Fit the LAST

Something drastic has occured: I’ve suspended delivery of Confessions of an Opium Eater. I always finish books I start, even if it’s terrible. But I could suffer no longer, and went to DailyLit (a service that emails installments of a selection of books) and suspended it. You know what–I feel great. Light as a feather. Free.

Why do I feel a compulsion to finish? It’s gives a sense of completeness to my negative judgement, but why else? If it’s really terrible, why woudl I care about the end? It’s as if I had a duty to finish anything I pick up. If only that extended past my reading habits! It is much easier to quit a DailyLit subscription–they cater to a variety of tastes if you want to fit some literature in your workaday lives.


However, this is not quite Fit the Last. I’m still reading the Hunting of the Snark, which never ceases to bring a smile to my face. The beaver and butcher (or is it the bellman?) have become friends, and the company has discussed means of catching the Snark. Mostly the traditional ones, such as hunt it with a thimble and care and such stuff. Recently, the barrister had a dream, attempting to prove that lace-making would not help to find the Snark. The Snark took over the courtroom.

I would totally buy a Snark suffed animal. I wonder what it would look like. Would it make me vanish? No, that’s the Bojum. Now that’s a nasty beast.

Grotesque Old Woman: Why did Leonardo and Matsys depict you?

Leonardo da Vinci (1452-1519) sketched the head of the woman to the left. Flemish painter Quentin Matsys (1466 – 1530) painted the oil portrait below. People have generally assumed that Matsys was copying Leonardo. Obviously, there is a remarkable similarity between the two heads produced in roughly the same time. Both artists had an interest in the ugly as much as the beautiful, and these images have popped up multiple times in my reading on ugliness and on portraiture. I think these two works say a lot about the nature of beauty and function of portraits.


I’ve read that Leonardo despaired of finding true beauty after struggling with the Vitruvian man, and turned more to grotesques and caricatures. I don’t find this very convincing. Ugliness, just like evil to good, is so much more interesting than beauty. Also, throughout his life, Leonardo displayed an acute attention to all aspects of life.

So there are many questions about who this woman is, who drew her first (assuming she is the same woman), and why she was drawn. This oil is one of Matsys’s best known pieces today, and, once considered simply a copy of Leonardo, is now thought to depict a real person with Paget’s disease, though it is sometimes said to be a portrait of Margaret Countess of Tyrol, also known as “the Ugly” or “Satchel-mouth.” Was it a commissioned portrait of an individual, or a grotesque head done for fun? Without answering any of these questions, I think one can delve into the ideas of beauty and portraiture that informs these works.

Beauty in the Renaissance era functioned as an outward sign of one’s inner self. Beauty was associated with goodness, and ugliness with vice. Paradoxically then, females–as the original temptresses– were either beautiful and pure, or ugly and lecherous. What a man is to do in those circumstances, I don’t know. More and more in this time, we see men paying homage to ugliness as the safeguard to chastity, or ridiculing old women for their fading charms, or chastising women for using make up to alter their appearance and trick people. In this portrait, the woman is clearly ugly. She does not seem lewd, nor does she seem made up. In Matsys portrait, her old-fashioned bonnet would have made her seem additionally ridiculous. However, Matsys portrait–perhaps just because of the oils–makes her look like a real individual, especially in the eyes, whereas Leonardo’s sketch seems like another of his grotesque heads even as the bulbousness of the figure is less pronounced.


Are the images of the grotesque women meant to depict a real person (or people)? I would argue that both fall into the tradition of the caricature, placing them squarely at odds with beauty. Notice, though, how despite her ugliness she is not revolting. Caricatures, by creating a harmony out of the disproportions of ugliness, neutralize the bad associations that ugly females had. Albeit at the same time as it mocks and dehumanizes its subject, caricature elevates ugliness to a kind of beauty. It is a really interesting phenomenon, documented in Umberto Eco’s On Ugliness, which I highly recommend.

There are very few women who have spanned the centuries by being Quasimodos. Women are traditionally celebrated for their beauty or virtue. These two, or one, women interest me. If anyone know more about them, please let me know.

Review: Jill Sobule at Joe’s Pub

Who is Jill Sobule?
Anyone?

If you’re screaming to your computer, “I kissed a girl, ” then calm down and try to reassure those around you about your emotional stability. Likewise to those of you who started singing that you wanted to be a supermodel.

Yes, Jill Sobule wrote the ’95 hit “I kissed a girl” and Clueless soundtrack “I want to be a supermodel.” However, I, pop culture retard that I am, had no clue who she was. Why did I go to her show then? Because Joe’s Pub, part of the Public Theatre (that awesome organization that does Shakespeare in the Park) just had their 10 for 10 Festival this weekend. To celebrate 10 years of awesomeness, they had 10 free shows and I won tickets! However, I’ll spare you my constant theme of how cool NYC, culture, and any free combination of the two are.

Jill Sobule, and for a few songs some charming bloke named John Wesley Harding (is he famous as well?), put on a fun, funny show. Harding provided a stirring interlude with kazoo. Sobule’s charm is in her neurotic, quirky, childlike lyrics that have a charming simplicity. Altogether the quirks and rhymes are endearing, and make for a fun show especially in the intimate setting of the lounge. Maybe the rhyme scheme is a little too rhymey. But the simplicity and whimsy recommend themselves, and really cut to the heart of our “sophisticated” adult emotions. Sobule looks liked an aged 14-year-old and, in many ways, that’s what her songs are like, on topics like Halloween costumes and what she would do with a jet pack as well as love and politics. (Hint: she had a crazy affair with Condaleeza Rice. It’s true–just ask her.)

Overall, light, cheerful live singers who I never would have heard otherwise. I’m not sure Sobule’s quite my thing…but I wouldn’t have known who she was, or had the pleasure of such a lovely evening without this show.

Yay for free New York!