This book really made me think about how to view art. In particular, the connection between the oil paintings of the last few hundred years and advertising images was something I had never thought about. This book also presents some insightful criticisms of the use of nudes in traditional art.

Viđenje prethodi rečima, ali samo reči mogu biti dovoljno precizne da objasne svet viđenja. Stoga je svaki razgovor o likovnoj umetnosti zaobilazan – koristi se medijem koji nije podudaran sa samim umetničkim objektom. Svako viđenje je uvek odabir, odnosno, čitanje. (Uvek mi je bilo zanimljivo kako se na slovenačkom čitati kaže „brati”. Mi zaista tako beremo značenja, svuda oko nas.) Dakle, umetnik je načinio svoju ponudu, a do nas je kako ćemo je doživeti ili raščlaniti.
Berdžer uspeva da rašrafi inerciju u tumačenju umetničkih objekata kakvoj smo svi pomalo skloni. I još jednom se potvrđuje kako kritika više govori o kritičaru nego o delu, a da ponekad nismo ni svesni proizvoljnosti koje je neki autoritet spreman da projektuje na razmišljanja o delu. Osvešćeno tumačenje je ono koje se vraća na osnov – prirodu gledanja kao procesa. A u tom procesu krije se nešto intrigantno – pred delom mi nismo samo oni koji gledaju, već i oni koji bivaju gledani. Gledaju nas kako oni koji su naslikani, tako i oni projektovani, idealni gledaoci, za koje je delo načinjneo. I pogled tog idealnog gledaoca, kroz istoriju, jeste pogled belog bogatog muškarca, kome se nehotice prilagođavamo. I neverovatno je šta sve može da se zaključi iz istorije portreta u odnosu na navedene poglede. Istorija umetnosti zaista predstavlja jedan hod poretka, moći koja je težila ka samoodržanju. A ironično, na toj liniji hoda, pretrajavali su samo oni koji su odstupili od glavnog toka, da bi se neko drugi nadovezao na njihova odstupanja.
Fascinantna su Berdžerova tumačenja (istorije) akta u slikarstvu (o golotinji golog i prepoznavanju nagog tela kao obučenog), rezonantne moći reklama (koje uvek upućuju na trenutak koji to nije, generišući potrebu za zavišću) ili uljanog slikarstva („Ako kupuješ sliku, kupuješ i izgled stvari koje ona predstavlja” (83) – otuda platna, naročito nakon otkrića Novog sveta – prenatrpana (neretko egzotičnim) predmetima). U moru odličnih zaključaka, izdvajam jedan koji mi je lično blizak, vezan za prikazivanje pejzaža u umetnosti: „Pre skorašnjeg interesovanja za ekologiju, o prirodi se nije mislilo kao o objektu aktivnosti kapitalizma; o njoj se pre mislilo kao o arena u kojoj kapitalizam i društveni život i svaki pojedinačni život imaju svoje biće. Razni aspekti prirode bili su predmeti naučnog interesovanja, ali priroda kao celina je prkosila posedovanju. To možemo reći još jednostavnije. Nebo nema površinu i nedodirljivo je; ono ne može biti pretovoreno u stvar i ne može mu biti pridodat kvalitet. A pejzažno slikarstvo počinje s problemom slikanja neba i udaljenosti.” (105) I tako se prikaz neba u pejzažu kreće od nečeg supstancijalnog, opipljivog, do sasvim neopipljivog, da bi se na kraju izgubilo. Nebo se presvuklo i otperjalo.



Berdžer se ovde oslanja na dobro društvo (Benjamin, Levi-Stros, Mekluan, Marks), a nakon ove knjige (i televizijske emisije vezane za nju) dobija mnoge sledbenike, što nije ni čudo jer je knjiga dušu dala za nekakav oblik nastave, zato što je izuzetno složene teme predstavila veoma pristupačno, zabavno, oslobađajuće i sveže. Daleko jednostavnije i ubdeljivije nego što sam ja to sad uradio.
Uzgred, nije čudo da je i Zebald bio fasciniran ovom knjigom – očit je sličan senzibilitet.
Kog zanima, može pogledati dokumentarac (p)o knjizi:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0pDE4...

I admit I’m not well-versed in art history and theory, so that may be a reason this book affected me so deeply, but I was really struck by these essays. They’re incisive. They’re structured well. And they truly made me think. They made me think about art as a sign, a symbol, an argument, a brag, a promise, a prison.

Berger is very clear about his purview here, which I appreciate. Though he mentions photography and advertising and film, and he draws contrasts to sculpture and Eastern art, the real subject of analysis is European oil paintings and, by extension, the rise of capitalism. There are both visual and written essays, and while I was initially wary about how well an essay told only through images would work, I was quickly won over. My favourite written essays were about representations of women and nudity—touching on appearance, agency, sight, maleness as the norm—and the final essay on advertising, which Berger refers to as “publicity”—touching upon classism, envy, glamour, desire, materialism, and commodification.

Comparatively, my problems are rather slight. The book is set entirely in bold, which is weird. The cover is hideous; whose idea was it to just paste the first few paragraphs of the essay right onto the cover?! The images are in tiny and black and white and in some of the visual essays they run across the crease of the spine, rendering them nearly indiscernible. But I think my only criticism of the content itself is that Berger has a tendency to make some pretty definitive declarations, especially about what is and is not “exceptional.” Take this statement from p. 103: “Adriaen Brouwer was the only exceptional ‘genre’ painter.” Hmmm. Berger backs this statement up, of course, and explains why Brouwer was different from his contemporaries, but that doesn’t make it any more than an opinion presented as a fact, which rubs me the wrong way.

The best thing I can say about a collection of essays is that it changed my way of thinking—my way of seeing!—and that is undoubtedly true with this book. There are layers to art criticism that never crossed my mind, layers far beyond and beneath the purely aesthetic, and I’ll be thinking about these things next time I visit an art museum. I’ll be asking questions like: who was this painted for? Who and what are the subjects? How are the people looking at me, the observer, and how are they arranged to appeal to or challenge my point of view? What sort of place would this have been hung in before it was brought to this museum? And who would have been looking at it there? And what would they have hoped to show to people who visited their home or abbey or office, to make them feel? More often than not, according to Berger, the answer to the last question is envy.