ARTHOLE OF THE MONTH

The Arthole... a faraway place from which few ever escape

resist@burkhartstudios.com

Once in a while someone comes along to critique me. Usually it's a type A-Alpha male, once in a while a female; often it's gender ambiguous. In either case, a self-styled know-it-all (hmm, kind of like me), one who's on fire and ready to set me straight!

They always include a thorough profile of who they suppose me to be, and yet conveniently leave out the very important information about who they are. Affectionately I refer to them as "assholes," but truly, their heads are usually rammed up some "Arthole" instead.

If my critics were honestly more forthcoming about themselves -- which is, after all, what my site is all about -- I would not be fenced into an intolerable framework from which I am forced to reply to them. But reveal them I must! For they are really the enemies of awareness, denying everyone else an expression. Without knowing it, they also ultimately deny their own identity. They accomplish this by choosing a handful of valid excerpts from history from which to launch their crusades against "people like me," rather than examining the reality at hand and filtering it through themselves.

So without further adieu, I give you the Asshole - ahem, Arthole -- of the Month. Two examples are included here: one overly pedantic and boring; the other, crude and equally boring.

One or Two

ARTHOLE ONE

"In chapter five of his essay, "What is Art", Tolstoy first says that "in order correctly to define art, it is necessary, first of all, to cease to consider it as a means to pleasure and to consider it as one of the conditions of human life. Viewing it in this way we cannot fail to observe that art is one of the means of intercourse between man and man." I came across your site and was looking at some of your photos and some of your work, also I caught your little note about your ability to give meaning and purpose to the beautiful women that you photograph, and I had somewhat of a revelation or an epiphany, if you will, with regards to certain things pertaining to art. Most of the people, including men like yourself, who claim to create and make art are incredibly lost and confused; your own perception of the creation and the creator, the object and the artist, are all vastly obfuscated by your own desires to use art as a subterfuge or cloak in order to better exercise your own indulgences and exploits. Kind of odd that you only have female nudes, isn't it? It is not that you are photographing nudes which cultivates indifference and a general distaste for your work, (aside from the slovenliness of your ability to print correctly) but it is the manipulation of the word 'art' in which you operate under that is disturbing. I encourage you to continue exploiting and depicting women in degrading poses, or sketching there vaginas flopping open as if this were the natural and assumed position of their anatomy, which reminded me of badly rendered and imitation Egon Schiele sketches. Obviously, you will reply with an angry email, or perhaps it is that you will ignore it all together, as age may have willed you a certain amount of indifference at this point. This might even be what you are after simply the attention of getting a row out of people.... Mainly, my point was that there will always be people like you who function as if they were artists under the guise of the aforementioned term. Do what you will and what you like during your stay, but please, do not call your work art, this is all I ask."

(signed, Jean Eustache. April 19th, 2002)

And I just had to say something...

     Jean starts off innocently enough, for who can argue with Tolstoy that we must set aside pleasure in order to acknowledge the greater awareness of the human condition, especially if we are ever going to make anything meaningful out of the mess. To paraphrase another master, Herman Hesse: One's ability to experience pleasure is only as great as the ability to experience pain; it's like two musical notes played simultaneously -- they become indistinguishable from one another. Even the young people have a term for it: "It's all good!"

     But from there on out, Jean loses it big time! For purposes of this discourse I am assuming that Jean is a man, although the substance of what I am saying holds true for whatever gender. He seems to take great pleasure in noting that Tolstoy's definition of Art is a means of "intercourse between man and man," as he goes on to make the obscure parallel between my "ability to give meaning and purpose to beautiful women" and Tolstoy's ability to say it "man to man."   A further clue that Jean is having some difficulty is when he finds it very odd that I only have pictures of nude women on my website... what did he expect, naked Dobermans? Or naked men?

     What's up with this guy? Doesn't he know that Art is out of the closet? That it's okay to state one's sexual preferences nowadays... Man to Man... Woman to Woman... Human to Animal, if you must. What I find odd is that he is possibly looking for pictures of naked men in a site that obviously does not supply them.

     But by far the most amazing part is that after reading Tolstoy and looking at "some of your photos and some of your work," he comes to an epiphany! The epiphany? He comes to a conclusion that "most men like yourself" are lost and confused. Even worse, he concludes that most people who make art are lost and confused. Jesus, this guy doesn't even know me, or what roadmap I'm using to travel the land, and yet he comes to a conclusion about me and most people who make Art on this earth! Did Tolstoy really tell him that?

     Didn't Tolstoy explain to him that epiphanies are revelations about one's self, not judgments about others?

     Jean is for some reason convinced that I have obfuscated what he feels is a very clear line between the creation and the creator, the object and the artist. If he had gone deeper into Tolstoy he would learn that there is no difference; that the Word is God, and that Word became flesh and dwelt amongst us, to quote John, speaking of the Creative Principle that began and likewise continues to maintain the Universe. Even modern Science has shown that our thoughts are made out of the very same substance as everything else in the universe, and that includes the earth and the artworks upon it. That's right, Jean... the whole story is that the Creator is the Creation, operating at different dimensions and vibrations... "I and the Father are One," as Tolstoy absolutely discovered in his own research on Art.

     As we noted, Jean finds it odd that I have only photos of nude females on my site. But does he mention that on my website are nearly 400 additional images of men, women and children, all fully clothed? No he didn't. Maybe it escaped his attention, but the truth is only a scant 29 of the images picture beautiful nude women. That's a little over 6%... not very many, after all!

     He then goes on to talk about an indifference and a general distaste for my work that is being cultivated by my manipulation of the word Art. That's what ultimately disturbs him -- his bizarre identification with the word "Art." In fact, he implores me to never again disgrace the name of Art by applying it to my endeavors. Read it again, folks, and pray this guy doesn't get a pilot's license and a prescription for Acutane.

     This is the mistake that so many have made when assessing other people's contributions to the race. The mistake is that he/she is unable to see beyond his/her own narrow limitations. If Jean -- or Jeanette -- went on to look at my 35-years of photographic work, he/she would certainly discern a fundamental truth operating therein -- summed up in my definition of Art as one in agreement with Tolstoy's. Let me remind the reader briefly about a derelict who introduced himself to me as Arthur, then smiled and added "...but you can call me Art, Burkhart!"

     In fact, it is Arthur, and Annie, and the many other thousands of individuals in my photos that have given me the permission to make art stemming from our relationships. It's not my careless sujugation of those around me that calls art into being. I do not "take" pictures; rather, people give them to me. The art I'm talking about arises out of an awareness that we feel in our midst. For lack of a better description, let ne say that Jesus is in our midst, comforting and guiding us. But Jean isn't going to read that far into Tolstoy, I suspect! Nor will he move that far into my body of work, to the point where he discovers that it is essentially the Body of Christ, the one Tolstoy tried to tell him about, "man to man."

     And then, would you believe it, he encourages me to continue depicting women in degrading poses! (Where is his mother when he really needs her?) Then begins his discussion of "flopping open vaginas" that I have sketched --- none of which appear on my website. Is he making this up, or has he gone undercover and witnessed some of this behavior in my studio? Come on, Jean... come out of that closet right now and reveal yourself! This is obviously someone stuck in an Aristotelian world of identity, where Art still imitates nature, and I guess that means to him that I'm imitating Egon Schiele.

     Again, he's overlooking the fact that "most men like yourself" that claim to create art are in fact doing exactly that and nothing else, no matter under what guise. That's why "most men like myself" end up leaving legacies: Schiele, Tolstoy, you name them (and that includes me) have done nothing else in their entire lifetimes but create art. Over and over and over. And it's true, my entire adult life I have lived as an artist, whether it takes the form of painting, photographing, paying rent, writing, or washing the dishes in my coffeehouse. Yes, I treat each activity the same. In the spirit of the Balinese -- who have no word for Art in their vocabulary -- I just do everything the best I can.

     No, Jean, I am not angry. I fully understand that your awareness will not allow you to see more of me than you do. On the contrary, I do not make my Art to get a row out of people; I do it to fulfill the truth that Tolstoy spoke of. And Jean -- whether you're in or out of the closet, whether you are really a man or a woman -- I'm telling you this in the same sense that Tolstoy did, "man to man," so please don't get mad at me if you are not man enough to accept it.

     Obviously Jean, you are "young" and not quite so wise as you pretend to be, attempting to understand Art through the wholesale judgments you make. But listen up... if you want me to quit functioning under the guise of an Artist, or stop calling my creations "Art," what then are you willing to barter in the exchange? Do you have anything of substance to trade, like the stuff the men you mimic are made of? Show me some Art that qualifies, not condemnations that tear down.

     By the way, just because you are sitting somewhere a few miles away at your computer, and I'm sitting over here at mine, I am not suggesting that I am older and wiser than you. The earth on which we sit and type is the Age in which we live and have our being -- it's just that we manifest two distinctly different perceptions of this old Earth and its Art, neither in conflict with the other. And of course, I thank you for your observation. Signed, Fred Burkhart

     (By the way, what do you think Jean means by "slovenliness of your ability to print correctly?" I don't really have time to read yet another Art Appreciation Manual...)

Followed by a quick reply from Jean (2/20/2002)...

The resolution that you attempt at the end of your little manifesto is hilarious. Also, the whole aspect of homosexuality, which one could have guessed that you would arrive at (proving my point, your view of life and art cannot transcend the lens of sexuality...not that this is bad by any means, but you bring nothing exceptional or special, we could all just as easily go out and buy what you are doing from the smut stand) is also quite entertaining.

You do obviously think that you have something more because you are "older and wiser".

And you did just what I thought that you would do with my email. Age has not dealt you anything but predictability. (unsigned)

And what else could I tell him but...

     Please, Jean, get hold of yourself! You are the one who keeps putting everything into a sexual context, by overlooking well over 90 percent of my material. Again, my website and my view of Art is non-sexual, as any visitor to the site can attest -- by examining the majority of its content. Only you didn't do that, did you? Of all the stories and dozens of pages of texts on my site, you selected one story dealing with sexuality to comment on. In fact, it's the only story of that nature on my entire site! In spite of the flopping vagina you reference, the story is an obvious tongue-in-cheek portrayal of the artist and his muse. In focusing on that one ridiculous story, you have chosen to conveniently ignore all of the other stories that have absolutely no sexual content whatsoever. (Likewise with the photos.) In final analysis, it's you who seem obsessed and incapable of transcending the subject of sex, not me! Why do you still deny the message coming through the nearly 95% of my photography and writing which you chose to ignore?

     And now you are not even going to acknowledge that I took age out of the equation, since I agreed to recognize the two of us as differing in awareness only, not in wisdom or age. You quote me as saying that I obviously think I have something more because I am "older and wiser" -- but if you go back to my "manifesto" you will read what I actually wrote: "I am NOT suggesting that I am older and wiser than you... it is just that we manifest two different perceptions of the world."

     Really, what is the matter with you? What feeds this obsessive need of yours to attack me? You have totally refused to accept what I state as my position. Rather, you have changed it around to fit your self-righteous opinion that "most of the people, including men like yourself who claim to make art are confused and lost."

     When you suggest that I did exactly what you thought I would do -- that should help you understand that it is YOU who engineered my predictable response by first attacking me in your original e-mail, and then continuing to attack me for responding with sincerity.

     The sad part is that you continue to hack me into pieces without volunteering one shred of the wisdom, art or truth that you want to imply that you possess. If you really want to impress me -- or anyone else on the face of the globe -- with some truth (the "epiphany" you claim), then write something about Yourself or Art or Wisdom -- or something other than just attacking me for my viewpoints. You are really wasting your time on polemics that do not at all refer to any reality I live in, but are only reflections of your own difficulty in attempting to relate to me.

     So, let's hear it, Jean. Can you talk about something else besides how much you dislike me? I'm serious... try it, and perhaps take some steps toward developing a meaningful dialogue between us. We can start afresh, if you wish.

THANKS! Fred Burkhart

So stay tuned folks, to the next exciting installment...

Will Jean finally succumb to reality and apologize for biting the head off the snake?

Will Burkhart finally abandon Reality all together to the likes of Jean

and "all the other lost and confused souls who make art?"

Will Tolstoy ever explain what he meant by "intercourse between man and man?"

Will homosexuality and heterosexuality ever become topics of the past?

Will this website's storage allotment be exceeded in the unfolding of this discourse?

And finally... what really lies behind Jean's mysterious "slovenliness of the ability to print correctly?"

Find out the answer to these exciting questions -- and more -- next time!

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ARTHOLE TWO

The trouble first started with an anecdote I posted on my website. Here's the story:


THE
KILLER
POET

Boston Herald File Photo

In 1996, when I first opened the Burkhart Underground all-ages coffeehouse, every old codger in town came by to perform poetry: World War Two and Viet Naam Vets, Peace Activists and Angry Old Men, Out of Work Retirees and Bob Hope type Comedians. It was like Noah's ark had finally washed ashore, splashing out its cargo of ancient animals that all of a sudden evolved into modern poets with something to say.

But it didn't take the lot of them very long to realize that they really didn't belong in this modern age -- there were just too many young people at my place for their liking!

And always, to avoid hearing the new, these old timers would insist on going up to the stage first, to deliver their tired ass recollections of stuff only they and a handful of retirees were capable of appreciating. And just as quickly, they'd rush out the door without listening to one word from anyone else. Finally, when I told them they had to go up last - that we were going to hear from the young people first - well, they quit coming around.

(Thank God they quit coming around!)

Now, in today's paper (Chicago Sun Times, March 23rd, 2005) I read that one of these guys - lovingly referred to as the "Killer Poet" - had been on the run from the Police for 20 years, having escaped prison in 1985, where he had already served 26 years for the 1960 execution style shooting of a citizen, in addition to participating in the 1961 shooting death of a jail master. Whew!

And would you believe it... throughout all those years on the run, he'd been living here in Chicago, posing as a mild mannered peace loving poet/janitor, and frequenting coffeehouses like Green Mill & Burkhart's. Yes, a cold blooded murderer was hiding in our midst.

And yes, his poetry was so shallow that itrevealed absolutely nothing of the true nature that lurked there beneath the cleverly constructed surface. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised it he'd copied his texts from some obscure cache of recently discovered Victorian love letters, so mundane was his sentiment.

Looking back, I am happy to report that this Killer Poet - one Norman A. Porter Jr. (or Mister J.J.Jameson, as he had cometo be known here in Chicago) - was the first poet I bodily threw out of the Burkhart Underground so many years ago!

But what else could I do? I had to make way for the newly arriving youth, intent on expressing themselves in a newly forming world, without violence, without pretense.

As stated, I invited this criticism in a way, having posted the original "Killer Poet" reminiscence, and without thinking, borrowing a photo from the web (which happened to belong to someone else, but which I've since replaced and credited with a public newspaper source). All of which might qualify me as the biggest assshole of all! But considering I'm wrote in lower case, and my accuser is blared out in big oversized CAPITAL letters with lots of crude swear words, well, what do you think? Here's the exchange that followed, his words are in red, mine in gold.

From: 'C. J. Laity' <poetrymob@sbcglobal.net>

Sent: Fri, 1 Apr 2005 14:02

Subject: Fwd: Regarding J J jameson aka norman porter

What part of being in the underground gives you the right to lift a copyrighted photo of J J Jameson off my website and use it on your website along with an article trashing him and all other poets who are older than you? Take my photo off you site you art thief!

Burkhart replied on April 3 rd , 2005:

sure, i'll remove your photo -- and forgive me for not asking permission. I might be an art-thief, but i've never been an art-murderer. so let me ask you something... what gives jameson/porter the right to murder human beings and then cover it up, with the help of sites like yours? by the way, i'm 63... and there are many older poets I appreciate. he wasn't one of them.

CJ replied back on April 3 rd ,2005 :

WHAT THE FUCK MAKES YOU THINK I CAN ANSWER QUESTIONS FOR NORMAN PORTER, AND HOW THE HELL DO YOU SUGGEST CHICAGO POETRY "HELPED" NORMAN COVER IT UP. IF IT WASN'T FOR MY SITE, THEY MIGHT NOT HAVE EVEN FOUND HIM, ASSHOLE. JUST STOP STEALING SHIT FROM MY SITE AND SAVE YOUR BULLSHIT FOR SOMEONE WHO GIVES A SHIT.

Burkhart on April 4 th , 2005 :

whew! don't worry CJ, someday you'll grow up and that potty-mouth profanity of yours won't seem so clever. in the meantime, i guess you can go on with your own "bullshit" disguised as ordinary poetry and impress the shit out of a lot of angry people out there. but sorry... i'm not one of them. as always, fred burkart.

CJ on April 4 th, 2005 :

WHY DON'T YOU JUST GO FUCK YOURSELF AND STOP SENDING ME UNSOLICITED EMAILS, YOU PIECE OF SHIT ART THIEF.

Burkhart on April 4 th , 2005 :

you're the guy that solicited e-mail by contacting me in the first place. You asked me to remove the image, and i did so. and i was civil about it... I apologized for using it without your permission. that should have been the end of the matter, but you opened a dialogue by complaining about the comments I originally made about older poets not having much use for younger poets (young, like teenagers and the newly arrived). what i wrote was only my opinion, which is every writer's right. but somehow what i said infuriated you, and ever since you've been angry and abusive towards me, although i continue to treat you with some courtesy. in these divisive times, it would be helpful to expand the world a little... there is room for both of us... i too have done a great deal for the (younger) art community in this town, supporting the arts, music & poetry scene out of my own pocket for years. i have given back much more than I have "stolen." so please try easing up on me and maybe we'll both have a better day.

CJ still later that day:

FUCK OFF ALREADY, I ONLY CONTACTED YOU BECAUSE YOU WERE RIPPING ME OFF YOU BASTARD, YOU GOD DAMN PIECE OF FUCKING SHIT, STOP EMAILING ME, I'M NOT READING YOUR STUPID ASS EMAIS ANYMORE, KISS MY ASS!!!!!!

Sure! (If anyone knows this guy, you can tell him he doesn't have to read my e-mails anymore. he can read it right here.)

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