Category: The Arts

My excellent Conversation with Luis Garicano

Here is the audio, video, and transcript.  Here is part of the episode summary:

Tyler and Luis start their conversation with Spain — housing, NIMBYism, and the productivity crisis; Spanish literature and why the Civil War still looms so large; and what Chicago taught Luis about party discipline in European politics. Then to the EU’s unanimity problem, capital markets, and Denmark’s flexicurity model; a round of overrated-versus-underrated on Rosalía, Penélope Cruz, and Sgt. Pepper’s; and finally into Messy Jobs — why retraining programs fail, whether AI’s leisure dividend has arrived, and whether Spain could ever achieve AI sovereignty.

Excerpt:

COWEN: Why is there a current productivity crisis in Spain?

GARICANO: Productivity indeed hasn’t grown for three decades, more or less. We’re currently having extensive growth. We’re having immigration, we’re having tourism, but we don’t really have productivity. A lot of it has to do with the political economy. I think if you want to explain the West, not just Spain, you have to understand who is voting and who is this being governed for. Spain is a particularly low-fertility, high life-expectancy country. We have the fifth-lowest fertility and the fifth-highest life expectancy in the world grosso modo, and very high pensions.

Essentially, all the GDP growth we’ve had has gone, 100 percent of the GDP growth we’ve had since 2008 has gone to pensions, to the pensioners. In terms of investment, there is very little in terms of productive investment. We have this fantastic highway network and this high-speed rail network. It’s not really getting the maintenance it needs. Just as one example, the country is basically being governed by and for the older retired people.

COWEN: What does the optimistic scenario look like? You don’t have to predict it’s going to happen, but lay out for me how it could all go well. You would get productivity growth of 1.5 percent a year, and economic growth a bit higher than that.

GARICANO: Spain has amazing fundamentals for the current situation, meaning we could easily be very electricity-energy rich due to solar, wind, and nuclear. We have all this empty space where you could put nuclear plants without much resistance. In fact, we are closing them for political reasons. The energy could be a big advantage. It’s a really amazing place to live. There is no more diverse geography and climate and nature anywhere in Europe, I think, or close to, and beautiful. You could easily see a situation where Spain becomes Florida, or Austin, Texas. Think of Texas. It attracts technology, attracts talent who wants to live there, attracts energy, builds the data centers, et cetera. That scenario is not impossible. The political economy is the tricky part.

COWEN: Doesn’t that mean you actually don’t have good fundamentals? You said you don’t even have a YIMBY movement. Life there really is quite good. I’ve been many times. It’s one of my favorite countries to visit. Isn’t that like a resource curse where there’s no sense of crisis? Old people live for a long time. It’s very comfortable. The weather’s great. The food is amazing. Aren’t those, in fact, liabilities in a time of very rapid change?

And another, on a very different topic:

COWEN: On Messy Jobs, your new and excellent book, you argue very persuasively, “In my view, AI will not lead to anything like mass unemployment, maybe not even to a rise in unemployment, because jobs will become messier and the AIs won’t be able to do them.” Is that a fair description of part of your argument?

GARICANO: I think that’s completely right. Yes.

COWEN: Now, I agree with you, but I think my worry is the opposite, that I know a lot of people, they want simple jobs, they’re okay with some measure of tedium, and that if most jobs become messy jobs, for them, that’s quite stressful, and they’re upset and disoriented. Do you worry about that?

GARICANO: I think that we will have to have a tolerance for human relations. Is that what your friends don’t want? We have a tolerance for relational work that is complex, that has politics in it, that has a big human component, and that’s the part that is going to stay. If people just want to be in their desk typing away, I think two good ways to think about it is work from home and outsourcing. If you think of which jobs were offshored, let me say offshored, in the big offshoring wave to India, those are jobs that are not messy. They’re clean. The company specifies the jobs. They say, “Okay, we can specify this job perfectly. Let’s ship you up.”

Those jobs are the same exact ones that are under complete threat of disruption. A lot of the work from home, when it doesn’t involve a lot of submittings, I guess, has the same feature. Those jobs are clean, single-task, and very often verifiable. You can just see how the performance is going and have your RL, your reinforcement learning loop work on those. I think those are gone.

The messy component that I want to emphasize, many people will say, “Oh, AI will tend to the messiness as well.” I think that there is some messiness that is contingent and that AI can streamline, but there is a lot of messiness that is both relational and has to do with a deeper aspect of the knowledge problem that doesn’t really go away. As AI advances, many aspects of Hayek, Polanyi, and all these knowledge problems are still there.

COWEN: How much retraining will be required and how frequent will that retraining have to be? If I think of me working with agents, I have to retrain myself every month or two. That’s difficult for me. It’s not stressful given my position, but I can imagine it would be stressful. Can we really just put a big chunk of the labor force through that?

Definitely recommended.

Bundesrepublik Deutschland

At times we forget what an amazing wonder the Bundesrepublik Deutschland was.  At the end of the World War II, Germany was one of the sickest and cruelest human societies in history, ever.  Not too many years later, it was one of the best and most successful societies ever.

By the 1980s, living standards had caught up to the United States, with the provision of public goods sometimes superior.  The country was fully democratic, pro-Western, and largely pro-American.

Their rail system and postal service were amongst the best ever created.

For thinkers of note there were Hans Blumenberg, Habermas, Peter Weiss, Gadamer, late Heidegger and late Carl Schmitt, Reinhart Koselleck, the underrated Klaus Theweleit, Niklas Luhmann, and perhaps you value some of the other members of the Frankfurt School.

The visual arts were very strong, with Richter, Polke, Baselitz, Beuys, Penck, Palermo, and much more.

Music produced Stockhausen, Henze, Lachenmann, Rihm, Zimmerman, Kraftwerk, Can, and all of Krautrock, later techno, though right at the time of unification rather than during the BRD per se.  The list of vocalists, instrumentalists, and conductors is strong.  Was there anywhere better for hearing opera?

Perhaps I prefer the fiction from Austria and Switzerland, but at the very least Germany provided a major market for those authors and it was an extraordinarily literate country with amazing bookstores.  For domestic authors there were Böll, Patrick Süskind, Siegfried Lenz, Wolfgang Koeppen, can I count Uwe Johnson?, and Arno Schmidt maybe?  I do not like Grass, but it seems wrong not to list him.

The food could be very good, especially in the southwest.  There were Michelin star restaurants all over the country (still are, to be clear on this point).  So many well-functioning cities, with many of the world’s best transit systems.  Lots of nuclear power and a strong industrial base.  West Berlin was an exciting city with an air of mystery.  Some might say no speed limit on the Autobahn, though I am less sure that was a virtue.  Plenty of beautiful women and reasonable attitudes toward sex.

If you had to choose, what was the worst thing about the country?  No shopping on Sundays?  Workplace and shopping hours discrimination against women?  Too much smoking?  Obsession with Waldsterben?

Are there features of post-unification Germany that can compare to this earlier era?  So much seems not to work well.  So many policy mistakes have been made.  So much leadership lost in the areas mentioned above.  So much pessimism, sadly a lot of it seems to be justified.

Where did all the good performance go?  And why did it leave?  Lack of a communist enemy?  Absorption of East Germany?  The simple accretion of distance from pre-WWII German creativity?

The wonder that was the Bundesrepublik Deutschland.  Johannes, we hardly knew ye.

Armenia notes

I strongly recommend a trip to Armenia, now is a great time to go.  Here are a few things I noticed:

1. The country remains intellectual.  The book fair is well attended.  The classical music season is excellent, with good concerts multiple times a week, and the theatre scene, in both Armenian and Russian, is active.  The country has only a little more than three million people, yet they have won gold medal in the chess Olympiad three times in recent memory.  You could say the country has maintained the (few) strengths of the former Soviet Union, and is arguably the only place that has.  It feels more like the former Soviet Union than Russia does.

2. The National Gallery has excellent Soviet and Russian paintings, while their Armenian collection is definitive.  The Medieval Manuscripts museum is first-rate.  Unfortunately, neither does anything to put images online, but all the more reason to go.

3. Armenian society is nearly 100% white and 100% Christian, as most of the immigrants (is that the right word here?) are Russian.  Crime is close to zero, and the cars stop when you try to cross the street.  Being a loyal northern Virginian, that mix is not “my thing.”  But if that is what you wish to experience, if only briefly, Armenia is the place that serves it up without apology.  Even secular Armenians have great respect for the national Apostolic church, as they view it as a guardian of Armenian independence.

4. The old monasteries are A level sights, and many of them are mere day trips from Yerevan, the capital.  Most of the tourists you see at these are Russians, not Westerners.  You also will see some Iranian tourists.

5. Yerevan is not great for old buildings, but the city is very walkable and pleasant and lively.  I believe the winters are brutal, but September there is wonderful, every day was perfect weather.

5b. In Armenia you will see how their brutalism in fact comes from their earlier religious architectural traditions, and how the newer churches embody modern brutalist ideas as well.  I found this very interesting.

6. I have a separate piece coming out on food in Armenia, for now I will just say it is excellent and novel as well.

7. Armenia is not dirt cheap, but it is much cheaper than most of Europe and so can be considered a bargain in relative terms.

8. Almost everyone in Yerevan speaks good Russian.  The influence of Russia is embedded in virtually every institution, people like Russia, Russia supplies most of their energy, and is the number one trading partner.  Russian troops protect them from Turkey.  A Russian does not even need a passport to enter and live in Armenia.  Russia is a permanent fixture in Armenian life, and most people do not seem to mind that.  They are very disappointed that Putin did not protect them more in the war with Azerbaijan, but that is their major source of discontent, not that Russia and Putin are evil.

9. Armenia has close relations with Iran, and Armenians do not seem to hate Iran.  They regard the country as a partial counterweight to Turkey, and for that matter Russia.  People in Armenia are very conscious of the x-risk represented by Turkey.  They also will speak to you about history in great detail, and they are very wrapped up in their past history.  They are very familiar with maps.

10. You can see Mount Ararat, supposed resting place of Noah’s Ark, from the outskirts of Yerevan.  It is beautiful.  It remains on the Armenian currency, and in the hearts of Armenians, yet it is now part of Turkey and is very likely to remain so.  Armenians refer to that part of Turkey as “Western Armenia.”

11. Here is someone else’s exaggerated take on the place, no it will not be the next Poland.

I would put it this way.  At any point in time, there are a few parts of the world that are perfect for visiting and viewing.  They should be comfortable, but still exotic and not overtouristed.  Not dangerous, and not too full of hassles, yet replete with challenging and stimulating experiences.  Yunnan in China is one such place.  Currently, aAzerbaijan, Georgia, and Armenia all fit this designation.  They all have complex histories, and are not always in great shape, so now is the time to go.  They will never get better to visit, and right now they are pretty close to perfect as destinations.  See what you can, while you can.

Mein Ingeborg Bachmann Studium

Recently I finished read Malina, by Ingeborg Bachmann, an Austrian novel published in 1971.  I was pretty stunned by how good it was (it seems less good in English), and I would say I enjoyed it more, and found it deeper, than any of the famous 19th century Victorian novels by women.  The initial story line is a woman having relationships with two different men, one she lives with and the other who is married, more charismatic, and lives right up the street.

And so I have been looking into Bachmann more.  Her volume of letters with Max Frisch, her lover and the leading Swiss novelist of his time, is the best “letters book” I know.  After four hundred pages, with another 180 or so to go, I still am not bored.  It is called “Wir haben es nicht gut gemacht.” Der Briefwechsel.  (This November coming out in English…and probably the letters work well in English?)  Overall, it is remarkable how many ups and downs a relationship can have and persist.  It works best to read only a few of the letters at a time, so that the story does not go by too quickly.  One sees connections between the letters and the unfolding of Malina.

She also has letters volumes with Paul Celan and Henze, those are in my pile too.  (She and Henze were just friends.)  And just this year there was a wonderful new biography of Bachmann, namely Dieter Burdorf’s Dieses unruhige Ich: Ingeborg Bachmann.  I have started that.

There is a movie of Malina, an opera too, and a biopic about Bachmann and Frisch.  I have heard Max Frisch’s Montauk is partly about the Frisch-Bachman relationship as well.  And we haven’t even gotten yet to Volker Schlondorff, have we?

Bachmann has poetry in German, and a new edition of her short stories is coming out this fall in English.

It is wonderful to discover something/someone so new and unexpected.  And as I get older and know more, it happens less frequently than it used to.

I will continue with this.  Amazing (and charming) how many words people can spill about “stuff”!

Astra, doing poetry

One prompt, no cherry-picking:

TC: “Now a short poem in the style of the very best Rilke, in German:”

Die Hand im Schlaf

Nun liegt sie offen. Alles, was sie hielt,
ist in die eigne Schwere heimgekehrt.
Nur eine kleine Höhlung bleibt, als hätte
ein Vogel hier geruht und sie gelehrt,
auch das Entwichene noch zu umgeben,
behutsam, ohne Wunsch nach Wiederkehr.

My excellent Conversation with Michael Moritz

Here is the audio, video, and transcript.  Here is the episode summary:

Michael Moritz has written books through every phase of his life: the first history of Apple and an account of Chrysler’s near-death while he was a journalist at Time, a study of Alex Ferguson’s Manchester United in the middle of his 38 years at Sequoia, and now Ausländer, a family memoir, after leaving the firm. Moritz calls himself a dilettante with too many interests, but listen to him on learning to paint in his 40s, or the questions he would ask a ten-year-old boy in a German village in 1890, and you may decide that unsatisfied curiosity is not a small thing to build a life on.

Tyler and Michael discuss his childhood in Wales, where his love for visual arts came from, why he disappointed his Latin teacher, having Thanksgiving dinner with Philip Roth, why children don’t interrogate their parents about their history, what he feels visiting Germany and why he now holds German citizenship, how a history major with no technical background talked his way into Sequoia, his unpublished Don Valentine profile, what people underrate about Steve Jobs, obsessives versus dilettantes, why capitalism was more ablaze in China than America, what funding the Booker Prize taught him about his own ignorance, how to improve San nonprofits, how an incurable cancer diagnosis changed his calendar, why Britain’s stuck, what he’ll learn next, and more.

Excerpt:

COWEN: Is it easy to live with an Otto Dix painting or sketch? It hangs on the wall. Many people think it’s ugly. It reminds one of unpleasant things in history, right?

MORITZ: Yes, for Harriet and me it is. I think the tougher, more strenuous, grueling works of art that other people would have difficulty living with have many layers to them. You explore them, and they’re difficult pictures, and they’re not easy at first sight. Unlike easier pictures that may be a bit more decorative, they leave room for plenty of exploration, as the years go by. Then they’re redolent, they tell stories. They’re redolent of history. They’re images of a different epoch. I think most of the paintings that we’ve been lucky enough to find over the years, they are tough paintings.

COWEN: I feel that way about Haitian art, which has many brutal scenes. For you, is Chagall too sentimental?

MORITZ: Yes.

COWEN: You don’t want to put it on your wall?

MORITZ: The earlier Chagalls I’ve been drawn to, but neither of us have felt the urge or the need to go out in pursuit of Chagall.

COWEN: What is your own painting like?  

MORITZ: Oh, exasperating.

COWEN: Neue Sachlichkeit or something else, it’s like Kossoff?

MORITZ: No, I don’t know if you’ve ever tried painting or drawing. I didn’t take it up until I was in my mid 40s. I’d never picked up a crayon or outside of the obligatory, abbreviated art lessons that always seem to be held later on Thursday afternoon, with everybody waiting for the bell to ring to end school. I’d never taken up a crayon or drew, or let alone painted.

If I look back today at what I did early on, it’s a lot better. Then if I look at the paintings that I try to make, my goodness, it is an extremely humbling experience, but I enjoy it. I really enjoy it. There’s nothing like getting lost in making a painting, and before you know it, two hours have gone, and you have no idea where the time went.

And:

COWEN: If we think of your interest in Steve Jobs, your book on Alex Ferguson, the art you buy, that you’ve now written a book on the Holocaust, is there some general pattern where trying to come to terms with really difficult things, is this a recurring theme in your life? Learning how to paint, that’s very hard, right?

MORITZ: I haven’t really thought about it that way, but I think life is made richer by having a challenge that you’re not sure whether you’re up to conquering. I’ve always been up for that. Each of these books has really just sprung out of being curious about something. I’m not sure that there’s any greater pattern than unsatisfied curiosity.

Recommended, interesting throughout.  And I am very happy to recommend Michael’s new book Ausländer: One Family’s Story of Escape and Exile.

Luke Burgis interviews Patrick Collison on aesthetics

It was very fun talking to @patrickc  about New Aesthetics at the @ClunyInstitute ‘s conference last month.

We talked about:

—The origin story of the New Aesthetics grants — and why he and Tyler Cowen disagree on almost everything aesthetic (1:00)

—Why culture is “stuck”: a 1926 Bauhaus building could pass for last year’s (2:30)

—Modernism’s explicit, stated mission to tear down beauty — “they weren’t hiding it” (3:30) —Solzhenitsyn: you can fake goodness and truth, but beauty “bears within it its own verification” (6:30)

—Is beauty objective? Why everyone visits Toledo, Spain and no one visits Toledo, Ohio (7:30)

—Detroit was rich for ~25 years and built the DIA. Silicon Valley’s been rich for 50. “We could do the Silicon Valley art tour in a coffee break” (14:30)

—Was Y Combinator secretly modeled on the art atelier? (18:30)

—The highest-leverage point for aesthetic renewal used to be churches. What is it now? (27:00)

—The sacred as an “endangered species”

— and Patrick’s alternative theory of WTF happened in 1971: we lost the sacred, so we can’t have nice things (28:30)

—I asked him about Vatican II and technological stagnation. He (wisely?) passed. I didn’t. (34:30)

—”Can anyone name a work of art made with AI?” Silence. (37:30)

—Why Germany is preeminent in music, literature, and philosophy — and its food is so bad. (A demand-side problem.) (41:30)

—”Biology is so ugly, man.” Physics is beautiful; biology is a tower of hacks (43:30)

—The “anti-beauty conspiracy” of the last century — and the massive latent demand waiting to be uncorked (52:30)

—Patrick reacts live to beeswax art (56:30)

Here is the link.  And on YouTube, Brian Eno intro.

Why Aren’t Modernist Bridges Awful?

The public dislikes modern architecture but, generally speaking, they do not dislike modern bridges. Lists of the most awesome, most stunning, most beautiful bridges in the world will mention classics like London’s Tower Bridge, the Brooklyn Bridge, or the Rakotzbrücke but alongside them they will picture the Kubitschek Bridge in Brazil (Shutterstock).
The Rio-Antirrio Bridge in Greece:
Rio-Antirrio Bridgeor the Moses “Bridge” in the Netherlands.
Moses Bridge
Whether you like these bridges or not, I don’t see in the literature an idea that modern bridges are all ugly or that modern bridge building has failed or fallen behind the great bridges of the past in the way that there is such a critique for modern architecture in general.

Why is this? I have a theory, which is that bridge designers come from engineering schools rather than schools of architecture. It is possible, of course, that there is something in the nature of bridges that prunes the design space in a way that attracts beauty–maybe we like catenaries, arches, cables in tension and beauty is just a byproduct of the engineering.

It is possible, however, to produce ugly bridges so it’s not just an engineering constraint. Moreover, one small but telling piece of evidence in favor of my theory is that most of the bridges chosen by Wallpaper magazine, an architecture magazine specifically, are in fact ugly (and with no overlap in the bridges from my first category of “popular” beautiful bridges). Here are a few, judge for yourself:

The fact that modern bridges are often beautiful, especially when they come from engineers, is consistent with Samuel Hughes’s argument that ugly has been a choice, not a constraint.

What should I ask Roman Mars?

Yes I will be doing a Conversation with him.  Most of all he is obsessed with design, here is Wikipedia:

Roman Mars is an American radio producer. He is the host and producer of 99% Invisible, a KALW radio show and podcast, and a founder of the podcast collective Radiotopia, which he describes as efforts “to broaden the radio landscape [and] make shows that aren’t bound by conventions” of public radio in the United States. In 2020, he co-authored the New York Times best seller The 99% Invisible City with Kurt Kohlstedt…Mars, with Elizabeth Joh, also hosts the podcast What Roman Mars Can Learn About Con Law.

His TED talk on city flags is a good introduction to his thought.

So what should I ask him?

JFK’s AI Voice

From Kennedy’s 1961 inaugural:

  • “Ask not what your country can do for you—ask what you can do for your country.”
  • “Let us never negotiate out of fear. But let us never fear to negotiate.”
  • “United, there is little we cannot do… Divided, there is little we can do.”
  • “If a free society cannot help the many who are poor, it cannot save the few who are rich.

and from the 1962 moon speech at Rice University;

  • We choose to do these things not because they are easy but because they are hard.

and from Lyndon Johnson’s inaugural speech:

  • John Kennedy’s death commands what his life conveyed—that America must move forward.
  • On the 20th day of January, in 1961, John F. Kennedy told his countrymen that our national work would not be finished ‘in the first thousand days, nor in the life of this administration, nor even perhaps in our lifetime on this planet.’ But, he said, ‘let us begin.’ Today, in this moment of new resolve, I would say to all my fellow Americans, let us continue.

Sound familiar?

Were John F. Kennedy’s speeches written by an AI? Probably not. But were AI’s trained on the speech writer Ted Sorensen? It would appear so. Or to be more accurate, AIs have absorbed the Sorensen toolkit: symmetry, parallelism, antithesis, repetition, and the neatly turned reversal.

Sorensen is considered a great stylist, and these are iconic lines. The problem with AI voice is not the techniques themselves. It is the overuse of them—their deployment to describe a trip to 7-Eleven with the same rhetorical flourishes once used to send men to the moon.

I suspect that will be an easy problem to fix, so don’t expect AI voice to continue.

Hat tip: murgh

Rothko show in Florence

In Museo San Marco there is an ancillary exhibit, placing some smaller, lighter colored Rothkos next to their Fra Angelico frescoes.  Those rooms bowled me over, as for one thing they show how much Rothko was a religious painter at heart.

I also was struck by the high proportion of Chinese visitors at this show, even though they are not especially numerous in Florence right now.

The main Rothko show, at Palazzo Strozzi, had an opening room showing Rothkos tied to Renaissance (!) art, mostly with works from early Rothko.  The rest of the exhibit had perfect lighting and was the best Rothko display I have seen.

Ken Griffin has very good taste in Rothko.  One of his works is here.

Visiting Florence in August is less unbearable than I was expecting.  So many other places have become crowded that the situation here does not phase me.  Plus the heat is keeping many away?  At dinnertime, there is no crush to get into the restaurants.

Moving on shortly, just here for one day!

My excellent Conversation with Andrew Graham-Dixon

Here is the audio, video, and transcript.  From the episode summary:

Tyler and Andrew discuss whether it was inevitable we’d rediscover Vermeer, how that vanishingly rare sect left its fingerprints all over his life, why the Met has misread its own Allegory of the Catholic Faith, whether Vermeer painted for money or pointedly refused to, where the Gardner’s stolen Concert might be, why Dutch music never blossomed as much as Dutch painting did, how the Church of England rivaled the Cultural Revolution in wiping out British art, whether you can still spot an English painting on sight, the love that saturates late Rembrandt and the mystery of his soaring print prices, the nail on the wall that proves two Vermeer paintings are a pair, why the French are to blame for George Stubbs’ lack of status, whether we can still love Malevich, why Andrews calls recent Richter “almost like printing money,” why female artists and antique textiles remain absurdly cheap, why nobody builds beautiful neighborhoods any longer, and much more.

Excerpt:

COWEN: In what sense was Vermeer a liberal?

GRAHAM-DIXON: Well, the main discovery of my book is that Vermeer was among the very first pioneers of what we now call the liberal tradition.

COWEN: What we now call the Netherlands, then the Dutch Republic.

GRAHAM-DIXON: In the Dutch Republic, and the Dutch contribution to the Enlightenment, which is the origins of the liberal tradition, has been very much forgotten. That’s absolutely at the heart of my book, is an attempt to remember these people, to bring them back into the place in history that they deserve. I’m not only talking about Vermeer. I’m talking about his friends, his patrons, because that’s the discovery of the book, is that he and his friends were a remarkable group of people, and they have been completely forgotten, and what they believed has been largely forgotten too. We need to remember it now, probably more than ever.

COWEN: This was also a religious movement.

GRAHAM-DIXON: Yes.

COWEN: Doctrinally, how would they have been different from, say, Protestants in England? The Collegiants, the Remonstrants?

GRAHAM-DIXON: Yes. Vermeer’s patrons, it emerges, and Vermeer himself, were part of a Protestant sect in Holland called the Remonstrants. They had a more extreme manifestation called the Collegiants, and they were unique among all Christian denominations of that time in being utterly opposed to division, hostility, enmity. The only thing they wanted was to bring all Christians, indeed all people—they included Jewish people and Muslim people—they wanted to bring everyone together within a faith that only really cleaved to the essentials of what Jesus Christ said, particularly in the Sermon on the Mount.

They said, “If you actually follow Jesus properly, you can never make war. You can never persecute someone who differs from your opinion. You can never pick on somebody because they believe something different.” They were very, very tolerationist. They formed the first pacifist movement in European history. They lived in a time of appalling warfare, the Thirty Years’ War, probably the worst war in the history of the modern West. Fifteen million out of 20 million German people died in the course of 30 years, and the 5 million who were left, all the women had been violated, and all the men only have one arm or one leg. It was truly atrocious.

They’re responding to real traumatic historical events. They’re responding to what is going on around the corner from where they live. They come up with this very, very beautiful approach to life, full of optimism, full of idealism. For about 20 years, the Dutch Republic actually lives by these codes of belief to a great extent. It’s the only tolerant country in Europe.

And this:

COWEN: What makes George Stubbs such an underrated painter?

GRAHAM-DIXON: I think he’s been underrated forever because of his subject matter. I blame the French. The French in the 17th century invented a system for ranking works of art by their subject matter. Up at the top, you and I, we could put on some armor and confront each other with swords, and Poussin would paint us. That would be a history painting done from the life. That would be at the pinnacle. Then would be a painting of an event, maybe a meeting between great men. Then, below that, there would be a portrait.

You’d keep going down, and eventually you’d get to paintings of still lifes, like flowers and fruit, or paintings of animals. These were the lowest works of art because they featured the basest things. I think that Stubbs, to a certain extent, was the victim of that.

COWEN: Are we now able to see them properly?

GRAHAM-DIXON: Yes. It’s been no problem since Stubbs and Constable, more than anyone else, slightly controversial to say, but I think they paved the way for modernism because they showed, not necessarily deliberately, but they showed that anything could be painted, anything at all, like a piece of mud or a piece of a river could be painted in such a way as to touch on the very highest thoughts and ideas and beliefs and feelings that subject matter is completely, in a sense, irrelevant. Cézanne picked up on that when he said, “I want to stun Paris with an apple. I’ll paint an apple, and I’ll paint it with such astonishing concentration that you’ll see it as an epistemological challenge to all of your philosophy.”

I think that French art gets that from British art because British art has to be like that because that’s all the aristocrats are going to commission. They look down on people like Stubbs, in a sense. If I’m an aristocrat in the 18th century and I want a really important picture, I’ll go to Italy and I’ll buy one, thank you very much, and I’ll buy my history painting from Titian. You, sir, Stubbs, you just paint my horse. It’s my racehorse, and I’m very fond of him. Paint him well and don’t scare him.

Recommended, interesting throughout.  And here is Andrew’s very interesting new book on Vermeer.

Markets in everything?

Peter Brook‘s five-hour-plus film adaptation of “The Mahabharata” is set for a BFI Blu-ray release on Aug. 10, presented in high definition from a new 4K restoration of the 1989 production.

The release centres on the triptych version of the film, running 332 minutes, which sits between Brook’s three-hour cinema cut and the six-hour television version he shot concurrently. Based on the ancient Hindu epic, the film was originally produced by Brook with screenwriters Jean-Claude Carrière and Marie-Hélène Estienne, and features an international cast drawn from 16 nationalities.

Here is the Variety article, but will there be a version suitable for U.S. players?  The work is highly recommended, real genius.  For the pointer I thank Sam Mendelsohn.