cwilleford.theburntorangeheresy-第10章

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t　I've　read　all；　as　far　as　I　know；　that's　been　written　about　him。　The　scope　is　wide；　but　the　viewpoint　is　narrow。
　　〃Only　four　other　critics；　all　Europeans；　have　actually　seen　and　written　about　his　work　at　firsthand。　I'll　be　the　first　American　critic　to　examine　his　work；　and　it'll　be　new；　original　painting　that　no　one　else　has　ever　seen　before。　For　the　first　time　in　my　critical　career；　I'll　see　the　most　recent　Nihilistic　Surrealistic　paintings　by　the　most　famous　artist　in　the　world。　It　wifi　also　be　possible；　afterward；　for　me　to　evaluate　and　pare　my　opinions　with　the　critiques　of　those　critics　who've　written　about　his　earlier　work。　I'll　have　a　broad　view　of　Debierue's　growth…or　possible　retrogression…and　historical　support；　or　better　yet；　nonsupport；　for　my　convictions。
　　〃The　incidental　factors　that　led　to　Debierue's　fame　during　the　course　of　contemporary　art　history　are　marvelous。　His　silent；　uphill　fight　against　improbable　odds　appears；　on　the　surface；　to　be　effortless；　but　such　was　not　the　case。　Mass　hostility　is　always　omnipresent　toward　the　new；　especially　in　art。　Hundreds　of　books；　as　you　know；　have　been　filled　with　exegetical　opinions　about　the　Impressionists；　Expressionists；　Suprematists；　Cubists；　Futurists；　Dadaists；　and　Surrealists　of　the　early　years　of　this　century。　All　of　the　major　innovators　have　been　examined　in　detail；　but　there　were　many　other　painters　who　received　no　recognition　at　all。　And　there　were　smaller　movements　that　were　formed　and　then　dissolved　without　being　mentioned。　How　many；　no　one　knows。
　　〃But　it　was　these　minor　movements　that　I　was　interested　in　during　my　year　in　Europe。　It　was　a　way　to　earn　a　reputation；　you　see。　And　if　I　could've　pinned　one　of　them　down；　one　that　got　away；　a　movement　that　I　could've　written　about　and　established　as　an　important　but　overlooked　movement　in　art　history；　I　could've　started　my　critical　career　immediately　instead　of　teaching　art　survey　courses　to　bored　accountants　at　CCNY。
　　〃Paris　seethed　with　new　developments　in　art　before；　during；　and　after　the　First　World　War。　Hardly　a　day　passed　without　a　new　group　being　formed；　a　new　manifesto　being　drafted；　followed　by　polemics；　fistfights；　dissolvements。
　　〃Three　painters　would　meet　in　a　café；　argue　affably　among　themselves　until　midnight；　and　decide　to　form　their　own　little　splinter　group。　Then；　as　wine　and　arguments　flowed　for　the　remainder　of　the　night　as　they　scribbled　away　at　a　new　manifesto；　they　detested　each　other　by　dawn。
　　〃White…faced　with　anger　and　lack　of　sleep；　they'd　march　off　to　their　studios　in　the　nacreous　light　of　morning；　their　new　movement　junked　before　it　was　begun。
　　〃A　few　of　these　lesser　movements　caught　on；　however；　lasting　for　a　few　days　or　weeks　after　a　scattered　flurry　of　press　publicity；　but　most　of　them　died　unheralded；　unnoticed；　for　want　of　a　second…or　for　no　discernible　reason。　The　fortunate；　well…publicized　movements　lasted　long　enough　to　influence　enough　imitators　to　gain　solid　niches　in　art　history。　Cubism；　for　example；　a　term　that　pleased　the　reading　public；　was　one　of　them。
　　〃Paris；　of　course；　was　the　center　of　the　vortex　during　the　early　twenties；　but　forays　into　new　and　exciting　art　expressions　were　by　no　means　confined　to　France。
　　〃During　my　single　year　in　France；　as　I　tried　to　track　down　tangible　evidence　of　these　minor　movements　without　success；　my　side　trips　to　Brussels　and　Germany　were　even　more　tantalizing。
　　〃In　Brussels；　the　Grimm　Brothers；　Hal　and　Hans；　who　called　themselves　'The　Grimmists；'　spent　months　in　dark　mines　collecting　expressive　lumps　of　coal。　These　were　exhibited　as　'natural'　sculptures　on　white　satin　pillows。　Within　two　days；　however；　shivering　Belgians　had　pilfered　these　exposed　lumps　of　coal；　and　the　exhibit　closed。　The　Belgians　are　a　practical　people；　and　1919　was　a　cold　winter。　In　their　own　way；　the　Brothers　Grimm　had　originated　'Found'　art…〃
　　〃James…when　you　say　that　you　have　no　superego；　or　conscience；　does　that　mean　that　you've　never　done　anything　bad；　anything　you've　ever　been　sorry　for；　later？〃
　　〃Yeah。　Once。　There　was　an　assistant　professor　I　knew　at　Columbia；　an　anthropologist；　whose　wife　died。　He　had　her　cremated；　and　bought　a　beautiful　five…hundred…dollar　urn　to　keep　her　ashes　in。　He　used　to　keep　the　urn　on　his　desk　at　home；　as　a　memento　mori。　Anthropologists；　as　you　know；　are　pretty　keen　on　ritual；　burial　ceremonies；　and　pottery…　things　of　that　nature。　His　wife　died　of　tuberculosis。
　　〃I　never　knew　his　first　wife；　but　I　met　his　second　wife；　who　was　one　of　his　graduate　students。　Men；　like　women；　are　usually　attracted　to　the　same　type　of　person　when　they　remarry…〃
　　〃That　isn't　true！　I've　never　known　anyone　like　you　before…〃
　　〃But　then　you've　never　been　married；　Berenice。　And　I'm　talking　about　a　widower　who　married　again。　His　name　doesn't　matter　to　you；　but　it　happened　to　be　Dr。　Hank　Goldhagen。　Anyway；　his　second　wife；　Claire；　was　also　susceptible　to　respiratory　infections。　Sometimes；　when　they　got　into　an　argument；　Hank　would　point　to　the　urn　of　ashes；　and　say；　'My　first　wife；　in　that　urn；　is　a　better　woman　and　a　better　wife　to　me　than　you　are；　right　now！'
　　〃What　a　terrible　thing　to　say！〃
　　〃Isn't　it？　I　sometimes　wonder　what　she　said　to　him　to　provoke　it。　But　the　marriage　didn't　last　long。　Following　a　weekend　skiing　trip　to　New　Hampshire；　Claire　developed　lumbar　pneumonia　and　died。　To　save　Hank　money；　I　advised　him　to　put　Claire's　ashes　in　the　same　expensive　urn　with　his　first　wife。〃
　　〃But　why　。　。　。　？〃
　　〃There　was　ample　room　in　the　urn；　and　why　not？　Did　it　make　any　sense　to　buy　a　second　expensive　urn？　And　if　he　bought　a　cheaper　one；　that　would've　indicated　to　his　friends　that　he　thought　less　of　Claire　than　he　did　of　his　first　wife。　But　my　practical　suggestion　backfired。　Hank　got　so　he　was　staring　at　the　urn　all　the　time　brooding　over　and　about　the　mixed　ashes　of　these　two　women；　and　eventually　he　cracked　up。　And　because　it　was　my　fault；　I　felt　bad　about　it　for　weeks。〃
　　〃That　isn't　a　true　story；　is　it？　Is　it；　James？
　　〃No；　it　isn't　a　true　story。　I　made　it　up　to　please　you；　because；　it　seems；　you're　a　little　old　lady　who　likes　stories。〃
　　〃No；　I'm　not…and　I　don't　like　stories　like　that！〃
　　〃I'm　leading　up　to　Debierue；　and　I　promise　you　that　it's　much　more　interesting　than　the　story　of　Dr。　Goldhagen's　two　wives。〃
　　〃I'm　sorry　I　interrupted；　James。　May　I　pour　you　another　cup　of　coffee？〃
　　〃Please。　Let　me　tell　you　first　about　the　Scatologieschul　that　was　formed　by　Willy　Büttner　in　Berlin；　during　the　post…war　years　of　German　political　art。　The　Scatologieschul　probably　holds　the　European　record　for　short…livedness。　It　opened　and　closed　in　eight　minutes　flat。　Herr　Büttner　and　his　three　defiant　fellow　exhibitors；　together　with　their　cretin　model…　who　denied　her　obvious　presence　in　every　painting…were　carted　off　to　jail。　The　paintings　were　confiscated；　never　to　be　seen　by　the　public　again。　According　to　rumor；　these　ostensibly　pornographic　paintings　wound　up　in　General　Goering's　private　collection。　They're　now　believed　to　be　in　Russia；　but　no　one　really　knows。　I　couldn't　find　a　single　eyewitness　who　had　seen　the　pictures；　although　a　lot　of　people　knew　about　the　exhibit。　This　was　another　frustrating　experience　for　me　in　Europe。
　　〃By　the　early　sixties　the　trail　was　too　cold　for　valid；　documentary　evidence。　I　was　too　late。　The　European　Depression　and　World　War　Two　had　destroyed　the　evidence。　I　still　feel　that　the　critical　neglect　of　these　so…called　minor　movements　may　prove　to　be　an　incalculable　loss　to　art　history。　Then；　as　now；　critics　only　choose　a　very　small　number　of　painters　to　be　the　representatives　of　their　times。　And　we　only　remember　the　names　of　those　who　e　in　first。　Any　sports　writer　can　recall　that　Jesse　Owens　was　the　fastest　runner　in　the　1936　Olympics；　but　he　won't　remember　the　names　of　the　second　and　third　place　runners　who　were　only　split　seconds　behind　him。
　　〃Therefore；　it's　almost　miraculous　that　Jacques　Debierue　was　noticed　at　all。　When　you　think　about　the　peculiar　mixture　of　hope　and　disillusionment　of　the　twenties；　he　seems　to　be　the　most　unlikely　candidate　of　all　the　artists　of　the　time　to　be　singled　out　for　fame。　And　he　was　studiedly　indifferent　to　the　p