that odd feeling

DocEon posted yesterday about the feelings of squirmishness he gets from an article that I started reading but decided I just wasn’t into it. But what I have been into lately and I’ve been getting the same kind of feelings about is paintings. And one artist in particular that really stands out as giving me this same reaction.

The kernel of his article is this when discussing the characters.

Society hardly stigmatizes the interviewee- he’s interested in no-strings-attached sex, and he’s willing to be deceptive about it. He’s a dick, and (regardless of what he says to the contrary) it’s easy to imagine that he’s got the emotional depth of a puddle, but he’s not a criminal. He’s not a sympathetic character in the traditional sense, but he’s easy enough to sympathize with (for me, at least, which is uncomfortable enough).

DocEon – A Brief Post About Hideous Men

The appealing part of the work is that it drags you in kicking and screaming and forces you to connect with characters that normally you would barely even pause for. There’s an Artist called Jenny Saville that does this for me, her paintings are huge and borderline grotesque, but I’m attracted to them. Her work concentrates a lot on naked women, and transvestites and has both a strong sense of sexuality in her work. But there’s also this brutalism in her work, the people portrayed feel damaged, yet still give the viewer a come hither look that makes me wonder how voyeristic merely looking is.

The rest of her work is totally worth a look, and a lot less PG rated than the thumbnails I have here. I’ve leave the Doc to finish this.

Anyway, that’s what I love about David Foster Wallace, and about good literature in general- you aren’t just a consumer of it, you are a participant. I think that’s the value that it has.

DocEon – A Brief Post About Hideous Men