Tag Archives: society

March 26, 2013 · 9:36 am

Contemporary Art Has Lost Her Bloom

Recently a thought-provoking article in The Art Newspaper asked the very pertinent question: “Is the cult of contemporary painting banishing older art to the Dark Ages?”  Satish Padiyar, a lecturer at the prestigious Courtauld Institute of Art in London, no doubt could write an entire book on the subject, as indeed could this scrivener.  Naturally, in the space of a brief newspaper article – or indeed, a blog post – one can only touch on a few of the factors which have brought about this cultural malaise.  Indeed, if one needs further proof of the existence of such a malady, Padiyar rather shockingly shares the news that his institution no longer has a chair in the art of classical antiquity.

In his article Padiyar explores many of the social, technological, and economic factors which have led to the embrace of the contemporary over the appreciation of the past.  ”The cult of contemporaneity rises out of the felt social experience of new lives that are predicated on change, instantaneity and novelty, while many of the fundamental older forms of social binding and human togetherness are no longer operative or well functioning. If church attendance, family structure, social and political stability are eroded, or drastically experienced as “other”, then the older forms of art that picture these lost worlds and once rendered them enduring, daily lose their meaning.”

Before we get too precious about the “good old days”, we need to remember that at one time, all Western artists were of course contemporary, because they were painting or sculpting likeliness of people who were actually living, or illustrating scenes from the Bible, history, and so on using contemporary people as models.  What united them across many centuries was the desire to constantly improve their skills.  The study of science, experimentation with materials and methods, and the support of patrons allowed these contemporary artists to change over time.

Today when talent, craft, and technique are not even necessary for one to become a famous artist – e.g. Tracey Emin – reasonable people can observe that there is nothing left to shock us with.  An actress such as Tilda Swindon can seal herself in a glass box at MoMA, as she did yesterday, and the only people who will care are the press, who need to write about something kooky in the contemporary art world in order to justify the expense of their shiny new iPads.  No doubt, gentle reader, the news that this monumental artistic event took place yesterday has caused you great consternation, as we think about how women are trapped in a patriarchal box which they are unable to shatter due to the depletion of ozone and the crisis of global warming, thus preventing them from obtaining free abortions and medical marijuana?  I thought not.

For getting back to the article in question, while Padiyar is correct in pointing out that the weakening and collapse of old bonds and values is reflected in the contemporary art world, I would reject his characterization that contemporary art is always in search of novelty.  There is nothing novel about contemporary art, since it is all merely variations upon a single theme: Marcel Duchamp’s “Fountain” of 1917.  This is not innovation, it is senility.  Viewing much of contemporary art is a bit like watching someone try to tell a story while wearing an ill-fitting set of dentures.  It can be done, but more often than not one is more amused in trying to guess when the upper plate will be accidentally shot across the room.

Thus, the contemporary art world promises to constantly titillate and surprise us, bringing philosophical challenges and exciting pleasures.  Yet if everything is relative, and no one believes in anything any more, it seems difficult to understand exactly what it is challenging us about.  In point of fact most of contemporary art is really just the same seedy old thing over and over again, like an ageing courtesan putting on more makeup to hide her crow’s feet and vericose veins.  What was once tempting and dangerously seductive, is now just a bloated old tart, riddled with disease.

So thanks, contemporary art world, but no thanks – I’ll stick with my Raphaels.

Toulouse

Detail of “Salon of the Rue des Moulins” by Toulouse-Lautrec (1894)
Musée Toulouse-Lautrec, Albi

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March 5, 2013 · 9:23 am

Read For Yourself

Recently I was watching C-Span Book TV ‘s coverage of author Robert Richardson at the 2013 Key West Literary Seminar.  As I was suffering from a rather potent bout of insomnia, the thought of listening to some old hippies rattle on about how they do not like the mess they have made of our society seemed to be the best way to put me to sleep under the circumstances.  Much of Mr. Richardson’s presentation was what one would expect., in that  we were condemned to a random rattling off of quotations from other writers, with a single adjective attached to each indicating his approval.  This sort of presentation is of course designed not so much to enlighten, as to impress the audience with the amount of books the lecturer has read.

During his presentation, Mr. Richardson recounted the passage in Dostoevsky’s “The Brothers Karamazov” in which one of the brothers justifies his quasi-atheistic views, doubtless as a foil for the author himself or at least some of his thought process, since if you have read other works by Dostoevsky you know that he was something of a mixed bag when it comes to his opinions on religion.  A story is recounted about an 8-year-old boy who is quite literally hounded to death, with a gruesome punishment for a minor misdeed, before the eyes of his own mother.  If God allows such things to happen, the story concludes, then the recounter of the tale was not interested in having anything to do with him.

That attitude, according to Mr. Richardson, aptly reflects his own views on the subject as well.  The rather obvious rejoinder to this of course, at least for the Christian, is that Mr. Richardson’s argument is something of a cop-out, since God Himself was brutally and unjustly killed before the eyes of His Mother on Calvary.  It also assumes that the concept of free will is something which must be imposed or lifted at will, as if God is playing a chess match with human playing pieces.  Be that as it may, such a simplistic and rather narcissistic understanding of the Divine is regrettably not uncommon among the so-called intelligentsia who dominate our universities, publishing houses, and media outlets.

For forty years or so we have witnessed the build-up of an intellectual establishment built not on universal truths, let alone intellect, but rather on relative opinions, and Mr. Richardson is merely one cog in that infernal machine.  We have seen the effect of the worship of Priapus instead of God, for example, in the enormous amount of sexually transmitted disease that runs rampant through our society which, as a very wise theology teacher of my acquaintance pointed out the other evening, no one seems to talk about.  The supposed freedom granted by the Sexual Revolution has in fact enslaved us to, among other things, the pharmaceutical industry.  This chasing after temporary personal pleasure in lieu of preparing for eternity, following millennia of human intellectual endeavors to instill virtues of self-control and self-sacrifice, has had a devastating impact on our world.

Yet there is something to be said for the example of those like Mr. Richardson, who stand at podiums and preach their gospels of nothingness, and that is the fact that they do actually read.  They may largely be reading a lot of garbage bound between two covers and presented as books, but nevertheless they do undertake the effort to continue to work on the exercise of their minds  through the exploration of writing.  Of course, part of the reason many otherwise educated younger people do not read today, is precisely because they had professors like Mr. Richardson in college.  If you are burdened with a teacher who turns you off to the world of literature by insisting that everything is about oppression and sex, there can be no better barrier to raise to the concept of reading as a form of ongoing education and the formation of ideas.

Fortunately, there are remedies to the situation.  I have always found that one of the best ways to critically evaluate a work of fiction, biography, and so on which you cannot bring yourself to agree with, is to always keep in mind the question of whether the author actually understands the truth he is rejecting.  I do not have to agree with a writer’s point of view in order to be able to find merit or even truth in his work.  This is not an easy task, of course, yet if you know what you believe, then you can be at the ready when you perceive that a scrivener or a professor is trying to convince you that they are right, and you are merely ignorant.  (How one establishes what is right and what is wrong when everything is supposedly relative is another matter entirely.)

By no means am I suggesting that you go off and read the collected works of Engels and Marx, unless of course you are a glutton for punishment, or for that matter wish to fully know thy enemy.  After all, without having at least some idea of what the devil looks like, when he tells you there is no such thing as personal accountability for example, you will be hard-pressed to recognize him when he presents himself in one of his countless guises.  Just as the lawyer in the courtroom needs to be able to anticipate his opponent’s argument in order to be able to successfully defeat it, it is insufficient to say that simply because part of what an author believes or concludes is incorrect, that it is therefore impossible to gain anything from his work.’

It is often unpleasant to read the work of those who are still fighting the culture wars that led our society into the morass in which it wallows in at present.  However to back away and give those digging us in, ever deeper, into such muck is not helpful either.  One may be able to refute Mr. Richardson – and indeed Dostoevsky – without having read any of their work, but it would be a difficult endeavor to sustain over a long period.

Thus while it is certainly inadvisable to take your views on the question of eternal life from those who write novels, or indeed biographies of existentialists, it is important to at least be somewhat familiar with such thinkers, however misguided they may be.  It is through a systematic emphasis on the dumbing down of Western society, paradoxically as access to higher education has never been more widespread, that we have found ourselves in a culture that is rather shallow, materialistic, and interested largely in the seeking of personal pleasure, much like the ancient pagan societies we emerged out of.  The fight to make us into a fat, lazy, and ignorant society which can be easily controlled and placated has very nearly been achieved.

In order to take back this battle then,  you cannot rely solely on your wits: you must work. And by work, I mean you must read.  Read all of the writers you love and admire, yes, but also take the time to read those whom you are suspicious of, and do so with a critical eye as to why you find them so untrustworthy.  It is entirely possible to examine what the world is trying to sell you as truth, without actually buying into its message in the process.  And unlike Mr. Richardson, I would posit that reading someone like Emerson does not require that you actually throw yourself head-first into Walden Pond.

3ages (800x600)
“The Three Ages of Man” by Giorgione (c. 1500-1501)
Pitti, Florence

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February 19, 2013 · 11:24 am

What Direction Britain?

Over the weekend while I watched what I knew was coming on the season finale “Downton Abbey” – and no, there will be no spoilers for those few of you who don’t know yet – I was struck by how a costume drama from the Mother County could so enthrall American audiences.  There has always been that so-called “special relationship” between Britain and America despite what they might term the unpleasantness of the Revolution and the War of 1812.  However I wonder how much of that affinity remains at present, or whether we are simply mutually basking in the reflected glow of something now past.

Watching as the current British Prime Minister stumbles his way along through one misguided policy after another, it is hard for an American conservative to fathom that Mr. Cameron happens to be the head of Britain’s Conservative Party.  As recently as the Thatcher, Major, and Blair years, there seemed to be a greater affinity between the two nations with respect to a number of policy issues, regardless of whether it was a Conservative or Labour government.  Yet increasingly under Gordon Brown and now under David Cameron, there is a sense that Britain is going irreversibly in one direction and America in another.

Others of course would argue that Britain is simply ahead of the curve, and that eventually here in the US we will end up something like the UK writ large.  One certainly hopes that this is not the case, and I say that as a life-long Anglophile who has had the good fortune to live in Britain twice.  Though once senses that the mutual values we held of how to achieve mutual prosperity seem to have been eroding rather dramatically.

When we look back to the first half of the previous century, such as the time in which the fictional Crawley family are operating, we notice that there was a healthy fusion of British belief in hard work with an American sense of getting the job done creatively.  British aristocrats married American money to save their houses, and British businessmen went into partnerships with American firms, recognizing that there were natural affinities and mutual needs that could be met through adaptation and change.  After all, what saves Downton Abbey financially is putting a middle-class young man in charge of things, once he gets the backing of his American mother-in-law to persuade her husband.  And lest we forget, like Ladies Mary, Edith, and Sybil Crawley, Sir Winston Churchill himself was half-American.

Yet it must be said that among the Britons whom I regularly interact with, as much as they may love their country, privately they recognize that there are not as many opportunities left for them there, and many of them want to move here.  They see fewer chances of really succeeding on merit in a country which has become so increasingly dependent on government subsidy, and merely surviving rather than thriving.  What Napoleon once referred to as a “nation of shopkeepers”, seems to be increasingly a “nation of victims”.

Now before any of us over on this side of the Atlantic start patting ourselves on the back, or contentedly saying to ourselves, “There but for the grace of God…”, we, too continue to see more and more dependence upon centralized government taking over even the most basic aspects of our lives.  Fortunately our federal system allows for a greater deal of fight-back than we see in Britain, though that requires eternal vigilance, and more often than not the use of the courts, as we see in the current fight over the present Administration’s HHS Mandate.

For all of our complaints about divided government in our unusual American system of government, there is something very good indeed about a weakened Executive Branch in particular.  Among other things, it makes it much harder for any one person or philosophy to absolutely dominate domestic policy.  Thus while he was able to pass Obamcare thanks to his party controlling both the White House and Congress, today Mr. Obama could huff and puff all he wants, but if he were to introduce a bill that Republicans could not support, it simply would not pass.

What the future holds we do not know.  We can be sure that it will be a less prosperous one for both nations, thanks to factors such as short-sighted budget policies more focused on present consumption than future growth, or promoting population control as a way to reign in costs while simultaneously gutting future benefits.  In the end one does not fear for America so much, since she changes regularly throughout her history, but one wonders what will become of dear old Blighty once it is little more than a cog in the European socialist machine.  And that is something which the British will have to answer for themselves.

Matthew

Cousin Matthew out for a spin on “Downton Abbey”

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February 5, 2013 · 12:06 pm

An Unsatisfying Evening

There’s nothing like beginning an evening discussion of contemporary love and sexuality by scandalizing the audience.

Last evening’s presentation at the Catholic Information Center here in Washington with author Christopher West began with a bit of a bombshell.  In announcing some of the highlights from the extensive curriculum vitae of the event’s moderator, Katherine Lopez of National Review Online, it was announced that, “She’s also written for Playboy.”  If you have ever read KLo then you know why this caused whoops laughter among all present, including Miss Lopez herself, who clarified that in fact she had been quoted negatively by that publication, rather than having written for it.

In many ways if it were not for purveyors of personal emptiness like Hugh Heffner, then one might argue that Christopher West’s new book, “Fill These Hearts:  God, Sex, and the Universal Longing” would not have been written.   For Heffner, and others like him, made what used to be considered socially unacceptable material into the ordinary and commonplace.  Images and ideas which led men away from their wives and families to encourage promiscuity, adultery, and so on, became part of the furniture in the modern American home.  And we can see the results of that invasion of the family unit all around us, whether we look at the levels of promiscuity, abortion, cohabitation, and so on, which at one time would have been considered not only unacceptable, but simply unimaginable in a civilized society.

As he pointed out during the discussion, West notes that culture likes to turn what today is referred to as eroticism – though it has really nothing to do with the concept of “eros” –  into entertainment.  West’s underlying argument last evening was that man is hungry for something in his heart which contemporary society promises to satisfy, but ultimately cannot deliver.  For although we are hungry, we are filling ourselves with junk food rather than nutrition.  As a result, by living on such a diet we are slowly but surely killing ourselves, not unlike Morgan Spurlock in the documentary “Super Size Me”.

Good stuff, no doubt – but the problem was that while last night’s discussion certainly had its good moments, it was not for me.

Given that the average age of the audience was about 20, and it has been quite a long time since I was that age, perhaps I should simply accept the fact that I am now middle-aged and always have been, even when I was about ten years old.  It is all very well to reference popular culture in order to get people interested in what you have to say, although referring Bruce Springsteen and Rolling Stones songs with such a comparatively young audience might not necessarily have been the best way to go.  At times the presentation felt like a retreat for high school seniors, including asking us to sing along to the somewhat insipid, 1970′s suburban parish communion hymn, “Gift Of Finest Wheat”, to make the point that the Eucharist satisfies the hungry heart.

Mr. West then went on to reference Pope John Paul II’s Letter to Artists, noting that even secular art can become a sacred experience.  That is certainly the case, though it must be approached with caution.  Someone with a good foundation in the faith and the intellectual maturity to engage with someone directly opposed to the Church, such as with those creating the more egregious examples of human depravity celebrated in the contemporary film world, may emerge from the battle relatively unscathed.  Most of us however, cannot do so, and to think that we are invincible in such instances is to court folly.

At one particularly wince-worthy point in the evening Mr. West referenced the moment in the Gospels when St. Andrew approaches his brother St. Peter, and announces that he has found the Messiah.  We were asked to imagine what an impact such an announcement would have had on a Jew of that time.  West then analogized this impact to that which he would have on Mick Jagger, in regard to the Stones’ classic “Satisfaction”, if he were to approach the singer and announce that he had, in fact, found the satisfaction that Jagger had been looking for (i.e., the love of God.)

This comparison was, quite frankly, rather tasteless and intellectually inept.  First of all one suspects that the aging British lothario would not even care if Mr. West informed him that God was the answer to everything, given that Jagger is a rather well-known atheist.  Second, such a comparison belittles not only St. Andrew’s declaration of faith, but the history of Judaism and indeed all of salvation history itself.  St. Andrew is making a statement of belief, drawn from what he has heard preached in the synagogues and prayed about his whole life as a Jew, and combining that with what he has seen in the person of Christ, to reach a startling and indeed a highly dangerous conclusion.

Even if Mick Jagger had been complaining in “Satisfaction” about the fact that all of the affairs he was having were making him feel like life was meaningless, and that he needed to find true love through something larger than himself, even then such a statement would not be analogous to that of a 1st century Jew publicly testifying that not only had the Messiah of Israel arrived, but that he had actually met Him.  Such a comparison would be ridiculous, even if the highest art was put into the muscial composition at issue.  For as it turns out, while everything may be art, not all art is equally worthy of our examination at this level of analysis.

With all due respect to JPII, It is not true to say that art is the language of the heart, as Mr. West stated last evening.  Sometimes it is, even in its ugliness, as Mr. West rightly pointed out.  There is great heart to be found in the horrors of Goya, the terrors of Beethoven, and the chills of Poe.  Yet sometimes what may technically be “art” is not actually any good.  It can be simply meaningless junk: an expression of base motives and desires and nothing more, not worthy of the average person’s time or attention.

To make statements of eternal qualities from material not intended for such a purpose is rather like trying to coax a cat into using a leash so you can take it outside for a walk.  Even if you can achieve it – and in fact I have seen it done, once – is it really worth that much effort on the part of the average person to attempt it?  It would be far easier to simply get a dog, which was designed for just such a purpose.

Engaging popular culture in order to pursue the truth is something which we are all called to do, particularly when our long-held values are being intentionally degraded by purveyors of entertainment, advertising, and so on.  It is laudable that books such as Mr. West’s attempt to counteract the influence that such forces have had on our society.  Yet sometimes, we simply have to have the honesty and the strength of character to call a thing what it is, and leave it where we found it.

Magritte

“The Treachery of Images” by René Magritte (1929-1930)
Los Angeles County Museum of Art

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February 4, 2013 · 10:41 am

Sunday Dinner and the Single Man

Lets face it: on Sunday afternoons many of us go into a funk, particularly if we do not yet have families of our own.  I know one very outgoing fellow with a girlfriend, a flatmate, and plenty of professional work and personal interests to keep him busy, who tells me that most Sunday evenings he starts retreating into himself.  This is simply one of those quirks of human nature, the way that some people love wintertime, while others get down in the dumps until the days lengthen.  So I would like to suggest a solution for those of us who experience this affliction – or affectation, depending on how you look at it – and that is the idea of the Sunday dinner.

A few weeks ago on the Catholic Weekend show we had as our special guest podcaster and blogger Jeff Young, The Catholic Foodie.  Jeff presented an idea which I had never considered, of making Sunday dinner something special during the week.  Of course many of us grew up with the idea that Sunday was a time for a special meal with family or having people over, and to the extent that it brings families and friends together reviving this practice is certainly a good idea.  But what about for those of us who are single and NOT planning on having people over this Sunday?

As is the case with many American bachelors, much of my in-house dining consists of things which come out of a microwave or which can be cooked in ten minutes or less.  Paradoxically, I am in fact known for being a very good cook, and I love to cook for other people.  However when it comes to making things for myself at home, I must confess that a frozen dinner or a simple bowl of pasta is usually enough to satisfy me.

Nevertheless, I decided to take Jeff’s advice, and began an experiment of planning and making something special for Sunday dinner.  I chose dishes that would not be too complicated to make, but which would require more than just a few minutes of preparation and cooking time.  I also liked the idea of experimenting, for like many men I look as a recipe more as a set of general instructions.  You then subsequently personalize the instructions based on your own experience, your understanding of different kinds of technique, and also what’s in the cupboard at the moment.

I decided to use rice as the base for my month-long experiment, since it takes quite awhile to cook, making it the last thing I would turn to for dinner during the work week.  My first Sunday dinner was a chicken and sausage gumbo, which I had never made before, and it turned out rather well, if I do say so myself.  The following Sunday I made risotto with wild mushrooms and prosciutto, and the Sunday after that I made arroz a banda, which is a type of saffron-seafood rice.  And for yesterday’s Sunday dinner I made garlic and red pepper rice with roasted chicken, peas, and carrots.

What have I learned from the experiment so far? Well for one thing you are very much more conscious of how fortunate you are, when food is something you carefully prepare.  You become aware of the real blessing it is to make something nice to eat, but also to be able to enjoy the process of making it.

For another, the prospect of Sunday dinner has made my late Sunday afternoons fly by quite happily.  When Sunday teatime rolls around, I start thinking about what I have to do to get ready for dinner in a few hours, and plan accordingly.  The time spent preparing, cooking, and then eating the meal simultaneously allows some good time for solitary reflection, since there is not much else you can do while you are waiting for some ingredient in your dish to finish frying, melting, etc.

This is not to say of course that you should not have people over to enjoy your cooking, or that you should not go out to see friends or family on Sunday evening yourself.  Yet particularly for those of us who are single, and who as a result often find ourselves at a loose end on Sunday evening, I would suggest you try this experiment yourself for a month, and see how it works out for you.  Even if you choose to fast and live on locusts and wild honey the rest of the week, the prospect of preparing and enjoying a Sunday dinner is something which will bring home to you, in a very tangible way, how blessed you are.

Gumbo

Sunday Dinner No. 1: Chicken and Sausage Gumbo

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