No Old for Ordinary Countrymen: Bertrand Meunier

Bertrand Meunier’s “Ordinary Countrymen” showcases a collection of photographic images meant to demonstrate the plight of the modern Chinese peasant, uprooted and lost in the shuffle of industrialization and urbanization. It may seem to the casual bystander, however, that this collection of images does little more than turn up a snooty nez at our Eastern brothers.

Take this image, for example:

© Bertrand Meunier - agence Tendance Floue / Musée Nicéphore Niépce

A Chinese man stands with an umbrella in the snow with a dog at his feet. The landscape is barren—frozen over like the peasant’s memories of a happier time. The peasant’s dress is in good condition—not threadbare. His umbrella is of decent quality. He doesn’t look malnourished.

What we have here is an image of quite a normal man in an umbrella, posed and smiling for the camera. This man’s experience seems no different from out own, and what we gain from this photo in terms of information is paltry at best. We see that the man can walk, that he is living during a cold season, and that he’s not afraid of a camera.

Bertrand Meunier is a social historian, and has tracked the progress of the 800 million Chinese peasants over the course of China’s emerging capitalism. The peasant exodus from the countryside is a motif seen often in our international cultural history. The story of China is not a new story: it is a recycled story of what happens when tired political processes rewrite themselves, not necessarily for the better.

The idea of China being an “old story” brings us back to our nondescript photo above. This average photo of this average man and this average dog on this average street isn’t just a shot of nothing. It isn’t just a throwaway snapshot, or a racist glance looking down on the lower class. It’s a statement of the exhausted Chinese story. It’s a demonstration of the way things have been, the way things will be. This man’s face isn’t visibly worn. His clothes are intact. His umbrella is whole. There is nothing in this photo to be outraged about.

But for the 800 million peasants in China struggling to keep afloat, this normalcy and lack of outrage is what keeps the growing country in limbo. Caught in a purgatory between poverty and sustainable comfort, the Chinese peasant class is what this man in Bertrand Meunier’s photo is: still, posing, and waiting for a flash.

Cryptic “Triptych” Shows Unsunny Side of Bacon

Francis Bacon’s 1976 “Triptych” sold for a record-shattering $86.3 million, making the Irish artist’s 3-panel work the most expensive contemporary work ever sold at auction, ever. And I do mean ever.

The figurative painter died in 1992, keeping this nightmare flesh-melting painting in the contemporary era. But for so many records to be broken at Sotheby’s yesterday is yet another slap in the face to so many Recession Chicken Littles determined to bring art collectors under the collective gloom-umbrella of economic downturn.

It’s hard to say whether this recession would have bothered Bacon, a direct descendant of the English statesman of the same name and a figure of angst and gender ambiguity if there ever was one. The life of Bacon was riddled with torturous thoughts and events, and calm was something he may never have heard of. His work largely reflects this, and one wonders what the buyer of 1976’s “Triptych” was looking for in the way of reassurance.

Jose Mugrabi, the Manhattan collector who walked away with a $9.5 million steal with Warhol’s “Detail of the Last Supper” was quoted by the New York Times as saying:

“I don’t understand why it did so well if the economy was mediocre…Maybe people feel safer with art.”

It seems ironic to me that the disquiet nature of Bacon’s 3-Panel is the symbol for ill-placed economic optimism in the art world. Should people feel safe with art? Or is there a bubble that art collectors are fabricating for protection?

Where Would We Be Without Scandalous Death?

Vincent Fantauzzo’s portrait of late superstar-friend Heath Ledger didn’t earn him the 2008 Archibald prize, but a popular vote awarded the portrait the “people’s choice” award according to the 32,000 voters at the Art Gallery of New South Wales.

This popular voting of pop-culture art is unsettling on many levels.  The popular fascination with scandalous death never dwindles, and the skepticism surrounding Ledger’s “accidental” overdose continues to fuel gossip and rumor.  But when does the subject of art become more important than the brush strokes themselves?

Fantauzzo’s piece is not a great work.  It is a human study in anatomy and personality, with philosophical musings illustrated by the “whispering” of the shoulder-Heath’s on either side of the main subject’s head.  The work is done accurately and well, but it is no master work.  It was chosen as a prize winner because of the subject, and only because of the subject.

It leaves me wondering what the true purpose of art is.  Does Fantauzzo feel robbed for his talent being wasted by the spotlight of his subject?  Where does art end and marketing begin?  What, readers, is the point of all this?

Does all art simply boil down to the fascination with scandalous death?