Be Like Boris
This interesting article points out that winners need not be jerks, even in a chess, a game notorious for its disfiguring effect on the egos of its practitioner. There are very few classy winners left in western culture, so the author offers some Russian role models: "Those who insist that only super-arrogant, insufferable egotists triumph in the real world overlook the beloved Mikhail Tal for one, the calm and assured Boris Spassky for another. Does anyone think Paul Keres was a conceited, churlish oaf? [No! -Dr. X] Is Smyslov an abrasive, abusive whiner? [NO!!! - Dr. X]"
But then, reflecting on the bizarre behavior of Bobby Fischer, the author asks a really interesting question:
"Is near-perfect chess worth this sacrifice? If we were to learn, nightmarishly, that Beethoven was an arsonist, or an abuser of children, would his string quartets still thrill and lift us? It’s a bit of a dilemma. What can we legitimately excuse for the sake of art?"
posted by Anonymous at 7:13 PM
2 Comments:
A problem.
Wagner's anti-semitism, Gaughin leaving a starving family in Paris, Carvaggio running people through over a tennis match, Beethoven's abusive family relationships, my refusal to pay all my parking tickets in a timely manner- these are a tiny fraction of the many sins of artists.
Great work lingers long beyond the memory of kindness or cruelty. In practice, good art and breakthrough accomplishment will probably be revered, and it isn't our choice to excuse or not excuse it's creator- the stuff is bigger. We're left in the unsatisfying position of locking up Fisher, and remembering his moves forever.
Hey - who let Nietzche in here? Tell him to fuck off!!
To the First Sea Lord:
Kudos for a perfectly worded response. I learned the same lesson many years ago when I saw some of Hitler's watercolors in Paris. I had feared that I would admire them but, blessedly, they weren't very good. Still, the experience forced me to work out the separation of the work and the creator.
However, I must warn you that I am recording your peccadillos for a "tell-all" biography which I shall send to publishers after your first show at the Guggenheim.
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