cwilleford.theburntorangeheresy-第1部分

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　　If　anything　exists；　it　is　inprehensible。
　　If　anything　was　prehensible；
　　it　would　be　inmunicable。
　　
　　…　Gorgias
　　
　　
　　
　　　PART　ONE
　　　NOTHING　EXISTS
　　
　　
　　1
　　
　　Two　hours　ago　the　Railway　Expressman　delivered　the　crated；　newly　published　International　Encyclopedia　of　Fine　Arts　to　my　Palm　Beach　apartment。　I　signed　for　the　set；　turned　the　thermostat　of　the　air…conditioner　up　three　degrees；　found　a　clawhammer　in　the　kitchen；　and　broke　open　the　crate。　Twenty…four　beautiful　buckram…bound　volumes；　eggshell　paper；　decide　edged。　Six　laborious　years　in　preparation；　more　than　twenty…five　hundred　illustrations…　436　in　full…color　plates…and　each　thoroughly　researched　article　written　and　signed　by　a　noted　authority　in　his　specific　field　of　art　history。
　　Two　articles　were　mine。　And　my　name；　James　Figueras；　was　also　referred　to　by　other　critics　in　three　more　articles。　By　quoting　me；　they　gained　authoritative　support　for　their　own　opinions。
　　In　my　limited　visionary　world；　the　world　of　art　criticism；　where　there　are　fewer　than　twenty…five　men…and　no　women…earning　their　bread　as　full…time　art　critics　（art　reviewers　for　newspapers　don't　count）；　my　name　as　an　authority　in　this　definitive　encydopedia　means　Success　with　an　uppercase　S。　I　thought　about　it　for　a　moment。　Only　twenty…five　full…time　art　critics　in　America；　out　of　a　population　of　more　than　two　hundred　million！　This　is　a　small　number；　indeed；　of　men　who　are　able　to　look　at　art　and　understand　it；　and　then　interpret　it　in　writing　in　such　a　way　that　those　who　care　can　share　the　aesthetic　experience。
　　Clive　Bell　claimed　that　art　was　〃significant　form'　I　have　no　quarrel　with　that；　but　he　never　carried　his　thesis　out　to　its　obvious　conclusion。　It　is　the　critic　who　makes　the　form（s）　significant　to　the　viewer！　In　seven　more　months　I　will　reach　my　thirty…fifth　birthday。　I　am　the　youngest　authority　with　signed　articles　in　the　new　Encyclopedia；　and；　I　realized　at　that　moment；　if　I　lived　long　enough　I　had　every　opportunity　of　being　the　greatest　art　critic　in　America…　and　perhaps　the　world。　With　tenderness；　I　removed　the　heavy　volumes　from　the　crate　and　lined　them　up　on　my　desk。
　　The　plete　set；　if　ordered　by　subscribers　in　advance　of　the　announced　publication　date…and　most　universities；　colleges；　and　larger　public　libraries　would　take　advantage　of　the　prepublication　offer…sold　for　350；　plus　shipping　charges。　After　publication　date；　the　Encyclopedia　would　sell　for　500；　with　the　option　of　buying　an　annual　volume　on　the　art　of　that　year　for　only　10　（same　good　paper；　same　attractive　binding）。
　　It　goes　without　saying；　inasmuch　as　my　field　is　contemporary　art；　that　my　name　will　appear　in　all　of　those　yearbooks。
　　I　had　read　the　page　proofs　months　before；　of　course；　but　I　slowly　reread　my　1；600…word　piece　on　art　and　the　preschool　child　with　the　kind　of　satisfaction　that　any　well…done　professional　job　provides　a　reader。　It　was　a　tightly　summarized　condensation　of　my　book；　Art　and　the　Preschool　Child；　which；　in　turn；　was　a　rewritten　revision　of　my　Columbia　Master's　thesis。　This　book　had　launched　me　as　an　art　critic；　and；　at　the　same　time；　the　book　was　a　failure。　I　say　that　the　book　was　a　failure　because　two　colleges　of　education　in　two　major　universities　adopted　the　book　as　a　text　for　courses　in　child　psychology；　thereby　indicating　a　failure　on　the　part　of　the　educators　concerned　to　understand　the　thesis　of　the　book；　children；　and　psychology。　Nevertheless；　the　book　had　enabled　me　to　escape　from　the　teaching　of　art　history　and　had　put　me　into　full…time　writing　as　an　art　critic。
　　Thomas　Wyatt　Russell；　managing　editor；　Fine　Arts：　The　Americas；　who　had　read　and　understood　the　book；　offered　me　a　position　on　the　magazine　as　a　columnist　and　contributing　editor；　with　a　stipend　of　four　hundred　dollars　a　month。　And　Fine　Arts：　The　Americas；　which　loses　more　than　fifty　thousand　dollars　a　year　for　the　foundation　that　supports　it；　is　easily　the　most　successful　art　magazine　published　in　America…or　anywhere　else；　for　that　matter。　Admittedly；　four　hundred　dollars　a　month　is　a　niggardly　sum；　but　my　name　on　the　masthead　of　this　prestigious　magazine　was　the　wedge　I　needed　at　the　time　to　sell　free…lance　articles　to　other　art　magazines。　My　ine　from　the　latter　source　was　uneven；　of　course；　but　with　my　assured　monthly　pittance　it　was　enough…so　long　as　I　remained　single；　which　was　my　avowed　intention…to　avoid　teaching；　which　I　despised；　and　enough　to　avoid　the　chffly　confinement　of　museum　work…the　only　other　alternative　open　to　those　who　selected　art　history　as　graduate　degrees。　There　is　always　advertising；　of　course；　but　one　does　not　deliberately　devote　one's　time　to　the　in…depth　study　of　art　history　needed　for　a　graduate　degree　to　enter　advertising；　regardless　of　the　money　to　be　made　in　that　field。
　　I　closed　the　book；　pushed　it　to　one　side；　and　then　reached　for　Volume　III。　My　fingers　trembled…a　little…as　I　lit　a　cigarette。　I　knew　why　I　had　lingered　so　long　over　the　preschool　child　piece；　even　though　I　hated　to　admit　it　to　myself。　For　a　long　time　（I　said　to　myself　that　I　was　only　waiting　to　finish　my　cigarette　first）；　I　was　physically　unable　to　open　the　book　to　my　article　on　Jacques　Debierue。　Every　evil　thing　Dorian　Gray　did　appeared　on　the　face　of　his　closeted　portrait；　but　in　my　case；　I　wonder　sometimes　if　there　is　a　movie　projector　in　a　closet　somewhere　whirring　away；　showing　the　events　of　those　two　days　of　my　life　over　and　over。　Evil；　like　everything　else；　should　keep　pace　with　the　times；　and　I'm　not　a　turn…of…the…century　dilettante　like　Dorian　Gray。　I'm　a　professional；　and　as　contemporary　as　the　glaring　Florida　sun　outside　my　window。
　　Despite　the　air…conditioning　I　perspired　so　heavily　that　my　thick　sideburns　were　matted　and　damp。　Here；　in　this　beautiful　volume；　was　the　bitter　truth　about　myself　at　last。　Did　I　owe　my　present　reputation　and　success　to　Debierue；　or　did　Debierue　owe　his　success　and　reputation　to　me？
　　〃Wherever　you　find　ache；〃　John　Heywood　wrote；　〃thou　shalt　not　like　him。〃　The　thought　of　Debierue　made　me　ache　all　right…and　I　did　not　like　the　ache；　nor　did　I　like　myself。　But　nothing；　nothing　in　this　world；　could　prevent　me　from　reading　my　article　on　Jacques　Debierue　。　。　。
　　
　　
　　2
　　
　　Gloria　Bentham　didn't　know　a　damned　thing　about　art；　but　that　singularity　did　not　prevent　her　from　being　a　successful　dealer　and　gallery　owner　in　Palm　Beach。　To　hold　her　own；　and　a　little　more；　where　there　were　thirty　full…time　galleries　open　during　the　〃season；〃　was　more　than　a　minor　achievement；　although　the　burgeoning　art　movement　in　recent　years　has　made　it　possible　to　sell　almost　any　artifact　for　some　kind　of　sum。　Nevertheless；　it　is　more　important　for　a　dealer　to　understand　people　than　it　is　to　understand　art。　And　Gloria；　skinny；　self…effacing；　plain；　had　the　patient　ability　to　listen　to　people…a　characteristic　that　often　passes　for　understanding。
　　As　I　drove　north　toward　Palm　Beach　on　A1A　from　Miami；　I　thought　about　Gloria　to　avoid　thinking　about　other　things；　but　without　much　satisfaction。　I　had　taken　the　longer；　slower　route　instead　of　the　Sunshine　Parkway　because　I　had　wanted　the　extra　hour　or　so　it　would　take　to　sort　out　my　thoughts　about　what　I　would　write　about　Miami　art；　and　to　avoid；　for　an　additional　hour；　the　problem…if　it　was　still　a　problem…of　Berenice　Hollis。　Nothing　is　simple；　and　the　reason　I　am　a　good　critic　is　that　I　have　learned　the　deep；　dark　secret　of　criticism。　Thinking；　the　process　of　thinking；　and　the　man　thinking　are　all　one　and　the　same。　And　if　this　is　true；　and　I　live　as　though　it　is；　then　the　man　painting；　the　painting；　and　the　process　of　painting　are　also　one　and　the　same。　No　one；　and　nothing；　is　ever　simple；　and　Gloria　had　been　anxious；　too　anxious；　for　me　to　get　back　to　Palm　Beach　to　attend　the　preview　of　her　new　show。　The　show　was　not　important；　nor　was　the　idea　unique。　It　was　merely　logical。
　　She　was　having　a　tandem　showing　of　naive　Haitian　art　and　the　work　of　a　young　Cleveland　painter　named　Herb　Westcott；　who　had　spent　a　couple　of　months　in　Pétionville；　Haiti；　painting　the　local　scene。　The　contrast　would　make　Westcott　look　bad；　because　he　was　a　professional；　and　it　would　make　the　primitives　look　good；　because　they　were　naively　unprofessional。　She　would　sell　the　primitives　for　a　600　percent　markup　over　what　she　paid　for　them　and；　although　most　of　the　buyers　would　bring　them　back　after　a　week　or　so　（not　many　people　can　live　with　Haitian　primitives）；　she　would　still　make　a　profit。　And；　for　those　collectors　who　could　not　stand　naive　art；　Westcott's　craftsmanship　would　look　so　superior　to　the　Haitians　that　he　would　undoubtedly　sell　a　few　more　pictures　in　a　tandem　exhibit　than　he　would　in　a　one…man　show　without　the　advantage　of　the　parison。
　　By　thinking　about　Gloria　I　had　avoided；　for　a　short　while；　thinking　about　Berenice　Hollis。　My　solution　to　the　problem　of　Berenice　was　one　of　mild　overkill；　and　I　half…hoped　it　had　worked　and　half…hoped　that　it　had　not。　She　was　a　high　school　English　teacher　（eleventh　grade）　from　Duluth；　Minnesota；　who　had　flown　down　to　Palm　Beach　for　a　few　weeks　of　sun…shiny　convalescence　after　having　a　cyst　removed　from　the　base　of　her　spine。　Not　a　serious　operation；　but　she　had　sick　leave　accumulated；　and　she　took　it。　Her　pale　pink　skin　had　turned　gradually　to　saffron；　and　then　to　golden　maple。　The　coccyx　scar　had　changed　from　an　angry　red　to　gray　and　finally　to　slightly　puckered　grisaille。
　　Our　romance　had　passed　through　similar　shades　and　tints。　I　met　Berenice　at　the　Four　Arts　Gallery；　where　I　was　covering　a　traveling　Toulouse…Lautrec　exhibit；　and　she　refused　to　go　back　to　Duluth。　That　would　have　been　all　right　with　me　（I　could　not；　in　all　honesty；　encourage　anyone　to　return　to　Duluth）；　but　I　had　made　the　mistake　of　letting　her　move　in　with　me；　a　foolish　decision　that　had　seemed　like　a　great　idea　at　the　time。　She　was　a　large…strapping　is　a　better　word…country　girl　with　a　ripe　figure；　cornflowerblue　eyes；　and　a　tangle　of　wheat…colored　hair　flowing　down　her　back。　Except　for　the　thumb…tack　scar　on　her　coccyx；　which　was　hardly　noticeable；　her　sun…warmed　sweet…smelling　hide　was　flawless。　Her　blue　eyes　looked　velvety；　thanks　to　her　contact　lenses。　But　she　wasn't　really　good　nature