Thursday, June 6, 2019



I remember Schjeldahl's poetry in the late 60s
one of the many poetry brats of the young
and zestful New York Poets scene
(after Ashbery, O'Hara etc)
— the poems were puzzle pieces
and since then, the art criticism has been
anything but. I followed his art writing
in the Village Voice, 7 Days, and for years
now in the New Yorker. It's much better fare than
the poetry the magazine now publishes.

A note on the book — Schjeldahl takes care of
his job and comes through marvelously. The book
design is a bit bland, though brightened 
in a de Kooning yellow, but too bad being
Abrams, an art house, they didn't slip in a feature
of art work, artists photographs etc.

[ BA ]