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lagobond's review against another edition
5.0
This book was far, FAR more interesting than I expected. I initially checked it out from the library to show to someone I know who has a strong interest in art. I stumbled across the book because it features a painting by Agnes Pelton (Awakening: Memory of Father) -- and prominently featured on the back cover, no less! We had just recently discovered and fallen in love with Pelton's otherwordly paintings. As she is not very well known, I was very excited to find anything at all about her at the library. I should add that while I have of course come across plenty of art in my life and visited some museums etc., and while there are certainly pieces I love, I never would have described myself as an "art lover."
I got the book back with slightly-surprised-sounding praise, because it is sort of a broad introduction to art, and not the kind of book most people would pick off the shelf after decades' worth of being immersed in the art world. So I decided to read the Agnes Pelton bit, and then I thought I'd see what's on the next page, and browse a little more, and then I started reading from the beginning... Before I knew what was happening, I was fully immersed. Turns out I have more of an interest in art than I ever realized! I read the whole thing cover to cover. It did take me a while since there's a lot of information to digest, especially since I went down the Google rabbit hole on some of the artists and art works that, well, spoke to me: Do Ho Suh's ethereal constructions, John Knight's The Right to be Lazy, Candida Höfer's photography, Nick Cave's Soundsuits, Ilit Azoulay's creations, Suzanne Lacy's The Circle and the Square.
I really enjoyed the format of this book: fifty artists each briefly discuss an art piece from their hometown that inspires them. Each art piece is featured on a full page, accompanied by the artist's musings. Many of the essays are very personal stories of childhood encounters with art, and their lasting impact on the artist. Some are forays into history, sociology, politics; some address more technical topics like perspective or choice of material. Each artist is assigned exactly one page for their chosen artwork, and exactly one page to talk about it. This book is like a tray of hors d'oeuvres: little nibbles, just enough to get the flavor and maybe try a different one right after.
There's a wide variety of art from around the world -- some artists and pieces that I had encountered before, and plenty that were new to me. Some I loved (see above and below). Others had me scratching my head or, at minimum, rolling my eyes: Robert Rauschenberg's Canyon, Percy and Ella Grainger's Toweling Tunic, Annette Messager's undignified use of animal corpses (wtf). Modern art can be truly ridiculous to the point of making me wonder who takes this stuff seriously: pieces like Gabriel Orozco's Accelerated Footballs (scroll down to see the beat-up balls on a terracotta tile floor), John Bock's When I'm Looking Into the Goat Cheese Baiser, Montien Boonma's Venus of Bangkok, or the "work" of Mikala Dwyer (I will spare you the links).
I spent an inordinate amount looking at some of the gorgeous pieces featured, at times using Google to find larger images: Jan Van Eyck's The Virgin and Child with Canon Joris van der Paele and Domenico Ghirlandaio's Portrait of a Young Woman (wow the textures of the brocade and lace in these two paintings!); Paolo Uccello's The Battle of San Romano, the remarkably "modern" looking Indus Valley Civilization male torso, Andrew Wyeth's incredibly realistic Northern Point, and some of Kishio Suga's installations. The Vietnamese sculpture of Buddha enchants me with its unmistakably human shape, so strangely modern in its current weathered appearance, so minimalistically elegant. I find it moving to think about the person who created this sculpture 1,500-ish years ago, and I marvel at the fact that the essence of this piece of art has survived all this time.
The artists' discussion of the pieces (as well as the brief intro to their own work at the end of the book) also ran the gamut. Most of the entries were inspiring, educational, and at times even amusing (Ilit Azoulay on the Ivory Pomegranate). Others were boring, unrelatable/unappealing (to me), or self-centered (John Baldessari). But for the most part I was quite taken with these creators' thoughts about other people's creations, and the various things they taught me about not just the art world, but the world in general; and their own contributions. I'm grateful to the author for introducing me to a wide variety of art I might not have come across otherwise. I also love the format of the book, it feels and looks great and has a nice heft. It's beautifully made, as befits the topic.
P.S. There was some strong competition, but Canadian artist/trash hoarder Liz Magor managed an amazing feat: she gets my own personal Thanks, But No Thanks Award -- BOTH for the worst write-up AND for the dumbest piece of art featured in this book (Carton II). Her musings on the eight-sided Tlingit box strike me as simultaneously pretentious, insensitive, and (I'm guessing) culturally uninformed. But I suppose everyone is entitled to making useless stuff and having an opinion -- including Liz Magor and yours truly, author of this review.
I got the book back with slightly-surprised-sounding praise, because it is sort of a broad introduction to art, and not the kind of book most people would pick off the shelf after decades' worth of being immersed in the art world. So I decided to read the Agnes Pelton bit, and then I thought I'd see what's on the next page, and browse a little more, and then I started reading from the beginning... Before I knew what was happening, I was fully immersed. Turns out I have more of an interest in art than I ever realized! I read the whole thing cover to cover. It did take me a while since there's a lot of information to digest, especially since I went down the Google rabbit hole on some of the artists and art works that, well, spoke to me: Do Ho Suh's ethereal constructions, John Knight's The Right to be Lazy, Candida Höfer's photography, Nick Cave's Soundsuits, Ilit Azoulay's creations, Suzanne Lacy's The Circle and the Square.
I really enjoyed the format of this book: fifty artists each briefly discuss an art piece from their hometown that inspires them. Each art piece is featured on a full page, accompanied by the artist's musings. Many of the essays are very personal stories of childhood encounters with art, and their lasting impact on the artist. Some are forays into history, sociology, politics; some address more technical topics like perspective or choice of material. Each artist is assigned exactly one page for their chosen artwork, and exactly one page to talk about it. This book is like a tray of hors d'oeuvres: little nibbles, just enough to get the flavor and maybe try a different one right after.
There's a wide variety of art from around the world -- some artists and pieces that I had encountered before, and plenty that were new to me. Some I loved (see above and below). Others had me scratching my head or, at minimum, rolling my eyes: Robert Rauschenberg's Canyon, Percy and Ella Grainger's Toweling Tunic, Annette Messager's undignified use of animal corpses (wtf). Modern art can be truly ridiculous to the point of making me wonder who takes this stuff seriously: pieces like Gabriel Orozco's Accelerated Footballs (scroll down to see the beat-up balls on a terracotta tile floor), John Bock's When I'm Looking Into the Goat Cheese Baiser, Montien Boonma's Venus of Bangkok, or the "work" of Mikala Dwyer (I will spare you the links).
I spent an inordinate amount looking at some of the gorgeous pieces featured, at times using Google to find larger images: Jan Van Eyck's The Virgin and Child with Canon Joris van der Paele and Domenico Ghirlandaio's Portrait of a Young Woman (wow the textures of the brocade and lace in these two paintings!); Paolo Uccello's The Battle of San Romano, the remarkably "modern" looking Indus Valley Civilization male torso, Andrew Wyeth's incredibly realistic Northern Point, and some of Kishio Suga's installations. The Vietnamese sculpture of Buddha enchants me with its unmistakably human shape, so strangely modern in its current weathered appearance, so minimalistically elegant. I find it moving to think about the person who created this sculpture 1,500-ish years ago, and I marvel at the fact that the essence of this piece of art has survived all this time.
The artists' discussion of the pieces (as well as the brief intro to their own work at the end of the book) also ran the gamut. Most of the entries were inspiring, educational, and at times even amusing (Ilit Azoulay on the Ivory Pomegranate). Others were boring, unrelatable/unappealing (to me), or self-centered (John Baldessari). But for the most part I was quite taken with these creators' thoughts about other people's creations, and the various things they taught me about not just the art world, but the world in general; and their own contributions. I'm grateful to the author for introducing me to a wide variety of art I might not have come across otherwise. I also love the format of the book, it feels and looks great and has a nice heft. It's beautifully made, as befits the topic.
P.S. There was some strong competition, but Canadian artist/trash hoarder Liz Magor managed an amazing feat: she gets my own personal Thanks, But No Thanks Award -- BOTH for the worst write-up AND for the dumbest piece of art featured in this book (Carton II). Her musings on the eight-sided Tlingit box strike me as simultaneously pretentious, insensitive, and (I'm guessing) culturally uninformed. But I suppose everyone is entitled to making useless stuff and having an opinion -- including Liz Magor and yours truly, author of this review.
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