CrossRoads Farm

Othello and the Art Critics

20 April, 2005 - 8:39 am

We are studying Othello in my Comp. and Lit. class. Which is too say that the professor told us to read the Sparknotes version Of the play, showed the Laurence Fishburne version of the movie, and we discussed it for an entire twenty minutes. Unreal. It’s a good thing we have no final exam in the class because we’d all be up shit creek.

As much as I enjoy Shakespeare I don’t think I’ve ever seen Othello all the way through. As I watched the drama play out I noticed that the only reason the plot lines work is because people have a tendency to give more weight to negative information than positive.

It starts in high school. No matter how many people think you are doing just fine, no matter how many friends you have – it’s that one popular person who puts you down on that one Monday because he or she is pissy and wants to share the joy, that is the person you believe. Usually because those pissy people are only feeding the doubts you already have about yourself. Because people go around judging their insides by other peoples outsides. I’ll give you two recent examples.

If you remember, a few weeks ago I took some artwork down to the hospital for approval. I was confident they would give me a block of time. My contact was clear that she needed an artist for two blocks of time. “If these dates aren’t long enough you can take six weeks between this date and this date.” I wrote the dates down in my appointment book. I submitted the work for approval and two days later, I received a letter in the mail telling me that there was no time for me in the schedule. Now I will admit that I was a little down over that. When I went to pick up my art she apologized for not having space in the schedule. I told her if there wasn’t space in the schedule she shouldn’t have given me dates I could show my work. Then she went on about a waiting list. Funny that was the first time a waiting list had been mentioned. I told her that I wished she had just said she didn’t like the work, because it was the dishonesty that bothered me.
For a couple days after that I tried to puzzle out the veracity of my last statement. What was truly bothering me? The lie or the rejection? Was my art that bad? Art is messy and time consuming - should I just stop?

Then yesterday – a revelation. The Local Artist’s Show opened last Saturday at the Chandler Gallery. I submitted one piece to it last year. The limit is three pieces and this year, with the help of some of the local artists I know, I chose three. These are successful artists who like my work. On the day of submission I couldn’t get down to the gallery at the right time so I asked Tom to take the pieces for me. He told me that the woman there remembered my piece from last year work and was very impressed with my submissions. She remembered my one piece.
Yesterday, my professor walked up to me in the hall and asked where I was Saturday. He had been at the show opening and seen my work. Then he looked my straight in the face and said, “Did you get your six year old to help you with those?” I seem to recall pushing my fingers under my glasses and pinching the bridge of my nose, probably to disguise the look on my face – you can read volumes in one of my looks.
“No, Sir,” I said, “But thank you so much.” I think he thought he was being funny. I disagreed. Then he started to talk about the pieces individually and I admit I didn’t hear much of it because I’d tuned him out. Something about likingOne Morning and hating Radiance. Now I wish I had been listening, because I realized something while I was waiting for him to set up the video so we could watch Iago slowly pick Othello’s life apart.

I really don’t care what the Professor thinks of the work. Looking back on it a mere one day later his comment is amusing and childish. I disagree with this man on politics, religion, social issues, and literature. Why should I give any weight to his opinion about art, particularly my art? Plenty of people like my work. And not just best friends and family members. In the case of the hospital lady – it really was the lack of response and the lie that pissed me off. At least the Prof. had a response. He hated it.

I can live with that.

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