On Originality of Style--The Eternal Debate

God knows I've been posting entries about originality and development of style for what seems a lifetime. I am not anywhere near coming to an opinion, either concrete or phenomenological. But the ideas for examining these questions often come to us from the most unexpected places. I was raking my front yard the other day in the middle of that day and noticed my neighbors' "For Sale" sign gone. A little later, a truck pulled in backwards into their driveway and they began to fill it up. My dear neighbors are gone, I thought. Their labor continued for most of the day. I spied as little as possible, thinking it rude to simply stare. Frankly, I was just sad. Suddenly, the movers carefully loaded Jack Vettrinano's "The Signing Butler" in the cavity of the large truck. You know the painting; it is available in most furniture stores and also in major department stores such as Target and even Walmart. I don't write this in order to bash Vettrianos' masterpiece; I rather like the work myself. But I remember an overly opinionated art appreciation professor I had in my sophomore year in college (gheez, how many years ago) who considered "The Singing Butler" little more than kitsch art. To my amateurish view, that's just downright an ugly statement. Do a search of Jack Vettriano's art and you'll see that this man had a talent that was not kitsch at all, but rather a beautiful self style that echoed with the style of a Master: Edward Hopper. I am certain that I am not the first, nor will be the last to make this connection. Again, do a search and you will see that there are plenty of people willing to label Vettriano a "Hopper wannabe." To me it is the other way around. I suspect that I am being innocent about this, but I think the parallels between the two artists was more the case of one artist absorbing the style of the older, wiser artist and developing a style of his own by means of incorporation. Certainly, the styles are similar in terms of round lines and soft edging, but there is a quality to Vettriano's art that Hopper simply lacks. I cannot post all of the illustrations here to make my point, but the two examples offered here were chosen for a reason. First, the similarities are clear--I've said that--but one thing absent in Hopper is the fullness of movement; the representation of wind, movement and the angular capturing of nature. To be sure, Hopper couldn't possibly do this while depicting his subjects in urban scenes that often turned desolate and lonely; many consider his subjects prisoners of modernity. There are, to be sure, plenty of Hopper paintings (especially his series of residences in Cape Cod) that incorporate elements of nature, but for the most part we know Hopper for his statements of isolation of the individual; the human subject often trapped in rooms with a single window offering the world outside as if in temptation. Vettriano does the same, but places the subject outside the confines of urbanity and reveals nature.

Going back to the idea of color, angular projection and round lines, Hopper and Vettriano are so similar one could easily confuse one for the other. I believe that whether or not Vettriano aimed to make it so (even if he hadn't ever heard of Edward Hopper), he successfully developed an original style from that of Hopper. The absence of facial expression is also a great difference between the two masters. Nevertheless, the two styles blend so closely one has to consider them both original on their own terms.

Good heavens... I've forgotten to write about finishing up "The Diaries of Christopher Isherwood 1939-1960" and how long it took me to cross the ocean of 900 pages. But I feel I have gained new friends in a way, such a tender and tumultuous artistic life; both his and that of Don Bachardy, his long-time partner. The diaries do not cover the later artistic recognition that Isherwood got in the seventies with the extravagance that was "Cabaret." You may recall on my earlier post about Isherwood that I mentioned Sally Bowles and "Cabaret" are based on stories by Isherwood, very early stories at that. At any rate, despite the fact that I disagree with Isherwood practically on everything, I enjoyed "meeting" him and also Bachardy. Here's a video documentary that talks about their relationship HERE. I really think that anything based on real love is a wonderful thing, and, while I don't follow the same emotional interest as Chris and Don, it is a tender story; one can easily grasp that by reading "The Diaries" or watching the documentary. Anything that is REAL LOVE between two people is a blessing... there's already too much hate in the world and anger and pain.

Less Sport, More Art...

My struggle lasted over five years. I still wanted to believe in some obscure part of it, some unblemished, pure aspect of it all. Unfortunately, I couldn't find a single redeemable quality, the elusive... how do you say?... faith of it all. I gave up professional sports earlier this year for good, unconditionally, unequivocally, without remorse or reservation. The fact that I rooted for major teams such as Real Madrid and the New York Yankees put me in some sort of bracket--an unspoken, ugly characteristic no one wants to own up to but has to because it is part and parcel of his or her being. I am talking about appreciating the "money-can-buy-everything" attitude... the "you-owe-me-because-I am-a-great-sport-star" attitude... $10 million a year to play basketball? Please... I don't want to be part of it--in no way, shape or form.

Of course, I have to take into account the allegorical value of sports as a manifestation of human excellence, the triumph of the human spirit, etc. Yet, there seems to be a major deficiency of that triumph even at the college level and Olympic sports. As with everything else, we've become more commercialized, "technologized," and "financialized." With sports' scholarships in NCAA Division I running in the hundred of thousands, even amateurs are given to the luxury of sports. Recently, "The Cleveland Plain Dealer" ran an article dealing with the increase of poverty and foreclosures of homes in the Cuyahoga county. The page facing the one that ran the article was about "The Cleveland Auto Show," and about how a certain basketball star had "several" of his privately own cars on display at the show. One of the automobiles was valued at over $400,000. Now, of course there are people who would say that I am far too idealistic to make such an observation. I am by no means "generally liberal" in my social views, but the fact that no one bothered with running the articles facing each other across the page cannot be simply ignored as an oversight of judgment.

Yesterday I spent most of the day reading "The Aeneid." I see Aeneas very much the same way I see Achilles, warriors of the working-day. There are a few passages that I have underlined because they speak of the "Warrior Mind" in my own experience. Being part of the whole history of the United States Marine Corps--the tradition, the excellence in combat, the unbending code of honor--makes me feel like I am part of the human history of conflict. While I have come a long, long way from all of that, there's still a part of me that identifies with the flight from Troy, the courage of Priam, the stoicism of Aeneas, etc. I am a Marine, I've always been--from the moment I was born--and the fact that time and dust have taken me miles away from the "Warrior Mind," doesn't stop me from making all the connections to the struggles of Aeneas and the rest of his troops. It makes me think of "Jarhead" by Anthony Swofford. "Jarhead" is an admirable book, and it does depict the "Warrior Mind" accurately enough, but the book is a personal account and has more to do about Swofford than the Marine Corps. There are, however, some fine passages, and I will be writing about them tomorrow when I begin to examine quotes from "The Aeneid." See you then.