a fisking observed
Post #311 • July 1, 2004, 8:29 AM • 54 Comments
From the verse novel The Golden Gate by Vikram Seth. (Via my mom.)
June tenth begins Jan's exhibition
In a small gallery, Marcus Ladd,
A revamped warehouse in the Mission.
It looks good, and Jan's proud and glad--
Till the art critic ofThe Clarion
Flaps to the scene in search of carrion
And glares in vulturine disgust
At her live works. He writes: I trust
Miss Hayakawa's terse aridity
(Which she no doubt deems spare and fine)
Does not mislead colleagues of mine
(Though their vulgarian stupidity
Rarely deserves such trust for long)
To judge these feeble works as strong.
This exhibition bland and themeless
--Bronzes and plasters, wood and stone--
Promiscuously strung in schemeless
Sequence strives vainly to disown
Its formalism and immaturity.
The great man's spoken. With security,
The critics, free to take their cue
From the first trump of his review,
Now slither forth their own reviewing.
These worms who, senile/trendy, hung
Their hearts on soup cans and bat dung,
Disparage Jan's exhibits, spewing
"Unsettled," "vacuous," "inbred,"
"Cold," "marrowless," "unethnic," "dead."