The FenReview
In which I critique a cloud
(15 Jul 2008)
While looking for a subject to critique this morning, something caught my eye. Upon later inspection, I found that the otherwise clear sky did indeed have some substantial clouds positioned around the north end of it, but from my original vantage of the balcony to my apartment I caught the glimpse of a lonely little wisp of steam fading in the sun. I had to brutally bump the contrast of my photo just to get the hint of it across to my readers, and even then I don't know how your monitor will treat it.
In fact, by the time I got my camera into focus, the cloud had already dissipated to half its original mass. I have no doubt that it is no longer there, nature being the mistress of transitory art. And I have to admit, my initial reaction was quite negative.
"If you're going to have a sky, you might as well put a cloud in it!" I nearly shouted. Of course, I'm going to file a complaint on my noisy neighbors, so I didn't commit that hypocrisy. But it got me thinking.
About a year or so ago, a national marketing fad hit the screens and billboards, saying "BOLD IS OK!" or "GO BOLD!" or "BOLD! FUCK YEAH!" I hated it. But even though I hated it, on all sorts of philosophical grounds, I did not myself start to embrace or seek out subtlety. Oh, I talked about it! But I didn't exactly start to practice it myself. In fact, most people who've known me for a while can point out that the last year was probably my least subtle.
Now, human beings can definitely appreciate subtlety. They can even create it. Many artists make an entire career of being subtle. Hell, even I've been accused of an excess of subtlety when it comes to the punchlines of my jokes. But I do think that we tend to be drawn to the bolder statements. Perhaps it is really a cultural thing, but there is a biological, evolutionary component to that as well. Strong contrasts and striking imagery catch the eye and are easy to interpret. We know how to react to them, and we can be fairly certain that we know how others will react to them. Subtle things can be misinterpreted. And misinterpretation is dangerous.
Now, in a way, this cloud wasn't subtle. It was strong enough for me to notice it against a stark blue sky, at least to begin with. And it faded fast enough for me to notice it disappearing. And the reaction it got from me was far from subtle. I like clouds! They are interesting to look at, and sometimes they keep the carcinogenic sun off my neck.
But I did think to myself, here's an opportunity for me to criticize nature for leaving such a wishy-washy mark, an unbalanced smudge in the wrong proportion to the rest of the sky left severely lopsided. And by the time I was done recording its presence and articulating that in my head, it was gone. Nobody else would notice it. Furthermore, the view from my apartment was specifically situated to capture that tableau. As I learned, from any other vantage around the complex, the cloud was either obscured, or it was lost in the presence of the stronger clouds around it (which were otherwise hidden from view of my front door). There is a really strong chance that I was the only one to react in this way to this cloud. And the fact that it drew me further out of my hovel to investigate the sky more fully speaks to the strength of its impact.
If there is anything more subtly effective than such a personalized, temporally sensitive jab, it would have to be an actual work of art indeed. And then to follow it up with a demonstration of how the whole thing was an illusion, even a joke, was sheer brilliance!
I think I have successfully transformed this into a good lesson. But to make it a good critique, I should leave nature with advice to work with. It's usually most useful to point out at least one thing that the artist should keep doing right, and then the one thing that maybe could use some fixing. And so I'll leave you with my attempt to do that.
First off, keep fucking with me! I love it! Well, it pisses me off on occasion, and I really don't enjoy day after day of the same weather. But if you can keep me guessing, maybe I'll keep growing as a person. And honestly, that's the most and the best we can expect from art, isn't it? To help us think of things we wouldn't normally, and expose our neural pathways to new, and hopefully positive, patterns of firing. A lot could be said for the useful calming influence of a sublime piece, such as a good sunset or a rainbow. But we human beings do need change and the unexpected, otherwise the sublime becomes the dull and boring. So do keep that up.
Now, if the piece could be improved upon, say maybe for next time, I'd add a soundtrack. It doesn't have to be much, or even obvious. But something equally subtle to highlight the irony of the whole situation could have gone a long way toward pulling a solid laugh out of me. Or, you could have gone for the intense orchestral strike, like that video of the melodramatic ground hog! I might have appreciated the whole thing quite a bit faster, a matter of seconds instead of a full half an hour.
I suggest watching some Jim Jarmusch and Akira Kurosawa for some inspiration.
Other than that, keep up the good work!
Posted by Fenmere
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