Some folk, in advanced middle-age, have, by the sweat of their brow, gained a degree of success.
You go up the mountain to see such a person. Walking past the appurtenances of success, past reception, through heavy doors.
And then there are the rest of us.
If you have gone up the mountain to visit a Juris Doctor you wouldn't be so tacky as to talk about fees. You have discovered in advance the JD fee, $500/hour. But this Attorney, this Man with the eyebrows, this Woman with the suit, they are going to provide you value, a service for the fee. You recognize the value, you pay willingly.
Where does value come from?
French President Jacques Chirac is irritated with Google. 74% of French web searches are performed via Google, a corporation that judges "worthiness" via an algorithm of which Chirac is suspicious.
Jack don't like it.
Jack wants the state to establish a search-engine whose returns are based on the opinions of French Wise Men, not returns filtered through a corrupt American algorithm.
Which brings us to museums. Museums are owned and operated by people who know what is good?
What algorithm do museums use to process their selections?
Is something good because the Art History Philosophiae Doctor said so?
Is Art good when it deals in concept?
Is Art good when the rest of us scratch our heads and say "what the hell?"
Is it a numbers game? Is it sex? Is it celebrity?
Whatever it is, I haven't got it.
But YES SPORTSFANS! I had a picture in MoMA.
For a few days.
A curatorial decision was made, the doors were opened to lumpenproletariat photographers, to the hoi polloi.
As you can see, the images weren't displayed with the usual reverence.
No fancy lighting.
No text blocks etched on glass plates.
Regardless, I admire MoMA for temporarily admitting the unwashed.
Who possesses the Stamp marked Worthy?
Labels: artifice, words