Friday, December 24, 2010
Photo Tour: Omar Chacon at Margaret Thatcher Projects
I don't know much about Omar Chacon--he is from Colombia but was educated in the U.S. But I just love these manic, colorful paintings. This show was up in December at Margaret Thatcher Gallery in New York. (You might have wondered what she was doing since her stint as British PM.) These pictures are hard to photograph--if you get any distance on them, they become kind of a blur of color. This is why I have a lot of close-ups and details. That said, they are well-worth seeing in person if you have the opportunity.
Photo Tour: Anselm Kiefer at Gagosian Gallery
Ansem Kiefer's amazing show, "Next Year in Jerusalem," at the Gagosian Gallery closed on December 18 with controversy. I saw it at the beginning of December in a crowded gallery. It was designed, clearly, to be an overwhelming experience. Kiefer has never been a a maker of small objects (his current project involves building what amounts to a city). Yet all that work is in the service of depicting things that appear ruined, burnt, destroyed. His work often references the Holocaust. I think he takes great risks in his art--he risks appearing grandiose, self-important, foolish--but despite these risks, his art succeeds.
Here are some photos from "Next Year in Jerusalem."
Here are some photos from "Next Year in Jerusalem."
Thursday, December 23, 2010
The Dinner Party by Judy Chicago
by Robert Boyd
One of the things I saw while I was in New York earlier this month was The Dinner Party by Judy Chicago. After reading her autobiography, I was really intrigued to see it. It's an enormous work. When it was created in 1979, it ended up touring for nine years. But after that, it stayed mostly in storage until 2007, when the Brooklyn Museum created a permanent display for it.
Judy Chicago, The Dinner Party detail ("Primordial Goddess"), 1979
The piece is installed in a dark room with dramatic lighting. The table is shaped like an equilateral triangle. It's huge--48 feet on each side--and features 39 place settings for famous women primarily from history (with a few from myth, like the one above). The table rests on a tile floor on which are written the names of 999 additional notable women.
Judy Chicago, The Dinner Party detail ("Sappho"), 1979
It was first displayed at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, whose director, Henry Hopkins, likely knew Chicago from their days in the L.A. art scene. But the next stop on its nine year tour is still kind of surprising to me: Houston. Even more surprising, the University of Houston: Clear Lake.
Judy Chicago, The Dinner Party detail ("Theodora"), 1979
Now for those not from Houston, let me tell you how odd this is. Clear Lake is a master-planned suburb on the south side of Houston on Galveston Bay. For Houstonians, I think the thing they think of when they think of Clear Lake is NASA. Many of the people who live there work for NASA, NASA contractors, or other aerospace firms in the area. It is far from the museums and art galleries in town, both in terms of physical distance and in terms of cultural distance. But in 1980, with the help of a lot of volunteers, the piece was installed at the University of Houston's Clear Lake branch campus.
Judy Chicago, The Dinner Party detail ("Atemisia Gentileschi"), 1979
Critical reaction was not surprisingly mixed. And there was a bit of political controversy--ultraconservative California Congressman Bob Dornan denounced it (but it would have been disappointing if he hadn't denounced it, in a way). But what is more interesting is how it stands now. It's been over 30 years since its debut. But in my mind, it has been somewhat ignored by art history. It doesn't easily fit into some of the conventional narratives. One of the arguments one hears against it is that it is essentializing--all these women are included because they are women, not because of their individual uniqueness. The fact that each place setting is an abstracted ceramic vagina further essentialized the subjects. This is an inherent problem when someone makes a work (whether a piece of art or work of history or whatever) that makes an effort to recognize a group of people who were marginalized in the past because of some common feature--their gender, their race, their nationality, etc. Such work is often denigratingly called "victim art."
Judy Chicago, The Dinner Party detail ("Mary Wolstonecraft"), 1979
This is one of the many problems of political art, and why it is so difficult to make good political art. Chicago, I think, tries to overwhelm this inherent problem by creating something so dazzling and huge and beautiful that such nagging complaints are just blown away. In this sense, think of it as the equivalent of great church spectacles--architecture, sculpture and painting coming together in brilliant form. When you see the Ecstasy of St. Theresa by Bernini, you don't think of the Inquisition. Whatever objections one might have to the idea behind the piece get swept away.
Judy Chicago, The Dinner Party detail ("Sojourner Truth"), 1979
I admit I was swept away. My reaction was highly emotional. I reveled in the work. But at the same time, I know that this was the result of its magnificence--a magnificence created by the overwhelming quantity of beautiful objects, the fantastic staging, and dramatic lighting. It's like when you are watching a big Hollywood movie and you get all choked up at the emotional climax. Those Hollywood directors are master manipulators. My old art history professor Thomas McEvilley used to call this "psyching out the working class"--that productions from Bernini's sculptural tableaux to Hollywood movies were instruments of control by the ruling class. But obviously that's not the case with The Dinner Party. Chicago seems to be using all those tricks and theatrics for the opposite purpose.
Judy Chicago, The Dinner Party detail ("Emily Dickinson"), 1979
Anyway, I'll leave those arguments for others. I love The Dinner Party.
Judy Chicago, The Dinner Party detail ("Susan B. Anthony"), 1979
Thirty years ago, The Dinner Party was in Houston. Now they are having a thirtieth anniversary celebration. In February, UH Clear Lake is putting up a 30th anniversary exhibit of drawings, test plates, and maquettes for the piece, along with seminars and lectures. Looks like a good excuse to visit Clear Lake.
Judy Chicago, The Dinner Party detail ("Virginia Woolf"), 1979
Judy Chicago, The Dinner Party detail ("Georgia O'Keefe"), 1979
One of the things I saw while I was in New York earlier this month was The Dinner Party by Judy Chicago. After reading her autobiography, I was really intrigued to see it. It's an enormous work. When it was created in 1979, it ended up touring for nine years. But after that, it stayed mostly in storage until 2007, when the Brooklyn Museum created a permanent display for it.
Judy Chicago, The Dinner Party detail ("Primordial Goddess"), 1979
The piece is installed in a dark room with dramatic lighting. The table is shaped like an equilateral triangle. It's huge--48 feet on each side--and features 39 place settings for famous women primarily from history (with a few from myth, like the one above). The table rests on a tile floor on which are written the names of 999 additional notable women.
Judy Chicago, The Dinner Party detail ("Sappho"), 1979
It was first displayed at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, whose director, Henry Hopkins, likely knew Chicago from their days in the L.A. art scene. But the next stop on its nine year tour is still kind of surprising to me: Houston. Even more surprising, the University of Houston: Clear Lake.
Months before The Dinner Party opened in San Francisco, CA, Judy Chicago addressed a sales conference of publishing representatives, describing the epic project that she documented in The Dinner Party: A Symbol of Our Heritage (1979). In the audience was a young woman from Houston, Evelyn Hubbard, who had worked for U.S. Representative Barbara Jordan before becoming the first African American sales rep in the huge Doubleday firm. Impressed by Chicago's presentation, Hubbard told feminist bookseller MaryRoss Taylor, "We need to get this show to Houston as a follow-up to the International Women's Year Conference." Taylor called The Dinner Party studio in Santa Monica and formed a committee of local art professionals to help a handful of feminist activists in the quest for a venue. Calvin Cannon, then Dean of Humanities at University of Houston - Clear Lake, said "Yes," and the show opened there in 1980 to enthusiastic reviews from local art critics and the public. "Where did we go wrong?" wailed feminist activist Helen Cassidy, "We thought we were starting a revolution, but they love it!" (Through the Flower)
Judy Chicago, The Dinner Party detail ("Theodora"), 1979
Now for those not from Houston, let me tell you how odd this is. Clear Lake is a master-planned suburb on the south side of Houston on Galveston Bay. For Houstonians, I think the thing they think of when they think of Clear Lake is NASA. Many of the people who live there work for NASA, NASA contractors, or other aerospace firms in the area. It is far from the museums and art galleries in town, both in terms of physical distance and in terms of cultural distance. But in 1980, with the help of a lot of volunteers, the piece was installed at the University of Houston's Clear Lake branch campus.
Judy Chicago, The Dinner Party detail ("Atemisia Gentileschi"), 1979
Critical reaction was not surprisingly mixed. And there was a bit of political controversy--ultraconservative California Congressman Bob Dornan denounced it (but it would have been disappointing if he hadn't denounced it, in a way). But what is more interesting is how it stands now. It's been over 30 years since its debut. But in my mind, it has been somewhat ignored by art history. It doesn't easily fit into some of the conventional narratives. One of the arguments one hears against it is that it is essentializing--all these women are included because they are women, not because of their individual uniqueness. The fact that each place setting is an abstracted ceramic vagina further essentialized the subjects. This is an inherent problem when someone makes a work (whether a piece of art or work of history or whatever) that makes an effort to recognize a group of people who were marginalized in the past because of some common feature--their gender, their race, their nationality, etc. Such work is often denigratingly called "victim art."
Judy Chicago, The Dinner Party detail ("Mary Wolstonecraft"), 1979
This is one of the many problems of political art, and why it is so difficult to make good political art. Chicago, I think, tries to overwhelm this inherent problem by creating something so dazzling and huge and beautiful that such nagging complaints are just blown away. In this sense, think of it as the equivalent of great church spectacles--architecture, sculpture and painting coming together in brilliant form. When you see the Ecstasy of St. Theresa by Bernini, you don't think of the Inquisition. Whatever objections one might have to the idea behind the piece get swept away.
Judy Chicago, The Dinner Party detail ("Sojourner Truth"), 1979
I admit I was swept away. My reaction was highly emotional. I reveled in the work. But at the same time, I know that this was the result of its magnificence--a magnificence created by the overwhelming quantity of beautiful objects, the fantastic staging, and dramatic lighting. It's like when you are watching a big Hollywood movie and you get all choked up at the emotional climax. Those Hollywood directors are master manipulators. My old art history professor Thomas McEvilley used to call this "psyching out the working class"--that productions from Bernini's sculptural tableaux to Hollywood movies were instruments of control by the ruling class. But obviously that's not the case with The Dinner Party. Chicago seems to be using all those tricks and theatrics for the opposite purpose.
Judy Chicago, The Dinner Party detail ("Emily Dickinson"), 1979
Anyway, I'll leave those arguments for others. I love The Dinner Party.
Judy Chicago, The Dinner Party detail ("Susan B. Anthony"), 1979
Thirty years ago, The Dinner Party was in Houston. Now they are having a thirtieth anniversary celebration. In February, UH Clear Lake is putting up a 30th anniversary exhibit of drawings, test plates, and maquettes for the piece, along with seminars and lectures. Looks like a good excuse to visit Clear Lake.
Judy Chicago, The Dinner Party detail ("Virginia Woolf"), 1979
Judy Chicago, The Dinner Party detail ("Georgia O'Keefe"), 1979
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Comics in Art Museums
I've discussed the intersection of comics and the art world many times on this blog. Here's another such intersection, and it makes me wish I was going to be in Chicago next month (Chicago in January?! It would be worth it).
Lilli Carré, Splits, 2010
"New Chicago Comics" is showing at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago from January 8 through January 30, featuring Lilli Carré, Jeffrey Brown, Paul Hornschemeier and Anders Nilsen. Bravo to the museum for showing comics artists! Boo to the museum for the insultingly short timeframe! Bravo for having a big Jim Nutt retrospective! Boo to the museum for including just one cartoonist, Chris Ware, to be in the companion exhibit, Seeing Is a Kind of Thinking: A Jim Nutt Companion, that "includes work by more than 50 contemporary artists that resonates—either formally or through its subject matter—with aspects of Nutt's work."
Getting the comics world and the art world to hold hands and sing together is never going to be easy. The Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago has made a good effort, so my "bravos" outweigh my "boos."
Photo Tour: Women Pop Artists at the Brooklyn Museum
The thing that is amazing about New York is that not only are there tons of great museums in Manhattan, but Brooklyn has its own museum--one that any city would be proud to have. It would be a little like, I don't know, the west side of Houston having its own art museum. Here are photos from a show, Seductive Subversion: Women Pop Artists 1958-1968, I saw there earlier this month. (Did I mention that they have a very enlightened attitude towards patrons taking photos?)
Marisol, The Bicycle Riders, 1962, wood, paint, graphite, cast plaster, cast metal and plastic
Lee Lozano, No Titles, 1962, colored pencil and crayon on paper
Idelle Weber, Woman With a Jump Rope, circa 1964-65, plexiglass and neon
Chryssa, Cents Sign Traveling from Broadway to Africa via Guadeloupe, 1968, neon tubing and plexiglass
Idelle Weber, Nine Cubes, circa 1968-70, silkscreened lucite
Chryssa, Newspaper II, 1961, oil on canvas
Marisol, The Bicycle Riders, 1962, wood, paint, graphite, cast plaster, cast metal and plastic
Lee Lozano, No Titles, 1962, colored pencil and crayon on paper
Idelle Weber, Woman With a Jump Rope, circa 1964-65, plexiglass and neon
Chryssa, Cents Sign Traveling from Broadway to Africa via Guadeloupe, 1968, neon tubing and plexiglass
Idelle Weber, Nine Cubes, circa 1968-70, silkscreened lucite
Chryssa, Newspaper II, 1961, oil on canvas
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Books I Got in Brooklyn, part 2
Robert Boyd
I wrote a couple of days ago about how there seemed to be an increase in the number of fairy-tale/folklore influenced alternative comics while simultaneously there being a decline in the overwhelming importance of autobiography. While this is true, I'd still say that autobiographic is the most popular genre for alternative cartoonists. Furthermore, there is a backlog of autobiographical comics that until now haven't been collected. For example, Dennis Eichhorn has had two books of his work collected, but has hundreds of uncollected pages. And he was one of the most prominent autobiographers of the 90s. Suddenly Something Happened by Jimmy Beaulieu is of more recent vintage, but it still took a long time for this book to appear. The stories in it date from 2002 to 2006 (and the events depicted are even earlier). They're excellent, so why did it take so long? Simple--they were written in French. Beaulieu is a French-Canadian artist. The French-Canadian scene is one of the best in North America, but we anglophones only see a little bit of it--Julie Doucet, Guy Delisle and Michel Rabagliati are the best-known. (However, our English-language exposure to French-Canadian alternative comics dwarfs our exposure to Mexican alternative comics.) Until now, Drawn & Quarterly has been the main conduit into English for these cartoonists. But Suddenly Something Happened was published by Conundrum Press with support from the Canada Council for the Arts and the government of Canada. So thank you, our moderately socialist neighbor to the north!
Jimmy Beaulieu, Suddenly Something Happened cover, 2010
Suddenly Something Happened is a thick (254 pages) book, but it flies by quickly when you read it. This is in part due to Beaulieu's sketchy, casual drawing style. It's not bold--indeed, it's primarily drawn in pencil. The first half of the book has grey tones added with marker (I think), but later on, he just relies on his trusty pencil to make all the marks on the page. I think we are seeing more comics artists willing to work with pencil only. Historically, comics have been "inked" to make them ready for reproduction. This was done because it was what turn of the 19th century technology required. Now we have scanners and digital cameras and computers, and inking isn't necessary. Some cartoonists use inking wonderfully as an expressive device--Jim Woodring, for example. But usually, I think cartoonists reflexively ink their work because it is the traditional way to do comics. Beaulieu dispenses with all that. It gives his work an immediate, diary-like quality which suits the subject well.
Jimmy Beaulieu, from "Transplanted" Suddenly Something Happened page 37, 2002-2010
The first half of the book is about Jimmy the single guy, surrounded by beautiful women and always missing his cues or else falling for the ones he can't have. You can see that Beaulieu likes to draw beautiful women. In this regard, he reminds me of Roy Crane--his appreciation for beautiful, fashionable contemporary women is as obvious as it was with Crane in the 1930s. The trick is to not be overtly sexual. Beaulieu's women are not fantasy objects, but characters.
Jimmy Beaulieu, from "Short Story" Suddenly Something Happened page 85, 2002-2010
Like the girl who pops up just once in this little heartbreaker of a story. In a few short pages, Beaulieu takes us from a random flirtation, to a possible assignation with a prostitute, to a tragedy. It's moving and powerful.
Jimmy Beaulieu, from "The Parallax Effect" Suddenly Something Happened page 115, 2002-2010
About halfway through the book, Jimmy meets Melissa who becomes his girlfriend. A trip to meet Jimmy's relatives is an opportunity for him to think about his childhood, and how he ended up the way he did.
There's not much of a story arc here. Just the story of a young man getting older, finding love and companionship, and settling down. But Beaulieu uses this familiar material well. His work recalls Eddie Campbell's Alec, although Campbell includes more moments of high drama. It is interesting that they both work in a sketchy, hand-writerly drawing style.
Jimmy Beaulieu, from "Complete with Air Conditioning and Seatbelts" Suddenly Something Happened page 204, 2002-2010
I include this page in the review because I love it. But also because it suggests to me that Lorenzo Mattotti might be an artistic influence.
Renée French, h day cover, 2010
With a name like Renée French, you might expect this artist to actually be French or Franch-Canadian. But as far as I know, French is 100% American. Not that there would be any translation issues in her latest book, h day (Picturebox). It is completely wordless.
The book is structured as two parallel narratives. The left-hand pages generally feature a figure drawn against a white background. Things are happening to the figure's head. The back-cover copy says that the book deals with French's struggle with migraines, and the images on the left could be seen as visual metaphors for that condition. But if you didn't know that migraines were one of the subjects of the book, you still would likely interpret this as being about something bad happening in someone's head--mental illness, stroke, etc.
The right side is a disjointed narrative of a city. We see images of people, ants, and a dog, who we occasionally follow. But there are ruptures in this narrative.
Renée French, h day pages 62-63, 2010
Occasionally, as in the spread above, the two narratives seem to match up in some way. But typically it isn't really possible to link them in any obvious way.
h day's double narrative and concern with a head malady reminds me of Doris Lessing's Briefing for a Descent Into Hell. In it, the protagonist has had a serious mental breakdown and is now catatonic in a mental hospital. The double narrative is that we see what is happening in Charles Watkin's head--a bizarre series of dreamlike adventures--and what is happening in the hospital--two doctors arguing over which drugs with which to treat Watkins. Every time they change his drug regimen, Watkins' visions experience a drastic shift. As I read h day, I wondered if the ruptures in the "right hand" narrative also represented different stages or types of treatment for migraine.
Renée French, h day pages 110-111, 2010
The dog in the right-hand narrative in some ways appears to be a standard issue city stray. It wanders about and encounters several dangerous situations. It goes outside of the city into the hilly countryside. And at one point, it is wrapped up in splints and bandages, becoming kind of a mummy dog. It wriggles free of its restraints, though. In the end, it enters a large square boat (an ark?) and sails away. I am loathe to try to interpret the dog symbolically. We are certainly meant to sympathize with it (it's cute!), but at the same time, it leaves at the same time the migraine seems to go away.
Renée French, h day pages 148-149, 2010
But even speculating like this risks oversimplifying it. I spoke of ruptures to the narrative. In one section, the right-hand narrative just stops, replaced by images of strange wicker objects. They are quite mysterious. This layer of inexplicability, of the uncanny, places this work in the same school as The Cage. And like The Cage, it has one image per page. It seems superfluous to add at this point that the drawings are beautiful and quite powerful. h day is an incredible accomplishment.
I wrote a couple of days ago about how there seemed to be an increase in the number of fairy-tale/folklore influenced alternative comics while simultaneously there being a decline in the overwhelming importance of autobiography. While this is true, I'd still say that autobiographic is the most popular genre for alternative cartoonists. Furthermore, there is a backlog of autobiographical comics that until now haven't been collected. For example, Dennis Eichhorn has had two books of his work collected, but has hundreds of uncollected pages. And he was one of the most prominent autobiographers of the 90s. Suddenly Something Happened by Jimmy Beaulieu is of more recent vintage, but it still took a long time for this book to appear. The stories in it date from 2002 to 2006 (and the events depicted are even earlier). They're excellent, so why did it take so long? Simple--they were written in French. Beaulieu is a French-Canadian artist. The French-Canadian scene is one of the best in North America, but we anglophones only see a little bit of it--Julie Doucet, Guy Delisle and Michel Rabagliati are the best-known. (However, our English-language exposure to French-Canadian alternative comics dwarfs our exposure to Mexican alternative comics.) Until now, Drawn & Quarterly has been the main conduit into English for these cartoonists. But Suddenly Something Happened was published by Conundrum Press with support from the Canada Council for the Arts and the government of Canada. So thank you, our moderately socialist neighbor to the north!
Jimmy Beaulieu, Suddenly Something Happened cover, 2010
Suddenly Something Happened is a thick (254 pages) book, but it flies by quickly when you read it. This is in part due to Beaulieu's sketchy, casual drawing style. It's not bold--indeed, it's primarily drawn in pencil. The first half of the book has grey tones added with marker (I think), but later on, he just relies on his trusty pencil to make all the marks on the page. I think we are seeing more comics artists willing to work with pencil only. Historically, comics have been "inked" to make them ready for reproduction. This was done because it was what turn of the 19th century technology required. Now we have scanners and digital cameras and computers, and inking isn't necessary. Some cartoonists use inking wonderfully as an expressive device--Jim Woodring, for example. But usually, I think cartoonists reflexively ink their work because it is the traditional way to do comics. Beaulieu dispenses with all that. It gives his work an immediate, diary-like quality which suits the subject well.
Jimmy Beaulieu, from "Transplanted" Suddenly Something Happened page 37, 2002-2010
The first half of the book is about Jimmy the single guy, surrounded by beautiful women and always missing his cues or else falling for the ones he can't have. You can see that Beaulieu likes to draw beautiful women. In this regard, he reminds me of Roy Crane--his appreciation for beautiful, fashionable contemporary women is as obvious as it was with Crane in the 1930s. The trick is to not be overtly sexual. Beaulieu's women are not fantasy objects, but characters.
Jimmy Beaulieu, from "Short Story" Suddenly Something Happened page 85, 2002-2010
Like the girl who pops up just once in this little heartbreaker of a story. In a few short pages, Beaulieu takes us from a random flirtation, to a possible assignation with a prostitute, to a tragedy. It's moving and powerful.
Jimmy Beaulieu, from "The Parallax Effect" Suddenly Something Happened page 115, 2002-2010
About halfway through the book, Jimmy meets Melissa who becomes his girlfriend. A trip to meet Jimmy's relatives is an opportunity for him to think about his childhood, and how he ended up the way he did.
There's not much of a story arc here. Just the story of a young man getting older, finding love and companionship, and settling down. But Beaulieu uses this familiar material well. His work recalls Eddie Campbell's Alec, although Campbell includes more moments of high drama. It is interesting that they both work in a sketchy, hand-writerly drawing style.
Jimmy Beaulieu, from "Complete with Air Conditioning and Seatbelts" Suddenly Something Happened page 204, 2002-2010
I include this page in the review because I love it. But also because it suggests to me that Lorenzo Mattotti might be an artistic influence.
Renée French, h day cover, 2010
With a name like Renée French, you might expect this artist to actually be French or Franch-Canadian. But as far as I know, French is 100% American. Not that there would be any translation issues in her latest book, h day (Picturebox). It is completely wordless.
The book is structured as two parallel narratives. The left-hand pages generally feature a figure drawn against a white background. Things are happening to the figure's head. The back-cover copy says that the book deals with French's struggle with migraines, and the images on the left could be seen as visual metaphors for that condition. But if you didn't know that migraines were one of the subjects of the book, you still would likely interpret this as being about something bad happening in someone's head--mental illness, stroke, etc.
The right side is a disjointed narrative of a city. We see images of people, ants, and a dog, who we occasionally follow. But there are ruptures in this narrative.
Renée French, h day pages 62-63, 2010
Occasionally, as in the spread above, the two narratives seem to match up in some way. But typically it isn't really possible to link them in any obvious way.
h day's double narrative and concern with a head malady reminds me of Doris Lessing's Briefing for a Descent Into Hell. In it, the protagonist has had a serious mental breakdown and is now catatonic in a mental hospital. The double narrative is that we see what is happening in Charles Watkin's head--a bizarre series of dreamlike adventures--and what is happening in the hospital--two doctors arguing over which drugs with which to treat Watkins. Every time they change his drug regimen, Watkins' visions experience a drastic shift. As I read h day, I wondered if the ruptures in the "right hand" narrative also represented different stages or types of treatment for migraine.
Renée French, h day pages 110-111, 2010
The dog in the right-hand narrative in some ways appears to be a standard issue city stray. It wanders about and encounters several dangerous situations. It goes outside of the city into the hilly countryside. And at one point, it is wrapped up in splints and bandages, becoming kind of a mummy dog. It wriggles free of its restraints, though. In the end, it enters a large square boat (an ark?) and sails away. I am loathe to try to interpret the dog symbolically. We are certainly meant to sympathize with it (it's cute!), but at the same time, it leaves at the same time the migraine seems to go away.
Renée French, h day pages 148-149, 2010
But even speculating like this risks oversimplifying it. I spoke of ruptures to the narrative. In one section, the right-hand narrative just stops, replaced by images of strange wicker objects. They are quite mysterious. This layer of inexplicability, of the uncanny, places this work in the same school as The Cage. And like The Cage, it has one image per page. It seems superfluous to add at this point that the drawings are beautiful and quite powerful. h day is an incredible accomplishment.
Monday, December 20, 2010
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