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Random Reads. I guess this activity is much like being an armchair traveler. Below are some articles that came to me. I did not go to them.

In The Wall Street Journal’s January 14 article, Young Artists Rising During the Pandemic, the columnist noted that unlike in past downturns, the work of emerging artists was in high demand. Apparently, collectors were more speculative during this pandemic. Rather than finding safety in the multimillion dollar heavyweight artists like Giacometti and Picasso, the trend was to pursue artists under 40.

2020 was the first year since 2016 that no art topped 100 million dollars. The Most Expensive Artworks Sold in 2020 reveals that the top piece only fetched 84+ million dollars. It was a Triptych by Francis Bacon. If I had an extra 40+ million lying around. I might have bid on the Roy Lichtenstein’s Nude with Joyous Painting or David Hockney’s Nichols Canyon. 

And, speaking of David Hockney… “With the possible exception of Howard Hodgkin, not a single English abstract artist has attained anything comparable to the status achieved by Lucian Freud or David Hockney.” The headline of the article in Hyperallergic is: Some Thoughts About England’s Obsession With Portraits. The author’s observation is that British postwar painting is about portraiture. Apparently, this attachment was never effectively challenged. I wish the author had offered some explanations or thoughts as to why this is so. I do know that when I watch The Crown, Downton Abbey, or a Churchill biopic, the idle rich paint en plein aire.  Perhaps landscape painting is traditionally an activity assigned to dilettantes and hobbyists in Britain. That’s my own unfounded theory, which does not explain the Britain’s dearth of high end abstract painters. Oh well. 

And, speaking of Lucian Freud…The Books section of the January 16 The Wall Street Journal reviews a new biography. The book, by William Feaver, is titled The Lives of Lucian Freud: Fame, 1968-2011. In spite of his chaotic, spiteful, and unconventional behavior, Freud “…matured into one of the 20th century’s essential portraitists.” His friend, Frank Auerbach, believed that his disciplined art practice was a counterbalance to his life. Furthermore, his final years were calmed by maturity and his true love of painting.

Well…that’s the news of the world!

The New Year. Why is this New Year’s Day different from all other New Year’s Days? On all others, we wake up with headaches. On all others, we recline and watch the parade or football with friends and eat lots of dip. 

Instead of a hangover remedy, this January First I am taking in a dose of reality. After a year of zoom and doom, we are especially hoping for a “Happy New Year.” But, in spite of our longing, this year the traditional greeting somehow seems flippant.  The calendar will not magically change things. And this year the customary New Year’s message, that is filled with resolution and determination, is a bit out of place. Although, one can still resolve to lose weight, stop smoking, or adopt a dog; self-promises can now easily become the focus of one’s life rather than an accessory to a busy life.

This year, even a message of hope is not persuasive. Is there a chance that folks will recover their jobs, return to school, rescue their businesses, or get well? Dare I hope to entertain my friends? Meet with my book club? Go to plays and movies? Dine out? Browse? Attend art openings? Paint with others? Paint portraits? It’s hard to voice these questions. Perhaps it is prudent to be restrained, much like withholding the truth in order not to hurt someone’s feelings. Lock it in.

I am thinking that our hope lies entirely in us...the things we can change and own. We can improve our skills and knowledge ... make art, read, play music, etc. We can become better people...more thoughtful, more resilient, more understanding. And if, by chance, the world does open up during the coming year, my greatest hope is that better people will emerge.