A very large Gustave Courbet exhibition is now on display at the Met. From the New Yorker - "Courbet's drenching seascapes should come with towels and his steaming nudes with towelettes. He revels in the quiddity of paint: moist dirt. His art isn't about life; it is life precipitated, with raucous panache. Nothing could be better therapy for a bodiless society of cybernetic narcissicisms than the mad wallow of this show." Nice one, Peter Schjeldahl of the New Yorker! A little cultural jab there at the end. This particular bodiless cybernetic narcissist can't wait to see the show.
13.3.08
THE WOUNDED CYBORG
Posted by P.J.S. at 22:03
Labels: art history, happenings, museums, new york city, painting
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