Introduction

What is The New Yorker? I know it’s a great magazine and that it’s a tremendous source of pleasure in my life. But what exactly is it? This blog’s premise is that The New Yorker is a work of art, as worthy of comment and analysis as, say, Keats’s “Ode on a Grecian Urn.” Each week I review one or more aspects of the magazine’s latest issue. I suppose it’s possible to describe and analyze an entire issue, but I prefer to keep my reviews brief, and so I usually focus on just one or two pieces, to explore in each the signature style of its author. A piece by Nick Paumgarten is not like a piece by Jill Lepore, and neither is like a piece by Ian Frazier. One could not mistake Collins for Seabrook, or Bilger for Galchen, or Mogelson for Kolbert. Each has found a style, and it is that style that I respond to as I read, and want to understand and describe.

Saturday, May 3, 2025

Jed Perl on Arlene Croce

Arlene Croce and George Balanchine, 1981 (Photo by Dominique Nabokov)









It’s interesting to read about a view of art that totally differs from mine. Arlene Croce, New Yorker dance critic for twenty-three years (1973-1996), believed that art-making is the process by which raw experience is transformed into aesthetic experience. “Croce was perfectly willing to go to the theater and witness the most agonizing scenes of pain, suffering, and death, but only with the understanding that the ‘realism-idealism equation’ was engaged, that real life had in some way been transformed.” I’m quoting from Jed Perl’s wonderful tribute to Croce, “Echoes of Eternity,” in the March 27, 2025, The New York Review of Books. Perl’s defence of this view is curious. He writes,

You can disagree with Croce, but to do so you must argue that art is little more than a frame through which to observe the lives we’re living—or to launch theories or even polemics about the meaning of our lives. That’s the position of the social realists who dominated Soviet culture through the Stalinist years and of some in the arts community today, but Croce didn’t see it as a plausible approach for either an artist or an audience in a free society. 

Well, I disagree with Croce, but it has nothing to do with social realism or Soviet culture. It has everything to do with literary journalism, street photography, and documentary work. I relish art and writing that bring me as close to reality as possible. Show me life as is, warts and all. To hell with transformation. That’s for escapists and ballet fans. 

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