In the Introduction to his great Let’s See (2008), in answer to the question, “So what are your vices as a critic and a writer?,” Schjeldahl answers, “short-windedness.” He says, “My muse won’t play except at standard column lengths. I can manage a bit more with the right subject and a tailwind, but north of two thousand words I start to lose all sense of structure and seize up.” Well, these days, Schjeldahl must be working out. Either that or he’s on steroids. Because his wonderful “The Shape We’re In” is over forty-five hundred words long. The short-winded sprinter has become a zestful long-distance runner.
Saturday, December 27, 2014
December 22 & 29, 2014 Issue
If you’re a fan of Peter Schjeldahl’s writing, as I am,
you’ll relish his "The Shape We're In," in this week’s issue. It’s a
feature-length profile of the sculptor Rachel Harrison. Its approach is more
journalistic than Schjeldahl’s art show reviews are. He visits Harrison in her
Brooklyn apartment (“On display are many paint-it-yourself, plaster-cast hobby
busts of Abraham Lincoln, who interests Harrison as someone whom everybody
likes”) and her studio (“From her studio, she can see a lot, which is partly
divided into parking spaces. On one of my visits, we noted the comings and
goings of an old Mercedes, colored an arrestingly ugly tan”). Together, they
tour the Metropolitan, the Frick, and MOMA. Of their visit to the Frick, he
says, “I failed to sell her on my enthusiasm for Fragonard’s delirious suite of
murals, “The Progress of Love.” She said it made her sick, but wouldn’t say
why.” My favorite part of “The Shape We’re In” is when Schjeldahl and Harrison
meet “at Augustus Saint-Gaudens’s gilded equestrian statue of General Sherman
with an Angel of Victory, across from the Plaza Hotel, on Fifty-ninth Street.”
Schjeldahl writes, “I had promised to alert the skeptical Harrison to the
work’s virtues, but we found that it is now hidden in a huge beige box, for a
restoration of the site. She was thrilled. The box and the picturesquely
jumbled rubble and machinery around it looked like an outsized version of one
of her own works-in-progress.” Harrison’s “junk” aesthetic – her eye for the
overlooked, disregarded, and unwanted – resonates with me. It connects with
some of the observations I made a while back in a piece titled “The Humble
Actual” (posted here). Schjeldahl’s comment, “As for ‘junk,’ Harrison exposes
the arbitrariness of the word, which, like the use of ‘weeds’ to describe
ungoverned plants, insults things that are no less particular for being
unwanted,” expresses my own view perfectly.
In the Introduction to his great Let’s See (2008), in answer to the question, “So what are your vices as a critic and a writer?,” Schjeldahl answers, “short-windedness.” He says, “My muse won’t play except at standard column lengths. I can manage a bit more with the right subject and a tailwind, but north of two thousand words I start to lose all sense of structure and seize up.” Well, these days, Schjeldahl must be working out. Either that or he’s on steroids. Because his wonderful “The Shape We’re In” is over forty-five hundred words long. The short-winded sprinter has become a zestful long-distance runner.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment