Posted on: September 18, 2008
The Grand Canal, by J.M.W. Turner. 1835
For many of us, the foreign is enticing, exciting, a call to leave ourselves behind and find the new. To others, it’s something to fear, distort, and avoid. Thinking again about Woody Allen’s movie, Vicky Cristina Barcelona, I wonder if familiarity breeds something less than contempt, and more like indifference and forgetfulness. Contrast truly is the key here. Contrast in the way we act socially, in love, at work, with friends. Contrast in the way we handle emotions, especially.
I was born into a society that is largely at odds with the things I value the most. This is not an uncommon experience, and I am far from the first person to feel that opposition. It has, in fact, been a common theme in the arts for thousands of years. The feeling of alienation is perhaps the single greatest driving force behind the arts, though I think great art comes from the struggle to understand and transcend that alienation, not the fact of alienation itself.…
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Posted on: September 16, 2008
Woody Allen’s new film takes a sharp turn. It’s a departure from most of his other films in that neuroses is foreign, literally foreign, and perhaps more understandable in that context. The most overtly neurotic character, Maria Elena, played by Penelope Cruz, is the violently passionate ex-wife of the artist Juan Antonio, played by Javier Bardem. The two main characters, Vicky and Cristina, played by Rebecca Hall and Scarlett Johansson, are mildly conflicted in comparison. The two American tourists, spending their summer in Spain, seem quite “normal” in comparison to the hot-blooded Spanish duo who can’t live with or without each other. And that contrast between the American version of normality and the Spanish version of living for the moment, a sort of tremendismo for artists, a ménage à trois for the Picasso in all of us, is the heart of the movie.
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Posted on: September 14, 2008
This post is nothing so lofty as the title might suggest. I just wanted to take a bit of time and review, reflect and clarify on this Sunday evening. Chat a bit about a few things. Spinozablue is nearing its eighth month, and its evolution is ongoing. For instance, my blog posts started out as mostly very quick snaps and now have taken on a longer form. They remain unfinished, informal, unpolished and full of holes, but they now sustain that through more paragraphs. Their primary function, however, remains the same. To supplement the writers published below.
They also act as a kind of way-back machine for me. I remember books, movies, music and philosophies from yesterday and try to make that memory appear on the page. Writing about art brings that art in front of me again, helps it live again for another day.…
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Posted on: September 12, 2008
Trinity College, Dublin
One of my favorite novels of all time or any time is The Ginger Man, by J. P. Donleavy. It’s the story of Sebastian Dangerfield and his wild days and ways in Dublin, taking classes at Trinity, whoring and drinking and pawning everything in sight to afford the drink and the whoring, avoiding his tenacious landlord and the authorities in general, in general putting the g in rogue and fighting all that is holy and stiflingly good. It’s easily one of the most unforgettable novels in the English language, with Dangerfield being one of its most memorable characters. The protagonist was based in part on a good friend of Donleavy’s, Gainor Stephen Crist, though it’s tempting to read into that character a bit of the author and his own biography as well.
The prose is magnificent. Almost immediately the reader senses he or she is in the presence of greatness.…
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