Life – Page 62 – Achilles & Aristotle

In the Balance

Why is it we feel a little cheated by art made of everyday objects? Is it because we value the materials as well as the labour?

Talking to a Sri Lankan clothing entrepreneur this week, I discovered that in modern garments a surprisingly large part of their price is in the materials – 65% or more. This may tell us that labour is undervalued. But it might also tell us that materials still matter.

Historically pigments were immensely expensive. Some say the reason medieval art had large patches of colour – undisturbed by shading or relief – was to ‘show off’ the expense and opulence of the rare pigments; usually topped off with plenty of gold leaf.

By contrast, Damien Hirst’s dot paintings are always sneered at for ‘only’ using household emulsion. But then again his diamond encrusted sculls divide opinion too.

I’m strangely reassured to know my clothes are made of stuff of intrinsic value. Perhaps, like the ‘rag trade’, it takes the right balance of labour and materials to make a great work of Art too.

Children, Life

Mastermind

This afternoon, my five year old son announced two of the most important areas of human knowledge to be:

1) Cheese
2) Blasting things apart

Along with his detailed expositions on Lava and the function of the nose in Lemon Sharks, he’s pretty much sorted now for the Specialist Subject rounds on Mastermind. Just a little more to do on the General Knowledge…

Life, Philosophy

Life and soul of the party

As something of an introvert, polite company comes best for me in modest doses. Not that I can’t be the life and soul of the party. Just that there’s a finite amount of it I can do. Once my reserves are exhausted, I switch off and get very tired.

Amusing to be interrupted in animated conversation with a friend babysitting for us last night – as we headed off to a worthy house party. The missus pointed out I only have so much sociability, so perhaps best not waste it all before we’ve even got out the door.

Still I could be worse. I read today that the famously cerebral Immanuel Kant’s biographer noted:

The brilliant recluse preferred to walk alone for a very particular reason: ‘he wished to breathe exclusively through his nostrils; which he could not do if he were obliged continually to open his mouth in conversation’.

Kant argue with that.

Life, Odysseus, Poetry

Terse Verse

If music be the food of love
Is poetry a bowlful of life?

A question crossed my mind the other day – do I only spontaneously write poetry when I’m cross about something? I’m sure I’ve written happy poems, but the impulse to bash out some verse seems to come more often than not through irritation, stress or annoyance. And often banal and mundane at that – from flat tyres to ineffective dishwasher tablets. Take this one:

Duzzit doesn’t

Rare to see such disinformation
In a modern formulation
Dishwasher tablets are all the same?
But Duzzit is to blame
No discernible cleaning
A film all over my pots
Unilever and P&G may be pricey
But their brands leave no spots.

This set me thinking. I read a few months back that musicians live longer, poets die sooner. Is it a bit like comedians? Making people laugh is – by all accounts – a sad person’s trade.

Perhaps it varies from person to person. But, for me, I think poetry comes more often as a venting of steam than a bucolic breeze. Still, better out than in.

Life

Of Sheds

Montaigne offers a top tip for he (or she) who would keep themselves sane:

That man, in my opinion, is very miserable, who has not at home where to be by himself, where to entertain himself alone, or to conceal himself from others.

When at home, I a little more frequent my library, whence I overlook at once all the concerns of my family.

Surely this is why men have sheds. A man needs his ‘domain’ however small. Given our postage stamp-sized garden, the kitchen by night largely serves for me. But a shed one day would be nice. As for a library, a man can dream. Lucky old Montaigne.