Peter Schjeldahl is the art critic for the New Yorker. I have no idea how to pronounce his last name. I love him because:
- He writes prose like a poet.
- He finds profound things to say about profound things.
- He reviews the best art exhibits and his writing takes me along with him.
- He makes me reread his sentences, in a good way.
- And to top it off, he is never snarky, smug, condescending, sarcastic or snippy about art. I love him for that.
There are sooo many deserving targets for snark. Why aim at art? Why waste the ammunition?
Of course we will all continue to make judgments about art and treasure our own opinions. I’m not against snark altogether, and I’d hate to censor any punch lines in the human comedy. There is simply no reason to write about art with snarkitude. Snark elsewhere.
Taking my cue from Fred Armisen’s character on Portlandia:
“Snarky art writing: IT’S OVER!”