The Blessings of Civilization
Atlanta, GA
June 11, 2019
“I don’t like my job and…I don’t think I’m gonna go anymore.”
“You’re just not gonna go?”
“Yeah…”
“…So you’re gonna quit?”
“Not really…I’m just gonna stop goin’.”
“So…you gonna get another job?”
“Nah…I don’t think I’d like another job either.”
– Office Space, 1999
We live in a remarkable age.
John Adams famously provided an apt description of how time and capital..free of external encroachment…build, enrich, and sustain civilization.
Bearing the urgent burden of convincing a Bourbon king to supply French ships to American states seceding from a British monarchy, Adams wrote his wife that pressing obligations prevented him from enjoying the ubiquitous beauty and charm of Paris.
His immediate task was to lay foundations upon which others might erect, sculpt, and paint the walls in which future generations could reside, repose, and reflect.
He told Abigail he must “study politics and war that my sons may have liberty to study mathematics and philosophy. My sons ought to study mathematics and philosophy, geography, natural history, naval architecture, navigation, commerce, and agriculture, in order to give their children a right to study painting, poetry, music, architecture, statuary, tapestry, and porcelain.”
We are the children of the children of the children of whom he spoke. We no longer need to study science or the arts…science and the arts study us.
A couple centuries ago, a few minutes in historical time, people formed families large enough to mitigate a pernicious mortality rate, and to ensure enough hands to feed whatever mouths plagues or pestilence deigned to neglect.
Women were in the workforce, and “child labor” was not optional. They either burrowed, or were buried, in the soil. This situation persists in many places, and for the same reasons. It is not because all the bad parents happen to live in Bangladesh.
Over time, surpluses were stored, savings mounted, capital accumulated, industry thrived, productivity increased, and leisure rose like a warm tres leche cake.
Last night, we grabbed a piece.
The High Museum is closed on Mondays, but on this night an open bar and dinner buffet enlivened its Weiland Pavilian, satiating a small gathering of local corporate donors.
Having respected Mr. Adams’s advice by first ensuring our sustenance, we next honored his efforts by absorbing the arts.
For a few more weeks the High hosts the Impressionist, Post-Impressionist, Expressionist, and Cubist works from the Phillips Collection in Washington, D.C.
Our private showing carried us the length and breadth of France…from the Ancien Régime to the Fourth Republic…along the Quai St Michel with Matisse, dancing with Degas, sampling fresh fruit with Cézanne, storming the barricades with Daumier, twisting with Rodin, strolling to Arles with van Gogh, and hastening up the Road to Vetheuil with Monet.
It also brought us face to face with a “Head of a Woman”, sculpted in 1898 by Aristide Maillol, inspiration for the eponymous museum founded 25 years ago by Maillol’s model and muse (and my wife’s aunt), Dina Vierny, in the seventh arrondissement of Paris.
Maillol was most accomplished in sculpture, molding many of his contours to the shape of the female form. A representative assortment, modeled and donated by Aunt Dina, have for fifty years graced the Carrousel Garden between the Tuileries and the Louvre.
The last couple weeks, my days have been more Kandinsky than Corot, more Braque than Breton. Hell, at this point they may be more Pollack than Picasso. They remain a bit abstract, assorted disaggregations of line, color, light, and shade that will eventually evolve into an impressionistic plan and, ultimately, a realistic approach.
But that’s OK. My intention, like Augustus restoring Rome, is to use this time wisely, and effectively…festina lente, to make haste slowly, to assure I identify and best utilize my talents, striving not to waste them at or in the company of Solitary, Nasty, Brutish, and Short.
I want to meet a few people, smell a few roses, and learn a few things along the way, keeping an ear for ideas, an eye for opportunity, and a taste for adventure.
And, most importantly, to make time for my sons, reinforce our foundations, and share with each other the painting, poetry, sculpture, and architecture we have cultivated and critiqued over the years.
Or, we’ll just play golf.
JD
