Product Description
"As enjoyable and provocative a book of criticism as anyone has published in years."--Rolling Stone. "Hickey creates music of his own with the style of a good short-fiction writer and the insight of a first-rate thinker."--The Nation. "...a deliciously democratic style of prose."--The Boston Phoenix. "Air Guitar is naked pleasure, executing an unabashed literary seduction."--Los Angeles Times. Third Printing.
|
|
 Solid, Fun Criticism- A Rarity ( goyalion )
For the most part, art critism is pretty dry, boring stuff. In Hickey's hands, it's much more lively. The writing is pretty crisp and engaging. Hickey uses all sorts of literary devices to get his points across- some with more success than others. Overall, it's the kind of book you enjoy to read. Rare in this genre.
The basic "marketplace" angle he takes on the quality of art is pretty edgey. The art world is pretty dominated by those with intense socialist leanings, so his point of view is a nice contrast. He manages to inform us without being too snotty about it.
|
Another Guest for the Ideal Dinner Party ( john-michaelalbert )
"Air Guitar" is Hickey's characterization of critical writing, it's direct relationship to its subject(s) being of approximately equal import as a person playing air guitar in his living room is to a rock concert. In the words of Vladimir Horowitz, the concert pianist, it is "the words without the music." That being said, it's damned interesting, all the same, especially when approached this way. Hickey's favorite technique is to take two seemingly disparate things and to discuss the way in which they inform each other, all the while examining the net effect on his life as your basic, educated, ambitious Joe trying to fill the "great gap of time" between birth and death with a mind boggling array of interesting experiences. In this way, they're more 'think pieces' than academic essays. I'll admit, there were moments when my brain hurt; but most of the time, I was enjoying his company and his facility for mental gymnastics -- and the obvious pleasure he took in it personally. I heard of this book on a radio interview (Fresh Air? Diane Rehm Show?) and bought it specifically so that I could have my own personal copy of "My Weimar" -- a spectacular, 'where am I in the grand sceme of things now' type touchstone. Reading the whole book as a part of a recent essay jag, I found it all equally challenging, equally enjoyable.
|
A great read for makers and lovers of culture ( jahwar )
Ignore all of the negative press--decide for yourself and read the book (contrary to the opinions of some reviewers, this book is not hard to read). Yes, Dave frequently uses the word "quotidian" (Oh noooo!!!) and the cover may be too much if you have bad "good" taste. And at times, having to learn a new word is required (Is that a bad thing?). I think Hickey would say, that what all of the reviewers on this page are involved in, is exactly what he is arguing for--democratic discussion of the art that does or does not move you.
|
 Great writing indeed, but why the heavy pen? ( fallopio )
OK, granted, this is this first thing I've read by Dave Hickey, so I may not be giving his overall legacy a fair review. I know he's been around for awhile and has made numerous contributions to many top-notch magazines and journals. This book was recommended to me by a guy in a Williamsburg bookshop, and despite the pretentious accusation of 'genius' slapped on the front cover, I glanced through the book (spotting some obviously great writing) and bought it on the spot.
I was really taken by his unabashed, intimate style for several chapters of the book, until he began his defenses of art dealing and art criticism and his pompous attacks on 'spectators' versus 'participants' (are critics participants?) in his version of the art world. Sorry Dave, this doesn't wash and you know it --- simply announcing that 'Art is not a commodity' simplifies a huge can of worms best dealt with by Debord or even Hakim Bey, not by an art dealer aspiring to belong to this community, rather than getting dirty in the spectating and profiteering himself. When I hit the end of a couple of these verbose defenses of his history of 'dirty occupations', I was left thinking, 'Is it that important you were an art dealer?', or 'Who really cares that you're an art critic?'.
I simply want to be regaled with tales of Sigfried and Roy, or stomp in the boots of Hank Williams, or read Dave's ridiculous opinions on Chet Baker and, most importantly, laugh (or even smile out loud). This is where he is at his best, and consequently where the book shines. It is great writing, indeed, but too bad Dave feels it's necessary to namedrop and pontificate to purge himself from the sea of soulless art critics. Just do what you do best, and write!
|
 uh, now what ( xenicon )
I'm ready- couldn't wait. Finished a book by Leo Marks who was codemaker for SOE during wwii which was very interesting and surprisingly compelling- even when he described the basics of codes and betrayals. But it tired me out in alot of ways. So Hickey seemed a good way to go: clear and noncant according to reputation. Plus I read an interview Hickey gave to a colorado newspaper where he was spot on even if his stevedoreness was a little droll coming from a man obvious bored with small pieties. Started it last night and I'm already wavering. My initial enthusiasm is slightly dampened by his repeated use of the word "quotidian" and his p'haps too obvious placement of himself as heavy meta dude who hangs with grass in Mexico and in the next breath is able for instance claim that Norman Rockwell is, in fact, a great democratic artist with impressive technical skills. He claims too that every artist he knows admires Rockwell. I always thought it was schlock- I could be wrong- (I think Rockwell leads to Tarantino) but what worries me is that Hickey seems willing to take a perverse position for the pleasure of taking a perverse position. Well that's OK but he isn't Panofsky. He's acrobatic and synthetic- but afterwards like any dance by Arthur Murray you wonder what you have experienced and when.
The book cover is terrible, almost the worst I have ever seen which again suggests a willful postmodern banality offered w/o irony which is the hippest position possible. Says Sean Puffy Combs, Puff Daddy, P Daddy, P Diddy: "its all good." He's a genius too.
|
|
View Larger
Add to Cart 
