http://www.ibiblio.org/wm/paint/auth/durer/large-turf.jpg
Albrecht Durer's The Great Piece of Turf (1503) is an astounding image of the Northern Renaissance. Western civilisation at its greatest is about escaping convention and precedent to see and portray the world as it actually is. Here, an ordinary piece of earth is considered a valid subject for a picture, not as incidental detail beside a picture of a saint or a prince, but in itself. Durer looks at the world, suppresses his personal quiddities and historical locus and records the truth, without losing an ounce of beauty. Magnificent, as anyone who saw it at the National Gallery in London last year would have to agree.
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Who is Sancho's Ass?
Wiser than the rider... and wiser than the dreamer in front.
There is an etching by Rowlandson, Doctor Syntax Sketching the Lake where the foolish Doctor gawps out as he scribbles, holding the book between him and the landscape. Under him, his horse has lowered its head. Knowing what water is good for, it is enjoying a cool drink.
Humans know more than animals about almost everything. How many dogs would you trust with your taxes? But our great fault as a species is this willingness to project a glamour over facts, then wonder why rocks we wished away keep tripping us up.
Sancho's ass is the secret hero of Don Quixote. Not Sancho Panza, who is as credulous as his master is deluded. Not Rocinante, a bag of bones hidden behind an heroic name. Sancho's ass, nameless and dreamless, was the only one of the questers who knew how hard the ground was every step of the way. He is an eternal reminder of facts that go on being true even when we'd rather ignore them.
Sancho's ass is an English ass (of Spanish extraction), not an American one. Yet Sancho's ass (UK) has to put up with Sancho's ass (US) day after day, a further, profound acquaintance with reality. Sancho's Ass agrees with Montaigne:
There is an etching by Rowlandson, Doctor Syntax Sketching the Lake where the foolish Doctor gawps out as he scribbles, holding the book between him and the landscape. Under him, his horse has lowered its head. Knowing what water is good for, it is enjoying a cool drink.
Humans know more than animals about almost everything. How many dogs would you trust with your taxes? But our great fault as a species is this willingness to project a glamour over facts, then wonder why rocks we wished away keep tripping us up.
Sancho's ass is the secret hero of Don Quixote. Not Sancho Panza, who is as credulous as his master is deluded. Not Rocinante, a bag of bones hidden behind an heroic name. Sancho's ass, nameless and dreamless, was the only one of the questers who knew how hard the ground was every step of the way. He is an eternal reminder of facts that go on being true even when we'd rather ignore them.
Sancho's ass is an English ass (of Spanish extraction), not an American one. Yet Sancho's ass (UK) has to put up with Sancho's ass (US) day after day, a further, profound acquaintance with reality. Sancho's Ass agrees with Montaigne:
Upon the highest throne in the world, we are seated, still, upon our asses.
Monday, August 29, 2005
Wise Words from the Master
"Pray look better, Sir, quoth Sancho; those things yonder are no Giants, but Wind-mills, and the Arms you fancy, are their Sails, which being whirl'd about by the Wind, make the Mill go."
Don Quixote, Part I, Book 1, Chapter viii
Don Quixote, Part I, Book 1, Chapter viii
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