QUESTIONS, NOT DARED ASKED OR ANSWERED

8/14/2019 QUESTIONS, NOT DARED ASKED OR ANSWERED

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QUESTIONS, NOT ASKED, NOT DAREDby Paul Henrickson, Ph.D.

© 2005

I am inserting this section so that it might function, hopefully,

as a kind of guide, and encouraging helpmate, to thoseindividuals who offer their insights into the process of theaesthetic response so that the reader might vicariously “makethe same trip” as the writer.

This process requires a certain degree of courage and humilityon the part of the writer and an open and magnanimousgentleness on the part of the reader.

The Question Artists truly dare not ask and the

answer theyreally fear to hear is so critically pertinent that forinherent meaning to exist in further creative effortcourage must be located somewhere to ask and theself-forgiving tolerance found (usually only inextremis), to listen to the answer. This combination of efforts ends up being the balm for the humiliatedsoul.

It is not often that the subject of art criticism isapproached with the same mystic perceptions asBernini may have approached his “Ecstasy of St.Theresa”. But, believe it or not, there is an element of mysticism in the process of art criticism. At least, wemight express this way: the mystery that informs thecreator may be related to the mystery confronts theobserver.



Bernini: Saint Teresa in Ecstasy

From my point of view, however, it is of such vitalimportance that if it is not approached with as muchconcern for the legitimate expression of aestheticresponses but remains content with the sophisticatedprotective shawl of rhetoric our chance for thesurvival of the civil experience of empathic union withanother being is lost. It is that which makes the artexperience unique…the empathic union, over spaceand time and through inanimate material, betweenone person and another. It is empathy which is thecatalyst for significant political movements such as



that which, in the expression of Abraham Lincoln,allowed the American Civil War to take place with thepublication of “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” by Harriet BeecherStowe, and a lying in state of the 92 year-old body of

Rosa Parks who had courageously given expression tothe need to widen the parameters of human dignityby not giving up her seat in a bus to a white man.

Art criticism has for nearly two centuries, togetherwith its cancerous association with the commerciallymotivated gallery system’s manipulation of aestheticperception, warped, twisted and shredded those verytender qualities that lend exquisite value to humanresponses. One might suspect a high correlation

between the decline in the quality of art criticism andthe rise in the acceptance of the most commonlyvulgar art forms. I am thinking of Koons, Kats andWarhol. Therefore, we recognize the importance of cultivated and developed criticism.

At the outset one might acknowledge the ability of language to exceed that of vision in getting people tobehave…in moving them in the direction one wants

them to move. In the book “The Art Crowd” by SophyBurnham, I sensed some dissatisfaction with thesomewhat overblown distortions tainted, it seemed,with some preconception, which, at the time I wasreading it, I had been unable to identify. Years later Ilearned that she seems to have been a favorite withwhat some social scientists describe as theconservative right. I believe it must have been thatwhich I sensed was an unfortunate and misleadingfocus.

Although she and Leonid Breznjev would agree withthe observation that one should not underestimatethe power of an image, that statement itself points upthe misguided use of the plastic arts as political tools.My resentment of its use in attempting to get people



to do what they normally might not do has little to dowith political agenda , but everything to do with theaesthetic thrill to be experienced through a politicallyunattached vision. It is the act of depriving others of

the possible aesthetic nourishment available in awork of art that I find reprehensible.

Now, at this point I should probably admit that when Jose Ortega y Gassett wrote something called the“Dehumanization of Art” I was quite distressed. Ivery much enjoyed his style of writing and agreedwith very much of what he had to say, except when itseemed he was condemning much, if not all, of non-figurative work. For I have found it was the non-

figurative in figurative work that elevated the work tothe level of art as opposed to artifact.

I felt very much abandoned after I had read that byOrtega Y Gassett, rather much the way I felt afterreading the Confessions of Saint Augustine which wasmuch too rich a fare for a fourteen year-old. It hastaken me several decades to begin, I think, to seelight at the end of the tunnel.

More recently after having read some of thecomments of Theodor Ludwig Wiesengrund Adorno onthe subject of Jazz I once again became perplexed asto what the psychological filters were through whichAdorno had experienced this musical form which wasbasically American in its origins. Although heindicated it was jazz he was writing about I wasunable to recognize the jazz I thought I knew throughhis description.

The impression I had had of Jazz was that it was, andwas intended to be, an extended and developed formof improvisation requiring of its participants an on-going, on the spot, invention. While there werenumerous technical requirements demanded of the



instrumentalist imposed upon him by the nature of the instrument he played what he played wasavailable to the immediacy of his abilities to invent,related and in response, it seemed, to what had

already preceded. So there were rules but these ruleswere not predetermined ones, laid out conventionallyby some unknown determinant and seen as rigidformulations, untransgressed by the obedient andaccurate performer. They, the sounds we hear, were,if not exactly there by rules, they were, rather, theimmediate sensual responses the player cumcomposer had to what he had heard, thus recognizingthe sensual aspects of the art involved.

In the instance of jazz the performer was always andat the same time also the composer.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=meR5nk8WaLE

My first introduction to that concept of visual artproduction came through Arthur Deshaies when hetaught at The Rhode





Arthur Deshaies: untitled. This work is the only one available to me forinclusion here that approached what I remember having seen the artist doand respond to when attempting to allow his nervous system to transposewhat he heard in a Mozart piece to a space-contained two-dimensionalplane surface enriched by the addition of a color spectrum and graphicconfigurations. The leap from the auditory to the visual is what wasattempted by the artist in the late 1940’s.

Island School of Design nearly six decades ago. At the

time I could not truly and effectively follow what hetold and what he showed me for it diverted too muchfrom my expectations. I was a conventionally cautiousadventurer.

However, it was at about the same time that I alsohad been introduced to aspects of music through the



efforts of Barbara Sessions, the first wife of theAmerican composer Roger Sessions. She, at that time,was also a source at the Rhode Island School of Design functioning there as the librarian. But it was in

her apartment on Beacon Hill in Boston that she triedto outline for me some aspects of the structure of music.

Apparently, what these individuals did was sufficientto have me eventually deepen and broaden myapperceptive appreciation for the organization of sense data. What both Arthur Deshaies and BarbaraSessions were trying to do was to help me becomeaware, to begin with, of organization as such, that is

to say, that things heard and things seen as marks,can be organized and that the important thing aboutthe activity of art creation was how one went aboutorganizing that material. The reasons that some findit necessary to organize that material in the firstplace is quite another, but equally fascinating,question.

The point at which these Deshaies-Sessions lessons

come together is in the singular work of Beethoven’sninth symphony. I had, of course, from time to time,heard exulting comments about this work andglowing statements about how great a composerBeethoven was and I imagine that I took theseexultations as a matter of course some what the wayone understands the meaning of other social, quasi-religious ceremonies…not too seriously, butmeaningful formalities. But these descriptivestatements were not my experiences with the work and my experiences with the work were verymeaningful indeed.

I do not intend to trivialize or minimize theexperience of listening to the Ninth Symphony when Icompare it to breaking open a warm breakfast



popover and watching the butter flow its way into theexploded crevices of pastry or the experience of watching toffee being pulled this way and that in everexpanding and deepening vistas of space, or the

prayerful helplessness one feels in riding a complexroller coaster up and down and around to the left andto the right. These sorts of experiences in contrast tothose with which one is confronted when faced withmost of Andy Warhol and a host of other providersare aesthetically rich experiences.

I should add, at this time, that it was a video tape of the performance of Beethoven’s Ninth directed byKurt Masur of the orchestra of the Gewandhaus

Orchestra in Leipsig that was the catalytic source forthis understanding of the nature of aestheticcomprehension. I was ecstatic when I became awareof what my sensors were experiencing about the wayMasur enunciated, accented and revealed theinterwoven structure of that sound.

It is through such an array of aesthetic filters that we,

as analysts, view any aesthetic experience.Understanding that this is what we do should lead usto expect that a system of criticism that does notnearly constantly recheck the validity of its responsesdoes disservice to itself and the community it serves.

I have found the process of developing acomprehensive criticism, or better described asanalysis, of an individual’s creative efforts, even thatof a period or epoch, both so challenging andfascinating that it might most accurately be describedas a process through which one gets reintroduced tooneself…or, we might say, it is a process of exercisingempathy. I shall also elaborate that statement byadding the observation that the process seems littleunderstood by those whose academic approach to



understanding experience depends on the learnedclassroom lessons and not on the evaluation of one’sown experience.

It seems an unlikely place for one to have learnedsomething about vocal production but at one timebeing at loose ends and impoverished and staying fora week-end in a strange city, I believe it was New York City and the place was the Y.M.C.A. I attended animprovised lecture given by a social and creativenonentity. In its way the experience was a miracle.This fellow in his late fifties had brought to the “Y” asampling of his collection of early recordings of Caruso, Gigli, Melchior and Bjorling and in the period

of little more than 45 minutes of sounds coming fromscratchy somewhat wobbly early disk recordingstaught me, I cannot speak for the eight or nine otherswho also happened to be there, what it meant tolisten in order to hear and to do so beyond theinterference of the mechanics of reproduction.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UJeWUV-LIyE I don’t think this is the one I

had originally heard, but it should do.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dJL1LqX9Uao I had tried to locate a video

by Gigli but was unsuccessful, but wanted, at least, to secure a vocal tone that approachedwhat I have in mind

When I questioned a later Cultural Affairs Officer, James Rutherford, as to the process of making decisions as to who does get exhibited in The Governor’s Gallery, he told me that

he made the decision. I asked James what background he had in art and he replied that he

had had an undergraduate course in art appreciation. The secretary to the wife of theGovernor also helped in he selection of exhibitors and she had a Masters In Business

Administration. The Governor’s wife also helped decide whose work was to be

exhibited. “And what are her qualifications?” I asked. James whispered: “She’s the

Governor’s wife.”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UJeWUV-LIyE

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dJL1LqX9Uao

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UJeWUV-LIyE

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dJL1LqX9Uao



Santa Fe, New Mexico provided several otherinterestingly amusing, but tragic instances of

organized deception. On one, rather acceptable,occasion Forrest Fenn, the then director of the FenGallery together with John Connelly, the formerGovernor of Texas who had been with John Kennedywhen he was assassinated brought together anexhibit of fakes by the French faker Elmyr de Hory.Forrest had been upset by one of my publishedcomments referring to one of his artists (Eric Sloane)asan “illustrator”. Firstly, Forrest would never havebeen upset had he known the difference, for he would

have seen it. Secondly, he would never have momentslater, had he known anything about art, asked me tostep into his private living room, hand me a postcardwith the reproduction of one of Gauguin’s Tahitianworks and, forbidding me to approach themantelpiece, ask me to tell him which of the two, thepost card or the painting over the mantle wasgenuine. I was stunned by the question because itwas one totally impossible to answer intelligently

because it was one not asked intelligently.

Well, after all, Forrest was a retired Air Force Majorand I had no right to expect an intelligent questionfrom him in the arena of art, despite the fact that,through his social charm, he had become immenselysuccessful. It was the charm, not knowledge, thataccounted for his success and what difference did itmake to the bottom line whether something wasgenuine or not.

Forrest did make the statement that he would be justas happy selling plumbing as art. However, theassociation of a charming salesman and a politicianallegedly involved in the assassination of PresidentKennedy in presenting for exhibition the works of a



known fraud seems to spell out a rather cavalierattitude toward a legitimate aesthetic experience. Itworks, of course, because much of the buying publicis also ignorant.



“Dear Mr. Sloane, I was glad to receive as a gift, your painting of sickles, whichsymbolize the labor of people.

I fully share you opinion on the great importance that their ideological content of a painting has in real art. That’s why the art which reflects mutual expectations of the

peoples, their expectations for peace and for peaceful labor, fore friendship and

cooperation, deserves the greatest recognition and respect.

I was glad to learn that the exhibit (sic) was highly appreciated by art lovers of our

country.

Wishing you further success.

(Signed) L. Brezhnev”

It might well be that Mr. Brezhnev is knowledgeable as an art critic, butthese comments are NOT art critical comments they are clearlypolitical and Mr. Sloane is at least mislead, if not also, at fault, forhaving confused the two. On the other hand operhaps the only thing hereally wants is a buying public of Communists. But isn’t that somethingof an oxymoron, an art buying public of communists?



More recently, this time in Europe, we have theexample of a French artist securing the support of theFrench Ambassador. One can not be certain what

views the Ambassador might hold about this man’swork for it is his job the give support to citizens of France, BUT, in the minds of the general public, apublic generally ignorant of what makes for good art,the association means that “if the government supports his art it must be good.” I cannot help butask, at least myself, if M. L’Ambassadeur isn’t just alittle embarrassed at having to be so duplicitous.

Well, he doesn’t seem to be and it, the exhibition,

isn’t. It is one of the most offensive exhibitions everheld anywhere. Personally, I am amazed and morethan bewildered that respectable people with,presumably, a liberal education, could lendthemselves to such a pernicious fraud. As an educatorI must protest. As an artist I have been made ill.

Raphael Labro: “Maltese Goddess”



LICATA, Sicily, ITALY 2 September 2007 from6 pm at Zodiaco Gallery

ITALY-MALTA BIENNALE SatelliteShow

RAPHAEL LABRO receiving theMALTA BIENNALE Special Awardfrom Dame Francoise Tempra(Founder-President) & the Cityof LICATA Award from Dott.ssaEnza Prestino(Vice-PresidentSouthern Italy), with (from left)Penelope Labro. Dr PieroMancuso (Vice-PresidentSouthern Italy) & Dott.ssa RosyBallachino

Raphael Labro with Jean-Marc

Rives, French Ambassador to Malta

Here we have Labro, with Jean-MarcRives the French Ambassador to Maltaflanked by the Madame and Monsieurformer Maltese Ambassador to France.

There were several other photographs

of this nature which, to my mind,

seriously raises the question as to what

this exhibition was all about.



RAPHAEL LABRO conquered the art loving publicwith his Maltese goddesses when he received aSPECIAL AWARD by the President of the 2007MALTA International (105 Nations) ART BIENNALE(inaugurated on 19th May 2007 in Malta by thePresident Emeritus of the Republic of Malta andformer President of the General Assembly at the

UNITED NATIONS, Prof.Guido de Marco), at theopening of the satellite show in ITALY (last of the2007 Malta Biennale satellite shows after CANADA,USA, IVORY COAST, PORTUGAL, FRANCE andGERMANY) on 2nd September 2007 in Licata, Sicily.

Malta Biennale Award Wining Yogi Goddess by Labro >>>

Where, I ask, is the critical attitude. I do not mean by this an attitude

of disapproval, I mean simply an intelligent and knowledgeable way of

looking at something.

I might credit that early experience at the “Y” withhaving developed, in part, an understanding of thepersonal approaches to vocal production inherent inthe work of Kirsten Flagstad, Maria Callas, JudyGarland and Beverly Sills to which one might add theadjoining adjectives, precision, emotion experienced,emotion invited and ego-rooted frivolousness…and allof these qualities, it is my belief, stem from the

personalities involved and not from the music.

The following excerpts of Garland and Callas, bothdramatic presenters may demonstrate the breadth of expression allowed, varyingly allowed, despite therestrictions imposed by musical notation.

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=u3gi51ZJ0lI

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=rY6z7Au19Qo

It is my belief that the critic of the plastic arts mustattempt the same goal. The final product cannot beseparated from the personality producing it withoutaffecting some serious injury to both the process of creation and its power to communicate.








Certainly one of the most plastic of plastic arts is thecinema. I do envy, sometimes, its power to

communicate and it highly impressive successes havewithout any doubt whatever caused me to wonderwhy anyone would chose to be a painter, a sculptor ora printmaker when one could spend one’s time moreeffectively making films, the rewards are generallygreater in film making, but then, so are the losses,but both of these are shared with others for thecinema is an art form that requires cooperation andone of the characteristics of the practitioners of theother plastics arts is they prefer to be alone.

It would be difficult, for example, to imagine a PaulCézanne, Francis Bacon, Toulouse lautrec, Vincent vanGogh, or a Michelangelo walking down the equivalentof the red carpet in Cannes to receive an award froma peer committee of appraisers. In fact, it would bedifficult to imagine a committee of competent judgeswilling to function in the required capacity beingformed from among the population of concerned

persons although such attempts are made regularly.It is, in fact, very, very difficult for me to imagineVincent Van Gogh in a tux.

Basically the difference between the film and theother plastic arts is that film is an art mediumdesigned for a large audience and painting, sculpture,prints and the like are more likely to be enjoyed byone person at a time, or, at the most, by less than ahalf dozen. Even if it is an item in constant publicview only a very few in attendance ever offer morethan a casual glance in its direction and then theyfrequently fail to stay in rapt concentration for the90+ minutes which is the usual length of a featurefilm. Even a three-hour theatrical performance



frequently fails to have the impact of a well-organizedfilm.

I think this is true of the very famous work

“Prometheus” seen everyday by hundreds of peopleat Rockefeller Center as well as thousands of otherworks of public art.

Paul Manship: Prometheus in Rockefeller Center, 1934

They and those in museums and private collectionsrequire, if they are to be looked at intelligently,several minutes and often several repetitions of minutes to be fully comprehended.

Time, as human beings measure it, and a certain kindof mental concentration are required if works of art,no matter what the genre, are to be understood andlegitimately and appropriately appreciated.

It is this factor of time and that of the special

concentration that brings about a change in theobserver, as Bernard Berenson might have phrased it“a life-enhancing experience”.

It is relatively easier for the film to bring about a raptattention from the observer, in part because theimages are moving and the sound is captivating by its



own merits, than it is for a sculpture by Henry Mooreor a painting by Claude Monet to engage theobserver’s attention.

Henry Moore: Knife



Eduard Monet: Rouen Cathedral

We might pose the question, however, as to whetherthere are changes that take place in the observer andif there are what are they and how might they differ,if they differ, from those brought about as a result of

a film which lasts 90 or 120 minutes. I recall havinglistened to the radio program called I believe “TheShadow” which has as its theme statement.. “Whoknows what evil lurks in the hearts of men…theShadow knows”. Thirty minutes, actually somewhatless, exposure to some of those programs and I havehad memories and responses to subliminal clues that



have lasted a lifetime. Also, the experiences of frightwere shareable with one’s friends and a mockingrepetition of the “who knows what evil…” would beenough to bind two boys together as friends or pals

for a significant period of their lives. I havewitnessed two strangers shedding much of theirreserve when it became clear that they both wereenthusiastic appreciators of the works of PaulCézanne…an unusual but actual event illustrative, Ithink, of the importance of art works in the creationof a civilizing bond of shared emotional experiences.On the other hand I have, regrettably, more oftenwitnessed a division characterized by mutual hostilitydevelop between two people when it became clear

their resources for shared emotional responses werevery limited. I remember as a child on the 17th of March, St. Patrick’s Day that should someone darewear orange they would be summarily beaten up. Thisprovides us with a very rudimentary illustration of how information received visually can excite passionsand provide instruction.

On a somewhat higher level there have been

occasions when the visual experience alone dissolvedthe body’s ability to support itself or to keep itsemotional responses in check. A retrospectiveexhibition of Vincent van Gogh’s work accomplishedthis at one time as did the interior of San Vitali inRavenna.



Vincent Van Gogh: “Starry Night”

San Vitali, Ravenna: 6th century Byzantine

In the area of film it was Federico Felini’s “Satyricon”“Prospero’s Books” by Peter Greenaway and “OurHitler” by Hans-Jurgen Syvberberg which I have foundamong the most effective filmic experiences.

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Greenaway: “Prospero’s Books”

Sybergberg: “Our Hitler”

In short, the aesthetic response which this website{www.tcp.com.mt} is supposed to be about, is a

highly complex, interrelated field of study which,unlike many others, very nearly insists on self-examination.

One must add that, with the self being so inseparablyinvolved, one cannot help but to develop in somedirection or another. The process is an adventure of considerable fascination.

I hope all who happen upon this website get out of itall that they can and as much as they need.

Have at it!





Administration. The Governor’s wife also helped decide whose work was to be

exhibited. “And what are her qualifications?” I asked. James whispered: “She’s the

Governor’s wife.”

Georgia O’Keeffe, the American artist observing ClaraApodaca, the wife of the then Governor of NewMexico.

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QUESTIONS, NOT DARED ASKED OR ANSWERED