This is the taint of the hour,
as all disdain the filthy ape.

But if this is an election fa-
voring the ambiguities, it will
come as a shock to the odds. We
see in this late masterpiece by
Mark Rothko an extraordinarily
sulfurous vitality in contra-
distinction with an almost ap-
pealingly emphatic black. Roth-
ko differs with Leiter, in re-
jecting the dark as an element
of style, and with Smith, as
an element of conditionality.

It is the stain of a certitude;
and it is laid upon that can-
vas for those who know it well,
over strokes more defiant than
pathetic, of violet, earth, per-
iwinkle, sand, and persistently
impertinent green. This is not
a portrait of processed cheese.





Even vitality can fail, as the
panels threaten. Even vitality
will be singed. We hear, that a
resistance to the dark is to be
mounted as an Edith Wharton dis-
dain to comment. Will no one of-
fer that candidate a visit to a
corner on Fifth Avenue, where a
Century of ferment has its home,
youth flock, all day, to feast;
and struggle shines from every
offset sight against complacency;

I never saw a branding fail more
effêtely, than the present jest,
fighting for us. Can no one re-
fer that candidate to the prepo-
sition of respect, that 4-letter
word, anathema to condescension;

Aversion to with is dark, already.
What on earth did they pay, to be
boasting of usurping our own cause,
as if indentured to their destiny?























Saul Leiter
Shopping
ca 1953
Greenberg Gallery
New York

W. Eugene Smith
Dance of the Flaming Coke
1955
Collection unknown

Mark Rothko
Untitled (Black on Grey Series)
1969 
Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum
  Gift of the Mark Rothko Foundation
  1986











Tuesday, May 24, 2016

Buying pictures iii: Painting in white







There's always more of that
stuff where it came from than
can sustain the illusion that
it is white. White-by-convenience
undermines white for identifica-
tion's sake. White-for-lack-of-a-
better-word throws up its hands
in genetic meaninglessness, but
still it suggests a border more
than an assimilation. Theologists
in hues are exegetic in the news
of its constraint, ignoring they're
exploring a delusionary taint. What
we like about Duchamp is his device
for getting rid of it; about Rothko,
his vision of its permeability. 



























Marcel Duchamp
In Advance of the
  Broken Arm
1915
Collection MoMA

Mark Rothko
untitled
1968
Collection unknown

Peter Gay
Modernism
  The Lure of Heresy
  from Baudelaire to Beckett
  and Beyond
Norton, 2008©










Monday, May 23, 2016

Buying pictures ii


In the hall of mirrors, nobody speaks.
An ember smolders before hollowed cheeks.
Someone empties pockets, loose change and keys,
into a locker. My god forgives me.
Some say love, disclosed, repels what it sees,
yet if I touch the darkness, it touches me.



In the steam room, inconsolable tears
fall against us, In the whirlpool, my arms,
rowing through little green crests, help to steer
the body, riding against death. Yet what harm
is there in us? I swear to you, my friend,
cross-armed in a bright beach towel, turning round
to see my face in the lamplight, that eye, ear,
and tongue, good things, make something sweet of fear.








              In the juxtaposition our Parties intend 
              for us this year, our people have never 
              experienced such fear, with such unani- 
              mity, since 1932 - or revulsion, at our 
              Parties' symbiotic failure, since 1968.
               
              Two Parties portend a combat between the 
              dishonorable and the dead, where a ques-
              tionable distinction of life must define 
              the alternative. This suggests an inter-
              regnum, possibly in favor of life at any 
              cost, but of such ferment as to show our
              present government justified as sunlight.

              The storm to come, in four short years,
              will gather to seek a decisive, cleans-
              ing blow. Two Parties would rather pre-
              tend, this were that election, but they
              always grasp that way. They still cry,
              Choose, within their caustic whirlpool.

              This poem, this extraordinary painting,
              frame the prospect rather compellingly.
              Shall it be for the dark, to wrestle it
              now at its weakest, or for the dank, to
              stifle good things that make the sweet?
              There are two rational choices, but one
              objective: to crush the binomial beast.
              Shall we give it its head, or ourself a
              wound on which it only craves to fatten.

              It would be remiss not to confront anxi-
              ety that debate wounds resistance to the
              dark. Nothing of the kind could be true,
              if resistance were competent to withstand
              it. If it is not, now is the time to know.

              An open convention can ease serious doubt,
              eye, ear and tongue making something sweet.
              It could ventilate an acrid pall, hovering
              over the nomination, of indolent, heedless
              contempt; revive moribund distinction, and
              rally the partisans of playing fair. Noth-
              ing less can draw the necessary contrast
              with the dark, or suspend disbelief anew.






















Henri Cole
  The Roman Baths
    at Nîmes
Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 2010©

Mark Rothko
Untitled (from the Black on Gray series)
1969-1970
Collection unknown

Gérard Castello-Lopes
Sea Wall in Algarve
1957

Mikhail Pashchuk
  in GQ Italia
2016










Sunday, May 22, 2016

Buying pictures






       


Is it probable, can we suppose, that the sun even knows how to set on those happy days in Old New York, when a Mrs Mellon might swoop down on the studio of a Russian émigré painter and snaffle ten or eleven of his canvases, already painted and dry, on the way to Bendel's? Not for so long as anything remains to be possessed, it would appear, at least during the term of one's life. Yet, always, maybe, some residual glory won't be mislaid, if ever subject to the going rate. This canvas was sold in 2007 at Christie's for ten million, six hundred eighty-one thousand dollars, a daunting load for any handbag. Then came 2008, and the buyer owned its image.

The Black and Grey series of canvases from 1969-1970 do occupy the terrain of residual glory where, in fact, there is no natural price. There is nothing more eloquent in the artist's oeuvre, nothing more stunningly provocative and coherent. Exceedingly richly complex in their roiling surfaces, they are, of course, unyielding in their resistance to simplicity. They have come to define for me the likely dynamics and issues of the political contest now being framed for the American electorate, except in one material respect. Click the image.

Without precedent Mark Rothko delineated these canvases with a perimeter border in white, portraying emphasis and confinement. The musings of an American electorate, we have discovered, have a way of migrating more liberally; and they are permeable, we have discovered, to the enterprising interventions of a variety of interested parties from abroad - in addition, that is, to the domestic Supreme Court. 

These paintings do not misrepresent the philosophical range and competing interests of the pending campaigns; while, they impart nothing to advise, only to edify. That edification relies on close contemplation, not only of distinctions, but of the effect of a preference for either of them. This must continue, the paintings urge, while time permits. This will, they attest. Yet they articulate conditions the electorate is certain to resist, the more the viewer inflicts his attention, defying the frame.
























W. Eugene Smith
untitled
New York, 1950's


Mark Rothko

untitled
ca 1969

Blue, Green, Brown
1951
National Gallery of Art
Gift of the Estate of
  Mrs. Paul Mellon










Saturday, May 21, 2016

Ikiru





I saw grief, misunderstanding
and more than one old revolt
dividing us in the dark.
The hand I wouldn't kiss,
the crumb that they denied me,
refusal to ask pardon.
Pride. Terror at night.
But he didn't say anything ..

The narrow space of life
crowds me up against you,
and in this ghostly embrace
it's as if I were being burned
completely, with poignant love.
Only now do we know each other.

Eye-glasses, memories, portraits
flow in the river of blood.
Now the waters won't let me
make out your distant face,
distant by seventy years ...







                                                                     














Carlos Drummond de Andrade
1902 - 1987
Travelling in the Family
  fragments
Elizabeth Bishop
  translation
Elizabeth Bishop
  Poems, Prose, 
    and Letters
Robert Giroux and
  Lloyd Schwartz
  editors
The Library of America, 2008©

Takashi Shimura
  on the film set of
  Akira Kurosawa, "Ikiru"
1956

Asger Skovgaard






What did she see iii





                I had been hungry, all the Years -
                My Noon had Come - to dine -
                I trembling drew the Table near -
                And touched the Curious Wine -

                'Twas this on Tables I had seen -
                When turning, hungry, Home
                I looked in Windows, for the Wealth
                I could not hope - for Mine -

                I did not know the ample Bread -
                'Twas so unlike the Crumb
                The Birds and I, had often shared
                In Nature's - Dining Room -

                The Plenty hurt me - 'twas so new -
                Myself felt ill - and odd -
                As Berry - of a Mountain Bush -
                Transplanted - to the Road -

                Nor was I hungry - so I found
                That Hunger - was a way
                Of persons Outside Windows -
                The entering - takes away -




In commentary on this poem, Helen Vendler graphs a struggle between a hungry past - feelings long con-tinued that became, over time, the motives and shapers of the self - and its present dismayed repu-diation, structured by an oscillation between the past tense and the pluper-fect past, as marking a dour discontinuity between naïveté and knowledge.

One reads a political cam-paign of chronic unforced errors, and of consciously antagonizing complacency, as signs of misdirected anxiety to fulfill itself, revealed in contradiction.




          
























Emily Dickinson
439

Helen Vendler
Dickinson
  Selected Poems and
  Commentaries
Belknap Press
Harvard University Press, 2010©

Sybille Bergemann
Polaroid photograph
1990