The Power of Words (and Art)
My last email generated a flurry of responses, and it was shared widely. As a consequence, this Mailing List's audience has grown quite a bit. If you've signed up after reading my last email: welcome!
This might be a good opportunity for me to attempt to describe the idea of this Mailing List.
In many ways, writing these emails allows me to go back to the parts of my blog that at some stage or another fell by the wayside. Beyond that aspect, though, sits the realization that a fulfilled life is only possible for an artist who looks beyond her or his own medium -- and who does it in a sweeping fashion. In these emails, I'm sharing everything and anything that caught my eye, regardless of whether it's a book or article I read, a movie of video clip, a piece of music, or whatever else.
Occasionally, there will be photo talk; and sometimes I also mention my own work.
So if you're new to the List: welcome! I hope you'll enjoy these missives. Feel free to write back -- I love hearing from readers.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?app=desktop&v=zWeSqM6UJpE
I have a love-hate relationship with the work of Francis Bacon, let alone the artist as a person himself. There is a lot that is incredible in both, just as much as there is insufferable. I am suspicious of anything that instantly enables the creation of its own cartoonishness reproduction; yet somehow, Bacon managed to transcend that problem. Or maybe I'm not yet old enough to have the scale tip one way or the other.
Either way, I just came across a video of Michael Horovitz speaking about Bacon (click on the image above to watch it). I hadn't heard of Horovitz before, and I didn't quite know what to expect. Apart from his incredible command of language and his seemingly vast knowledge of literature and art, he provides enormous insight not only into Bacon, but especially in what should (or, if you disagree, at least might) matter in art.
I could tell you what he said, but then you might not watch the video. So you'll have to watch it to find out. If you do, you'll be rewarded with Horowitz reading a poem at the very end.
Someone just asked me whether I could contribute something to a series of posts (on Instagram) about non-photography related works that (his words) "feel particularly useful for photo people." It's the idea of this Mailing List. But in the context of the question, the first thing that came to my mind was one of the most brilliant books I've ever read. It's called Autoportrait, and it was written by Édouard Levé. In a nutshell, it's a long list of mostly short sentences, each of which contains a statement about the author. Here's an excerpt:
"I find myself ugly more often than handsome. I like my voice after a night out or when I have a cold. I am unacquainted with hunger. I was never in the army. I have never pulled a knife on anyone. I have never used a machine gun. I have fired a revolver. I have fired a rifle. I have shot an arrow. I have netted butterflies. I have observed rabbits. I have eaten pheasants. I recognize the scent of a tiger. I have touched the dry head of a tortoise and an elephant’s hard skin. I have caught sight of a herd of wild boar in a forest in Normandy. I ride. I do not explain. I do not excuse. I do not classify. I go fast."
Another short passage:
"I have insulted just one person, the cultural councilor at the consulate where I did my military service. My memory embellishes. I often apologize, always thinking I shouldn’t, and that I shouldn’t have to. Over one summer I got six tick bites, only four years later did I become convinced that I had contracted Lyme disease, after I had read a list of the symptoms on a Web site."
As much as I hate these kinds of comparisons, the sentences themselves are very photographic: they reduce everything down to one very specific thing. Much like most photographs, on their own, they're somewhat useless. But placed in the context of all these other statements, a surprising and revealing picture appears (please excuse the pun). As a reader, you get to know each and every tree, and you think you now know the forest. But you don't. Reading the book (it's a little bit over 100 pages) makes for a surprisingly intoxicating experience.
It's a short email today. As always thank you for reading!
-- Jörg