Friday, March 20, 2009

The Working Stiff in Art

With the global economy in meltdown, I've decided to do a series of postings on the working class in art, the Proletariat (as the Communists used to call them), or "Joe Sixpack" (as Republicans used to call this same class in their palmier days). These are the folks whose work  makes all the wealth and are the most vulnerable to changes in fortune. Let's see how that class of people whose labor feeds and sustains all human life, and who generate all the wealth that the rest of us use, appears in art down through time. Unlike the Bureau of Labor Statistics, I intend to consider farm and non-farm labor together. I may or may not follow this in chronological order.

The working class appears all over the art of some periods and cultures, like Egypt below and especially the 19th century where the Industrial Revolution transforms the nature of work and changes both peasant and tradesman into wage earners. The working class is conspicuously rare to absent in the art of a lot of other periods and cultures from Greece to India, and that itself is an issue to ponder.

So let's begin where most history begins, in Ancient Egypt.

The Egyptians were a conservative and prosaic people living in a wealthy country. Images of labor and production take up a lot of their art. On the walls of non-royal Old Kingdom and Middle Kingdom tombs, religious imagery is surprisingly absent. Even on the walls of many non-royal New Kingdom tombs, it is very sparse.
Below is a wall from the tomb of an important bureaucrat -- and the worst kind, a tax collector-- by the name of Menna. Menna was a scribe employed by the Temple of Ammon at ancient Thebes (or Waset for those who like their Egyptian info purged of Greek terminology). His duty was to collect the god's share of every harvest on lands owned by the temple. He lived during the reign of Ammenhotep III in the New Kingdom (1391 - 1353 BC).
The scenes of harvest on this wall are vivid and remarkably candid showing all aspects of the harvesting, threshing, and winnowing of wheat.


Above is a photograph of the entire wall from Menna's tomb showing the harvest and tax collection. Menna is the large figure sitting regally on the left.


Above we see a detail of the wall showing the harvesting and gathering of the wheat on the bottom, threshing and winnowing in the middle, and surveying the crop to measure the temple's share on top. Egyptian farming appears to have been an intensely micromanaged business with scribes and officials supervising and recording every aspect of work. Note the official, presumably Menna himself, appearing twice standing under a canopy. On the left in the middle row are 4 scribes recording measurements taken of the harvest. In the days before currency was invented, this kind of inventory was vitally important.
Some of the scenes are remarkably candid. In the lower right corner is a trio of elderly farmers; 2 of them sit under a tree, while another leans on his staff and watches. They are too old to work, and no doubt are complaining about how much better things were under Thutmose IV. On the top register to the right is a small scene of field supervisor beating a subordinate while another begs for mercy.


Here is a scene of officials measuring the crop for tax collection. The farmer appears with a staff in the center pleading for mercy in a very contrite pose, presenting his youngest son to the indifferent official with the measuring rope. The farmer's oldest son and wife appear on the right ready with the bribes of wheat and offers of lunch. Even at the beginning of history, the tax man came down hardest on the most vulnerable. The more things change, the more they stay the same.

For all the vividness of these scenes, we would be mistaken if we thought there was any sympathy on the part of Menna or the artist for these very hard working and hard pressed people. These figures, like all human figures in Egyptian art, are types, not individuals. What counts is their role in that immense machine known as the Egyptian state. Their needs must be met to keep that machinery running, but their thoughts and desires are a matter of indifference.
Laborers always appear in Egyptian art through the eyes of their lords who virtually owned them, or through the eyes of the bureaucrats who supervised them. Their appearance on the walls of tombs was testimony to the wealth and status of the deceased lord. The laborers themselves when they died were buried in the desert sand with a few meager supplies for their journey Over the Western Horizon, serving their lords in death as they had served them in life.

Sounds of Spring

A mockingbird



Spring peepers



Today, it is overcast with occasional snow flurries in New York.

Spring






This is the one time of year when I really miss Texas. When the bluebonnets, paintbrush, Mexican hat, and Indian blankets bloom, the whole state turns into a vast Persian carpet. My father and I used to drive out to the countryside south of Dallas just to look at the whole spectacle. The fragrance and the butterflies filled the air. The Mockingbirds sang, and at sunset, the creeks rang with choruses of spring peepers.

"Sire, the peasants are revolting!"

"You said it! They stink on ice!"

Mel Brooks, what a prophet! Who could have predicted 30 years ago that this would be the outlook of the Masters of the Universe enabled by 25 years of sycophantic Senators and Congressmen, right wing ideologues, and now subsidized with our tax money?
All the new found populist rage erupting from Halls of Congress these days is more than a little bit disingenuous. Who was it who repealed 70 years worth of regulatory legislation intended to prevent just such a disaster as this from happening? Who was it who deregulated banks in the first place, allowing them to gamble with reinsurance schemes, phony mortgages, and create a whole unregulated shadow financial industry of complex and concealed credit swaps? Who was it who cut SEC budgets and made it almost impotent leaving the Attorney General of New York State as almost the sole regulator of Wall Street?
And now, having fired all the cops, everyone is just shocked shocked shocked that the crooks ran riot.
Both political parties share the blame for this.

Perhaps the time has come to storm the Bastille again.

The Masters of the Universe

Here is a quote from former Bear Stearns executive Jim Cayne concerning now Treasury Secretary Tim Geithner:

“The audacity of that p—k in front of the American people announcing he was deciding whether or not a firm of this stature and this whatever was good enough to get a loan,” he said. “Like he was the determining factor, and it’s like a flea on his back, floating down underneath the Golden Gate Bridge, getting a h–d-on, saying, ‘Raise the bridge.’ This guy thinks he’s got a big d–k. He’s got nothing, except maybe a boyfriend. I’m not a good enemy. I’m a very bad enemy. But certain things really—that bothered me plenty. It’s just that for some clerk to make a decision based on what, your own personal feeling about whether or not they’re a good credit? Who the f–k asked you? You’re not an elected officer. You’re a clerk. Believe me, you’re a clerk. I want to open up on this f—-r, that’s all I can tell you.”


What a charmer! I love that sense of outraged entitlement.  Let 'em eat cake indeed!
Perhaps the approach to the crisis in the financial industry should be less regulatory and more prosecutorial. It was greed and corruption that created this disaster; corruption that was so pervasive that now no one knows who's honest and who's a crook anymore, and so credit remains frozen.

What was that Ms. Rand about capitalism being a "moral" system?

Hat tip to Digby at Hullabaloo.

Monday, March 16, 2009

The Book of Kells

Iona, where the Book of Kells may have been made.

On St. Patrick's Day, I'm reminded that I'm about as Irish as cassoulet and weisswurst.
And yet, I'm fully aware that, but for the Irish monks who followed St. Columba into Europe, I would still be illiterate and eating raw meat off a sword like my Frankish and Teutonic ancestors.

The Book of Kells is the finest and most famous of the tiny handful of surviving Celtic Gospel books from Ireland and the north of Britain. There were once scores of these, and now I can only think of about 6 that survive. The Book most certainly did not come from the small impoverished monastery at Kells where it was found. It probably came from one of the great centers of Celtic Christianity like Iona or Armagh, and was sent to Kells for safe keeping when Goran's people raided the monasteries and founded Dublin, laying the foundations for the future Guiness Brewery on the Liffey.

I fought my way through a mob (and I mean a mob) of elderly German tourists to see the Book of Kells at the library of Trinity College in Dublin (our very clever young guide reminded us of what Samuel Beckett said about the students of Trinity; the cream of Ireland and like all cream they're rich and thick). I finally fought my way through to get a glimpse of the opening pages of the Gospel of Luke. The Book was much smaller than I expected, about the same dimensions as a National Geographic magazine.

So here are some sample pages from one of the most beautiful books ever made.


The Cross Page


detail of the Cross Page



Opening of the Gospel of Matthew


The Beatitudes from the Gospel of Matthew



Opening of the Gospel of Mark

Sunday, March 15, 2009

Who's the Bloodiest Tyrant of Them All?

"I will make a just world even if I have to kill everybody!"
-- attributed to Robespierre


Speaking of ideology, a friend and I have had a long running discussion on which of the 20th century's ideological god kings was the most homicidal and destructive.
I still hold out for Hitler. Even though the body count of people he killed directly is a little low compared to Stalin and Mao, he started a world war which killed almost 100 million people in the European Theater alone.
My friend makes a persuasive case for Pol Pot of Cambodia to be the Grand Prize Winner. I should point out that he visited Cambodia about 5 years ago and saw such sights as Tuol Sleng Prison and numerous killing fields. They are everywhere. Every town and village has one. And most remain unexcavated. He points out that the actual numbers are low compared to the Big Boys of Genocide (Hitler, Stalin, Mao). However, in terms of proportion of the population of his country destroyed, Pol Pot deserves the prize. He points out that Pol Pot killed a quarter of the population of Cambodia in only 4 years. If Mao, Hitler, or Stalin had done the same thing, their body counts would have been in the hundreds of millions.

So, which of these tyrants -- who ate babies and drank blood for breakfast -- would you award the crown for bloodiest of the last century? Who has the biggest corpse pile in your view? Are there any contenders that I missed? Are they all ideologues, or are some of them just thugs? Are they all thugs? What do you think?

Haile Mariam Mengistu


Mao Zedong


Benito Mussolini


Kim Il Sung


Adolph Hitler


Idi Amin Dada


Francisco Franco


Joseph Stalin


Pol Pot


Hideki Tojo