Daily Office: Wednesday
Morning
¶ Poll: Behind the brouhaha about The New Yorker‘s Barack and Michelle Obama spoof cover, entitled “The Politics of Fear,” there’s the deepening impression that “race” (skin color) is still a matter about which black and white Americans don’t share a perspective.
Noon
¶ Turner: I took another look at the Turner show at the Met this afternoon. It’s growing on me!
Night
¶ Stone: Incidental to the Museum visit, there as a bit of book-buying, both at the Museum itself and at Crawford-Doyle, the favorite-bookstore that happens to be right around the corner on Madison, between 81st and 82nd. I could have bought this at C-D, but I’d already fallen for it at the Museum.
Oremus…
Morning, cont’d
§ Poll. Which is only natural. I can understand, that whites, for whom things have not improved very much in recent years, would imagine that they have improved for blacks, but I’d agree with blacks that they haven’t. And yet, even as I say that, I wondeer what kind of fool I am, to be trusting a poll that, no matter how scrupulous its methods, sounded fewer than thousand Americans.
About the cover, Kathleen and I are somewhat divided. She thinks that Barry Blitt’s drawing is “irresponsible,” at least as cover art. I suppose that I ought to agree — what were they thinking, burning the flag in the fireplace? — but instead I find that nearly forty years of life under William Shawn (still most of my time on earth) has molded my mind to resist, utterly, the idea that the magazine could be irresponsible.
Noon, cont’d
§ Turner. For all the impressionism of his mature pictures, Turner looks to me like the last of the Old Masters. This isn’t to say that he’s conservative or retrospective — although he could paint careful, almost pedantic history panels that were clearly informed by the picturesque masters of the Seventeenth Century. It’s rather that he could paint them, and knew how to apply formidable skills with oil paint to the execution of new effects. Even a picture such as Rough Sea (1844-6), which could be just as plausibly presented as “Untitled Nº 6 (1955),” is obviously the work of an expert painter.
Night, cont’d
§ Stone. I haven’t made up my mind about Philip Ball’s book yet. It’s certainly readable and interesting. But it has the air of a really super PBS program. In fairness, I’ve only just begun. (They must be expected big things from this title, as it’s already available for Kindle.)
Anyway, Mr Ball mentions Beauvais in passing, and I just had to have a look at Beauvais — which I didn’t know is properly called the Cathedral of St Peter. In school, I was taught that the roof of Beauvais cathedral fell down “thirteen times” before “they got it right.” In fact, it only collapsed twice. They never did rebuild the nave, which gives St-Pierre the most curious profile from the air. One of the grandest of Gothic choirs, with majestic transepts — and a dinky Romanesque nave that’s barely half as tall. As I say, though, I had to have a look. Have a look!