tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4763772100015353700.post5350129881883376111..comments2023-10-11T14:18:03.816+01:00Comments on Works Well: An attempt to climb Mt ImpossibleRoderick Robinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16828395545197001637noreply@blogger.comBlogger5125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4763772100015353700.post-59830580080842750002009-08-13T20:07:40.323+01:002009-08-13T20:07:40.323+01:00Vielen Dank, BB für den goldigen Witz! Ich habe ge...Vielen Dank, BB für den goldigen Witz! Ich habe gelacht!Rouchswalwehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01393987883437907945noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4763772100015353700.post-8548571141243322452009-08-13T16:33:32.498+01:002009-08-13T16:33:32.498+01:00Should be "booboisie".Should be "booboisie".Roderick Robinsonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16828395545197001637noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4763772100015353700.post-73995642774435654142009-08-13T16:31:13.673+01:002009-08-13T16:31:13.673+01:00Plutarch: "Getting used to" is good and ...Plutarch: "Getting used to" is good and I take your point that fondness may justifiably live apart from merit. The collection of pop tracks on my MP3 player includes several tracks I could hardly defend if it weren't for their place in my personal geography (eg, "Tijuana taxi" which was playing everywhere when I arrived in the US, "Don't go breaking my heart" which conjures up the hotel bar of my first ski-ing holiday).<br /><br />But suddenly discovering a significant change in a painting (provided it isn't downwards) is possibly <em>the</em> reason for looking at paintings in the first place.<br /><br />Zu Schwer: You reveal yourself to be labouring under the definitive burden of the bourgeoisie (which the greatest of all journalists, H. L. Mencken rejigged even more woundingly as the bourboisie.) Too genteel to convey your feelings about bad art at the outset you are doomed to suffer the curse of bad art for the rest of your life - a combination of Sisyphus and the guy whose liver was pecked out by raptors. Contrast your predicament with mine; taking deliberate advantage of my unpleasantly nasal Northern accent and the notion that no Yorkshire person knows how to conduct himself, I announced to everyone I met for the first time during my journalistic career that I was a wine expert. As a result, at lunches the wine list was always passed to me. So there are no unopened bottles of <em>Piat d'Or</em> in my metaphorical closet. The price paid has been a non-existent social life but then my profession had already turned me into a pariah.<br /><br />I must add something in German. How about <em>eine Witz:<br /><br />"Zwischen Tulpen und Narzissen,<br />Ist ein kleine Hund... gesitzen.</em>Roderick Robinsonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16828395545197001637noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4763772100015353700.post-80609753808147682442009-08-13T13:18:21.124+01:002009-08-13T13:18:21.124+01:00Reading your words caused a tickle. And I just had...Reading your words caused a tickle. And I just had to go home last night and check on something before being able to comment. Yes, it was as I had suspected ... there is not one picture hanging on my walls that I chose myself. Each one, as it turns out, was a gift. What do I see as a consequence of not having chosen any of them? How do I live with them? My closet is full of pictures I could not bear to look at (or have guests see hanging on my walls).Rouchswalwehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01393987883437907945noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4763772100015353700.post-58790940608375777442009-08-12T17:28:48.633+01:002009-08-12T17:28:48.633+01:00The decision to buy in order to live with a pictu...The decision to buy in order to live with a picture rather than own it is fine indeed. I have have often wondered about the effect of getting used to a picture. That is a way of becoming fond of it, which has nothing to do with any objective idea of merit.Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06972049290586377462noreply@blogger.com