In Praise of Criticism - I (Contra Gopnik)

For a tonic alternative to Adam Gopnik’s recent, dismaying, dismal view that “Criticism serves a lower end than art does, and has little effect on it” (“Postscript: Robert Hughes,” newyorker.com, August 7, 2012), check out Dwight Garner’s “A Critic’s Case for Critics Who Are Actually Critical” in this week’s The New York Times Magazine. Garner says, “The best work of Alfred Kazin, George Orwell, Lionel Trilling, Pauline Kael and Dwight Macdonald (to name just a few of the past century’s most perceptive critics) is more valuable – and more stimulating – than all but the most first-rate novels.” I totally agree. I’ll take critical analysis over narrative any day. As Garner says, “Give me some straight talk. Give me a little humor. Give me something real. Above all, give me an argument.”

Interestingly, in conjunction with “A Critic’s Case for Critics Who Are Actually Critical,” Garner posted a list titled “5 Critics Who Deserve a Statue” on the Times’ blog “The Sixth Floor” (nytimes.com, August 16, 2012). Three of the five are New Yorker contributors: Helen Vendler, Clive James, and Kenneth Tynan. They’re excellent choices. I particularly like what Garner says about Tynan:

Elegant theater critic. His critical profiles, which appeared in The New Yorker, are master classes. His smoking style — he held a cigarette between his two middle fingers — will give his statue an unbeatable élan.

Tynan’s smoking style is shown in the above portrait by Snowdon, which was used to illustrate a series of entries from Tynan’s journals, titled “The Third Act” (The New Yorker, August 14, 2000). Tynan’s piece on Johnny Carson, “Fifteen Years of the Salto Mortale” (The New Yorker, February 20, 1978), is perhaps the finest profile ever to appear in the magazine. On the basis of this piece alone, Tynan deserves to be immortalized in stone.  

"Beyond Words: Photography In The New Yorker"

Looking at the photos on display in the exhibition “Beyond Words: Photography in the New Yorker,” at the Howard Greenberg Gallery website (www.howardgreenberg.com), I found myself lingering over only two of them: Steve Pyke’s 2005 portrait of John Ashbery and Snowdon’s 1957 portrait of Iris Murdoch. Pyke’s photo was used to illustrate Larissa MacFarquhar’s wonderful profile of Ashbery (“Present Waking Life,” The New Yorker, November 7, 2005). It’s a fascinating photo. I remember seeing it when it appeared in the magazine. At first, I thought it was a bit flawed. Ashbery’s forehead and eyes reflect the white light of the camera flash, about ten percent of his face is outside the picture frame, and the right side of the photo is dominated by a large, incoherent expanse of black. In terms of composition, the photo is odd. But it’s also memorable, an extreme close-up of a face containing large eyes that look back at us as if they’re seeing our future. As I flicked through the exhibition’s pictures, I was looking for it. And I was delighted when I found it. I was looking for other favorites, too: Pyke’s shimmery black-and-white shot of Rem Koolhass (or is it his reflection?) that appears in the March 14, 2005, issue of The New Yorker, as an illustration for Daniel Zalewski’s “Intelligent Design”; Han Gissinger’s blurred action shot of kitchen reality at the Flamingo coffee shop (see Burkhard Bilger’s “The Egg Men,” The New Yorker, September 5, 2005), Sylvia Plachy’s gritty, off-kilter picture of the up-raised right arm of a statue of Jesus (see Ian Frazier’s “Route 3,” The New Yorker, February 16 & 23, 2004), Robert Polidori’s semi-abstract scrap metal photo illustrating John Seabrook’s “American Scrap” (The New Yorker, January 14, 2008), Martin Schoeller’s gleaming shot of Don Ainsworth driving his “sapphire-drawn convexing elongate stainless mirror” (see John McPhee’s “A Fleet Of One,” The New Yorker, February 17 & 24, 2003), Josef Astor’s gorgeous rooftop beehive-keeper pic that illustrates Adam Gopnik’s “New York Local” (The New Yorker, September 3 & 10, 2007). I regret to report that none of them are in the show. But what is in the show, in addition to Pyke’s extraordinary Ashbery shot, is one of the most intensely literary photos I’ve ever seen. I’m referring to Snowdon’s 1957 black-and-white photo of Iris Murdoch, showing her seated at a table in front of an open book that’s propped up against a lamp, reading intently through a cloud of smoke billowing from the cigarette hanging from the corner of her mouth. There’s a pile of books on the table, and a fountain pen; behind her, there’s a bookcase full of books. Light pours in from a window on her right. The picture has a painterly look, almost as if it was a photo of an oil painting by a great portrait painter. I love this photograph. It was used to illustrate John Updike’s review of Peter J. Conradi’s Iris Murdoch: A Life (“Young Iris,” The New Yorker, October 1, 2001; included in Updike’s 2007 essay collection Due Considerations). In his review, Updike calls Murdoch “the pre-eminent English novelist of the second half of the twentieth century.” But, in 1957, when Snowdon took her picture, her career was just getting started. Snowdon somehow conjured a photograph that predicted her greatness.

Credit: The above photograph of Iris Murdoch is by Snowdon; it appears in the October 1, 2001 issue of The New Yorker as an illustration for John Updike's "Young Iris."