Day 0019

Went to the Whitney Museum of American Art today. The art was totally incomprehensible to me. I felt slight bemusement, confusion, disdain. But I didn't even feel that strongly, which is the real pity. I remember once going around the Saatchi gallery and seeing work so poor that I felt angry, disgusted. When I left the gallery I suddenly felt positively about the art I had so loathed, simply because it had been able to make me feel something strongly. The work I saw today failed to touch me whatsoever. I think the fact that I didn't have to pay helped. When you pay for something you make yourself try to like it, or you stir yourself up into a rage at being robbed and thereby recoup your entry fee by the catharsis of complaining about it to anyone who will listen.

I laboured on my charcoal drawing some more tonight, but will probably abandon it tomorrow as my drawing is so miserably inaccurate.