The idea that new technologies are likely to supplant old ones seems strange, or rather unnecessary. New technologies are simply new ways of doing things, an enhancement, often, of our choices. Rather than listening to a radio program as it is broadcast, I prefer to listen to podcasts in my own time and place, for example while doing the dishes. Housework is now an excuse for listening to interesting programs. I subscribe to podcasts at Radio New Zealand, Australian Broadcasting Corp, Canada Broadcasting Corp, and BBC.The programs I listen to often lead me to the internet, to the library, the bookshop or simply my own store of books on my bookshelves.
A recent example of this is the series of 2007 Massey lectures by Alberto Manguel.
While I had heard of his books, in particular 'A Dictionary of Imaginary Places', I had never read any. Manguel's lectures have the strange effect of being mesmerising, yet forgettable. I could not possibly tell you what they are about, largely because Manguel meanders from thought to thought, from subject to subject, as if we wander through a maze. His choice of route is always logical, but at the same time another route might have been an equally sensible choice, but leading to a different place. Just when you are moved by the depth of one thought, he has already moved on to the next. Luckily with podcasts you can rewind and listen again, although that does not seem to help in this case. The language is so full of aphorisms, pointers, adjectives, connectives that Manguel's maze feels like a dense jungle. Yet, I listen with delight.
Manguel's Massey lectures sent me to the internet to find out more about him. After a look at Amazon, always full of useful reviews, I made a quick trip to the library, where I decided I wanted to start with 'Reading Pictures'. One of the Amazon customers complained about the quality of the paper and print. The library's Bloomsbury copy has nice thick paper. The reproduction of pictures is not of art quality, but that's not the point of the book. The pictures are just there to help you see what Manguel is writing about. His book reminded me of another, little, book on my holiday reading pile. A New Zealand book in the Ginger 'How to...' Series of Awa Press. Justin Paton's 'how to look at a painting' is different from Manguel's 'Reading Pictures', but I would bet that Paton has read Manguel.
'Reading Pictures' has proven a magical journey for me. As do his Massey lectures, Manguel's personal wanderings through the world of art meander from thought to thought in a coherent, logical yet arbitrary manner. Other routes would have been possible and others would write differently or choose different works of art to juxtapose. Manguel himself admits as much in his conclusion, where he calls his book a collection of 'haphazard notes and indecisions'. For me the pleasure has been the discovery of artists I had not met before and of seeing points of view that are new to me. I am glad Manguel has read many art history and theory books. It saves me a lot of work, while his footnotes give me the opportunity to follow up on anything I want to know more about.
Each of the chapters is headed by one work of art by one particular painter who forms the thread of the chapter. One example is a chapter on architecture. In this case the leading picture is of the salt works Arc-et-Senans designed by C.-N. Ledoux. There is a beautifully designed website devoted to Arc-et-Senans.
In fact it's one of the nicest websites I have come across recently. Although Ledoux' salt works form now a beautiful museum, the place was only in use as a factory and salt works for sixteen years, from 1779 to 1895. It was never very efficient, mainly because of where it was situated: near the wood required as fuel, but too far from the source of salt. What Ledoux viewed as an ideal industrial society, failed because of low productivity. Manguel suggests it may not have been a great loss to the workers: "You imagine the hundred or so workers (the same workers who, in other rags and under other names, toiled on the Great Wall of China, in the Caribbean gold mines, in England's satanic mills) under the omnipresent director's watch, lungs rotted by the wood smoke, skin cracked and bleeding from the briny air, dog-tired, in a din of angry voices, babies' cries, couples bickering, sitting night after night after night with their fellow workers, never on their own, never knowing any privacy, preparing themselves for the New Society Ledoux had designed for them" (Alberto Manguel, Reading Pictures (London: Bloomsbury, 2000), 237).
More on 'Reading Pictures' another day.
A recent example of this is the series of 2007 Massey lectures by Alberto Manguel.
While I had heard of his books, in particular 'A Dictionary of Imaginary Places', I had never read any. Manguel's lectures have the strange effect of being mesmerising, yet forgettable. I could not possibly tell you what they are about, largely because Manguel meanders from thought to thought, from subject to subject, as if we wander through a maze. His choice of route is always logical, but at the same time another route might have been an equally sensible choice, but leading to a different place. Just when you are moved by the depth of one thought, he has already moved on to the next. Luckily with podcasts you can rewind and listen again, although that does not seem to help in this case. The language is so full of aphorisms, pointers, adjectives, connectives that Manguel's maze feels like a dense jungle. Yet, I listen with delight.Manguel's Massey lectures sent me to the internet to find out more about him. After a look at Amazon, always full of useful reviews, I made a quick trip to the library, where I decided I wanted to start with 'Reading Pictures'. One of the Amazon customers complained about the quality of the paper and print. The library's Bloomsbury copy has nice thick paper. The reproduction of pictures is not of art quality, but that's not the point of the book. The pictures are just there to help you see what Manguel is writing about. His book reminded me of another, little, book on my holiday reading pile. A New Zealand book in the Ginger 'How to...' Series of Awa Press. Justin Paton's 'how to look at a painting' is different from Manguel's 'Reading Pictures', but I would bet that Paton has read Manguel.
'Reading Pictures' has proven a magical journey for me. As do his Massey lectures, Manguel's personal wanderings through the world of art meander from thought to thought in a coherent, logical yet arbitrary manner. Other routes would have been possible and others would write differently or choose different works of art to juxtapose. Manguel himself admits as much in his conclusion, where he calls his book a collection of 'haphazard notes and indecisions'. For me the pleasure has been the discovery of artists I had not met before and of seeing points of view that are new to me. I am glad Manguel has read many art history and theory books. It saves me a lot of work, while his footnotes give me the opportunity to follow up on anything I want to know more about.
Each of the chapters is headed by one work of art by one particular painter who forms the thread of the chapter. One example is a chapter on architecture. In this case the leading picture is of the salt works Arc-et-Senans designed by C.-N. Ledoux. There is a beautifully designed website devoted to Arc-et-Senans.
In fact it's one of the nicest websites I have come across recently. Although Ledoux' salt works form now a beautiful museum, the place was only in use as a factory and salt works for sixteen years, from 1779 to 1895. It was never very efficient, mainly because of where it was situated: near the wood required as fuel, but too far from the source of salt. What Ledoux viewed as an ideal industrial society, failed because of low productivity. Manguel suggests it may not have been a great loss to the workers: "You imagine the hundred or so workers (the same workers who, in other rags and under other names, toiled on the Great Wall of China, in the Caribbean gold mines, in England's satanic mills) under the omnipresent director's watch, lungs rotted by the wood smoke, skin cracked and bleeding from the briny air, dog-tired, in a din of angry voices, babies' cries, couples bickering, sitting night after night after night with their fellow workers, never on their own, never knowing any privacy, preparing themselves for the New Society Ledoux had designed for them" (Alberto Manguel, Reading Pictures (London: Bloomsbury, 2000), 237).More on 'Reading Pictures' another day.
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