Sunday, July 22, 2007

View From The Treetops (22 July 2007)

Victoria (innit?)



Those of us born into the English language tend not to appreciate how complex and versatile it is compared to many other languages.
I watched Victoria Beckham on television the other night and marvelled at her minimal reading skills (“…mix to the consistency. Of Course. Salt.”) and limited vocabulary (What’s an intersection?”)
Of course Queen Victoria is an easy target (being either as thick as the atmosphere at Israeli/Palestinian peace talks or a very good actress) but she does illustrate how it is not necessary to use the language correctly in order to succeed in capitalist terms.
This diminished use of the language does not, however, deminish the language itself; on the contrary, it shows how powerful it actually is. Unfortunately, what is diminished is the level of communication that we now take to be acceptable - a world where our connection by language has become increasingly vague; where understanding is not guaranteed by correct use of language; where misunderstanding is compounded by inadequated comprehensive skills and by egocentric non-linear thought process.
Luckily, these considerations will never be a concern for Victoria Beckam


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Damien & Tracy


Jam’s O’Donnel’s post over at The Poor Mouth got me going on the old ‘modern art is rubbish’ thang.
Personally, I would hold Damien Hirst in much higher regard if he actually got his hands dirty, so to speak, in creating the finished product. I suppose it is only fair, on his part, to cry off with the excuse that he would necessarily have to learn the prerequisite skills (embalming; dissection, jewelry setting) and this would therefore delay the creation of these particular works.
Perhaps then Damien should credit those who took part in the production; himself taking credit as writer/director.

All this aside, you just have to listen to Damien Hirst speak to realise that he is not of the same ilk as Tracy Emin. Hirst does instill depth into his ideas, and he does understand the the complexities of the creative process. In addition his works do have an intrinsic value and an aesthetic beauty, no matter how uncomfortable they do make us feel.
His latest diamond encrusted skull, for example, as well as being strikingly beautiful, immediately throws up all kinds of reflective and faceted questions; not least about value, quality and mortality.

Tracy on the other hand, has the kind of creativity that I would liken to a cat who has just hawked up a hairball and hangs around looking sneeringly proud of itself.
Tracy’s been around for years now and can’t even draw; not even vaguely well; her art rests solely on the word of the elitist bunch of wankers who collectively dictate artistic taste. On every occasion that I have heard her speak she has struck me as someone who is constantly under threat of being found out, trapped in a Kafka-esque nightmare of lies.


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Pablo Picasso Never Got Called an Asshole


With the exception of ‘Guernica’, I’ve never been a huge fan of Picasso, preferring the more immediate pleasures of some of his more representational contempories - I never actually ‘got’ Picasso.
I now believe this to be a glaring sign of immaturity on my part.
The other night I was struck by the blatantly obvious fact that Picasso treated his nude models with absolute respect. Not content to portray their bodies as open books, he fragmented them; returned them to the mystery.
I’m not sure if I have come to like his work any more than I did before, but I certainly have a greater appreciation for them as a rather more adult taste.

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Gil Scott Heron ~ The Revolution Will Not Be Televised

5 comments:

gregra&gar said...

Does ignorance of the finer aspects of any language destroy communications any worse than liars who manipulate it or literalists who cannot distinguish between information and experience to evaluate personal sooth. As I grow deaf I have come to rely more on body language than anything being said.

Pisces Iscariot said...

I notice you had your arms crossed when you posted that comment ;]

jams o donnell said...

I love the intricacies of the English language. I love that pure can mean virginal and dog shit; I love that barbaarism is not the same as babarity and so on. That is not snobbishness on my part, rather the enjoyment of a very rich language

As for art, I will freely admit to being a little conservative. I also admit that my take is utterly subjective.

We differ on Hirst, but I am with you on Picasso. On the other hand I love Mark Rothko but I can't stand David Hockney. At the end of the day I say like what you like and like that you like it!

red dirt girl said...

wow - from victoria to picasso all laid out in one succinct posting.

now that's masterful indeed.

the fire breathing gazelle

gregra&gar said...

Pisces, touché, remote, psychic body language reading. I could see your brows playing see-saw over your nose myself.