Bicentennial tour

This post originated as a series of postcards to my nieces.

In the summers of 1975 and 1976, my mom and her then boyfriend, Phil Porter, took my brothers and me on a couple of road trips, first to St. Augustine, Cape Canaveral, and Disney World, then on a two-week bicentennial tour of the Northeast. In August of 2020, I sent my nieces a picture of their father (my brother, Charlie, who died of cancer in 2013) and me feeding pigeons in a park in St. Augustine. I told them about that road trip, about how we'd stayed at campgrounds, and I sent them on a scavenger hunt to find a particularly memorable photograph of Charlie in our tent, which they found! I told them that the next year we went on the bicentennial tour, but that that was another story.

At that point I didn't have a plan as to how I would tell them that story. Then, earlier this month, I was hunting for vintage postcards for a potential future project when I found a postcard depicting "The Little Church Around the Corner" in Manhattan, which I'd always remembered from that trip. After a couple of days, my brain told me that I should send this postcard to the girls, and then it occurred to me that I could relate to them the story of the road trip through a series of postcards. What follows are the texts I wrote on each of these cards, verbatim, which I mailed to them at roughly three-day intervals from December 4 to December 27.

The Little Church Around the Corner

"On our bicentennial tour of the Northeast, we took a bus tour of Manhattan, where the tour guide pointed out to us 'The Little Church Around the Corner'. I've never forgotten it! I found this vintage postcard at a flea market recently. Ask Uncle John if he remembers it next time you see him. Love, Uncle Ned"

Colonial Williamsburg

"Our first stop on the bicentennial tour was Colonial Williamsburg. This was the first time I heard the term 'book', as in 'to leave'. We were chatting up some girls from Boston. At one point Mr. Porter walked down to where we were, to say it was time to come back to the tent. The girls said they needed to book as well. We told Mr. Porter we'd be there anon. When we didn't return anon, he came back to get us in his car, screeching to a halt and yelling, 'Now!' Before that, we had thought he was soft."

Washington, D.C.

"Our next stop was D.C., where we stayed with some friends of Mr. Porter's, in Maryland, I think, possibly Northern Virginia. One of the boys in the family who was about my age taught me how to spit properly. We went to the White House, the Capitol, the Washington Monument, the Lincoln Memorial, but my favorite was the Smithsonian, especially the Air and Space Museum (not pictured)."

Philadelphia

"I honestly don't remember much about Philly. Independence Hall. Liberty Bell. We stayed in a hotel there. We had also booked a hotel for two nights in New York City, but it was out by one of the airports, so Mom + Mr. Porter canceled that one and booked two nights in Manhattan, at the Times Square Hotel."

New York City

"You have to understand, Times Square in the '70s was a seedy, dangerous place. If I had known what they were, I would have seen prostitutes. Craning my neck to look up at the skyscrapers, I got turned around and walked backwards into a cop, who bopped me on the back of the head and told me to watch where I was going. Mom thanked him. Our last night there, a woman jumped to her death from our hotel, which seemed apt."

Niagara Falls

"Mr. Porter's parents lived in Buffalo, so we went there instead of going on to Boston. When we got there, his mother showed us where our bedrooms and bathroom were, telling us we could 'wash up' if we wished. So I took a shower! Right then! I thought that's what she wanted us to do. I don't think we were dirty, I think she was just being hospitable, and I took her literally. I was twelve. We went to Niagara Falls the next day."

Gettysburg

"We came home through Gettysburg, Harper's Ferry and Monticello. Of course, we listened to the radio in the car the entire trip. It was a great summer for music: Shower the People, 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover, Magic Man, Silly Love Songs, Oh, What a Night, Crazy on You, You'll Never Find Another Love Like Mine, Kiss and Say Goodbye, and many more. Love, Uncle Ned"

Re: Beeple

This post originated as an email to my friend Maura Hogan, in response to her email asking my thoughts concerning the Beeple affair. Maura currently serves as the arts critic for the Charleston Post and Courier newspaper.

I'll start by reiterating my general theory of art, which is that all man-made objects are works of art. We currently live in a culture that privileges "art world" objects as the only "art," but this is an anomaly of history. Before the nineteenth century, there was no separate category for "art." "Art" comes from the Latin ars, meaning "skill," and even great masters like Michelangelo and Raphael were considered skilled craftsmen whom you would not have allowed your daughters to marry. The vast preponderance of all artifacts created over the course of human history were created by craftsmen, usually working in large workshops. The twenty-first century equivalent of premodern painting is not modern painting (or "contemporary art" in general) but film and television. The twenty-first century equivalent of a Renaissance altarpiece, for example, is the video screen behind the musicians at a rock concert. The twenty-first century equivalent of a Neoclassical history painting by Jacques-Louis David is not an NFT but a cable news broadcast, a documentary, or even a feature film. The art history textbook of the future will end with painting sometime around 1970 and double back to pick up the history of film and television. It is simply impossible to give a credible history of the visual arts in the twentieth century without acknowledging the significance of The Wizard of Oz, Citizen Kane, The Godfather, Jaws, etc. 

Beeple's work, and the sale of it, should be regarded within the narrow context of the "contemporary art world." I've seen a few of his images, but I haven't observed them very closely or given them a lot of thought. From a historical perspective, they do not appear to be having any kind of meaningful impact on the culture at large, nowhere near as impactful, for instance, as Donald Trump's performance art and the media outlets that aid and abet him. Beeple is working within the narrative of contemporary art, exploiting the art-world apparatus of trading certain types of artifacts as commodities. Another recent example of this is “Comedian” by Maurizio Cattelan (the banana taped to the wall). Cattelan knew that there was a certain cohort that would gladly play into his cynical ploy, and he made some money off of it. More power to him. The art world can do whatever it wants, of course, but it is high time we stopped considering "contemporary art" as the only example of what art is.  

So, I agree with your comment that "the whole enterprise [is] an exercise in cynicism, vis a vis commodification, bidding wars, pandemic vagaries." I'll push back a little on your statement that "it is shining so much light on the art world and inspiring such raging debate that makes art relevant in uneasy times" and that you "welcome any art in Charleston that does a smashy-smashy to the increasingly problematic 'moonlight and magnolias' connotations of Charleston arts." I definitely agree that the whole "moonlight and magnolias" theme has to go. But, as you also note, Beeple's work appears to have very little to do with Charleston. And, again, whenever anybody uses the term "art," I have to ask, "What is art?" As far as I'm concerned, the most prominent artist from Charleston today is Stephen Colbert, whose work is much more relevant and has a much greater impact than Beeple's "art."

Portions of this post have been redacted at Maura's request, for privacy concerns.