Guardian review … Leveson latest … C-Mail police probe …
Never wrong for long. One of the best things about online journalism is that you can update mistakes quickly. But that doesn’t mean they go unnoticed.
The Australian’s Twitter gumshoe Nic Christensen posted a Media Machine blog post this morning about Shaun Micallef’s appearance on Ten’s new Breakfast.
The video had been making the rounds of Twitter yesterday afternoon. Except, Micallef didn’t appear on Breakfast yesterday. As the YouTube video clearly noted, it was uploaded on March 18. One Shaun Micallef blog posted the video on March 15, saying that Micallef had appeared “the other week”.
Obviously someone finally told Christensen and the post was updated (although no mention in the article that it was changed):
Not quite as catchy a lede, is it?
How to (sometimes) write a review. Ah, The Guardian, perhaps the single most irritating newspaper on the planet. But when it goes, it really goes. Take Jonathan Jones’ review of Damien “shark in a tank” Hirst’s new exhibition of figurative oil paintings, “Two Weeks One Summer”. Awarding the show one star, and denouncing it for basic technical incompetence, Jones, an admirer of Hirst’s conceptual works, breaks off at one point and simply starts addressing Hirst personally:
“Seriously — Mr Hirst — I am talking to you. It seems you have no one around you to say this: stop, now. Shut up the shed.”
Later, he rises to magnificence:
“If Hirst did not try to paint an orange accurately, no one would know he can’t do it. But he has tried, at least I think it’s an orange, and the poor sphere seems to float in mid air because of the clumsy circle of shadow below it. For a moment I thought this was intentional, then I realised it was a competence issue. Such issues abound. You look at a branch and it is obvious he has worked at it: equally obvious the work was wasted. At their very best these paintings lack the skill of thousands of amateur artists who paint at weekends all over Britain — and yet he can hire fools to compare him with Caravaggio.”
And then the coup de grace:
“This exhibition is a warning to young artists. At 18, you may long to be Damien Hirst when he was 30. But in his 40s, Hirst apparently wishes he was the artist that, who knows, he might have been, had he spent his youth drawing day after day after day. He has left it too late. Instead he looks like a tyrant lost in a world of mirrors …”
A neat end, since he had earlier compared the exhibition to a recent vanity showing by Saif al-Gaddafi, of his own desert landscapes. Given Hirst’s obvious middle-aged desire to create something which combines ideas with striking physical rendering — or art as we used to call it — Jones’s review will be devastating. And really, at some point, reviewers should simply break off from any pretence at giving a “report for readers” in the review, and say what they are really doing: telling the artists what a tool he is. Five stars. — Guy Rundle
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