dogs and ships

found out recently about turner and an exhibit in 1840. apparently, at the royal academy, there was a show, and on it's illustrious walls hung painting by all the artist of the day in england. the highlight of the show, back then, was by someone who painted a picture of a dog. the dog is looking into a big book and surrounded by other dogs. the dog is some kind of judge and it seems he is giving a verdict.

the turner painting is alight in red. the sea is violent and swirling. there is a ship and around it are dying men. they are being eaten by disfigured sea creatures with dead eyes and teeth. the drowning men have shackles and there are hundreds of them. the water is black and waves are sharp and jagged. the ship itself is awash and looks like it is being dragged down and slowed pulled under. the sun has sliced a vortex and everything is going to be sucked in and devoured. to the right, the upper top right there is a patch of clouds that is thinning out, and behind that is a glimpse of blue.

critics and writers of the day lauded the first and mocked the latter. they said the dog picture was a masterpiece and compared the slave ship to a kitchen accident. nowadays we say the work by turner is a masterpiece and the dog picture flavour of the day. (the royals of the day, as they are now is suppose, were big dog lovers, so it doesn't seem so far fetched that a painting of a dog would curry the most praise, especially in a institution called the the royal academy.)

i wonder what kind of person i would have been if i were a critic back then. i wonder if i would have joined the chorus of derision and laugher, or if i would have seen it for what it was. i often wonder how specious my tastes actually are, if i am one of those or not. i wonder how much the state of today does in clouding my vision and inebriating my senses. (i heard an interview with stephen king, and he said that he suspects that w.faulkner would have written different novels if he had stayed sober.) i suppose you only live in the now and yes! every man is an island.

and only time will, as usual, tell. look me up in 166 years and let me know.