Art lovers often talk about making art pilgrimages,
like to the Barnes in Pennsylvania or, in Rachel's case, to the Spiral
Jetty in Utah. But what do they do on the long drive out there? Well if
they're real nerds, they might play this game, which is very addictive, I
promise you. Here's how it works:
1. Think of two artists whose names are partly the
same
2. Put "versus" between their names
3. Immediately pick which one is best
So, possible match-ups include:
Frans Hals vs. Franz Kline
Georges Braque vs. George Caleb
Bingham
David Hammonds vs. Jacques Louis-David
...the list goes one and on (I know from
experience).
Originally I think the game comes from jazz
musicians. I saw the pianist Brad Mehldau describe it in an essay for Jazz
Times a while back. According to him, during set break, guys
would offer crazy match-ups as fast as possible, then someone else had to decide
who he preferred on the spot (Sonny Rollins vs. Sonny Stitt, etc.). Stating
your criteria for "best" or offering any explanation was forbidden. It was
supposed to be in the spirit of jazz, I guess: wild improvisation, thinking on
your feet, never looking back. Of course, the interesting thing about it,
Mehldau pointed out, is what happens when you do look back on it. The game
forces you to make distinctions, so when you reflect on it, you have to
acknowledge that even if you never formulate criteria for "best"--"you don't
know art, but you know what you like"--you always have a particular
aesthetic.
Because the game is set up to force comparisons
between things you would never otherwise associate, you might say it's sort of
surrealist. Could be. But it's not that far off from a game I know Richard
Serra played with his students when he was a teacher at the SVA (and who, in
recent times, is farther from surrealism than Serra?). He describes it in an
interview in The Portraits Speak. He would take his class to the Met,
pick galleries to visit just based on their numbers, then have the students clap
in front of the works they liked best. I don't have a copy of the book handy,
but I think Serra says something like, "Students don't know the difference
between Bronzino and Parmigianino. The important thing is getting them to
make distinctions and to realize that distinctions matter." If you saw his last
show of prints at the Sheldon, you know he is a jazz fan...
Eventually this game always declines into true
arbitrariness: Jackson Pollock vs. Samuel L. Jackson, Mark Rothko vs. Mark
Wahlberg. Still, it's good while it lasts. For my part, I'm clapping for
Kline, Braque, and David. You? (Camran)