THE LAST OF THE WRATH
The defense of Impressionist art — that in thinking it’s boring or tacky, you’re reacting to its overeproduction, not the quality of the work itself — is a flimsy one. I think it’s valid to be suspect of anything so vague and noncontroversial: blurry flowers, blurry pretty girls, blurry sunsets. I’m glad for Impressionist art though; it gives me something against which to formulate a personal theory of Good Art.
My criteria for music is that it be catchy. A useful test might be: could this song lull a crazy person into a benevolent trance? My criteria for art is more complex, but broken down here are some important elements: minute detail, inventive perversity, cognizant subjects, jewel tones. A useful test might be: could looking at this art create new neural pathways in a baby’s brain?
Here is some stuff I deem great: Leonora Carrington, Otto Dix, Joseph Cornell, Pieter Bruegel, Joan Miro, Ottoman illumination, THE THORNE MINIATURE ROOMS.
The more specific, the better. This is basically always true; the only time it’s not is when you’re trying to lie, cheat, or steal in some subtle way, which, come to think of it, is maybe why so many artists resist specificity. Huh.
