Julian Schnabel is one of those artists whom critics feel obligated to disdain personally. The list changes, but once artists are on it, they’ll be pricked by kicks for some time to come.
Even sanest man in art criticism – Richard Lacayo – goes mildly nutty at the mention of Schnabel’s name. Here’s Lacayo’s drive-by Schnabel hit in a discussion of Guest of Cindy Sherman by Paul H-O:
Paul comes off as a somewhat goofy but implacable guy who has a way of
getting his foot in the door and a sense of humor about himself. He’s
not afraid to show us footage of artworld blowhard Julian Schnabel —
who (no surprise) does not have a sense of humor about himself —
telling Paul that his tv show is “a sort of masturbatory exercise in
stupidity.” (Careful Julian, that’s a pretty good description of your
entire career as a painter.)
Really? His entire career?
Another must-kick artist is Dale Chihuly. He could make mountains dance, and critics would turn away in disgust. The most recent addition to the critical no-fly zone is Shepard Fairey. Damion Hayes of the street art blog To Fear It Is To Know It is obsessed with disrespecting Fairey. How bad is it? Hayes backs AP over Fairey. That’s a disgrace. Today, again. (A rational view of the case here.)
Artists do not poison waterways, start wars or send the economy into free fall. Rigorous criticism is essential, but personal insults degrade the critic who tosses them off.
I started reading Thomas Albright in the SF Chronicle in college. He later wrote a book about Bay Area art. It’s good but not great. Albright was master of the 10-to-15-inch review in a newspaper. In that small space, he did it all: close attention to the work in question and a sweeping sense of context paired with decisive judgment, all in his confident, smart, no bullshit style.
He died in his late 40s in 1984. At his funeral, someone said that Albright’s attacks were formidable but never personal. In his reviews, Albright called no one names, not even the SF art dealers who once bought space on a billboard to say, “Fire Tom Albright.” I believe they included an exclamation point.
There are recent books trashing the character of Salvador Dali and howls about Marc Chagall’s egomania. That Picasso, what a monster! What counts, even if these people were difficult otherwise, is their art work. Not that I would enjoy their company, necessarily.
Try certain Classicists. These particular Classicists hold art and artists as somewhere below Mount Olympus, where Plato told them they are. The disrespect and ignorance was galling—they did not go to galleries or museums or read art history or criticism—but relative peace prevailed. While I was hardly erudite in their areas, I did not disrespect theirs. They are in fact adjuncts to art. It was a kind of lopsided internecine warfare.
Obsessions with power and condescension run in many fiefdoms. Its real shame is how petty and vindictive much of it is. It makes money, too, for the authors of certain books. Artists are not, however, above this. But they don’t start wars. At least none you hear of.
Steve: I don’t know about the idea that artists don’t start wars. Nero played the violin and Hitler was a landscape painter. Maybe that’s where the German phrase, “hatred of landscape painters,” comes from. Regina
We could add to this new grumbling about Winston Churchill’s alleged dark side, but who was also hilarious, politically ingenious and supposedly quite a decent landscape painter, too.And what a war-waging mensch!
Really Regina? A disgrace. Really?
Yes, Damion. A disgrace. You’re a stand up guy with a blind spot. Enough with your Fairey obsession. Have you confused him with Dick Cheney? Regina