The Essence of Things...
Sunday 26th July 2004
1930hrs. Have just finished watching a BBC4 documentary on the sculptor Constantin Brancusi. Presented by Ben Lewis. What a dreadful wretch this man appears to be. Having seen the Tate Modern exhibition 'The Essence of Things', I was looking forward to gaining further insight into the artist and the man, his methods and theories. However, we are subjected to Lewis' public school drivel regarding the works' spirituality and whether it was a 'con'. Having researched about the presenter on the internet, it appears that he studied Art at Cambridge. Wow.... Surely, the subjectivity of Art would be something drilled into him at an early stage of his learning. Or perhaps, studying the subject itself had the reverse effect. I mean, who chooses what subject to study? Universities and professors subjecting their opinions onto others. Which is, I guess, what Lewis was doing in the documentary. Regardless, how did this man find himself in the position of writing, directing and presenting a documentary for one of the world's most respected broadcasting corporations? I have just wasted 45 mins of my life. It had the potential to be an uplifting, inspirational 45 mins but I find myself filled with bile once more. Essentially, my understanding of Brancusi and his attempt to present 'the essence of things' remains elementary. The presenter spoiled what was probably for many, an introduction to Brancusi's works.
What is the purpose of a documentary about Art/Artists? I don't know for sure but education has to be a principal goal. The recent attempt at introducing 'high art' to the masses hasn't succeeded as far as I can tell. I need to understand as many things as I can. I want to learn more and more. I want to know why Brancusi is considered a master sculptor, a revolutionary modernist. Instead I have to suffer Lewis' egotistical, faux modest, faux simplistic approach. Perhaps it is indicative of the BBC's decline in standards. I watched a documentary last week on experimental music in the 1960's which, too, was spoiled by the aesthetics of the documentary rather than its contents. It seems the BBC sometimes try too hard to break barriers in order to justify its existence when they should concentrate on their considerable strengths.
I watched the Royal Tenembaums last night. I had been intending to revisit the film since watching my brother's copy of Rushmore (further investigation revealed that this film was made in 1998. This seems odd - the film has a late 1980's sheen to it and I could have sworn that I looked at the case in order to confirm this), both having been directed by Wes Anderson. When first watching the film at the Showroom cinema in Sheffield on its initial release, I immediately recognised its originality but felt that the story didn't grab me as much as it perhaps should have. The second viewing confirmed it to be a terrific film, a real attempt at innovation. The soundtrack perfectly accompanies the trajectory of the plot. I remember on its first viewing the emotional impact of Elliot Smith's 'Needle in the Hay' which accompanies Ritchie Tenembaum's suicide attempt. It was the first time I had heard the song. The extras on the DVD were also superb. I like and equally dislike being let in on the secrets of film making. I feel I am learning but also find it hard to watch the next film with the same naivety.
Also watched Everyone Says I Love You by Woody Allen. Realised during the opening scenes that I had seen it previously. I had told Ben, who leant me the film, that I hadn't seen it and my excitement made itself apparent. That excitement soon dimmed. The film's dialogue was typically a joy. I am yet to watch a musical without feeling nauseous (bar Cabaret which is slightly different). I have Porgy and Bess on DVD - maybe that can restore (or should I write store?) my faith in musicals. Although I appreciate Gershwin, I have the feeling that throughout its viewing I will be thinking about Miles Davis' version. We shall see......
2348hrs. Little mommy's boy's mommy across the street must have gone on holiday as him and his little greasy mates are having a band practice. It appears they have chosen this late hour to start it. This is not the sort of behaviour that his fellow Russell Road neighbours condone. I wonder if they will call the police. This is a well-to-do area. And yet, you get the impression, in line with the apparent nature of us English people, that they would rather be kept awake all night and face the inevitable consequence of tiredness and frustration than cause a scene. I guess I am the same. Although I don't have to get up in the morning, I can feel the rudimentary (I'm talking in terms of advancement rather than the style of drumming) drumming vibrating through my window and the bass reverberating my insides. The question is: if the music were any good - would I mind being kept awake? If John Coltrane was playing his soul out with an hour long rendition of 'My Favourite Things' would I be inclined to ask him if he'd mind awfully if he could keep the noise down as one has to be at the office for 8??? Mmmmm.....I hope I wouldn't....
The point is that the music is terrible. I can hear echoes of Ugly Kid Joe, early Radiohead, ..... I saw the greasy specimen (his hair and face was actually greasy; I wasn't using the term in a catch-all generalisation fashion) today. Oversized woolly jumper coming over his hands. An awkward walk that teenagers tend to have (Oh! How I long to be rid of my own teenage memories. That is where my empathy for this guy begins and ends). I wonder if he is acting with deliberate ignorance of those inhabiting close-by properties. Is he simply being a teenager? Do his parents usually let him practice at this time? I don't recall hearing anything previously. Fortunately, I am managing to block out the noise with the aid of 'NYC Man' - Lou Reed. I'll save the discussion of Lou's merits for another time. One thing is for sure - he is addictive as the subject of one of his most acclaimed songs.
Time now is 0057hrs. Time to continue reading Haruki Murakami's Hard Boiled Wonderland and The End of the World before going to sleep. Tomorrow, I'll go into town. Probably watch Richard Linklater's Before Sunset. Haven't seen Before Sunrise though. Whatever. Brother goes to Portland, Oregon tomorrow. Cool.
1930hrs. Have just finished watching a BBC4 documentary on the sculptor Constantin Brancusi. Presented by Ben Lewis. What a dreadful wretch this man appears to be. Having seen the Tate Modern exhibition 'The Essence of Things', I was looking forward to gaining further insight into the artist and the man, his methods and theories. However, we are subjected to Lewis' public school drivel regarding the works' spirituality and whether it was a 'con'. Having researched about the presenter on the internet, it appears that he studied Art at Cambridge. Wow.... Surely, the subjectivity of Art would be something drilled into him at an early stage of his learning. Or perhaps, studying the subject itself had the reverse effect. I mean, who chooses what subject to study? Universities and professors subjecting their opinions onto others. Which is, I guess, what Lewis was doing in the documentary. Regardless, how did this man find himself in the position of writing, directing and presenting a documentary for one of the world's most respected broadcasting corporations? I have just wasted 45 mins of my life. It had the potential to be an uplifting, inspirational 45 mins but I find myself filled with bile once more. Essentially, my understanding of Brancusi and his attempt to present 'the essence of things' remains elementary. The presenter spoiled what was probably for many, an introduction to Brancusi's works.
What is the purpose of a documentary about Art/Artists? I don't know for sure but education has to be a principal goal. The recent attempt at introducing 'high art' to the masses hasn't succeeded as far as I can tell. I need to understand as many things as I can. I want to learn more and more. I want to know why Brancusi is considered a master sculptor, a revolutionary modernist. Instead I have to suffer Lewis' egotistical, faux modest, faux simplistic approach. Perhaps it is indicative of the BBC's decline in standards. I watched a documentary last week on experimental music in the 1960's which, too, was spoiled by the aesthetics of the documentary rather than its contents. It seems the BBC sometimes try too hard to break barriers in order to justify its existence when they should concentrate on their considerable strengths.
I watched the Royal Tenembaums last night. I had been intending to revisit the film since watching my brother's copy of Rushmore (further investigation revealed that this film was made in 1998. This seems odd - the film has a late 1980's sheen to it and I could have sworn that I looked at the case in order to confirm this), both having been directed by Wes Anderson. When first watching the film at the Showroom cinema in Sheffield on its initial release, I immediately recognised its originality but felt that the story didn't grab me as much as it perhaps should have. The second viewing confirmed it to be a terrific film, a real attempt at innovation. The soundtrack perfectly accompanies the trajectory of the plot. I remember on its first viewing the emotional impact of Elliot Smith's 'Needle in the Hay' which accompanies Ritchie Tenembaum's suicide attempt. It was the first time I had heard the song. The extras on the DVD were also superb. I like and equally dislike being let in on the secrets of film making. I feel I am learning but also find it hard to watch the next film with the same naivety.
Also watched Everyone Says I Love You by Woody Allen. Realised during the opening scenes that I had seen it previously. I had told Ben, who leant me the film, that I hadn't seen it and my excitement made itself apparent. That excitement soon dimmed. The film's dialogue was typically a joy. I am yet to watch a musical without feeling nauseous (bar Cabaret which is slightly different). I have Porgy and Bess on DVD - maybe that can restore (or should I write store?) my faith in musicals. Although I appreciate Gershwin, I have the feeling that throughout its viewing I will be thinking about Miles Davis' version. We shall see......
2348hrs. Little mommy's boy's mommy across the street must have gone on holiday as him and his little greasy mates are having a band practice. It appears they have chosen this late hour to start it. This is not the sort of behaviour that his fellow Russell Road neighbours condone. I wonder if they will call the police. This is a well-to-do area. And yet, you get the impression, in line with the apparent nature of us English people, that they would rather be kept awake all night and face the inevitable consequence of tiredness and frustration than cause a scene. I guess I am the same. Although I don't have to get up in the morning, I can feel the rudimentary (I'm talking in terms of advancement rather than the style of drumming) drumming vibrating through my window and the bass reverberating my insides. The question is: if the music were any good - would I mind being kept awake? If John Coltrane was playing his soul out with an hour long rendition of 'My Favourite Things' would I be inclined to ask him if he'd mind awfully if he could keep the noise down as one has to be at the office for 8??? Mmmmm.....I hope I wouldn't....
The point is that the music is terrible. I can hear echoes of Ugly Kid Joe, early Radiohead, ..... I saw the greasy specimen (his hair and face was actually greasy; I wasn't using the term in a catch-all generalisation fashion) today. Oversized woolly jumper coming over his hands. An awkward walk that teenagers tend to have (Oh! How I long to be rid of my own teenage memories. That is where my empathy for this guy begins and ends). I wonder if he is acting with deliberate ignorance of those inhabiting close-by properties. Is he simply being a teenager? Do his parents usually let him practice at this time? I don't recall hearing anything previously. Fortunately, I am managing to block out the noise with the aid of 'NYC Man' - Lou Reed. I'll save the discussion of Lou's merits for another time. One thing is for sure - he is addictive as the subject of one of his most acclaimed songs.
Time now is 0057hrs. Time to continue reading Haruki Murakami's Hard Boiled Wonderland and The End of the World before going to sleep. Tomorrow, I'll go into town. Probably watch Richard Linklater's Before Sunset. Haven't seen Before Sunrise though. Whatever. Brother goes to Portland, Oregon tomorrow. Cool.
posted by Steve State at
17:59
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