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Selected Essays
The writing career of Booker Prize winner John Berger–poet, storyteller, playwright, and essayist–has yielded some of the most original and compelling examinations of art and life of the past half century. In this essential volume, Geoff Dyer has brought together a rich selection of many of Berger’s seminal essays.
Berger’s insights make it impossible to look at a painting, watch a film, or even visit a zoo in quite the same way again. The vast range of subjects he addresses, the lean beauty of his prose, and the keenness of his anger against injustice move us to view the world with a new lens of awareness. Whether he is discussing the singleminded intensity of Picasso’s Guernica, the parallel violence and alienation in the art of Francis Bacon and Walt Disney, or the enigmatic silence of his own mother, what binds these pieces throughout is the depth and fury of Berger’s passion, challenging us to participate, to protest, and above all, to see.
Berger’s insights make it impossible to look at a painting, watch a film, or even visit a zoo in quite the same way again. The vast range of subjects he addresses, the lean beauty of his prose, and the keenness of his anger against injustice move us to view the world with a new lens of awareness. Whether he is discussing the singleminded intensity of Picasso’s Guernica, the parallel violence and alienation in the art of Francis Bacon and Walt Disney, or the enigmatic silence of his own mother, what binds these pieces throughout is the depth and fury of Berger’s passion, challenging us to participate, to protest, and above all, to see.
608 pages, Paperback
First published December 26, 2001
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910 people want to read
About the author
John Berger
241 books2,620 followersJohn Peter Berger was an English art critic, novelist, painter and author. His novel G. won the 1972 Booker Prize, and his essay on art criticism Ways of Seeing, written as an accompaniment to a BBC series, is often used as a college text.
Later he was self exiled to continental Europe, living between the french Alps in summer and the suburbs of Paris in winter. Since then, his production has increased considerably, including a variety of genres, from novel to social essay, or poetry. One of the most common themes that appears on his books is the dialectics established between modernity and memory and loss,
Another of his most remarkable works has been the trilogy titled Into Their Labours, that includes the books Pig Earth (1979), Once In Europa (1983) Lilac And Flag (1990). With those books, Berger makes a meditation about the way of the peasant, that changes one poverty for another in the city. This theme is also observed in his novel King, but there his focus is more in the rural diaspora and the bitter side of the urban way of life.
Later he was self exiled to continental Europe, living between the french Alps in summer and the suburbs of Paris in winter. Since then, his production has increased considerably, including a variety of genres, from novel to social essay, or poetry. One of the most common themes that appears on his books is the dialectics established between modernity and memory and loss,
Another of his most remarkable works has been the trilogy titled Into Their Labours, that includes the books Pig Earth (1979), Once In Europa (1983) Lilac And Flag (1990). With those books, Berger makes a meditation about the way of the peasant, that changes one poverty for another in the city. This theme is also observed in his novel King, but there his focus is more in the rural diaspora and the bitter side of the urban way of life.
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Displaying 1 - 28 of 28 reviews
February 9, 2016
"Glamour is the happiness of other people's envy" - I came across this definition from Berger years ago. I was about to move from Wisconsin to San Francisco, and tried to always keep it in the back of my mind to help navigate my passage. If this pithy formula were his only accomplishment Berger would still be a great writer in my eyes.
Not quite like any other I know. In the variety of his interests, his moral, political, and spiritual commitments he reminds me a bit of Simone Weil or Walter Benjamin. But unlike either of them, happily, he's still alive. I try and remember to google him every couple months to make sure I haven't missed his death. 89 years old and still in love with the world (& apparently still a smoker!).
Like many other readers, I've found Berger indispensable as a guide to the art of painting. Not that he's infallible. At time he can wed arbitrary taste to righteousness in way that's truly baffling. Take, for instance, that notorious piece where he likens Francis Bacon to Walt Disney; yet even there, so long as we disregard the tone of condemnation, I think we can find real insights. Much more than specific evaluations, these essays offer a model for moral and sensual responsiveness.
Not quite like any other I know. In the variety of his interests, his moral, political, and spiritual commitments he reminds me a bit of Simone Weil or Walter Benjamin. But unlike either of them, happily, he's still alive. I try and remember to google him every couple months to make sure I haven't missed his death. 89 years old and still in love with the world (& apparently still a smoker!).
Like many other readers, I've found Berger indispensable as a guide to the art of painting. Not that he's infallible. At time he can wed arbitrary taste to righteousness in way that's truly baffling. Take, for instance, that notorious piece where he likens Francis Bacon to Walt Disney; yet even there, so long as we disregard the tone of condemnation, I think we can find real insights. Much more than specific evaluations, these essays offer a model for moral and sensual responsiveness.
February 3, 2019
Jackson Pollock
‘In a period of cultural disintegration – such as ours in the West today – it is hard to assess the value of an individual talent. Some artists are clearly more gifted than others and people who profoundly understand their particular media ought to be able to distinguish between those who are more and those who are less gifted. Most contemporary criticism is exclusively concerned with making this distinction; on the whole, the critic today accepts the artist’s aims (so long as they do not challenge his own function) and concentrates on the flair or lack of it with which they have been pursued. Yet this leaves the major question begging: how far can talent exempt an artist if he does not think beyond or question the decadence of the cultural situation to which he belongs?’
‘I believe that Pollock imaginatively, subjectively, isolated himself almost to that extent. His paintings are like pictures painted on the inside walls of his mind. And the appeal of his work, especially to other painters, is of the same character. His work amounts to an invitation: Forget all, sever all, inhabit your white cell and – most ironic paradox of all – discover the universal in your self, for in a one-man world you are universal!’
‘In a period of cultural disintegration – such as ours in the West today – it is hard to assess the value of an individual talent. Some artists are clearly more gifted than others and people who profoundly understand their particular media ought to be able to distinguish between those who are more and those who are less gifted. Most contemporary criticism is exclusively concerned with making this distinction; on the whole, the critic today accepts the artist’s aims (so long as they do not challenge his own function) and concentrates on the flair or lack of it with which they have been pursued. Yet this leaves the major question begging: how far can talent exempt an artist if he does not think beyond or question the decadence of the cultural situation to which he belongs?’
‘I believe that Pollock imaginatively, subjectively, isolated himself almost to that extent. His paintings are like pictures painted on the inside walls of his mind. And the appeal of his work, especially to other painters, is of the same character. His work amounts to an invitation: Forget all, sever all, inhabit your white cell and – most ironic paradox of all – discover the universal in your self, for in a one-man world you are universal!’
June 3, 2019
From "Mayakovsky: His Language" "When a man in good health commits suicide it is, finally, because there is no one who understands him. After his death the incomprehension often continues because the living insist on interpreting and using his story to suit their own purposes. In this way the ultimate protest against incomprehension goes unheard after all."
From "Drawn to the Moment" "When my father died recently, I did several drawings of him in his coffin. Drawings of his face and head.
There is a story about Kokoschka teaching a life class. The students were uninspired. So he spoke to the model and instructed him to pretend to collapse. When he had fallen over, Kokoschka rushed over to him, listened to his heart and announced to the shocked students that he was dead. A little afterwards the model got to his feet and resumed the pose. ‘Now draw him,’ said Kokoschka, ‘as though you were aware that he was alive and not dead.’
One can imagine that the students, after this theatrical experience, drew with more verve. Yet to draw the truly dead involves an ever-greater sense of urgency. What you are drawing will never be seen again, by you or by anybody else.In the whole course of time past and time to come, this moment is unique: the last opportunity to draw what will never again be visible, which has occurred once and will never reoccur.
Because the faculty of sight is continuous, because visual categories (red,yellow, dark, thick, thin) remain constant, and because so many things appear to remain in place, one tends to forget that the visual is always a result of an unrepeatable, momentary encounter. Appearances, at any given moment, are a construction emerging from the debris of everything that has previously appeared. It is something like this that I understand in those words of Cézanne, which so often come back tome: ‘One minute in the life of the world is going by. Paint it as it is."
From "Magritte and the Impossible" "In this century--and more precisely since 1941--the contradiction has become insurmountable, unity in a work of art inconceivable. Our idea of freedom extends, our experience of it diminishes. It is from this that the moral concept of the Impossible arises. Only through the occasional interstices of the interlocking oppressive systems can we glimpse the impossibility of it being otherwise: an impossibility which inspires us because we know that the optimum of what is considered possible within these systems is inadequate."
From "The Honesty of Goya" "The despair of an artist is often misunderstood. It is never total. It excepts his own work. In his own work, however low his opinion of it may be, there is the hope of reprieve. If there were not, he could never summon up the abnormal energy and concentration needed to create it. And an artist's work constitutes his relationship with his fellow men. Thus for the spectator the despair expressed by a work can be deceiving."
From "Drawn to the Moment" "When my father died recently, I did several drawings of him in his coffin. Drawings of his face and head.
There is a story about Kokoschka teaching a life class. The students were uninspired. So he spoke to the model and instructed him to pretend to collapse. When he had fallen over, Kokoschka rushed over to him, listened to his heart and announced to the shocked students that he was dead. A little afterwards the model got to his feet and resumed the pose. ‘Now draw him,’ said Kokoschka, ‘as though you were aware that he was alive and not dead.’
One can imagine that the students, after this theatrical experience, drew with more verve. Yet to draw the truly dead involves an ever-greater sense of urgency. What you are drawing will never be seen again, by you or by anybody else.In the whole course of time past and time to come, this moment is unique: the last opportunity to draw what will never again be visible, which has occurred once and will never reoccur.
Because the faculty of sight is continuous, because visual categories (red,yellow, dark, thick, thin) remain constant, and because so many things appear to remain in place, one tends to forget that the visual is always a result of an unrepeatable, momentary encounter. Appearances, at any given moment, are a construction emerging from the debris of everything that has previously appeared. It is something like this that I understand in those words of Cézanne, which so often come back tome: ‘One minute in the life of the world is going by. Paint it as it is."
From "Magritte and the Impossible" "In this century--and more precisely since 1941--the contradiction has become insurmountable, unity in a work of art inconceivable. Our idea of freedom extends, our experience of it diminishes. It is from this that the moral concept of the Impossible arises. Only through the occasional interstices of the interlocking oppressive systems can we glimpse the impossibility of it being otherwise: an impossibility which inspires us because we know that the optimum of what is considered possible within these systems is inadequate."
From "The Honesty of Goya" "The despair of an artist is often misunderstood. It is never total. It excepts his own work. In his own work, however low his opinion of it may be, there is the hope of reprieve. If there were not, he could never summon up the abnormal energy and concentration needed to create it. And an artist's work constitutes his relationship with his fellow men. Thus for the spectator the despair expressed by a work can be deceiving."
December 16, 2017
I have only seen the base of the mountain, yet it is magnificent. To be revisited when I am older and smarter.
December 14, 2013
It is astonishing to me how consistent John Berger was in over 30 years of art criticism. His judgment of an artist could become more developed and refined, more elaborated, but the underlying sense of the artist's purpose and value remained the same. This consistency of seeing came from a coherent philosophy of art criticism. As Berger puts it in his "Introduction" to Permanent Red, which is also aptly the introductory essay of this Selected Essays edited by Geoff Dyer, the art critic must first answer the question: What can art serve here and now? For Berger, the answer that drove his looking was another question: Does this work help or encourage men to know and claim their social rights?
Berger was not looking for Socialist propaganda, but saw his answer/question as the logic of his historical situation. In the second half of the twentieth century, the most important historical movements were the fights for national independence, civil rights, gender equality, and peace. And so the questions that were posed to artworks were those of the times. To the extent that an artwork reminded the viewer of his potentialities, it encouraged him to claim the social rights in his life. Those who claimed a different purpose for art were simply out of step with their times, or as Berger writes, "The hysteria with which many people today deny the present, inevitable social emphasis of art is simply due to the fact that they are denying their time. They would like to live in a period when they'd be right."
How ironic then that the times have changed, and Berger seems now to be the one out of step. The old confidence about social rights is gone, not just about the viability of securing them, but even the desirability of attaining them. We are more ambivalent, I think, about the value of the new nationalisms, for instance, and of the triumph of secularism. The early Berger essays refer to the uneven development of the world, with the confidence that the new and less-developed nations will climb on board the train of Western Enlightenment and espouse its ideals. A number of later essays, born of visits to Turkey, are less sure of this linear, stageist view of history.
The times have changed. We are more concerned with the rights of representation than with the social rights as defined by the West. So the imperative in contemporary art to be inclusive or to admit to its exclusivity, to its necessary subjectivity. It's a dilemma. How can one claim to represent anything except oneself? The problem is most acute in painting, of all the arts, because it is, finally, a single static framed object. It is little wonder that so many artists have migrated to film and installations, to motion and environment, in other words, since the problems of painting seem intractable.
Berger's later essays pay attention to the global power of capital. Everything everywhere is up for buying and selling. The point here, as I see it, is that all the movements for social rights played into the hands of capital. The newly independent nations are now free to buy and sell. Women are now potentially equal to men in purchasing power. The poor wants to be rich. Peace is good for business. The essential fight, it seems to me, is against capital, not on behalf of labor, but on behalf of humanity. We need to resist the commodification of everything. To do so, we have to find intellectual resources from anywhere we can find them, even in such unlikely places as John Berger's socialism.
Berger was not looking for Socialist propaganda, but saw his answer/question as the logic of his historical situation. In the second half of the twentieth century, the most important historical movements were the fights for national independence, civil rights, gender equality, and peace. And so the questions that were posed to artworks were those of the times. To the extent that an artwork reminded the viewer of his potentialities, it encouraged him to claim the social rights in his life. Those who claimed a different purpose for art were simply out of step with their times, or as Berger writes, "The hysteria with which many people today deny the present, inevitable social emphasis of art is simply due to the fact that they are denying their time. They would like to live in a period when they'd be right."
How ironic then that the times have changed, and Berger seems now to be the one out of step. The old confidence about social rights is gone, not just about the viability of securing them, but even the desirability of attaining them. We are more ambivalent, I think, about the value of the new nationalisms, for instance, and of the triumph of secularism. The early Berger essays refer to the uneven development of the world, with the confidence that the new and less-developed nations will climb on board the train of Western Enlightenment and espouse its ideals. A number of later essays, born of visits to Turkey, are less sure of this linear, stageist view of history.
The times have changed. We are more concerned with the rights of representation than with the social rights as defined by the West. So the imperative in contemporary art to be inclusive or to admit to its exclusivity, to its necessary subjectivity. It's a dilemma. How can one claim to represent anything except oneself? The problem is most acute in painting, of all the arts, because it is, finally, a single static framed object. It is little wonder that so many artists have migrated to film and installations, to motion and environment, in other words, since the problems of painting seem intractable.
Berger's later essays pay attention to the global power of capital. Everything everywhere is up for buying and selling. The point here, as I see it, is that all the movements for social rights played into the hands of capital. The newly independent nations are now free to buy and sell. Women are now potentially equal to men in purchasing power. The poor wants to be rich. Peace is good for business. The essential fight, it seems to me, is against capital, not on behalf of labor, but on behalf of humanity. We need to resist the commodification of everything. To do so, we have to find intellectual resources from anywhere we can find them, even in such unlikely places as John Berger's socialism.
October 7, 2016
https://msarki.tumblr.com/post/151483...
Near the end of this massive collection of selected essays I was confronted with the words of John Berger's dying mother telling him that nothing matters in this world but love, real love. And the story of her death suddenly became remarkable to me. Berger had previously written that his mother never told him much of anything throughout her long life of ninety-three years, but instead taught him by example through her cooking, shopping, or simple household chores. But then, in the last week of her life, she tells this to him. Still, it was a labor and hard trudge through the complicated brambles of Berger's lively and almost too-engaging intellect.
So what does it matter if I skipped along these pages, disregarding some and focusing on others, settling on the one thing that demanded my gaze and complete attention? Such an immense look at a life's work resulted in its being not in the cards for me. Too much, and not enough time. But when Berger gets into personalities you can bet I am all in.
Essays on Paul Strand, Francis Bacon, Ernst Fischer, Francois, Georges, and Amélie were all captivating. One of the last essays featured Jackson Pollack. I enjoyed Berger's metaphor of Pollack and his wife, Lee Krasner, communicating to each other through their respective paintings. And how their opposites did attract. How complicated a life can be. And suicidal. But in this extensive book there are many subjects and topics I am really not interested in, at least not yet. But the death of Berger's father I am also taken by. Or any of the many deaths he has been present for and has written of. But I did not get enough of the personality coming through of John Berger while reading these pieces written by him.
I have no desire to read Berger’s fiction or poetry. I would not like it; that much I can tell by the little I read. And the poets Berger is taken with prove to me he is not ready for the real deal when it comes to great verse as far as I am concerned. Where in all his writings was the poet and personality Wallace Stevens? Berger quoted some lame and silly verse of William Butler Yeats, but no one else of any import. He did not even mention the brother of Yeats, the great painter Jack Yeats who Samuel Beckett championed vigorously. And where was my favorite Dublin writer, Beckett himself? John Berger does write well and I suppose he knows what he is talking about. At least he comes across as somebody who does. But he never really wrote about anybody I am fondest of. Given Berger's advanced age, Thomas Bernhard and Robert Walser are two writers he could have written about. He could have written about painters Chaim Soutine and E.L. Kirchner. Photographers from his contemporary world would have been Harry Callahan and John Deakin, the fellow who took pics for Francis Bacon from which to paint from. And that, for me, would have really been something to read.
Near the end of this massive collection of selected essays I was confronted with the words of John Berger's dying mother telling him that nothing matters in this world but love, real love. And the story of her death suddenly became remarkable to me. Berger had previously written that his mother never told him much of anything throughout her long life of ninety-three years, but instead taught him by example through her cooking, shopping, or simple household chores. But then, in the last week of her life, she tells this to him. Still, it was a labor and hard trudge through the complicated brambles of Berger's lively and almost too-engaging intellect.
So what does it matter if I skipped along these pages, disregarding some and focusing on others, settling on the one thing that demanded my gaze and complete attention? Such an immense look at a life's work resulted in its being not in the cards for me. Too much, and not enough time. But when Berger gets into personalities you can bet I am all in.
Essays on Paul Strand, Francis Bacon, Ernst Fischer, Francois, Georges, and Amélie were all captivating. One of the last essays featured Jackson Pollack. I enjoyed Berger's metaphor of Pollack and his wife, Lee Krasner, communicating to each other through their respective paintings. And how their opposites did attract. How complicated a life can be. And suicidal. But in this extensive book there are many subjects and topics I am really not interested in, at least not yet. But the death of Berger's father I am also taken by. Or any of the many deaths he has been present for and has written of. But I did not get enough of the personality coming through of John Berger while reading these pieces written by him.
I have no desire to read Berger’s fiction or poetry. I would not like it; that much I can tell by the little I read. And the poets Berger is taken with prove to me he is not ready for the real deal when it comes to great verse as far as I am concerned. Where in all his writings was the poet and personality Wallace Stevens? Berger quoted some lame and silly verse of William Butler Yeats, but no one else of any import. He did not even mention the brother of Yeats, the great painter Jack Yeats who Samuel Beckett championed vigorously. And where was my favorite Dublin writer, Beckett himself? John Berger does write well and I suppose he knows what he is talking about. At least he comes across as somebody who does. But he never really wrote about anybody I am fondest of. Given Berger's advanced age, Thomas Bernhard and Robert Walser are two writers he could have written about. He could have written about painters Chaim Soutine and E.L. Kirchner. Photographers from his contemporary world would have been Harry Callahan and John Deakin, the fellow who took pics for Francis Bacon from which to paint from. And that, for me, would have really been something to read.
November 7, 2024
I bought this book because of a passage from Berger’s “Ways of Seeing” that I encountered in an art history class years ago and still think about all the time:
“"Men dream of women. Women dream of themselves being dreamt of. Men look at women. Women watch themselves being looked at. Women constantly meet glances which act like mirrors reminding them of how they look or how they should look. Behind every glance is a judgment. Sometimes the glance they meet is their own, reflected back from a real mirror [...] She is almost continually accompanied by her own image of herself. Whilst she is walking across a room or whilst she is weeping at the death of her father, she can scarcely avoid envisaging herself walking or weeping. From earliest childhood she has been taught and persuaded to survey herself continually. She has to survey everything she is and everything she does because how she appears to others and in particular how she appears to men is of crucial importance for what is normally thought of as the success of her life."
Berger was the first to analyze this concept of “male gaze” and in doing so served as inspiration for many other modern day feminist works/research.
As far as this collection of selected essays go, I was very happy with how comprehensive it was. Berger was a great essayist and wrote prolifically. Candidly, I’m marking this as read without finishing the entire book (I read about 1/3 of the essays) but will definitely come back and finish it with I feel like I can stomach some more dense -but very interesting!- art criticism.
My favorites so far have been “Art and Property Now” and “The Changing View of Man in the Portrait”.
“"Men dream of women. Women dream of themselves being dreamt of. Men look at women. Women watch themselves being looked at. Women constantly meet glances which act like mirrors reminding them of how they look or how they should look. Behind every glance is a judgment. Sometimes the glance they meet is their own, reflected back from a real mirror [...] She is almost continually accompanied by her own image of herself. Whilst she is walking across a room or whilst she is weeping at the death of her father, she can scarcely avoid envisaging herself walking or weeping. From earliest childhood she has been taught and persuaded to survey herself continually. She has to survey everything she is and everything she does because how she appears to others and in particular how she appears to men is of crucial importance for what is normally thought of as the success of her life."
Berger was the first to analyze this concept of “male gaze” and in doing so served as inspiration for many other modern day feminist works/research.
As far as this collection of selected essays go, I was very happy with how comprehensive it was. Berger was a great essayist and wrote prolifically. Candidly, I’m marking this as read without finishing the entire book (I read about 1/3 of the essays) but will definitely come back and finish it with I feel like I can stomach some more dense -but very interesting!- art criticism.
My favorites so far have been “Art and Property Now” and “The Changing View of Man in the Portrait”.
October 2, 2009
Time and time again I find myself moved by Berger's meditations on art. Great art in itself, his writing has the power to reveal the invisible essence of an artist's work--that quality which transforms a painting or a sculpture from just an object into a kind of living being. He has taught me how to be with art, to speak to it and to listen, making meaning together. Artists I've simply ignored like Degas and Hals become transfigured in his writing and I see their work with new eyes. Other favorites of mine like Caravaggio or the mummy portraits of Fayyum are discussed with such astonishing freshness that I can never look at them again without first remembering his words. For those who love art, reading Berger is to relive with each essay the experience of falling in love for the first time.
March 30, 2008
THE. BEST. WORDS ABOUT ART. ever. a revelation to someone who had been looking at art all her life and didn't know why she loved Modigliani but really not quite ever Renoir.
accessible, elegant and warm. demanding, critical, political.
this is the friend who makes going to the museum an encounter with the history of desire and power, whose love for what art is not only informs you but changes who you are when you are with art.
accessible, elegant and warm. demanding, critical, political.
this is the friend who makes going to the museum an encounter with the history of desire and power, whose love for what art is not only informs you but changes who you are when you are with art.
March 16, 2023
a certain section of an essay i believe may have been on landscape work has stuck with me immensely
Berger describes wandering some grassland or wooded area near his home in want to say France but my memory is fogged and weird. regardless he describes finding a portrait, amateur and discarded. he notes specifically, below this portrait he found 4 or 5 white snails.
that means something to me.
Berger describes wandering some grassland or wooded area near his home in want to say France but my memory is fogged and weird. regardless he describes finding a portrait, amateur and discarded. he notes specifically, below this portrait he found 4 or 5 white snails.
that means something to me.
March 7, 2014
There's a lot here -- some of it more to my taste than others. But the best parts are utterly fantastic, and the progression of the book over decades, from politically-infused art criticism to pastoral thoughts on mortality, amasses its own kind of weight.
July 14, 2021
daddy
April 4, 2022
This was the longest book I’ve ever read. It’s impossible to describe or summarise what his essays are like but wow. This book was a really cleverly put together overview of his essays spanning a lifetime, and gave me a good introduction to Berger’s writing. I love how sharply he writes, and how fascinating his ideas + thoughts on art, life and everything in between are. This is definitely the kind of book that I’ll have to dip back into over time as it was just packed with so much knowledge. Really interesting and engaging but I did connect with certain essays a lot more than others. Overall, a very useful and important read developmentally for me engaging with essays and art criticism.
July 12, 2017
I only got through the early essays of this book before having to return it, but will check it out again to read some of the later work. Berger is an excellent writer. The earlier newspaper column-style essays are quite digestible, fun to pick up and put down for short intervals.
His commentary on Romanticism and Cubisim in particular were new perspectives for me. Cubism always seemed one-note to me. Berger opened my eyes to its importance in art history and "seeing".
Insightful art criticism. Will have to read the rest for all the other kinds of criticism Berger wrote.
His commentary on Romanticism and Cubisim in particular were new perspectives for me. Cubism always seemed one-note to me. Berger opened my eyes to its importance in art history and "seeing".
Insightful art criticism. Will have to read the rest for all the other kinds of criticism Berger wrote.
March 21, 2018
great essays! I especially enjoyed the art essays, The one on how portraiture has changed over time was a favorite.
Read
March 23, 2021(read for a class w Geoff Dyer)
October 2, 2024
I made it through about half, but this is not my interest—Araggont in voice.
March 12, 2024
Brilliant, so many of these essays have something profound to offer. Berger’s writings are always immensely insightful, and this is him at his best.
September 25, 2011
A deep thinker, who turned me on to Caravaggio, whose paintings I had never seen till now.
He's a loner, yet he's loyal. He's a resister, yet he's engaged with life at a deeper level than the 'hit & run' types of today. Living so long in France, he's also gained more insight into his own British culture...
Hope to get into his novels.
He's a loner, yet he's loyal. He's a resister, yet he's engaged with life at a deeper level than the 'hit & run' types of today. Living so long in France, he's also gained more insight into his own British culture...
Hope to get into his novels.
January 31, 2013
a wonderfully succinct yet thorough collection of essays on modern artists. the historical context expertly complements his analysis of varying movements as they relate to each artist. I admire john berger.
October 10, 2014
I'm sorry, but it got a bit bored and aborted my read. A lot of things that were mentioned in the book did not interest me, but I'm sure he will have entertained those who enjoyed the subjects he discussed at length.
May 4, 2007
excellent collection of his best essays. the man can definitely write about art.
December 4, 2007
Worth it just for the article on shoveling shit out of his compost toilet. I've even argued that this essay encapsulates Berger's entire aesthetic.
April 22, 2008
Buy this book now. Or steal it. Or borrow it. Don't just read it, eat it and let it grow inside you.
May 26, 2008
JB selectively recaps an artist's biography or process in two to three pages then writes a single surprising and mind-quieting insight you've never heard before. And you're glad.
September 5, 2009
Art and politics -- what a wonderful combo. And nobody writes about it better than John Berger.
February 24, 2011
This was one of the 2003 RUSA Notable Books winners. For the complete list, go to http://www.ala.org/ala/mgrps/divs/rus...
November 16, 2014
Kept my attention. Lots of interesting topics.
Displaying 1 - 28 of 28 reviews