The Tears of Things

Comments on Comments on the Biennial Review

by Jerome du Bois

Ms. King is busy creating a four-foot by twelve-foot photocollage for her next show July 4th, but she has authorized me to address the comments we’ve received about her Biennial review.

You can read them, of course, but let me highlight a few things. I won’t dwell on the terrible spelling, total disregard for punctuation, lousy lack of simple courtesy, and complete lack of poise.

One clear message from “anne:” “Bravo! As one of the 299 not selected I applaud your guts.”

But that’s it for the good news. “rosemary” talks about herself, “laguna” mumbles along without saying anything.

Both “linda” (Linda Russ?) and “princesscuddly” think we were rejected by the Biennial, but Ms. King clearly states in a full disclosure that we submitted none of our work. The sentence is at the end of the Chenoweth section, but maybe their lips got tired.

Both mention Ms. King’s anger, an ad feminem attack they both should have outgrown around age 14.

But I won’t resist my own: if you expect me to take “princesscuddly” in any way seriously -- someone who identifies herself in such a silly, infantile, self-humiliating way, and whose complete argument consists of “you have . . . issues” -- then you don’t know me, and boy am I glad. (And my anger will not be “displaced,” it will be right in your face.)

Neither of them mentions the three criteria Ms. King advanced as measures of good art, in which she built upon and altered Mr. Kamps’s criteria, giving her reasons; three specific conceptual tools, clearly defined, that intelligent dissenters could take up and dispute point by point. She then applies these criteria to the works on display -- the bulk of the review.

This is called art criticism. Step up or shut up.

Update: The new Shade is out. I suggest you read Christinia S. Hiett’s sticky, cotton-candy, bite-sized account of following Toby Kamps around while he spent one day selecting the pieces for the Biennial. This is the level of writing the Valley is used to, and that the editors promote. As we say, read it and weep.

Update: Now I need to cover Ms. Chenoweth again, due to a letter we received -- snail mail! -- from Ms. Marlyne Jones, an old art teacher of both Ms. Chenoweth and Ms. King.

She encloses a New Times article about Ms. Chenoweth, which dwells in tear-jerking detail on OCD, skin conditions, missing out on Cal Arts, lithium, schizophrenia, bipolar this, mellaril that.

In the letter, Marlyne Jones writes, “I’m stunned by your rage and anger and the cruel and ignorant remarks about Sue’s work in the Biennial. Although I haven’t seen the work in Tucson, I am familiar with similar work, and her paintings and drawings. I know her, and her motivations, well. I think she deserves your apologies." [Don’t hold your breath. That will never happen.] [emphasis added]

"I’ve attached an article that appeared in the New Times by Kathleen Vanesian [in February of 2001] -- who did take the time to get to know Sue personally before she wrote. Maybe you, too, can find time to become reaquainted with Sue as a real person and an artist. You have more aesthetic perspectives in common than you might imagine." [Again, don’t hold et cetera.] [emphasis added]

Okay, let’s get to work . . .

One: she didn’t see the artwork. Ms. King’s criticism was about the artwork.

Two: what the hell does Ms. Chenoweth’s sob story have to do with the crappy thing that ended up on the wall? Are they connected? Did she get the gig out of pity? Is that what legitimizes her? Then it is an occasion for pity -- but not for her.

Three: does Ms. Jones expect us to schmooze every artist we write about before we write about their work? Or just Sue Chenoweth, who seems to be some kind of local sacred cow? We do art criticism, not sociology. (And this woman taught art?)

Four: Ms. Jones has not talked to Ms. King for thirty-five years. I can guarantee that there is no intersection at all between Ms. King and Ms. Chenoweth, in any way. Ms. King is a serious artist and a serious writer, and Ms. Chenoweth, it appears, has been playing the victim her whole life for all it was worth.

Finally, to all you zombies: show me the anger. Ms. King’s emotional level was a little lower than an advocate for a cause on a television editorial. Passion and conviction, yes. But no yelling, no defamation, no ad hominem/ad feminem attacks. It was all about the works we saw. We didn’t see or talk to any artists. We didn't need to; they provided us with their words in the catalog.

You want anger, I’ll give you anger; but I challenge you to find specific sentences and phrases in Ms. King’s Biennial Review that show any evidence of it. I won’t hold my breath.

Posted by Jerome at June 25, 2003 06:26 PM